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Featuring new cover art: “Fortress” by Dimitrije Miljus.

Low Bridge! Or The Dark Obstructions

"Aesthetic attraction!" This was Edna again, whose outbursts were now starting to make me wish that I were anywhere else but sitting next to her in the line of Bunyan's fire. Belatedly, I laid a restraining hand lightly on her arm, but she shook me off and forged heedlessly ahead. "But if you are convinced that spiritualism is so much rot, then why write your ghost stories?"

("Let's hope not," whispered Edna in an aside to me, "or Bunyan will find himself accused and convicted of blasphemy.")
The Wind’s Departure

I try again to read the tone of her voice. Sylva can form herself of vapor or rain or the force of a storm, but she is always shifting, liquid, and invisible when she wishes. She can hold my face with fingers of wind, but she has no face of her own to touch. I cannot read pain on her features, but I think I hear it in her voice.

I am not seeking the wizard’s knowledge. I am seeking the god’s power.
From the Archives:
The Dreams of Wan Li
Everyone moved to the sides of the halls as she passed—not because they feared her touch, but because she moved with such grace.