by Rubberfish
In Ninebarrow, magic is a licensed trade: the Concordat tests every child at fourteen, and only the Blessed may write Sigils, long, lovely, and owned. What the hill folk keep are only scraps: single words worn down to superstition, marks for counting sheep and calling home strays.
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Oct 4, 00:00 – Oct 4, 12:00 UTC
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