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 1d
lisagrace
I stare at my feet
My home where I should be
Magic is dead here
Alagaësia calls me
I speak in the ancient tongue
The fourth and final poem in my Inheritance Cycle-inspired tanka series.
A quiet return to what still calls me—magic, language, and the self I thought I’d lost.
If you’ve read any part of this journey, thank you. It means more than you know.

– Lisa 🐉
 2d
lisagrace
The ink fades to beige
A voice pulls me from the page
But the boughs and hills remain
Desperately, I muster
My eyes, alight—brisingr
The third poem in my four-part tanka series inspired by The Inheritance Cycle.
That moment when you're pulled back to reality, but part of you still lingers in the story.
The magic stays with you—even after the book closes.
 2d
lisagrace
He hunts in the Spine
The woods erupt warmth and light
The deer bolts, affright
A blue stone? No – dragon’s egg
She, Saphira Bjartskular.
The second in a four-part tanka series inspired by The Inheritance Cycle.
A quiet moment before everything changes—fear, fate, and something ancient stirring in the Spine.

Stay tuned for the next piece in the series.
 3d
lisagrace
Dust motes catch the light
The world sighs in shades of grey
My hand reaches it—
A blue cover, curled edges
One sharp breath, I turn the page
The first in a four-part tanka series inspired by The Inheritance Cycle.
This one marks the beginning: the moment when everything changes.

Watch for the next poem in the collection if you like—each follows a different stage of the journey.

— The End —