Nyx Kain is a writer with roots deep in both the Canadian prairies and a fascination with the power of belief. From velveteen rabbits to ghost stories that give more life to their subjects with each fascinated retelling, their passion is to celebrate and affirm how the feelings we share through fiction themselves create something new and real – whether that is a friendship with someone fascinated by the same story, a call to action, or something as small and tenacious as a memory that only breathes when a wind in the right season blows across it.
Mitch had expected toasting the bastard’s death to go down sweeter. After all, he’d been waiting twenty years to do it. But maybe that was the problem. Wait that long…
It’s been seven days since the guardian died. Five since we laid it to rest. It took that long to dig through the numb shock and half-frozen soil, to hollow…
The third (and most likely last) of three sprints telling the same story. - The one thing aside from her that was still changing with time. Her body woke up…
The second of (at least) three sprints telling the same story. - A cat, skinny black stray all bones and hackles, standing at the mouth of an alley. Staring into…
The first of (at least) three sprints telling the same story. - It had been May 28th ever since she had knocked that damn glass off the counter. She’d thought…
Wearing a chain of dandelions into battle, strewn careless and delicate about the neck. A boast, or a mockery? You won’t dent their armour. You won’t so much as cut…
I had never really believed there was such a thing as diving too deep. There was equipment, and there were people, not suited to do it, but the former was…
“I don’t believe you,” she laughed, in a way that sang from the rim of her wine glass. “What, you don’t think I would?” They had long since emptied theirs,…
Being courted by a god of frost was mostly downsides. The first time she found a surprise blizzard on her doorstep, late in May, she assumed it was just the…