Eleventh Cycle (Mistland, #1)

by Kian N. Ardalan

The sage tree waited. It waited endlessly in resigned acquiescence and such stoic silence that it pierced the quiet in a way a scream never could.

The thought of not being able to remember Perry scared me even more than fading away into nothingness myself.

Have you been helping people again?”

It was a strange thing, to feel more comfortable with the familiar sensation of sorrow rather than taking the risk to be happy again.