“Llum de tarda” by Joan SorollaSilence. For a few moments there is nothing. Nothing to see. Nothing to smell. Nothing to hear. Not even the arrow flying through the air, straight towards me. No sound from the archer who must have drawn the bow. There is not enough time to get away. Reflexively I start to take a step back. Due to the magic I used to enhance my senses time seems to stretch, and …