by Ankh Spice Courtney Hall On the beach, three children have conjured a world. The castle survived an afternoon century of siege, and is ancient now, shadow longing toward the water. A fence of feathers is still flying a boundary between his necessary graveyard, her garden. Careful seashell tombstones and careful seashell pathways, from this angle shine the same—white bone, broken patterns. The youngest child, banished for the chaos he carried so loosely, terraformed the bad