Skip Scherer - Author @skipscherer.com · Jul 3 Kru growled as the frost tore at his throat. “I beg for nothing!” The crushing weight of the ice piled over him, burying him alive. He lurched upward, shattering his frozen tomb in an explosion of crystals. The cloak whipped wildly around him, its fabric finding its own voice: “I am your magic.”
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His arms flailed, his face contorted to scream at the heavens, “No! My magic is life—my knowledge rivals Jur’s!” From the shadows of his mind and the cold biting his ears, the voices fused in a cruel echo: “Those are not yours. You stole the magic from Ana, the knowledge from him. You are a fraud.”