Fantasy

Bonded: The Story of Dag and Aila
Dag woke from hibernation with an ache in his back and a rumble in his belly. He opened his large yellow eyes and looked around the cold, dark cave. He was alone, no surprise. Knut and Tor likely hibernated together; they did everything together, much like twins. Rune might be in there, too, Dag mused. Rune followed Knut and Tor everywhere like an obedient pup. But Rune was fat, even for a juvenile dragon, and Dag pictured Knut and Tor kicking his chubby rump out of their cave.
By Heather Hagy4 years ago in Fiction
Equal Creation
Great Hornblower’s Inferno, on this night of nights, I certainly did not expect to find such a horrifying sight as this, this poor little creature, a human most likely, crying, whining, spewing into the darkness with nobody around to cease its insufferable noise-making, which to be perfectly honest, sounded startlingly similar to a dragon pup’s whimper when it is in dire need of food, whether that be a cow, a sheep, or an unfortunate human wandering about past curfew, but how this became my problem, as this toddler was reposed only a few wingspan from my dwelling, was beyond infuriating, my dwelling, which I pride on being in the middle of the largest forest this side of the Tremorous Mountains, is supposed to be a sanctuary for me and other wayward dragons to rest, bide time, and admire gold—as I have a significant fortune amassed upon which I sleep—yet in the middle of my peaceful sleep, rather in the middle of my dream where I was advocating for the end of the enslavement of my kind by the pernicious Giant King Galligog, whom I had on the ropes by citing ancient Giant sources that established that “all intelligent beings are created equal” and “if a creature can sign its own name, it deserves to be manumitted” and “if the monkey sings, quiet the crowd,” all of which had just about won me the day’s trial—although now that last piece of evidence seems to be more an invention of my dreaming mind—however the important piece of this all is that I was enjoying my wonderful fantasy, dream logic and all, when a piercing screech cut me from my slumber and stole my attention and led me to find the pudgy, red-faced, scale-less, no-good, infant human child, and to top off my miserable musings, the little creature could obviously see me standing, hulking in the moonlit clearing outside my cave, because it stopped producing squeals, and for a moment, simply looked at me, blank-faced, so after all of my ferocity, I was left feeling sorry for the little creature, the creature that caused me so much angst—ruining my doctor-suggested one-hundred years of sleep—was now at my mercy for it sensed that I had the ability to eat, burn, move, or save it, yet simply this recognition of possibilities forced me to address the ethical dilemma that this poor human was an intelligent being, yes, a crude, stupid—paradoxically so—and environmentally treacherous being, but a being that given enough education, could sign its own name…its own name that probably did not even exist, since its parents surely did not bother with such traditions or risk attachment to a named child that would be left to the wild, and who am I to run in the face of fate, stealing this child from its destiny of starvation or quelling that of predator, since I am but another leaf in the winds of time, unable even to save my friends and family from slavery except in the fictitious dreams of an unacting hermit, nevertheless, though, I admit that I could not help but feel the slightest form of power in my situation, my ability to decide, and with that power, I felt a freedom which is oh-so-rare for my kind, so why should I not take in this outcast, and raise it right, giving it the knowledge of a dragon yet maintaining within the abilities of a human, and together, just maybe, I would encourage the creation of something greater than either one would be on their own, something that could finally share some much needed wisdom and bring harmony to a tumultuous time, a time where my monkey will sing, and I will silence the crowd.
By Ray Barr4 years ago in Fiction
Grains of Time
As light ran through pine trees, streaking over the clearing, a fresh wind caressed obsidian scales stirring a resting beast. The unfurling of wings sounded out like sails against a soft sea breeze as they stretched as wide as the clearing itself. Golden shimmers ran over the large scaled body as it positioned itself upright, it’s spine was lined with dark thorns all the way to the spear-like tail end. It was magnificent to see at rest but most probably a fearful sight to be had in battle.
By S. L.4 years ago in Fiction
SKIN AND SCALES WILL BE KIN
“Ordered lifespans keep ancient wisdom beyond the reach of mortals, an axiom not readily accepted, even for the near-century-old mortal scribbling down this entry. Before my end, I should like to learn the actual name of The Remaker. The name of the man he once was and why he strives to unshackle The Preventer of Life. What spell must he be under, and why is the blood of all of Miterra’s children necessary for this?
By Isaac Haldeman 4 years ago in Fiction
Raxora
Raxora Written by Jessica Burgess-Rose Paolini Fantasy Writing Challenge 11 November 2022 “Step aside!” I snarled. Bruff’s feverish body lay limp in my arms, and the snow swirled around us in eddies. His blood was smeared on my clothes.
By Jessica Burgess-Rose4 years ago in Fiction
Dragons in the Valley
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. They came from somewhere beyond the mountains. It's said they flew in one day. The townsfolk watched them approach overhead one by one. As they got closer and it was able to discern the shape and form of the impending visitors, a deep sense of impending dread began to take over the hearts of those who had lived here on this land for generations. They could have never known what was in store for them in the coming moments, months, and years. They never would have envisioned what life would be like for their children and their children's children. But here it was, their future already decided for them and presented to them on that day.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
The Silver Dragonborn
The ground shook beneath your feet. As you come to, the mumbled sounds turned into blood curdling screams, men, women, and children alike. A nauseating smell fills your nose, like when your father would tan a fresh hide over the flames near the barn. Your eyes open and you see the chaos that has ensued; people are running in all directions, mothers grabbing their babies, fathers carrying their sons, livestock running free. You hear someone yelling in the distance, “DEMONS!” “THEY’VE COME FOR US!” You look to the morning sky, and you see what looks like a large bird flying towards the village. You knew what it was... a dragon. Your father always told you to get to the nearest house into the room under the floor if there ever was a dragon attack. You get up and look around. You begin to call for your father, “MOTHER?! FATHER?! WHERE ARE YOU?!” Tears stream down your face and as you begin to panic. You look for a house to go to, but each one you see down the road is on fire. As you turn to look the to the other side of the road, a familiar man locks eyes with you, it was Saron the baker. His concerned look turned to menacing as he began to stomp towards you yelling, “This is YOUR fault you little witch! They are here for you!” You try to step backwards and trip, falling onto your back. “The dragons never attacked this village until you and your parents showed up!” You screamed again, “FATHER! MOTHER! HELP!” As he is walking towards you, Saron says, “With your silver hair, blue eyes, and that mark on your face; you are a family of witches! You all should burn!” You try to crawl back as fast as you can but he gets to you, grabs you by the shirt and lifts you up. You try to swing at him, but you’re only three years old; even kicking and screaming you have no chance, and then you see it. He pulls a knife from his belt. Your eyes widen in fear. “NOOOOOO!” As his draws his blade down, you close your eyes. But nothing happens. You feel something wet splatter across your face. You open your eyes and you see the blade of the knife, inches away from your nose. It’s stuck in something, an arm? You are then thrown to the ground by Saron landing on your side. You look up and see Saron pull his knife out of your father’s arm. You see the blood on the knife and dripping down your father’s arm, but you look back at his arm, and see the wound...isn’t there…? Your father punches Saron square in the jaw, Saron falls back a step, tripping over a body of an elderly woman. Your father looks to you, his golden hair up in a high bun, his beautiful emerald eyes looking almost through you. You look up and see a now Silver dragon flying low over some of the houses, blowing what looks like ice breathe, putting out some of the houses on fire. Then a Blue dragon comes from above, kicking the Silver dragon, clawing all down its back. You look back to your father terrified at what you’ve seen; he seems to have actually become angrier, he eyes flashed a darker green, then he yelled, “Run to the forest Amirina!” “Father, I can’t! I’m scared!” “GO! I’ll come after and find…” Saron had gotten back up and stabbed him in the abdomen. “NO!” “Amirina, please go!”
By Curtis Lefebre4 years ago in Fiction
Shala-ummi, Shimat-Shala
"The storms flooded the narrow streets. Cobblestones became spillways. Villagers slid, then drowned. Buildings slid from cliffsides.
By Kait Thursday4 years ago in Fiction
The Ice Dragon
It was the smell that woke Draylen — a scent uncommon in the Frozen Forest, yet unmistakable. A human, and not a very smart one he thought to himself as he curled his long neck to rest his head next to his scaled breast. How long had it been since a human had last stumbled into his territory? Two years? Perhaps, but he couldn’t be sure, seeing as the old dragon didn’t have much of a grasp on time anymore. Dying creatures rarely do. It wasn’t sickness or age that was killing him. It was that he had nothing to live for.
By Marshall Lyles4 years ago in Fiction
Bleeding Heart
I remember it like it was yesterday. The night of the witches' attack. The moon and stars hid behind the clouds. I could still feel the cold rain coming down on us. David was worried about the tracks we would leave in the mud. I was worried our two-year-old, Avan, would succumb to the elements. Even though I try to avoid doing magic in public, I performed a warming spell on Avan.
By Niko Banks4 years ago in Fiction
Kyrul the Terrible
Long, long ago, in this world or perhaps another, there were dragons. That is, if you can believe such things, though I do not think they are as unreal as the modern man may claim. In fact, I think one sees them quite often. But more on that later. This story is about dragons then, not dragons now.
By Nate Brock 4 years ago in Fiction
The Sacrificial Flame
“There is such a thing as evil in this world. A wolf may kill a sheep to stave its hunger but that doesn’t make it evil. That is nature. Nature is not evil. Harsh and unforgiving perhaps, but not evil.
By Arjun Gupte4 years ago in Fiction