I slowly walked toward the river, fireflies dancing in front of me. The magic on the air—it was almost tangible. I loved it and I wanted more.
The moon reflected off the river as I approached, the mist rose from it. I watched as the mist started to take form. I was spellbound as a woman in a white dress came to be. The most gorgeous figure I had ever seen.
I knew things would never be the same. I smiled, she smiled back holding her hand in offering. She was a signal of death. Mine was upon me.
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alt="Harbinger of Death by Jonathan L. Tolstedt"
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loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Famine Man by Deborah Tapper"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Price of Belief by Andreas Flögel"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Abhartach's Thirst by Andrew Kurtz"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
