A Blackmon

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After lightning had fired from her finger so precisely, she tried a different method of communication with this crew. Holding still and focused, she thought the words she couldn’t say in this form at the worn planks of the deck, pulled crackling energy from herself and— Buzz, snap. Thin threads of lightning traced across the deck, spelled out letters and faded, leaving them burned into the timber.
A Blackmon
this is just silly
Through Dark Storms (Beneath Black Sails, #4)
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