To Flame a Wild Flower

Are the preparations in order for the coupling ceremony? A leather vest tapers to her plump curves, Ocruth’s sword-through-a-crescent-moon sigil pinned to her lapel. His face contorts, and he crumbles down, like someone just ripped several disks from his spine. Having sipped the water that holds a malignant truth, they didn’t make it far before their bodies changed from the inside out.