colwalder

The Summoning

A constant cold wind sighed through the dimly lit tunnel. People who knew the secluded passage called it the Innocent Trail, though few remembered why. From the...
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A constant cold wind sighed through the dimly lit tunnel. People who knew the secluded passage called it the Innocent Trail, though few remembered why. From the southern entrance the path descended steadily and was deceptively long; although it seemed from one end that the far side was in sight, you would walk for several minutes with no apparent change, as if the exit was retreating with every step. At the center of the tunnel, in that place where space and time seemed curiously distorted, the whisper of the wind began to swell; it’s intensity growing into a wail that tossed and scattered the detritus of the earth before it. An invisible hand twisted the currents into a vortex from which glowing sparks began to form. Fiery light chased away the darkness, sparks whirling and arcing into a frenzied dance that became a roaring inferno of flame. The wind moaned a song of broken innocence and the stones shuddered as a figure stepped from the maelstrom; a man with burning eyes and feet of ash.
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