#infernoandotherprojects

I was tagged by @theouterdark, so thank you <3

Rules: Write the last sentence in your current WIP and tag as many people as there are words.

So here it is, from Inferno:

It was consumed in a rage of flame and a whisper of ash.

It was by no means the last.

If morals make a hero, then there isn’t one for this tale.

@theouterdark Because you asked for a little more context, you get the last chunk of the current draft.

*

The catastrophe that followed happened in such a way that went unnoticed until it was too late to fix: gradually, and then all at once.

In the dark and deserted halls of the NorthWest wing of the Praetorium, a wooden door, battered and beaten and worn--from both constant previous use and current abandonment--quivered, quietly at first, and then rattled violently, until it was consumed in a rage of flame and a whisper of ash.

It was by no means the last.

Thank you @dogwritesmoved for tagging me <3

I know it’s more that just the last line, but it’s what I wrote last, and it all came out at once.

*

His voice turned cold--not that it had been particularly warm before.

“Humans have no place in Underhill,” he stated, while scanning the fae before him, “nor do most of our weak-blooded cousins.” He moved forward with purpose, and those around him parted without reservation. Using a leveled tree stump as a dais, he stepped up, and turned once more to address the gathering of fae before him. “So we will ask of Underhill exactly that--locking out those who do not belong.” The word rang with revolution.

The world was quiet once more, for just a moment, and then it was loud again. Bright with blood and chaotic laughter, deafening with howling and screams. The prince stayed silent, but did not leave; the only move that he made was to close his eyes.

He smiled.

It was a terrible thing.

*

I’m tagging @constant-vellichor, @thebravelittletoasterthatcould, @somnambulant-directives, @dahliaornelas, and @ramblingsofabourbondrinker