Hello readers! I hope you had a very merry Christmas. Can you believe that it’s almost 2019 already? I’ll be doing a post on New Years Resolutions/ Goals on the 31st.

Today I started writing a novel that I’ve decided to call ‘Myth.’ This is only a synopsis, and I’ve decided to only give this for now (and not the plot). Tell me what you think; I would really appreciate your opinion!

“Follow me, child,” the woman says silkily, and I can’t resist doing as she says. There’s something curious about the way she moves; it’s as if the air itself carries her forward. When she smiles at me her jade green eyes flash, glowing like orbs beneath thick, black lashes. She navigates the racks and shelves of the cluttered shop with ease, whereas I can barely keep up without crashing into something.

“What is all this stuff?” I murmur, running my hand along a shelf as I pass it. It’s stacked with hundreds of small glass viles that bubble different colors under my gaze.

“It’s not ‘stuff,’ my dear,” she replies, turning and giving me a sharp look.

I glance down at the floor quickly, my face flushing with warmth. I nearly crash into a rack of clothes, and stumble out of the way at the last second. My eyes catch on a shining silver shirt that looks almost like chain mail, and I step forward to inspect it.

“Oh, not that one,” the woman says quickly, and I draw my hand away from the glittering cloth. “It’s best for enemies,” she adds, and her eyes flash again.

There’s something unnerving about this place, but some curious part of me carries me forward. The woman leads me to the back of the shop, to a polished oak desk littered with strange nicknacks unlike any I’ve ever seen. She rounds the table and stands across from me, her green eyes riveting and alert.

“Put out your hand,” she tells me, her eyes not leaving mine.

I lift my hand slowly and hold it out to her, hoping that she can’t see the trembling in my outstretched fingers. She leans down to take something from a shelf under the desk, before straightening up again. I see a glint of violet as she slides something onto my finger, and I look down at my hand with surprise.

It’s a thick silver ring embedded with shards of amethyst, winding in a braid-like design around my finger. In the center is a darker crystal cut in the shape of an eye, glinting at me as if it can truly see. A cold shiver runs through me from the ring, as if it’s sending an icy energy through my veins. Sounds are sharper, as if I’m more attuned to them than I usually am.

I’m imagining things, I think hurriedly, but some deep part of me knows that there’s more to it than that.

At first I can’t find the words. I look up at the woman, my mouth open in silent awe. I force my lips back together and swallow, my eyes flitting from her to the ring and back again.

“How much?”

She shakes her head quickly, and her long black hair sways behind her shoulders. “No, it’s a gift, sweetie. It calls to you. The Ring of Dispel chooses its own master.”

“The… Ring of Dispel?” I repeat, my mind blank. I pull off the ring and put it in my pocket; the strange sensation I feel from wearing it is making my nervous.

“My name is Nimuë,” the woman continues, not adding to her previous statement. “Or ‘the lady of the lake’ by some.” She chuckles to herself, but I can’t figure out what’s funny.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say politely. “My name is-”

“Lenna Demetriou,” Nimuë says, her clear green eyes dark in the dimly-lighted room.

“… Yes. That…” I trail off. “How did you know that?”

Nimuë smiles, revealing pearly white teeth. “I know much, young one. That is enough for today. If you need me, remember that my shop is always open to you.”

I feel as if my feet are planted to the ground, and I can’t seem to make them move. I stare at the strange woman for a few more moments, my lips parted in surprise and my eyebrows furrowed. Finally I turn around, forcing myself to leave the shop and start toward home. I pull the ring from my pocket and inspect it while I walk, my pulse quickening as I look down at it. It stares back at me with that wide, violet eye, glistening in the remaining light of the setting sun. I avert my gaze, worried that if I look at it for too long I won’t be able to look away, and break into a run.

C. Marie Bohley magic style

 

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