Bocuk
“Bocuk,” I murmured the name into the night. “I come to worship at your altar. To bear witness to your grace. To welcome you home this night.” The wind howled, encircling me until I fell to my knees on the road. My lips became chapped and dry. Within me, my bones ached in ways I had forgotten they could and the fire of my draconic nature flickered. My chest began to ache as I breathed in the frigid air. In the howling wind, chaotic voices echoed and whispered, caressing my mind with their eerie chanting. I knew magic when I heard it, and this was it. A witch’s spell. The snow seemed to glow with preternatural entities and amongst the wind and chilling flakes of snow, I saw the shadowy visages of the beings whose glowing eyes haunted me. They were ageless and aged at the same time. Beings lost in time to the winds of Bocuk, yet every bit a part of it. I knew the hollowness of their cheeks and the white yet blue skin. The hunger in their eyes was a force of nature and as I felt myself
