They say the world used to turn. They say that night would follow day in an endless dance. They say that dawn rose, dusk fell, and we worshiped both sun and stars. That was a long time ago. The dance has died. The world has fallen still. We float through the heavens, one half always in light, one half always in shadow. Like the moth of our forests, one wing white and the other black, we are torn. My people are the fortunate. We live in daylight, blessed in the warmth of the sun. Yet across the line, the others lurk in eternal night, afraid... and alone in the dark. I was born in the light. I was sent into darkness. This is my story.

Observe these syllables I have arranged in no particular order and pretend to feel some sort of way. Featured story, highest rank #2 in poetry All rights reserved © #Wattys2016

***Updated on Sundays*** The gods have died and the arkanists have been blamed. Ash and darkness cloak the land, the Evernight, the free folk call it. Daemons rise from the shadows and the nights are long. Alone upon the road, heading to the College at Oldtowne, Hale finds refuge within a book. That book is called, The Arkanist, and tells the story of a boy called Kaedn Fallow. *** Following his father's unanticipated suicide, Kaedn is left alone and alienated throughout the city he has grown up in, faced with isolation, poverty, and questions. He needs to find out why his father killed himself, and starts off by searching through the library, reading the books his father read shortly before his untimely death. While there, he stumbles upon one man's secret, and changes his life forever. Copyright © 2015, Jack Pagliante. All Rights Reserved. Cover Artwork: Marc Simonetti