The Sorceress Moray

The hero Frederick did not know that when he faced the warlock king in battle, he faced his own father. Twenty years past, the babe who was the heir to the kingdom had been sent away into hiding by a fearful queen and mother. Green eyes gazed into green eyes. The warlock did not know his son. He did not know he had a son. Frederick had made it to the chamber in the castle where the king and his fellow warlocks had wrought their blasphemy. An immense slab of stone stood in the chamber, its night-black surfaces swirling with primordial lightning and glittering with stardust.

The hero tried to wound and capture the king, but the king would not yield. In the end, Frederick killed the warlock king. He unknowingly killed his father. As the blood of battle dried, Frederick called upon his allies to secure the great stone. It was not a thing that was meant to be trifled with, not by mortals. But already his fate swooped toward him, for the gods had seen the patricide. They had sent a Fury to punish the hero. They had marked him for eternal torment in the underworld.

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The Last of the Nine Lives Cats

“It’s everywhere,” the grizzled old cat said. “It surrounds us.” And he heard the expected fear-filled gasps and murmuring among his audience.

“This everywhere demon, what is it called grandsire?” one gray-striped kitten asked, his eyes round as saucers, his expression bold and bright as the moonlight above.

“We don’t have a name for it, kit,” the old cat replied, “but the Hind-leggers call it Traffic.”

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