Fantasy
Dragons in the Valley
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Once, in the time before time, the time before civilization and the sapiens building cities and farms, the valley was at peace and all lived in harmony, it was when Grannus and Nantosuetta lived in the spirit city of Norumbega in the shadow of Mount Katahdin, along the Penobscot River. It was a city surrounded by seven pillars of gold and encrusted with pearls, given up by the oysters in the bay of the Great Sea. The people drink the milk of the maple tree and ate of the bounty that the Gia had supplied from the land, from the Great Sea to the Great River that flowed to the land of the Gitchee Gomee. There also lived the Cherokee fire goddess, Kanaueski and her friend the Norse Freya, they kept the secrets of fire, the thing that was the transformer of all things. They lived in peace, until the great fire demon of the Island of Ice came looking for gold and pearls. He had slipped out of the bonds the Norse gods had placed him in the Cave of Surtr.
By Douglas A Breeden4 years ago in Fiction
The Dark Expedition
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. They were once lizards that crawled along the ground and through the roots of the great Arch Trees, but now they soared to their canopies and roosted there among hovels inhabited by low-lives and mercenaries. This was the region of Arcadia, one of the few where humans still reigned after The Blackening.
By Equilla Beasley4 years ago in Fiction
Dreaming of Dragons
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. That’s what everybody says anyway, but I always remember there being dragons. They would roam in the darkness, their teeth protruding from their mouths, too long to fit inside, and their eyes soulless. Nothing but black pupils, dark and unblinking. Nera is constantly chittering in my ear about how amazing the dragons are, with their venomous glands, talons stronger than diamonds, wings razor sharp and all that. I don’t really get what she sees in them, I mean, they are horrifying and weird which technically makes them very amazing but they are also the main reason I haven’t slept in three days and am not paying attention.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Fiction
Windriders
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. In fact, there was still a place in recent living memory when dragons hadn’t existed at all. They had resided solely in paintings and books, adorning murals or embroidery. They decorated the prows of ships, or guarded the gates to castle ramparts. Figureheads and statues carved from wood or stone. Or even cast from light, reflected a hundred different colours through painted glass windows. They were creatures of myth after all. The fanciful imaginings of some long dead scholar. Brought to life purely by the flourish of an artist’s hand, or moulded by the fingers of a gifted sculptor.
By Amy Lindop4 years ago in Fiction
The Wild Hunt
13:54, 21 May 1631 City of Magdeburg Principality of Magdeburg Lower Saxony, Holy Roman Empire Magdeburg was on fire, and the smoke darkened the sky. For sixteen-year-old Otto, everything seemed hopeless. Turning sixteen this past February, he didn't expect to be recruited to defend his home from the Emperor himself a month later.
By J.J. Lozano4 years ago in Fiction
Dark Beginnings
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The Kalikrine warriors who took the Valley as their home were unaware of what was about to unfold, but the same could not be said of the woman approaching the dragons. She walked deliberately toward her old home, her eyes fixed on the 20-person tall, black twin statues positioned at each side of the entrance to the Valley. It had been ten long years since she was forced from her home. A decade since she had last laid eyes on the dragons.
By JP Solomon4 years ago in Fiction
Harbinger. Runner-Up in The Fantasy Prologue.
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. At least, that’s what my mother told me. And when I remember her words, I smell her scent – vanilla and citrus – and I hear the soft crackle of oak on our hearth. She loved to tell stories. That one was her favorite.
By James Farrell4 years ago in Fiction
