Smoke Punched Him in the Face.

Smoke punched him in the face. He backpedaled, forgetting his heels hung off a chasm. Overbalancing, he plummeted into the rainbow-hued mist of an uncaring sun rising for the last time. A falling star hit the ground in a shower of fiery sparks, kicking up the dust cloud extinguishing a forgotten sun’s light.

“You fool! You killed the Keeper of Light. Now we’re stuck with a millennium of arctic night until another’s born.”

“Actually, you’re not stuck with anything,” she said right before her forefinger claw stabbed the feathered son of the Wind through the eye. Now there was one less complainer in her new world order.


For TLT # 40

 

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