By Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical Healer We live in a world where the shadows don’t wait for night to fall.Once upon a time, a man could go to sea or hunt the plains or drink in a quiet cantina and know what he was up against. Storms. Tigers. His own cowardice. Things you could name. But now the world’s full of eyes you can’t see, hand

I did not ask to be chosen. I did not seek out the burden of sacredness or the weight of unseen war. But in the silence between battles and the spaces between breath, something called my name—and it was not a whisper. It was thunder.It came at night, as these things always do. When the world is quiet and the lies no longer hold. I was not sleepin