Historical Fantasy. The Door Without a House By the time Mara Venn reached the western quay, the rain had turned the river the color of old steel. Bellwether stood on both banks, joined by bridges whose arches were carved with promises: We shall return. No debt crosses...
Mythic Fiction. The Country on Her Hand Sera was drawing the contour of a dry river when the brass compass on her belt began to turn. Its needle did not settle on north. It swung under her wrist and held there, patient as a dog at a door, aimed at the station clock, where the...
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