Adventure
Symbiotic: Chapter 48
Chapter 48 Sara settled herself at the bottom of the Magma lake, resting at the base of the Volcano Territory Control Shard, its crystalline pulse steady and reassuring behind her. She cradled the Greatworm Hatchling Egg in her lap, its shell glowing red from the outrageous ambient heat, veins of fire and stone energy threading across its surface. The hatchling’s spark pulsed erratically, stronger than ever, feeding greedily on the potent ambient energy saturating the magma chamber.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a month ago in Fiction
Christmas Tales ~ Silent Night, Deadly Night
Christmas is a time for joy, for love, for peace. Yet peace survives only when evil is held back. The rules have shifted; Christmas is no longer about naughty or nice. For this season, nice takes its rightful throne in a wicked world, until the spirits stir again.
By Mia Z. Edwardsabout a month ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 47
Chapter 47 The magma lake roiling like a living sea of fire. The air shimmered with heat, waves of molten stone rising and falling in slow, heavy rhythm at the edges. She knew instinctively of course the strongest energy would be at the bottom, where fire and stone converged and condensed in their purest form.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a month ago in Fiction
The Last Ember of Aravelle
Aravelle had always been a kingdom of fire. Not destructive fire—but living flame. The ancient Emberstone at the heart of the capital city, Solinaris, glowed with an eternal light that warmed crops, filled the sky with a soft golden haze, and kept the darkness of the Netherdeep at bay. Children were taught that as long as the Ember burned, Aravelle would endure.
By Alisher Jumayevabout a month ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 46
Chapter 46 The volcano’s heart chamber pulsed with molten light, shadows dancing across jagged walls as the magma lake churned lazily. Sara sat down, cross legged upon the scorched stone. She pulled the Greatworm Egg from her Pocket Storage and cradled it before her in a cocoon of Soul and spore energy. Its crystalline shell shimmered faintly as the Hatchling within continued to feed on the powerful ambient Fire and Stone energies.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a month ago in Fiction
The Threshold of Then
Elara found the door on a day when her present felt particularly thin. The maple tree at the edge of her property was ancient, its bark a geography of ridges and valleys. Today, in the low, slanting light of October, she saw the lines she’d always taken for natural cracks had formed a perfect rectangle. And within that rectangle, someone had long ago painted a simple, weathered green door, complete with a tiny brass knob that was just flecks of ochre paint.
By Habibullahabout a month ago in Fiction
Cui Bono
“This heist won’t work.” By Fredrick’s estimation, the look of bewilderment painting the face of the priest across the dingy tavern table didn’t make his statement any less untrue. To avoid his partner Grander’s inevitable stomp, Fredrick kicked his boots onto the table.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a month ago in Fiction
