Ashara dragged the tip of her staff through wet sand, carving out magical symbols. Her hands trembled as she clutched the polished beech. One careless line could have disastrous consequences for the spell, but she was running out of time. The sea stretched out to the horizon, met so seamlessly by the cloudless sky she couldn’t see where one ended and the other began. She didn’t have to turn her head to know the tide was also creeping up the sandbar behind her, threatening to swallow the sand—and Ashara—into its endless blue depths.
Continue reading “Roar by Streya Smith”
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