This is Part 37 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.
Where he’d got them from, I don’t know, but as I rounded the carriage, my head all a-muddle, I stopped dead. A picnic blanket, a sunshade and a windbreak had been erected there in the field. Flandario must have convinced himself we were about to picnic on the beach.
It was in that moment I decided I’d had enough. Of everything. Something in me had snapped, and I started to walk away.
‘Where are you going?’ the magician called after me, but I ignored him.
‘Lyr? Lyr?’ Adrastia shouted, but I wasn’t interested in speaking with her either.
The only response I offered them was a heavy sigh.
Truths were slowly coming to light, only to reveal that my estranged wife seemed to be involved in all the upheaval I had suffered these last ten years.
And now I needed to think. On my own. Without anyone else.
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #37 | Word count: 148