Recent content by Nekhara
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Open Wishful Thinking
The words spilled, sharp, accusing, desperate. A howl dressed in contempt. And when he finished, when the last of the venom curled into the sand, her voice came low. A hum beneath language. Gentle and pitiless. Didn’t bristle. Didn’t snarl. “You think I would not know fear?” She just looked at... -
Open Wishful Thinking
She listened to their layered confession, we are afraid of you, without surprise, without offense. Her gaze moved slowly over them. The clay she had smoothed onto their skin was beginning to dry in cracked white lines, flaking slightly at the joints. She stood, rising with the grace of falling... -
Open Wishful Thinking
Her hands paused at the last fastening. She did not look up. Nekahara did not flinch at the word, but something shifted. “Do not call me that.” Her voice was still soft. The word itself did not wound her, only saddened. “There are names that twist the shape of a thing.” Witch was one of them... -
Open Wishful Thinking
Nekhara watched the last "yes" settle like dust. The vow had passed like a fever through them, and The White Oasis Priestess had seen it before, how it left mortals soft around the eyes, brittle in the mouth. How it carved the truth into their postures without a blade. Her expression was like... -
Open Wishful Thinking
Near the far pools, a glimmering shape in the salt, just barely the curve of a face, a nose, an eye, half-submerged in chalk and time. Another, a little farther off: a hand, palm up, so weathered it looked like part of the stone. One might walk past them and never know. “Not all of them belong... -
Open Wishful Thinking
Alkahra The White Oasis. The Bonewaters. Temple of Still Waters. The Salt Gardens. In the heart of a wasteland, where caravans vanish, salt winds flay the skin and where nothing should grow and nothing should heal, there lies a place that should not exist. The desert around Alkahra is flat and... -
Nekhara
"Not made to be touched. Not by greedy hands, not by trembling mouths, not by those who mistake beauty for permission. Their skin remembers every sin." Once these witches once roamed freely in Suldaza. Wherever they walked, fortunes blossomed ... and crumbled. The Gilded Witches were not born...- Nekhara
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