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Chapter 6 · Version 1.7
1914 · We still have a show to enjoy.
A razor, impeccably sharp and dressed in green, that stands up for the people.
1,307 words
The opening notes of a big crescendo.
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Lengthy procedures, excessive paperwork, and bureaucratic red tape.
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Must a fork always be paired with a cake? Must art always adhere to tradition?
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They lift chairs, smash furniture, and jump out of walls. And there's nothing you can do to stop them.
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Oh, if only you could say the right name, everything would be so much easier.
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A showdown for the future of a shining star.
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You and I met, and the room was aglow with light.
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Of doorways and brushing shoulders.
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Glimpses of the heart.
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Two pairs of eyes, locked upon the selfsame star.
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Salvation shall be proclaimed.
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"That golden island is undoubtedly a sanctuary for the arts, a utopia where all arcanists can thrive."
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A surge of passion, a genuine heart, and a single tear.
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Don't fall into darkness.
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"Seeking Silenus in the woods, I asked him."
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And now, the most anticipated performance.
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Applaud, applaud, applaud!
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... When all tides converge.
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For whom does the bell toll?
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... Doctor?
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Please don't ...
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The brother, the sister, and the evil witch.
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A circle, and time. No beginning, no end.
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