[The dream Ira steps into is already dark; a private graveyard with a wrought-iron fence is the setting, and van Zieks stands before a mausoleum with flowers in hand. The sound of hooves in the grass catch his attention, however, and he turns to face the creature, the constant furrow in his brow and his posture beneath his cloak wary.
He can only see the unicorn as a manifestation of another force: a hand that guided him and his family into the depths for a decade...]
You've no more hold over me.
[Bitter though it is, his voice holds a determination, too. He won't be easy prey.]
B
He can only see the unicorn as a manifestation of another force: a hand that guided him and his family into the depths for a decade...]
You've no more hold over me.
[Bitter though it is, his voice holds a determination, too. He won't be easy prey.]