The Poet's Poison

Previously

…She reached for a fresh sheet of paper, her movements slow and deliberate. She didn’t reach for the willow’s embrace. Instead, she picked up her pen, its familiar weight a comfort in her hand. She didn’t know what words would come, or if any words would come at all. But for the first time in a long time, Elara felt a flicker of something akin to hope. The journey ahead would be long and arduous, a descent into the darkness of her own making, but perhaps, just perhaps, it would also be a path towards a different kind of light. The poet’s poison had held her captive, but the poet herself, with the help of a loyal friend and a flicker of inner strength, was finally ready to begin her escape.