Fantasy

Son of a Witch
The wizard, dubbed Ignacious the Inept by his mother, treks through the Mullenwood, carrying the final ingredient in a sling across his back. His feet should not be howling, his back should not be in a constant state of spasm. A warm trickle of pee runs down the back of his robe.
By Kelley Zherzhi4 years ago in Fiction
Trees Across the Tapestry
Vyredel no longer knew the age of the world. There had been a time when she and her kind had all but ruled the earth and sky. But now, she wandered the reaches of the Sacred Forest, slow and calm, aimless to her purpose. The only kindred she had left had each found their own ways to wander, burrowing deep into the realms of the forest to hide themselves away. The great rises and falls of the land and trees stretched far overhead, offering shelter from the outside world even for Vyredel’s colossal form. There was a pulse to it all like her own lifeblood. It was her home and haven. For somewhere beyond its borders, her enemies lay still in waiting or in plotting. For that had been the very reason behind its creation so long ago.
By Richard Rees4 years ago in Fiction
Sleeping Dragons
On average, only one in every thirty dragons would survive their first year alive. After that, only one in every fifty make it to their adolescence. After adolescence, only one in every five hundred make it to adulthood. For Dragons, Death was a common part of life. Although a Dragon could potentially live to see five centuries, most struggled to even see a decade. Their cousins, the Wyvern, only fared slightly better odds, but they only lived in the mountains of Eurasia, their two feet designed to perch atop the peaks. It was fifteen years ago when the last Himalayan Wyvern was seen, I saw him with my own eyes. But my tale for you isn’t about a Wyvern. My tale is of a Dragon, your other relative.
By Some Guy4 years ago in Fiction
The Dragon's Angel
Prologue The whole forest was alight with revelry and cheer as the noble families from the Lunar Kingdom prepared to come down for their yearly visit to Efril. The natives had a week-long holiday that they celebrated for these royals, called the moonlight festival, in which the king and queen and their court would ride down the mountainside from their secluded castle in elegant horse-drawn carriages.
By Brenna Williams4 years ago in Fiction
The Return of the Dragon
I feel the warmth of his fiery breath as he kneels in front of me looking down, like a human to an ant. At least I think it is a male. It’s very difficult to tell the sex of a dragon. The smell of burnt, human flesh surrounds me as I run underneath the beast with pure terror in my heart. As panic turns to a strange calm, I recall a trick my grandfather taught me.
By Amy Hall4 years ago in Fiction
Unburdened
Screams cut through the stillness of the forest. Deep in his bramble nest, Rho was wrenched from sleep. He threaded his serpentine neck through the surrounding tangle of thorns but saw nothing through the trees. He listened. All he could hear was the pounding of blood in his ears.
By Kiera G 4 years ago in Fiction
The Truth in the Blood
We dragons do not dream. For humans, slumber is a crevice by which untruth may enter the mind. They yield to the fabrications that find them in the clouded dark.
By Sonia Heidi Unruh4 years ago in Fiction
Dagolin's Destiny
The cliff village was a rough and rugged place, where the winds howled through the crags and the rain beat against the rocky cliffs. The sky was always overcast, and the sun struggled to peek through the thick clouds that loomed overhead. The villagers lived in huddled wooden huts along the cliff edge, looking out over the tumultuous sea that beat against the shore far below.
By Arthur Impostore4 years ago in Fiction
Dragonfly
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “being a dragon would be so awesome” or maybe “if I was a dragon I wouldn’t be scared of anything”. Well, you’re wrong. And I don’t appreciate the constant pressure to be awesome and fearless. Have you ever actually met a dragon? We aren’t invincible you know. We aren’t even that big! I mean sure, by human standards we’re big. But you know what else is big? Cows! Now there’s a sturdy beast! That’s something that really isn’t talked about enough. City folk think they’re these placid, gentle creatures but I dare you to say that while face to face with one.
By Ruth Rambles4 years ago in Fiction
The Legend of Aynuria
Arexium, the once great continent, is now plagued by compromised ideals of those who came before. From the anchor of the capital, the City of Chains, to the Sacred forest that bears her name, the Celestial Breath, Aynuria. A storm unlike any that have been seen was created – the maelstrom, a storm of arcane nature, replacing the rain with fire and the dead rising from where the snow once laid. The weather, once controlled by nature, is now controlled by the arcanum. However, for this story we go before the maelstrom took control, to the vibrant green forests that bear the name of their protector, the dragon Valonscale.
By Jesse S.4 years ago in Fiction
Anomie Amalgam
The snowdrift twitched. Kiri kept perfectly still, from the tip of her mottled snout to the end of her barbed tail. She could tell the vole wasn’t large, but it was something. A snack to keep her stomach from rumbling and alerting the larger game.
By Shea Dunlop4 years ago in Fiction
Creosote's Wolf
The dragon Creosote let loose a smoky half-yawn, half-burp. She had a belly full of sheep and she was feeling heavy and lazy. Too heavy and lazy to fly, so she decided to walk back to her den. Or waddle. Slowly. She never hurried; dragons always had time.
By Mark Crislip4 years ago in Fiction