Fantasy
The Valley of Shadow and Fire
There weren’t always dragons in The Valley, there weren’t always demons either… Unfortunately, The Valley was never green or lush, never bountiful nor verdant. It never proffered life or abundance. However, it was never desolate either. This was the perfectly imperfect sanctuary for the damned. It was the harmony in the discord of the vast ocean that was the world. Admittedly it was strenuous, but it was there, there is an honour amongst thieves after all. Across the vast canyon narrow settlements were forged around the constant flow of trade routes connecting greater lands of greater abundance where gold glistened and fabrics flowed. The Valley was home to few, far fewer than the droves of men that they welcomed and the few that were brave enough to call them home were often those who were lost. Some say the lost could find a home here, the home that is the rock, resilient against the churning tide of trade and money, lust and fortune. The rock that most wary merchants tried their utmost to ignore or avoid for fear of running aground and drowning in the debauchery.
By D. J. Bond4 years ago in Fiction
The Madness of Valatriste
Chapter 1 There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The small, scaly creatures could only be found in the spring and summer, when the ring-shadows drifted northward, taking the twilight haze of winter with them. But in Morghe, at the mouth of the Frissium Bay, one could always find a small dragon, and his name was Tiberre.
By Roberto Calas4 years ago in Fiction
What was left in the Valley
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Once they never used to come to the mainland at all. They lived on the Lourlan islands feasting on what they could find on the rocky cliffs and diving to the depths of the ocean for more. At that distance they would have looked like small birds dancing on the horizon.
By Cameron Scott4 years ago in Fiction
I will be the apocalypse.
“There weren’t always dragons in the valley. It was quiet, still, a small world. But they will come, as sure as the sun will rise, they will come on wings of black and scales of iron. Their breath will turn our castles of sand to glass, our homes to ash, our people to char. They will come because they must; heralds of the end of time, of the cycle; of death by fire and rebirth from the ashes. As it has been before, so shall it be again.”
By Holden Marx4 years ago in Fiction
Deren's Road
The Golden Sea was aptly named. Covered in gentle hills and long yellow grass that rolled like waves in the wind, the southern Andesian province did resemble a golden body of water. Governed by Lady Haaran Braed, Duchess of the Bastion, it was a lawful province, respected in the kingdom by nobles and merchants alike. Each autumn, the duchess would host a grand market outside the walls of Braeden’s Bastion. For three weeks, the town of Hazel overflowed with crowds. Merchants, farmers, and artisans arrived in covered wagons from across the northern kingdoms, eager to trade gossip and wares.
By Deyna Dodds4 years ago in Fiction
Echo
"There weren't always dragons in the valley". My grandfather yelled slamming his fists upon the dining table. I looked outside the window to see Echo's purple eye glaring in at the commotion. Grandfather often talked about a time when dragons didn't exist. Along with a prophecy that speaks about when a dragon chooses you, both souls and bodies morph together. Only then will the world know the true History of dragons and where they came from. The world waits for the first dragon to choose its human.
By Alissa Hutton4 years ago in Fiction
