By Timothy Lantz

It was the circle that kept her safe. A fine line of salt circumscribed around her, holding back the shadows... keeping inside the demons.

They whispered in her mind, telling her the truth she didn’t want to hear.

"Conjurer! Shaper of lies... weaving words to craft your own reality. Your stories will fail you."

She shook her head, trying to quiet the voices. It was no use. The demons were winning.

"Break it!"

"I mustn’t!" She screamed aloud.

"There is no other way."

She touched the salt and flames licked her fingertips. They were cool to the touch and soothed the ache in her heart.

"But what will happen to me? What will I become?"

"You already know the answer."

"Oblivion?"

For once, the voices remained silent.

There were tears now, like molten silver burning her cheeks. There was no sadness, however, simply resignation.

"It’s time."

"I know."

She held her breath and swept her hand through the salt. The circle was broken.