by Colleen Foley
I glared at Seth, then at the
webpage. An image of a stone loom, glowing with blue symbols, sitting
under a wooden arch was both cool and supremely disturbing. Soothing yet
weird and ugly piano music began issuing from the laptop’s speakers.
Seth either didn't hear or notice, but I felt it drain me like a leech,
intellect and will slipping away.
"Nate, what's wrong with you?"
I figured I had half a minute before slipping into a vegetative state. I slid to my knees.
"You can't feel that? Lucky you, bro. Must be your magic. That thing's active."