Chapter 87

My eyes burned. It was morning and I haven't slept.

Ink smudges painted my fingers and part of my wrist. The candle had burned to the stub, and still I hadn't stopped repeating the phrases, copying the symbols Fae gave me like they held the key to everything. Maybe they did.

My hands ached. The brush I used was worn now, the bristles fraying. The papers around me were a mess of failed attempts, ha