The Lightbearer
At first she hears the whispering…
Tiny, almost imperceptible voices…
Voices? At first she hears the whispering.
Tiny, almost imperceptible voices…
Voices?
Or the sound of papery wings …
Delicately dusty, turning decisively from drifting motes in the moonlight to pale, wind torn winged moths.
Drawn to her light…
Called to her.
She knows they’ll come.
They always do.
She’s never alone.
She is their light.
And they are hers.
