Fantasy
The Dragon Plague
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. A long time ago, dragons were few and far between, hiding in caves and on mountaintops where they kept their hoards. Everyone lived in the Valley together, where they were safely surrounded by tall, sharply pointed mountains that caught the clouds and kept the Valley lush and full of life. The edges of the mountains were rich with minerals, the rivers were full of fish, and deer grazed in the meadows. The people of the Valley had everything they needed, and lived peacefully with one another.
By Tristin Roholt4 years ago in Fiction
Holding Ground - Prologue
There weren't always dragons in the valley. Like many other creatures associated with magic and those who practiced it, dragons tended to cluster around Enclaves, where they were treated with more respect than fear, and everything was reasonably fireproof. Some of them had followed the young Beastmaster, Kirios, to their new home, even though the derilict castle had a long way to go before it was a functional Enclave.
By Natasja Rose4 years ago in Fiction
The Dragons War
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, and soon it will be that way again. The fifty year war for our Valley was promised to end soon. King Orhan said that our homes would be taken back, that the dragons who were tearing apart our village would be purged. I clung to that promise like a security blanket throughout training. I think many of us did. The thought of sleeping in warm comfortable beds instead of disheveled, worn-out tents. Freshly cooked meals, not month old bread. That dream, that promise, kept us going, kept us on our march forward.
By Shelby Brown4 years ago in Fiction
The Children of Iron and Earth
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. There were times - sometimes entire months - when you could safely make the crossing without seeing a single one of them. There were times when the road through the Valley would be filled with merchants and travelers, and you could forget that it was dangerous. And yet, a voice whispered into the corner of my mind, scraping and clawing its way deeper, and yet...
By Katie Buitendyk4 years ago in Fiction
Chronicles of the Golden Dragon
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. However, after heavy rainfalls, the raging river that bisected the jungle would surge up its banks, and huge blue ones, covered snout-to-tail in lapis-lazuli scales that glimmered with an oily sheen, would fly in from the north and congregate at the rusting ruins perched over the roiling torrent. When the river ran swiftly enough the ancient structure would glow with mysterious lights and hum and crackle from within. This was clearly what drew the dragons, and so Zoe’s people were fearful of storms. When the ruins glowed, The Mouth of the Mountain, deep within the cave they called home, would open and lightning-like arcs in its maw would spark over the bones of all those who had been foolish enough to venture within.
By J. Otis Haas4 years ago in Fiction
Sympathy for a Dragon
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The elder folk remember a time when spotting a dragon was rarer than an albino crocodile creeping in Perth Marsh (which is rare, but not too) or apples bursting into flames on the branches where they hang because Dan was displeased (which is super rare, but does happen). Yes, there was a time before dragons menaced the Valley of Mannaz. But that was yore, and this is now.
By Tony Marsh4 years ago in Fiction
The Rise and Fall: Turmoil in the Heavens
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. There was a time, my dear child, when mankind had no knowledge of dragon kind whatsoever. Rumors of such magical beings had been heard of course, but their existence was not validated by mere human eyes. No, dragons were territory of the heavens: unbeknownst, like many things to the meager mortal mind. We were always kept in the dark. The heavenly beings intended for our existence to wait at doors and altars to provide worship and praise for their divine egos. Yet, the gods left us knocking, waiting, and longing for our purpose and answers to our questions about life’s truths. This is a tale about one of those times; a time they left us knocking, and a time when no gods answered the door, no god that is, except those who had been banished from the heavens already.
By E.L. Martin4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon's Den
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” I read to the group of kids sitting in a group on their miniature mats. The museum lobby has been taken over by these little ones with wild eyes and open ears. I am only sixteen but being able to have this summer internship at my favorite place has made almost all of my dreams come true. “The Valley is where most of the fossils in this museum have come from!” I point to the bones strategically designed to display the dragon fossil hanging from the ceiling. I have spent most of my time in this lobby reading and studying the fossil of the dragons that have been found throughout the world. I know this pamphlet from front to back and the kids get engulfed by it. It is nice to look at all their little faces and see so much diversity but only two kids that are humans also.
By Alexsandra Barentine4 years ago in Fiction
Stone Valley Saga
There weren't always dragons in the Valley, there were rumblings, but no one had seen a dragon for more than a century. It all started one cold night, the winter of my eighth year. It had been a hard winter, with many losses across the land. Our village, called Stone Valley, was not large by any means, nestled in between two large mountains along a strong river. It was always open to travelers and anyone else who chose to call it home. One night, the men and women were gathered in our great hall to speak about the discovery of two small dragons found along the southern border of our lands. I watched them as I hid behind the enormous chair that my father Alrich was perched on as he listened to the concerns of his people. Though not a king by name, my father was called the King of Men and was looked upon as a leader whose wisdom was sought after by many. The clamoring of the crowd had reached an almost deafening height when a sharp clang rang out through the hall. All eyes turned towards Sabine, an enchantress to some, merely a witch to many more. Her coven stayed towards the northern outskirts of the village, however they were still seen as members of the community. Even as exiled as some of them seemed to be. I watched as her knuckles blanched as she gripped her staff, the source of the echoing cacophony. “Alrich…” she purred, her voice soft and alluring, one of her many gifts. Sorcerers or enchanters as they were called across the land dedicated their lives to various magical practices. Sometimes, they were as harmless as placing a rainbow in the sky. However, on the other side, they had a penchant for being downright deadly. “These dragons do not have to be our downfall, we have the opportunity to use them to our advantage, our greatest advantage.” She continued melodically, her words weaving in and out of the villagers ears. She knew that no one would speak up against her, except perhaps my father. The two of them rarely saw eye to eye and as my father spoke this would be such a time. He was not swayed by the power of her voice, its potency waning over perhaps their years of tentative friendship, or even a deal struck between the two. “It’s madness, Sabine, pure madness to think that you and your enchanters would stand a chance against dragons.” He said, his emphasis sounding as if he spit the word from his throat. It pained me to hear how he spoke about enchanters, knowing that my mother had once been among their greatest. “Dragons…” He said trailing off. I did not know if my father was having trouble finding the words or if he was just choosing them carefully. He took a breath before he began again, his resolve renewed. “Dragons are not something that can just be wished away with your spells and staffs, they can only be dealt with using swords and steel.” He said knowing just the reaction that he would release in Sabine. The enchantress was incensed at the audacity of her old friend’s words, her nostrils flared as she brought down her staff hard onto the stone ground. The sound cracked through the great hall and echoed off the walls as smoke billowed out, her black hair flared out and the image of a dragon filled the great hall. “You forget that I am more than just spells and staffs, you forget just how powerful I am!” She said, her voice taking on a life of its own as it boomed throughout the hall. The people cowered in fear of her, scrambling to get out of her path as she advanced on my father. I looked on in awe of her, while most were terrified by her power, I was fascinated by it. No one else dared to stand against my father. Though he was not impressed nor intimidated by her display. He had seen many things outside the Valley during his years at war. He saw her smoke and mirrors as a mask to hide the fact that she was merely flesh and bone.
By Stacey Maynard4 years ago in Fiction
The Shifting Sands
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. If Shadi remembered right, they’d come about twenty years ago, when she was just a child. She adjusted her spyglass as a sudden gust of wind kicked up the sand from the dune she was hiding behind. Shadi ducked down, swearing softly and wiping grit out of her eyes with her free hand. Would a dozen bolts would be enough to protect her if she was exposed? It was an uncomfortable thought. She’d taken few chances, wearing thick robes over her tunic and a face covering to blend in better, but she knew their attention was easily drawn by sudden movement.
By Zakarias Triunfo 4 years ago in Fiction
