100 Words a Day 1239

Murg held the ever-burning candle overhead and shouted, her prayers echoing off the steel walls just like the flickering firelight from the great central brazier. The tip of the candle grew white-hot. She began drawing on the shield. The runes flowed easily from her gnarled hand, the pattern burning in her mind. Before she realized, she was finished. She blinked and looked down at the shield. The runes glowed like molten metal on the ashy steel. She lifted the shield. It was lighter than before. A great blaze of light issued from the shield when she shouted the sacred word.