A miscellany of my fantasy fiction, in fifty words

Chenna tapped the flask absently, studying the cauldron. Potion fumes that granted those biddies glimpses of the future, made their guidance so needed - made them so powerful...

Ey opened the flask, and smirked. Just one drop, to change the potion, corrupt their visions, and destroy their power.

Godsforge, they called the volcano, but Puar knew better. This was no forge.

Ey closed eir eyes and strained to look at the chamber again.

Filled with notclay golems.

This was a kiln.

Tueioh fixed the suddenly-stammering merchant with a sharp glare. "Would you care to repeat that?" she asked grimly, his fist full of shards from her fury overriding his caution.

The merchant fled. She rubbed his eyes, trying to recover from the instability in her identity caused by one fool's slip.

Jekkub cast a discerning eye over the skies ahead of them. Violet, mostly - not too tricky to sail through, and mainly shading to indigo, which was calmer still.

Ey did not like those flashes of electric green in the brighter patches, though. Warnings of another sky breakage.

Iatte kept eir head bowed as the overseer walked past, the picture of a meek, obedient slave. "If those gods of yours were real, you wouldn't be slaves now!" he jeered at the new arrival.

Eir fingers slipped over the wooden figure that kept em alive.

Ey stayed silent.