bittykimmy13

Kylian hadn’t created anything in weeks. He didn’t bother lamenting this issue in his social circle. They would simply click their tongues and remind him that he could continue living in luxury for the rest of his life without having another single creative idea. They didn’t understand what it meant to have an overwhelming hunger to shape something—anything—and to come up empty day after day. As an artist who utilized numerous mediums, from traditional art to more complex pieces like puzzles—something should have been calling to him. He wasn’t particularly personable at the best of times, but when inspiration was elusive, he could go months without being spotted in public. His woodworking studio took up one corner of the ground floor. Ample light bathed his work surfaces—all of which were crowded and cluttered with half-formed pieces. Cursing under his breath, he snapped a delicate piece of wood between his hands while the saw continued to buzz maniacally. It had started off fine.

We were enjoying dinner at the motel room when a glittery pink plume of smoke erupted from the center of the table. All three of us drew back in alarm, certain we were about to be attacked. Jon and Cliff pulled guns, and I had ice at my fingertips. “What the fuck?” Cliff breathed. The smoke faded to reveal a folded piece of yellowed parchment on the table. It was closed with a white wax seal. Glitter lingered in the air, some of it shimmering on my fries. A heavy moment of silence surrounded us as we tried to make sense of what had happened. “I don’t feel anything malicious,” I announced after a moment, thoroughly confused. Jon approached the table cautiously all the same. His frown deepened as he picked up the parchment and turned it over. He lifted his eyes to me. “It’s addressed to you.” “What?” Sure enough, my name was written in loopy cursive on the other side of the paper. “Open it!” I perched on Jon’s shoulder as he tore the paper around the wax seal. “It’s blank,”

Ben hadn’t slept in five days. Lee let it slide at first. It was understandable, given Ben’s history with anxiety. Yes, they were perfectly safe indoors, but the world outside was burning. There was no ignoring that. Obviously, every news broadcast blared nonstop about the complete upheaval of humanity’s understanding of the world. That didn’t make things any easier. Lee made it a point to keep the TV switched off for Ben’s sake. But Ben took to stealing Lee and Delilah’s phones when he could, scrolling endlessly through articles about what was going on. Entire fairy villages were being uprooted for mass capture. Nomads and escapees were being caught by civilians, who were handsomely rewarded. Iron was in high demand. Chances were, every sane human was walking around with some form of iron protection. But worst of al, Sylvia’s face was in just about every article. There was nothing they could do for her. Nothing. “Hey.” Lee approached the living room window Ben had perched at

If Xander didn’t make it back to his room on the bus by 4 AM, that typically meant he didn’t plan on sleeping that night. It was nearly dawn, and Grayson hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. It wasn’t that he was worried about what Xander was doing—he was a rockstar on tour, what could anyone expect? No, Grayson’s uneasiness came from having the room to himself. Intimidating as Xander’s presence could be, having him around was a safeguard. A drunken roadie could stumble into the room to harass him. Or maybe a rabid fan looking for Micah. Laying back on the pillow, Grayson kneaded his temples. He was being paranoid. There was twenty-four-hour security keeping an eye on the troop of tour vehicles. But would anyone bother to intervene if it was a print who was in the danger? The door burst open. A figure stumbled into the dark room. Sleep-deprived and wired as he was, Grayson shouted in alarm and scrambled to the corner of his pillow. Then he froze up, his heavy breathing beginning to

How could anyone sleep soundly? The other trinkets slept like they didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe they were completely brainwashed, but Charles was a different matter. He drifted off for hour-long increments at best—and only from sheer exhaustion. The rest of the time, he was wide awake, mind racing with the possibilities of sinister motives. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Slowly, he got out of bed and shuffled toward the door. It had been three nights since Will saved him from the beer can and brought him home. This was the first night that his chills and fever had lessened enough for him to venture out. He was extra quiet as he went past Ramona’s bed. She was the staunchest supporter of Will. If she saw Charles sneaking around, she’d know immediately that he was trying to map out an escape. Maybe she’d alert Will. Maybe then the act would be dropped. Or maybe nothing would happen at all. Charles wanted to trust Will—he really did. But he needed some assurance

The Council is doing everything they can to distract her—all while trying to maintain that nothing of note had happened. Ever since she became the Lady of Shadewick just shy of a year ago, her days had been packed with lessons and meetings, but there had always been time in between to collect her thoughts. The day after the Offering, Mariana is kept so busy that she has little time to wonder about Raiden. To wonder if he’s still breathing. To wonder if he is still fighting to survive. To wonder if he is now at peace with the mysterious knowledge of what becomes of the forest’s Offerings. But any time she tries to think, she is pulled into a new task. Councilor Harlan wasn’t to quiz her on history. Councilor Sierra wants her to sit in on meetings with Shadewick’s farmers. Councilor Gabrielle wants to study her etiquette. Councilor Koan wants to review her self-defense training—he claims she is in the most danger from civilians after an Offering. Mariana had woken up that morning with

“Let me go!” If Xander hadn’t been passing the doorway at that moment, he wouldn’t have heard Grayson’s frantic voice. He’d heard Grayson sound nervous plenty of times, but never so frightened. Xander bolted into the room, gripping the doorframe tightly with one hand as he assessed what was going on. A man in a black t-shirt held Grayson around the middle. His arms were pinned to his sides, and his legs kicked fiercely. It was never lost on Xander how small prints were, but he had gotten used to Grayson and Everly’s casual presence. Seeing Grayson handled so carelessly made Xander lock up in silent rage. “I’m telling you—I work for the band!” Grayson’s words came through gasping breaths. He couldn’t fucking breathe. “I was j-just looking for a quiet place to get work done before the show—” “Shut your fucking mouth,” the man snapped. “Next time you talk, I want the goddamn truth.” “Hey!” Xander didn’t shout, but his tone was enough to make the man turn around with a start. “The

He slept solidly, but when he awoke, Oliver knew he had only gotten in a few hours at most. The sun was resting just above the level of the trees at their location. It was as though sleep had worsened every sensation instead of providing relief. His body felt like it had been just about stomped on after all. His eyes were bloodshot and aching. When he sat up, his back screamed in pain, particularly at the tender base of his wings. Emptiness gnawed in his stomach, rivaled only by his desperate thirst. He cried aloud, doubling over. The only pleasantry he could admit to was that he was warm. He turned his head, seeing the underside of Cliff’s jaw. The human had shifted somewhat in the night, curling inward. Oliver struggled to stand on his shoulder, sliding down to a seated position. Cliff stayed rigid. He looked so cold. Oliver pushed gently at Cliff’s neck, trying to wake him without startling him. If his own state of discomfort was anything to go by, getting more sleep likely