Fifty seasons had passed since the end of The Sunder. Memories of the long civil war twisted my dreams into horrid shapes, until I only slept a few hours a night. The memories were part of me, though my old body and mind refused to accept them.
The King and his advisor exchanged whispers as the two monks and the Royal Protector stood patiently in silence. Lirios turned his head to face them. “You may leave now,” said the Royal Advisor. Tarnan and Nara nodded, and proceeded to the exit. Gélin hesitated. Just before the monks made their exit, he turned around […]
Small droplets of sweat formed on King Bevérian’s forehead…
A terrible sense of unease took hold of her, and she assumed the worst had happened down below.
They were too late.
You kept telling yourself that you were a force of good for the world… what a mess you made.
The Prince furrowed his brow, “Come out, whoever you are! Who hides in the shadows of trees?”
An arrow whistled through the air…
Still as stone is the river as I crawl closer for a greeting As if some distant heart had stopped its natural beating Years together yet you know me little—I must confess I am a thief, and now a dying one no less (Please do not let this note cause you too much distress) […]
The temple desperately needed coin from the brother to the King. The monks baked a special bread for his pleasure, but instead of magic bread, the temple only had a sorry story of how a little girl ran off with the most expensive bread in the entire kingdom.
I couldn’t get much sleep last night. Today’s the day—my fate, my future, it all rests on the next following few moments. Here goes nothing.
Listen, there’s something you need to know about the First Gods…