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The wind howls and batters the lone figure huddled against his wavering campfire. This decrepit mountaintop tower is one of the last on the edge of the queendom, a single mote of civilization staring down over the blasted lands beyond. It's been so long... but he stands guard anyways. There is something he knows. Something he feels deep down in his bones. They will return one day. 

He rubs his hands together to get some warmth back into the old gnarled fingers and steps to the open window to return to his watch. 

"I wonder how Healan is taking this weather... It's his first year on the watch. He's not known cold like this. Solitude like this... I-" The man stops mid-thought as if talking aloud. Healan's tower. The beacon. 

He scrambles over his tattered cloak, dashing to the other side just in time to see it. A line of dark figures breaking the horizon. A wave of them. Millions. Millions of them. His old bones ached in unison at the sight, and he kicked the embers of his campfire up into the pyre of rotting wood behind him. Gods protect that poor boy. Gods protect us all... the August babies are coming...



Hey so, let me know if you want your name included in the singing for August! 😁

Comments

Anonymous

Milo August 5th, please and thank you πŸ™ŒπŸΌ

Anonymous

Jess, August 9 😍