The trappings of memory.

There was a garden inside her of overgrown grass and uneven walking paths floating over thick mangrove roots and mud puddles. The mud water rippled where the ocean tide swept in to dance with fresh water from her deceased grandmother's forest. The creatures hiding in these soft waves were not scary. Neither were the creatures in the trees. They were all part of the garden, and the garden was her.

The price of a life.

Hughey Thornheart was eagerly anticipating a sweet pastry left for him by his servant back in his rooms when a pair of claws ripped open a tear in the world and gripped him by his shirt. He had only a moment to yelp “damn it” before he was pulled forcibly into a familiar shadow world. His head hit cold, stone ground and, despite his best efforts to keep air in, oxygen fled his lungs as his back smacked onto the floor and his air escaped with a whoosh.

He was going to die.