Anarchy

James Treadwell

I am everything no longer forgotten.

I banish forgetting.

My seed has grown and become prophecy.

Truth walks the world above.

Magic is risen to the world once more.


In Cornwall they have seen it rise: in an angel of death and endless unseasonal snow.

Across the ocean on a remote Canadian island the blood and offerings and smoke of England seem nothing more than distant rumours of hysteria.

Until the girl disappears. And the whale comes. And The Plague spreads.

And nothing is as it was before.

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