“Dusk approached and bid me to retire. Leaving the outskirts of the playing field, I slipped into the quaint tent appointed to me. I bounced on the sleeping mat after throwing my slingbags on it and plunged my hands into one of them. Out came the precious book. It was old and brown, its linen cover’s varnish peeling off in small flakes. I lifted it to my nose and fanned the pages. It smelled of ambriwood, a musky, dark, blue oil Seraphine wore as a fragrance. It carried me away to a distant memory of being cradled as I drifted to sleep, with grandiose images of imposing impurzels, bubbled squishy senti-babes floating over the land, and a feeling of boundless love, the kind only a pure, innocent senti-child can feel.”
Topaz: The Truth Portal & The Color Mayhem
A high fantasy novel
