Thursday, July 16, 2015

100 Words a Day 657

She was having more trouble remembering who she was. Her skin had become the color of deep shadow. The treatment prescribed to her had helped slow the process, but no one had found a way to prevent or reverse it. Many of her people’s greatest minds had hunched over alchemical tables or great tomes in an effort to stop their inevitable transformation. She often found herself traveling the streets at night and had to be careful not to let her mind wander, lest she idly walk through shadows before realizing she was in an unfamiliar part of the sprawling city.

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