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Forbidden Destiny 0.2Chapter 2 Feredir, son of Knute and Zenobia, Prince of the Elves and Lord of the Woodland Council
It was too warm for the young elf this close to the edge of the woods. His people preferred to live in the cooler areas of the forest, where the sun shone but the streams put a loving chill in the air. The lands beyond the trees, further than he had ever dreamed of going, was a strange place, now that his keen emerald eyes could catch glimpses of that would through the hundreds of trees between himself and the border.
The world that he had always known, the world of his people and their many allies, was lush, with the vibrant colours of nature everywhere. For the elves, and those that lived among them, the world was a permanent spring, with every little flower being cherished. For his friends the dwarves and their neighbours the goblins, there was a permanent winter, with snow so bright that no light was needed at the entrance to their caves. As for the reptilians, the sea was const
HopeBorn of Light,
Loved by Darkness,
Neither shall be thy doom.
But a potion of two,
Of ice and of fire,
Of wind and of earth,
Thy spirit shall shatter,
The world goes to gloom.
Born of two,
Not great, not small,
A truth we can seek;
The Power of Old
Forbidden Destiny 0.1Chapter 1 - Aaralyn, daughter of Sawyer and Brea
My name is Aaralyn. I live on a little farm by the forest with my parents. My aunt and cousin, Tala, moved in with us eleven years ago, after my uncle died of the Black Death. I doubt that Tala could ever truly remember him, for he died when we were one five. Since then, we have shared the chores of the farm. Supposedly.
It's a quiet life, caring for the sheep, cows and horses and then harvesting the wheat each autumn. I would not trade it for the world, but Tala would never be heard to say the same. She loved the busy life of the city.
I stood on the porch with my family as my father greeted the old jeweller and his son, Jasper. The old man was permanently bent over the twisted old walking stick that he used; he must have been over one hundred, with his face lined with deep wrinkles and his hair as white as the snow. He had visited our village every year, since I could remember, for summer. My father would brag about the years that he h
Dullblade Story Chapter 1Chapter 1
"Captain Jack Dullblade and the crew aboard the Dragon's Rage have been tried and found guilty of pillaging, thievery, murder and pirating along His Majesty King Charles the Third of Spain's shores. They are hereby sentenced to hang from the neck until dead."
Two marines pushed Jack up the wooden steps towards the noose waiting deviously for the captain's neck to come inside his tight grip. The pirate kept his dark head high, the ropes around his chaffed wrists cutting into his bone. He watched as the hangman brought the rope down around his neck, the stray fibres tickling his sweating skin, teasing him to fight his sentence. His green eyes meet those of a hooded woman at the front of the gathered crowd, awaiting his legs to kick and dangle as his neck cracked and his soul fled his mortal body. He was sure that only hell waited for him, but he held onto the faith of his mother; God would forgive his sins. It was the only hope he could cling onto.
Aurora watched with her liqui
Dullblade Story 1 IntroductionIntroduction
She watched the ship sail away, the starched pale sails blowing in the cool evening sea breeze. The boat creaked as the she sailed towards the horizon, her cargo full of treasures untold.
Crystal's white hair floated on the water's surface as she bobbed up and down next to her sister, her clear eyes following the ship's path for just a moment more. "He's gone, Kimora. You must move on now; he has."
"I should never have let him do it; I should have let them kill me when I had the chance. That way, none of this would have happened." Her violet eyes slowly filled with acidic tears as the white sails blended into the clouds.
"Sister, you could not have known; men play their tricks too well. We are easy for them to play with, and then they leave. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, on his mind." Crystal held out her tanned hand, her white nails, naturally embossed with silver patterns, shining in the moon's early light.
Kimora turned to gaze at the disappearing sai
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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