Between sanity and grief, a fine line.
We had burned the warlock’s lover alive.
His incantations ruled the elements —
with words so ancient, smooth, and venomous —
he summoned winds with fiery eloquence.
Destruction is our fated punishment.
You can find this poem, and the rest for this contest on WattPad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/306715590-moon-gate