At the Threshold of Dreams
Fred Schendel, Steve Babb
“Mortally wounded, the beast lurched away in retreat
Yet this was a creature wrought of sorcery
Even as the thing mewled in final torment it cast a spell, then sank back into Pagarna’s stygian depths
I barely managed to pull myself out of the water before I swooned and for a time knew no more
Then I dreamed I was speaking with a creature of light
An angel, or was it the sword?
Far from the city, at least now I could dream again”