“How long ’til we’re there?” I asked my grandma.
“We should be there by noon.” She answered, clearly a little tired, too.

A knock on the door made me shudder. This was the tenth day of the siege, everyone was in despair, everything in disarray. I opened the door to let in a hooded man with a wooden box in his hands.

The images of war and chaos were flickering before me, so close, so real. There seemed to be no end to this madness.

A small sonnet and a piece of the puzzle.

‘Daddy, where are you going?’ A little girl wearing a colourful, lively tunic approached her father, as he was leaving the house.

History classes, my reprieve. The closest to the actual Clavis magic you get before the Liquid season. Be it a cold comfortless morning or rare moment of boredom, it never fails to quench your thirst for knowledge. With time, however, topics of discussion became burdening for the soul and mind more often than not.

Last expedition to 58 Crs b brought back quite astonishing news. Currently uninhabited, the planet contains clear traces of life. And not just life! There is a possibility that a whole ancient civilization is buried under a huge layer of dust and sand.

Two days till my first day at college. Not sure about it myself, but my dad wants it all the same. So here I am, about to try to fill my sister’s shoes, while she is off to moons know where. But on the bright side – at least my folks will give me some space.

Misera has three Moons, and most of the time at least one can be seen, if the sky is clear. We call them Gold, Fuchsia and Cyan. Cyan is mysterious, and my people always connect it to emotions and feelings. The bloody glow of Fuchsia is ominous to many, but the moon itself represents flesh and bone in any synthesis magic. Gold is the smallest moon, but its glow is always warming. Gold represents qualities and quantities in any concentration spells.

The sun shines through me, casting shadow, painfully perfect. Brass face glitters in warm golden rays, the surface is slightly oily after maintenance. My job is simple but crucial for the mother mechanism to work as intended. There are thirty four gears in it, all moderately clanking in unison, singing a song of metal.