By: Christopher Bice
Threehundred years I've protected these lands. The solstice is coming and once again I must prove myself to the Druid masters. Missions get relayed through a bluestone gem imbedded deep within my chest, near my heart. That stone must be retuned every century. The sarsen stones of Stonehenge are the tuners, my soul the receiver. As midnight bells chime, I'm ushered into the center ring. Blue lighting ignites the sarsen stones, striking my stone and striking me dead.
As dawn appears on the horizon, I'm reborn once again, to another hundred years of servitude.