Fantasy

Melancholy of a Tyro Saviour
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. He could recall it perfectly; the crystal clear image taking shape in his mind’s eye. The lush greens of the rolling hills, the mighty silverwood trees that hid the playful lives of the nymphs and shireland elves. He could remember stopping during a trek through these lands, feeling the trickles of sunlight dance upon his caramel skin as they cut through the treetops, casting his skin in an almost ethereal bronze glow.
By Elijah Rushton4 years ago in Fiction
Demonfire
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Not until that day, when they settled, metal skins steaming with heat, in the village green. Three black silhouettes, against the soft spring evening, their wings hooked forward and veined with bone, their lifeless heads holding all of hell’s fury in their throats. As she watched the grass char and die beneath their claws, Maeve could almost smell the brimstone in their bellies, the sour avarice, all the coppery blood of virgins spilled to power their flight.
By Kat4 years ago in Fiction
The Shadow of a Dragon
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. There weren’t a lot of other things either, for that matter. And as hard as I tried to blink the image away, it remained. Camouflaged against the shadows that ran the edge of the clearing, it’s other-worldly iridescence caught the light and alerted me to its presence. I slowed my breathing and dropped lower to the forest floor. Fortunately, its sights weren’t set on me. Both eyes, dark and flecked with burning ember, were fixated on the deer I had spent the last two hours stalking. My stomach rumbled in protest at the idea of walking away now. It had been days since my last decent meal, but my rational mind knew there would be nothing left of the deer for me to scavenge. Plus, there weren’t many humans left who could say they walked away from a solo fight with a dragon.
By Samantha Guenther4 years ago in Fiction
Scales of the Mournes
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. At least that was what the stories led us to believe. Tales told to children before they went to bed. Extravagant stories told around a smouldering campfire at night.
By Matthew Kennedy4 years ago in Fiction
The Invasion of Smaragdus
There weren't always dragons in the valley. Up until 50 years ago, there were only peaceful beings in this canyon which I looked at through eyes swollen with tears. Where hundreds of colourful, cozy wooden houses once lined the edges of the Sapphirus lake, there were now domineering, grey, square-brick settlements. Large pipes extended from the structures like thick, rubber entrails, plunging into a sliver of what the lake used to be. For every settlement, there was a dragon chained to the roof. They would often try to break free from their roles as giant, fire-breathing guard dogs. But the chains are unbreakable - just like we thought we were 50 years ago.
By Dee Simone4 years ago in Fiction
To Tread Twice
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. At least that’s what they say. But as with most things that are neither here nor there, until they are, we are left with the question of whether anyone took it upon themselves to look beforehand.
By J.M. Whelan4 years ago in Fiction
The Valley of Ashes
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. There weren’t always bands of raiders roaming the countryside. There weren’t always starving animals, driven mad by hunger, lurking in the shadows of the night. The claws that tear and the teeth that bite.
By Alex Clark4 years ago in Fiction
Ecarni
There weren't always dragons in the valley. There once was a time when the villagers lived in peace and serenity, but that time was long forgotten and hopelessness fell like a fog.
By Amanda Ciufecu4 years ago in Fiction
The High Priestess
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Once upon a time, they used to roam free on the western continent with all the other mythical creatures. The land was filled with phoenixes, griffins, fairies, and all the other creatures of magic and lore. It was a beautiful place. The sun would rise in the morning, leaving the sky an ethereal pink and orange that was reminiscent of the phoenixes. The grass was a brilliant shade of green and where one would find the most mischievous of creatures: the fairies. Come night fall, the griffins would roam the sky, basking in the moonlight. It was the most magical place in the world. That is, until the scientists arrived.
By Jennifer Chapman4 years ago in Fiction
Chapter 1
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.” Hilary shifted her gaze from the breathtaking red rock formation to her son, pushing the rogue hair from her ponytail behind her ear. “What?”
By Amey Aubry4 years ago in Fiction
Fire Talk
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. We had lived in the highlands around a different volcano many, many years before coming down into the warm, fertile valley in order to survive. As the ice and cold became the norm, our volcano became dormant. We had to seek out a new home for us and so we traveled down, closer to the warmness of the earth and the seas surrounding it. Finding a new home which had a volcano just beginning to push its way up through the valley floor, we thrived.
By Rulam Day4 years ago in Fiction
Trapped Until Dawn
There weren't always dragons in the Valley ... They had appeared after what will be forever remembered as “The Rise.” When the emerald green scaly beasts rose from their sleep after millenniums of deep slumber underwater, the earth trembled. Grounds shook. The creatures’ first exhales erected fires that scattered along the coast before their massive bodies slithered to the skies. All that remained was destruction and panic.
By Alexis van Dijk4 years ago in Fiction