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“𝖮𝗁…” 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒, 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝖾𝗐𝖾𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗓𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅, 𝗌𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗏𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗈𝗋𝗌… 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖤𝖽𝖾𝗇, 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖹𝗈𝖿𝗂𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾. “𝖠 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅.”
𝖤𝗓𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋. 𝖧𝗈𝗐? 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗄, “𝖨𝗌 𝗂𝗍… 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍?”
“𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌.”
“𝖨𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅.”
“𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖤𝗓𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅.” 𝖹𝗈𝖿𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾. “𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒𝗆𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝖺.” 𝖠 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖹𝗈𝖿𝗂𝖺’𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝖺𝗐, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. “𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗐.”
“𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅?”
“𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖨 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗇?” 𝖹𝗈𝖿𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖤𝗓𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗍, 𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐. “𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗒, 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗆𝖾.”
𝖬𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖺 𝗎𝗉𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗏𝗎𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖤𝗓𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖳𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖽𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝖤𝗓𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗌é 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾. 𝖨𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝖹𝗈𝖿𝗂𝖺, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽. 𝖢𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗌 𝖤𝗓𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, “𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾?”
𝖺𝗋𝗍: keyoneth
𝗂𝖿 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗌 here
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Unspecified / Any
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File Size 720.2 kB
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