Fantasy
Ashes of Dragons
There weren't always dragons in the valley. Like dark clouds carried on an angry wind, they came, with gigantic wings, stretching across the sky; so thin, you could see the intricate veins spread across their leaf-like wings like a spider’s web. These winged beasts followed the invaders, feeding on the dead.
By William Saint Val4 years ago in Fiction
The Incendiaries
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. When I was a child they were only myths, rumors spread by travelers and villagers familiar with the stories. My mother knew the Vardian Prophecy well, reciting it to us often in the glow of the fireplace before bed. The land will perish, the mountains will fall, and the Fire Queen will rise again upon the return of the dragons. She will be your salvation. Her voice was always warm and soft with the words, cradling us into a hopefulness everyone else had abandoned years ago. For people like her, this prophecy was more than a story spread through taverns, more than whispers after dark. It was religion. An inevitable fate. The dragons would come, and the Fire Queen would rise.
By Khloe Kammerzell4 years ago in Fiction
The Dragons of Popocatepetl
There weren't always dragons in the valley. That all changed three months ago. "But why were there dragons in the valley of Mexico now, in 2028?" Lorien asked herself. Lorien Duran stood on the hillside looking down into the morning fog covering smoldering patches of Mexico City. Plumes of smoke wriggled their way from under the fog to snake to the sky. The air was cool on her skin. The sky was overcast; it would be raining soon. You could smell it in the air. This was her favorite time of day, the early morning hours when she could get out and smell the dew on the grass and feel the breeze on her face before going back to the confines of the bunker to continue working on finding a solution, now that there are dragons in the valley.
By Robert Knight4 years ago in Fiction
The Wells of Malakai
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The cryptic words were etched into the ground with deep, uneven scratches—the beginnings of a sepulcher that never made it further than the blueprint. A hundred feet below the forest floor and rimmed by towering trees with thick trunks and full canopies, the sinkhole was perfectly hidden. The well was not devoid of life at the bottom, however. In fact, it was thriving except for one small macabre anomaly. Amidst a field of lush grasses, ripe with berries and wildflowers of violet and yellow, a circular patch of dried, dead earth nine feet in diameter marked the resting place of five great men centuries-dead and nearly forgotten. At the center, a long-dead king of legend sat cross-legged and upright, regal even in death. His crown still rested on his head, and the sword that named him was buried point first in the ground with long bony fingers entwined around the hilt. Fragments of long-ago frayed garments clung to his bones in scarce patches.
By Stephen Paul4 years ago in Fiction
Draconia
Draconia Doom of the Pyrites
By Russel Bush4 years ago in Fiction
Dragons of Ash Valley
There weren't always dragons in the valley. Or maybe there were and we just didn’t know it. It was only a few years ago that Della Frye and her sister Bonnie had seen one land in the clearing near the edge of Cardstone Forest. Della was around eighteen at the time and Bonnie just thirteen. They’d been gathering whatever it is that girls gather in the forest, and felt the earth shake as the monster hit the ground. Bonnie had, unfortunately been visible from the clearing. Although from Della’s statement on the incident, Bonnie’s scream of terror most certainly would have alerted the dragon to her presence. In a matter of moments the dragon was on top of her, pinning her small form to the ground with its front claw that was as big as a cow. Bonnie’s screams hadn’t lasted long. They were silenced as a sharp talon as long as my forearm pierced her throat. According to Della, her sister’s body twitched for a few moments as her life’s blood soaked the earth beneath her.
By Nola Bastin4 years ago in Fiction
The Dragon's Gambit
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Not that there was anyone alive who remembered that. That was the problem with human memories. They were so short. A few thousand years and it seemed all was forgotten. As far as their histories were concerned, the dragons had always been there. They are great celestial creatures, said one faction. They were terrible beasts, said another. Generations of scholars had debated over matter, much to the dragons’ amusement. They were gods! They were demons! They were creators of the world, they were destined to destroy it. They were a curse, they were a blessing. None could wholly agree on their nature, though that last one was perhaps the most… accurate.
By Al'mahn Wilson4 years ago in Fiction
Awakened
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Not until that fateful night… The full moon had risen high above the trees. Three figures stood in its pale glow, deep within the forest. They did not move; they hadn’t for hours. Covered in long black cloaks, hoods over their heads, they looked like shadows turned to stone. Crickets chirruped, echoing in the darkened wood, but the figures stood as silent as the trees, waiting.
By Lauren Triola4 years ago in Fiction
