The man looked at the edge of my stone-covered edge, and pushed me into a pit. Before long, I could feel it heating up, and soon, I had melted into the molten rock that I had been surrounded by from hundreds of years before. I was picked from the burning casket, and put in a mold, cooling into a new model. As the end of my cooling process came, a multi color gloss shone over my skin, starting in a bright mossy green, and ending in a dark, almost black, blue. Before I could think of why, though, I was picked up, and tossed into another flame- not as hot as the last, but still- turning me red hot, and making me feel weak. Another second, and I'm outside the flaming cylinder, being beaten into a new shape again, bent over, and over, by a man's bare fists.
YOU ARE READING
The Sea's Grace
FantasyBook 1: Iron, with bits of sand, and many shells in its guard. Something given from one to another, holding the power to kill in mere seconds, having you hooked in mere seconds, coughing up something you never expected.
