The ink fades to beige
A voice pulls me from the page
But the boughs and hills remain
Desperately, I muster
My eyes, alight—brisingr
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 3:29 AM UTC
The ink fades to beige
A voice pulls me from the page
But the boughs and hills remain
Desperately, I muster
My eyes, alight—brisingr
The third poem in my four-part tanka series inspired by The Inheritance Cycle.
That moment when you're pulled back to reality, but part of you still lingers in the story.
The magic stays with you—even after the book closes.
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