Durrea

In the Gloaming by Pixel Prose It was dusk by the time she arrived outside the ancient oak, the golden trunk grey in the pale moonlight. The branches were larger than she remembered.  The frosted limbs reached higher into the sky, the stars beginning to twinkle between the dark fingers of shadow.  The sign above the pastern door still read “Golden Oaks Library” in faintly glowing letters.  She had cast that spell as a promise the day she had left.  To guide her home, she had said, mostly to herself. With a brief glow of her horn, the door unlocked and swung silently open to reveal main rotunda.  She trotted inside, peering int