Fantasy
Born of Blood and Flame
“There weren't always dragons in the Valley.” Bryn withheld the temptation to roll her eyes as Eldren began his speech. She’d heard it already far too many times, and Eldren was a master politician. Despite his ancestors having little to nothing to do with the dragon repopulation after the Fall of Skryr, his silver-tongue had deftly made the other members of the council believe otherwise.
By Sarah Comber4 years ago in Fiction
The Fireheart Knights Saga
"There weren't always dragons in the Valley"... The words from Knight Commander Servius Bruscius rang through the candle lit gold and white marble walls of the Initiation Chamber. The Initiation Chamber was the first room the new recruits were permitted entry to for the time being. Access to many of the other rooms (of which there was a vast number) was restricted at entry level. A few of the order's founding knights did attest to on occasion they had become lost within the building and it's maze of corridors before a cartographer was brought in to document the layout. As the building was built upon, the maps too would be updated to include the new sleeping quarters with higher ranked members claiming more comfortable ones and lower levels often sharing together, prayer chambers for Knights seeking solace, guidance, knowledge refreshment or answers within their pages, a fencing ring for swordsmanship practice and treasure vaults that were packed to bursting with spoils of wars and successful quests were among the additions.
By Scott Grim4 years ago in Fiction
Valley of Dreams, Delusions Death
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. It was once filled with childhood trysts and the surrealism of spring. Feelings of immortality that ran true and in abundance. Adolescence. And I would look to my mother, her chestnut curls, warm hands and a smile that beckoned for her boy. And I would go, towards that smile, as a loving child would. As a moth would a flame, as a beggar to water. But then I’d stop and watch as that sweet face would contort with pain, as the ache forced her to double over and stain her white dress in the soil. And I’d reach for her, drawn to the honey in her eyes as they oozed forth into the Valley. Desperate to ease whatever plagued her. But she never gave her hand to me, she kept them white-knuckled, tearing across that white dress, seared with agony. And my fingers left bristling, unrequited in the wind.
By Rae-Gene Holmes4 years ago in Fiction
A Tamer Has Risen
“There weren’t always Dragons in the Valley.” The ole traveler paused, jabbing his finger in the air. “Nay gents, while they may remain in the lowlands of Resprils greener pastures, way back in the time’s past the sky serpents roamed the clouds of the seven realms. Nay not in the valley at all friends.”
By James U. Rizzi4 years ago in Fiction
The Scorched Skies of Isartilaesia
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. No, these are indeed very different times, he thought, as he maintained a discreet presence about him. Glancing swiftly and unnoticeably about him, he gathered his breath from having increased his pace, and made light of the scene about him. The townsfolk would soon be finishing their businesses for the day; already the street merchants looked set to collapse their stalls. Horses and mules were being laden with packs in their preparation to depart, and the taverns and inns were soon to be filled for the night. Only they now provided sanctuary and safety for strangers to the town and region.
By Rhys N Rivers4 years ago in Fiction
War Flame
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Dragons, plural. There had always just ever been the one. Not even Halm, the Village Elder, could remember a time before Matchitehew roosted deep in the caverns just south of their small village. It was with the appearance of the second dragon that everything changed.
By Brittany Smith4 years ago in Fiction
The Ekelion
“There weren’t always dragons in the valley” calmly whispered the man to the young child as they found themselves together in hiding. Although there was little light, the man could feel the fear the boy was emitting. The tightness of his grip suggested that this was the first time he was experiencing a collection. The man considered where the boy’s father was and how he had ended up with him in such a significant occasion. The people of the village were taught precise instructions on how to act once the outpost horn was blown, who to follow and where to hide and remain, and yet this boy appeared distressed and confused.
By William Andrews4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Song
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. But that was a long time ago, before the music stopped and the children began to disappear. You can’t create an ending without something else beginning. This is the life-death cycle that resides in all of us. No planet is immune.
By Heidi Beth Sadler4 years ago in Fiction
