The Glass Unicorn, Intro.I always loved the way the glass captured the light, splashing an array of prisms across the wooden floor. Ever since I was a baby, I would stare, captivated, at the figurine for hours. In fact, it was the only reason I liked visiting my grandparents' house. The house somehow managed to be drafty and stuffy all at once, like an old attic clogged with cobwebs and ancient dust. My grandmother always kept the blinds drawn, explaining that light would fade the upholstery on her couch. But with the layers of dust, you could hardly make out the green and gold curls and spirals haphazardly stitched into the mud red background.More Like This
I hated the darkness and dreariness of the house. Occasionally I would bring my grandfather to my side and he would convince my grandmother to let some of the light in. "Only in the afternoon, when the sun isn't so strong," she conceded. Even then, she only pulled the blinds on one of the windows. But she always chose the right window, the one that cast the prisms from
The Glass Unicorn, Ch. 1The winter sun peaked out from behind the heavy clouds and offered its light to the window, filling the dormitory room with the illusion of warmth and offering some relief from the ever-cold temperatures that permeated every building on campus. Still, Trista shivered and pulled her blankets up to her chin, burrowing deeper into the soft down mattress pad as the sun once again slid behind the clouds that threatened to release their avalanche of snow any second. On the other side of the room, Melissa groaned and shifted. Trista knew she would be waking up soon.More Like This
Bracing herself for the cold she knew would hit her arm when she unwrapped it from the warmth of the cocoon she had wound throughout the night, Trista reached across to her desk and felt for the soft, engraved leather of her grandfather's journal. Her fingers found the warm leather and traced the dancing Kirin. She slid her fingers under the spine and brought the journal too her, letting out a small sigh.
She had nearly memorized
Black and White(part 2)Chapter 2: MadnessMore Like This
He was devastated, weakened mentally, letting the voices go up his head
- "Kill yourself and join him!" - one screamed.
- "He is still alive, just wait, he will come." - said another one.
- "Search for him." - insisted another.
- "Hi there." - another one said with a eerie voice that made Boris tremble
- "Sut up!" - commanded Boris, the last voice was insistent, the others don't.
- "I know you as well as you know me, don't you? Start what you never started." - the voice went on.
- "No! I won't, I'll go home, and live with my parents." - he thought at the voice.
- "They won't let you do it. Be free, be independent-" - replied the voice.
- "I don't care about what you say, you'r a liar! I just want to meet my family, nothing more." - the voice faded away.
He walked away annoyed, under the light, almost constan
The Last Gryphon: The Battle of Bardrilundr(Contains Transformation)More Like This
It is said the voices of the dead forever echo through time. That their songs remain lifted through the clouds which dot the sky, prophesying their long-suffering resurrection. It is in the legends how they are heard among the many and through actions how they are remembered among the few. The very deeds of mankind bore upon the fate of the children who long slept in death's slumber.
The blasting trumpets of the Legion marked the morning of winter's solstice, a day which would be remembered by the heroic actions of valiant souls. In that morning, as the trumpets thundered and Sielah rose from the east, General Livia Senusius, along with a gathering of her men, linked their arms and offered prayers to the sun goddess. The bitter cold chilled both the flesh and spirits of the soldiers as their standard was raised among the high walls of Bardrilundr.
General Senusius then gazed out among the fortress' high walls and out into the snow-strewn landscape.
Adjustment: (1)More Like This
“I’ll make it home, Lorthil. Don’t you worry. Always remember that I love you.”
Lorthil was told this by his wife and mate Letra right before she left their home of Rahale to report for military service. A war had begun far off to the southwest in the realm of Durnatel, where a radical group led by a man named Endane overthrew the monarchy and wanted to turn Mausolea into a powerful empire like it had been in time’s past. Working to help stop the coup and restore the monarchy to power alongside the remaining loyal Durnatels was the allied kingdom of Mausolea. Sending military support to the loyalists and exiled monarchy Durnatel unintentionally ignited a fearsome and bloody conflict which appeared to have no end or compromise. Three years and many lives later, the Mausolean forces withdrew along with the surviving Durnatel loyalists. The empire firmly stood its ground and did not expand any further beyond its borders, believing they had triumphed.