Marketplace

Taryr had a name now, given rather than chosen, and still did not know what to do with the weight of that. It sat in them the way a stone sits in a riverbed, settled, undeniable, reshaping the current around it without once needing to explain itself. They were a being of a world called Botora, made of light and weather and shape, and lately that shape had felt thin, like something stretched further than it was built for.