False Colored Eyes
by Sean O'Hara
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Father is dead.
The note contained no salutation, no signature, but I recognized the handwriting of my ulom-sister Asnaio. I crumpled the note and tossed it into the fireplace. I turned to the messenger, the man's clothes rumpled and weather-stained from the rough ride through snow filled passes, his hair hanging limp with sweat despite the frigid weather. "How long?"