1. Myyr Burakh

    Open Business as Usual

    The white carriage swung lazy beneath the Sun, kicking up dust so dry it burned the lungs. In it’s harness, two hounds the size of horses pulled on, every feature long and pronounced by the short coats they wore. One the shade of red gold, the other a pale silver. Large pointed ears, long slim...
  2. Myyr Burakh

    Myyr Burakh of Anchor Hill

    The real Myyr Burakh of Anchor Hill is dead — has been, for the past hundred years. And yet, they remain, even with that tinge of an unplaceable accent intact. Begs the question how, but more so— Why? And who pulls the strings now, berobed.
Back
Top Bottom