The First Huntress_A Change in Life_The Dragon's Prophecy: A Bride of the Dragon Prince short st
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The First Huntress
At last, a rider in the rain. A silhouetted shadow riding hard against the hell that seemed to pour in from all angles, the hooded rider bent hard forward, nearly flush against the horse’s back. One rider where there ought be three. A bad omen, surely. The beast’s hooves thundered into the wet ground, deaf against the heaviness of the rain, sending up clods of mud and earth up to meet in defiance of the rain falling down. A voice called out and the gates to the fort creaked open, just wide enough that the rider’s cloak flicked at the wooden fortifications as they rode past. The gate shut immed...
A Change in Life
“Please step right in.”Mabel feigned a smile toward the young woman who was ushering the line of people through the doorway. Beyond the young woman’s shoulder Mabel could see a soft pink light illuminating a very large room. Mabel stopped in front of the young woman and looked down to see her name tag “Henrietta.” Mabel silently cursed her failing eyesight causing her to lean quite close to Henrietta. “Am I in the right place Henrietta? The advertisement stated 15 Elm Street, Room 15、” Mabel picked up a refreshing scent of peppermint. Such a lovely smell. Mabel took in another deep bre...
The Dragon's Prophecy: A Bride of the Dragon Prince short story
A thousand years ago a prince was born of mixed race. His father, Silanox, was a dragon and his mother, Toki, was both human and a mage. Silanox paraded him around with joy, for he was the product of the love he had for his wife, a love that he believed and hoped his son would find in his future. He stopped in front of a prophetess of the mages for a reading of that future, as he knew to be customary when a mage’s child was born.“Shall my son have many blessings in his life or struggles to overcome?” he asked, not expecting any other answer. His ancwww.onedoor.ccestor’s lineage had always been one of easy ...
Wanda's Imminent Death
There’s a moment when jumping becomes not an act, but a way of life; a moment when, hovering in the air, your jump becomes not a decision, but a choice that frees you from every bad thing you’ve done. Flying.Her eyes stay closed as she falls, so she doesn’t see that she’s stopped. The girl’s eyes open and she looks beneath her feet. She still appears to be in the act of falling-- no, flying, falling was so negative-- when she’d stopped. Her hair is still windblown above her head, her fingers stretched up and tangling together, but she’s frozen. She’d scream, but it’s lodged somewhere in the b...