At that moment when I began thinking, an idea came of a dark fantasy book. It's available to buy on Amazon in paperback and ebook

In the tranquil kingdom known as Redhill, sorcery is amongst the landscape and whilst a dark entity plays havoc with the minds of warriors, lost within themselves by unknown force’s

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A Winter Romance CH. 7

The snow crunched beneath their boots as the Iron Guardians trekked along the ancient paths of Silverwood Forest, their breath misting in the crisp winter air. Silver-barked trees loomed overhead, branches frosted with delicate icicles that glittered under shafts of pale sunlight piercing the canopy.

“Watch your step, Sir Knight,” Lysandra teased, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief as Gareth cautiously navigated a particularly slick patch of snow-covered roots. “Wouldn’t want you to fall and dent that shiny armor of yours.”

Gareth shot her a wry glance. “I’ll have you know this armor has seen me through far worse than some icy tree roots.”

“Oh really?” Lysandra arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Do tell. What great battles has the mighty Gareth triumphed in to scuff up that glorious suit of steel?”

He huffed a laugh, his brooding eyes softening. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Her mischievous laughter echoed through the hushed forest, almost musical against the occasional creak of frozen wood. Gareth found himself captivated by the way her fiery curls danced around her face, cheeks flushed from the cold. He quickly averted his gaze, focusing instead on the snowy path ahead as an unfamiliar warmth blossomed in his chest.

Before long, the weary group paused to make camp in a small clearing sheltered by towering evergreens. A sense of lightness hung in the air, the constant threat of danger temporarily forgotten as they gathered around a crackling fire, rubbing chilled hands and exchanging easy banter. Luckily Eadric had another barrier spell prepared for their rest. This proved to be incredibly beneficial for the Iron Guardians as it shielded them not only from the weather, but also from potential creatures nearby. Alaric retrieved the camping equipment from his bag of holding and set it down in front of Eadric, who would use his magic to assemble it in a matter of seconds.

Meanwhile Lysandra plopped down beside Gareth who had been sitting on a fallen log, bumping his shoulder with her own. “You’re awfully quiet, even for you,” she observed, cocking her head. “What’s on your mind, handsome?”

Gareth nearly choked on a mouthful of water at the unexpected endearment in front of the group. He swallowed thickly, heat rising to his face that had nothing to do with the dancing flames. “Nothing of import,” he deflected gruffly.

“Mm, if you say so.” She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Bet I can guess what you’re thinking about though…”

His pulse quickened at her proximity, the subtle floral scent of her hair invading his senses. “I highly doubt that,” he managed, hoping she couldn’t hear the sudden pounding of his heart.

“Oh yeah?” Mischief glinted in Lysandra’s eyes as she scooped up a handful of snow, packing it between her gloved palms. “Prove it then. I challenge you to a snowball fight, Sir Gareth. Winner gets to ask the loser one question they must answer truthfully.”

He balked, gaze flicking warily from her impish grin to the lopsided sphere of snow in her hands. Childish games were hardly befitting a paladin of his stature and skill. And yet, the temptation to let loose for just a moment, to indulge in her playful whimsy, was surprisingly strong.

“I don’t know, Lysandra, I’m not sure if—”

His protests were cut short by a face full of powdery snow as Lysandra’s snowball found its mark with deadly accuracy. She doubled over in a fit of giggles at his stunned expression, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Oh, you just bit off more than you can chew,” Gareth growled, lips twitching with a barely restrained smile as he lunged for a mound of snow. Lysandra shrieked in delight, darting away in a flurry of red hair and flying white flakes to arm herself for the ensuing frosty battle.

As Gareth gave chase, a surprising lightness bloomed in his chest, the burdens of destiny and duty momentarily lifted. In that stolen instant of carefree joy, nothing existed but the two of them, their mingled laughter a bright melody against the ancient stillness of the winter wood…

Gareth’s first few snowballs were clumsy, his throws lacking the precision and grace of his swordsmanship. But as the battle wore on, he found his rhythm, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he ducked and weaved between the trees, retaliating with increasing accuracy.

Lysandra, nevertheless, was in her element. She moved like a true shadow walker, twirling and leaping in and out of sight in an instant, her laughter ringing out like silver bells as she effortlessly dodged Gareth’s attacks. Her own snowballs found their mark with uncanny consistency, leaving Gareth sputtering and brushing snow from his hair.

Their companions watched with amused smiles, their own spirits lifting at the sight of the usually stoic warrior and the enigmatic shadow walker engaged in such carefree play. It was a welcome respite from the weight of their quest, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, moments of light could still be found.

As the snowball fight reached its crescendo, Alaric quietly slipped away from the group, his hand reaching for the small, enchanted communication device hidden beneath his cloak. With a soft pulse of magic, the device came to life, and S’vyyra’s face shimmered into view, her expression a mix of relief and concern.

“Alaric, thank the gods. How fares your journey? Are you safe?” Her voice was tinged with worry, the strain of ruling in his absence evident in the shadows beneath her eyes.

“We are well, S’vyyra. The Treants have proven invaluable guides, and we make steady progress through the Silverwood forest.” Alaric kept his tone reassuring, not wishing to burden her further with the dangers they had already faced. “Tell me, how holds Grambondll in my absence? What is Rivlet up to?”

S’vyyra hesitated, her gaze flickering briefly to the side before meeting his once more. “The city stands strong, but the people grow restless. Whispers of unease spread like wildfire, and the council… they question, Alaric. They question the wisdom of this quest, the necessity of the king’s absence in such uncertain times.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration passing over his features. “Do they forget so easily the threats that shadow our lands? The very purpose of this journey is to ensure Elyria’s safety, to secure the future of our kingdom.”

“I know, my love.” S’vyyra’s voice softened, her hand reaching out as if to touch his face through the shimmering magic. “And I stand by you, as always. But hurry home to me. To all of us. Grambondll needs their King… and I need my husband. Don’t worry about the council. I will show them how strong the Princess of the Under Dwergs can be when forced. Rivlet and Ithic are getting ready for Rivlet’s upcoming reconnaissance mission along the eastern coast.

Alaric’s expression gentled, his hand mirroring hers, separated by leagues yet connected by their unbreakable bond. “I will return to you, S’vyyra. I swear it. Until then, stay strong. You are the heart of Grambondll, and your strength will see our people through this trial.”

With a final, longing look, the magic faded, and S’vyyra’s image dissolved, leaving Alaric alone once more beneath the snow-laden boughs of the Silverwood forest. He took a steadying breath, squaring his shoulders beneath the weight of his responsibilities, both to his kingdom and to the quest that lay ahead.

As he turned to rejoin his companions, the sound of Lysandra’s laughter and Gareth’s gruff chuckles reached his ears, a reminder of the bonds that had been forged through their shared trials. Secure in the knowledge that he did not face them alone.

Lysandra’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she nudged Gareth’s side, her breath still coming in soft puffs of fog in the chilly air. “You put up a valiant fight, Sir Knight,” she teased, her tone light and playful. “But I think we both know who the true victor is here.”

Gareth huffed, brushing snow from the pelt covering the armor on his broad shoulders, his cheeks flushed from more than just the cold. “You caught me off guard, that’s all,” he grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “Next time, I won’t go so easy on you.”

“Easy on me?” Lysandra’s laughter rang out, clear and bright in the stillness of the forest. “Is that what you call it? I seem to recall a certain someone flailing about like a fish out of water, all while I danced circles around him.”

Eadric sat huddled by the crackling fire inside the tent, his gaze fixed on the young couple through the tent opening as they frolicked in playful flirtation. The scene stirred up long forgotten memories of a simpler time, but he pushed them aside and focused on preparing spells for the journey that lay ahead. Time seemed to slip away as he gathered his strength against the impending peril. However, they were safe at the moment and that was a much needed reprieve.

Lysandra darted closer, her hand coming to rest on Gareth’s arm, her touch light and teasing. “Face it, Gareth. You’re utterly hopeless against my charms.”

Gareth stiffened, his heart stumbling in his chest at her proximity, at the warmth of her touch even through the layers of his armor. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, his gaze skittering away from hers, his ears burning with more than just the bite of the winter wind.

Lysandra’s smile softened, her hand sliding down to twine her fingers with his, a gesture at once intimate and comforting. “It’s alright, you know,” she murmured, her voice low and gentle, meant for his ears alone. “To feel something. To want something.” Her thumb brushed over his knuckles, a feather-light caress. “I know I do.”

Gareth’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding against his ribs like a caged bird seeking escape. He felt a strong sense to pull away, he should put distance between them, but he found himself rooted to the spot, transfixed by the depthless green of her eyes, the mesmerizing red wavy hair, and by the unspoken promise in her gaze as he stood there statuesque like.

“Lysandra, I…” he began, his voice rough and uncertain, but before he could find the words, the sound of Alaric’s approach broke the spell, and Lysandra placed a finger gently to his lips then stepped back, her hand slipping from his, leaving his fingers feeling cold and bereft.

“We should get some rest,” Alaric called out as he neared, his expression a mix of determination and weariness. “The path ahead is long, and we have much ground to cover before nightfall tomorrow.”

Lysandra nodded, her demeanor shifting, the playful teasing of a moment before replaced by the cool, collected focus of the skilled shadow walker. “Lead the way, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone respectful yet tinged with the barest hint of irony. “We’re right behind you.”

As dawn broke through the trees, their group marched onward, Alaric and Eadric leading the way with Gareth trailing behind, his eyes were constantly drawn to Lysandra’s enticing form. Her hips swayed gracefully in her tight leather attire, catching his attention every time they caught the light. She would shoot him sly glances over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. With every confident step she took, she knowingly flaunted herself for Gareth’s benefit, giving him a teasing glimpse of her curvaceous posterior as she flung her fur coat aside. And though he was fearful of what could come from growing closer to her, he couldn’t deny the warmth and hope that sparked within him whenever she was near almost doubling him over at times.

The ancient trees of Silverwood Forest stood as silent sentinels, their snow-laden boughs stretching overhead like a canopy of lace. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the faint, fresh scent of pine and the distant calls of winter birds. Snowflakes drifted down lazily from the sky, alighting on eyelashes and outstretched hands, each one a delicate, crystalline wonder.

Lysandra tilted her face upward, letting the snow kiss her cheeks and nose. “It’s like something out of a dream,” she said to herself, her voice hushed with reverence. “I never imagined a place could be so beautiful yet so dangerous.”

Gareth watched her, transfixed by the play of light and shadow across her features, the way the snowflakes clung to her hair like a crown of stars. In that moment, she seemed to him a creature of magic, a being of light and air and joy, untouchable and utterly enchanting.

As if sensing his gaze, Lysandra turned to him, her eyes bright and sparkling. “What is it?” she asked, her lips curving in a playful smile. “Do I have something on my face?”

Gareth shook his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck. “No, I just… You look… it’s just…” He trailed off, at a loss for words, and Lysandra’s smile widened.

“I look…?” she prompted, stepping closer, her boots crunching softly in the snow.

Gareth’s breath caught in his throat, as if it had been snatched away by a sudden gust of wind. He struggled to find the right words, his mind a whirl of confusion and awe. “You…you are breathtaking, Lysandra,” he stammered, his cheeks flushed with a deep shade of crimson. “I mean, not that you are ever anything less than stunning, but in this moment…you simply take my breath away.”

For a brief moment, Lysandra’s features softened and a hint of warmth entered her gaze, but then she playfully smirked, breaking the spell. “My dear Sir Gareth,” she teased with a twinkle in her eyes, “I do believe that’s the most endearing compliment you’ve ever paid me.” Her voice laced with humor and sarcasm, mimicking a posh accent for added effect.

Before Gareth could respond, a rustling in the underbrush caught their attention, and they turned to see a pair of Forest Guardians emerge from the trees, their massive forms dwarfing even the largest of the group. Their eyes glowed with an ancient, otherworldly light, and their voices, when they spoke, echoed with the timbre of ages.

“Travelers,” they intoned, their words resonating through the stillness of the forest, “you have entered the heart of Silverwood. State your purpose, and be warned: those who seek to harm this sacred place shall face the wrath of the guardians.”

Alaric stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his stance confident and regal. “We come in peace,” he declared, his voice carrying through the clearing, “seeking only safe passage through your forest. We mean no harm to you or your charges.”

The guardians regarded him silently for a long moment, their gazes seeming to pierce through to his very soul, and then, slowly, they inclined their great heads. “You speak truth, young king,” they rumbled, “and your heart is pure. Pass in peace, and may the blessings of the forest go with you.”

With that, they turned and melted back into the trees, leaving only the fading echo of their words and the glimmer of snow in their wake.

As the group resumed their trek, Gareth found his thoughts turning inward, to the warmth of Lysandra’s smile and the softness of her touch, to the ache of longing that seemed to grow with every passing day. He knew it was foolish, knew that a king’s guard had no business losing his heart to a shadow walker, but as he watched her move through the forest ahead of him, graceful and strong and utterly captivating, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, there might be a future for them beyond the bounds of duty and fate.

In the subterranean chambers beneath the Blackened Oak Tavern, Rivlet Stormwind and Ithic Ceadwy stood hunched over a map of the eastern shore, their faces lined with concentration.

“We’ll need at least 30 men for the advanced party coming with me,” Rivlet mused, tracing a finger along the coastline. We’ll also need a surplus of 200 warriors in reserve, close by. “Archers, swordsmen, and a contingent of mages.”

Ithic nodded, his brow furrowed. “Aye, and you’ll want to strike hard and fast, before they have a chance to regroup. The element of surprise will be key.”

Rivlet hummed his agreement, his gaze shifting to the roster of available troops listed on the board located on the wall. “What about Blackwood Company? They’re seasoned fighters, and they know the terrain well.”

“A good choice,” Ithic agreed, a note of approval in his voice. “And perhaps Silverleaf Battalion as well? Their archers are second to none.”

As they continued to plan and strategize, a sense of camaraderie settled over them, both born from of long years of battles and hard-won victories. They moved in easy synchronicity, anticipating each other’s thoughts, a well-oiled machine honed by time and trust.

“Do you think they’ll succeed in time?” Ithic asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the map. “Alaric and the others I mean?”

Rivlet was silent for a long moment, his expression pensive. “They have to,” he said at last, his voice low and fierce. “For the sake of Elyria, for the sake of us all, they have to.”

Ithic nodded, his own expression grim. “Then we’ll do our part to ensure they have the best possible chance. We’ll give them an army to be reckoned with, and may the gods have mercy on any who stand in their way.”

Rivlet clapped a hand on Ithic’s shoulder, a gesture of solidarity and shared purpose. “Together,” he vowed, “we’ll see this through to the end. For Elyria, and for the king.”

In that moment, in the flickering candlelight of the tavern’s hidden chambers, as two friends and comrades-in-arms planned Rivlet’s route to the eastern shore to observe what is there, to fight with all they had for the land and the people they loved, no matter the cost.

The scene shifts, the tavern’s shadowed depths giving way to the sun-drenched streets of Grambondll. S’vyyra strides through the bustling crowds, her bearing regal, her expression composed. She is every inch the queen, poised and purposeful, and yet there is a weight on her shoulders, a burden that only those closest to her can see.

She pauses at a market stall, examining a bolt of shimmering silk with a critical eye. The merchant bows low, murmuring praises and platitudes, but S’vyyra’s mind is elsewhere. She thinks of Alaric, of the dangers he faces, and her heart clenches with a fierce, aching worry.

But she cannot afford to dwell on her fears, not now. She has a kingdom to run, people to lead, and she will not falter in her duties. With a gracious nod to the merchant, she moves on, her steps carrying her through the winding streets and towards the gleaming spires of the palace.

As she walks, she takes in the sights and sounds of the city, the vibrant tapestry of life that unfolds around her. The air is filled with the scent of baking bread and the chatter of voices, the clamor of hammers and the laughter of children. This is her city, her home, and she will do whatever it takes to keep it safe.

She climbs the palace steps, her mind already racing ahead to the tasks that await her. There are meetings to attend, decisions to make, alliances to forge and strengthen. It is a daunting prospect, but S’vyyra has never been one to shy away from a challenge.

In the grand hall, she is met by a cluster of advisors and courtiers, their faces a mix of deference and expectation. S’vyyra greets them with a cool nod, her voice clear and commanding as she begins to issue instructions and delegate tasks.

And so the day wears on, a whirlwind of activity and responsibility. S’vyyra moves through it all with grace and determination, her mind sharp, her will unwavering. She may be young, she may be untested, but she is a queen in every sense of the word, and she will not let her people down.

As the sun begins to set, painting the city in shades of gold and crimson, S’vyyra finally allows herself a moment of respite. She steps out onto a balcony, her gaze drawn to the distant south eastern mountains, to the forests and valleys where Alaric and his companions now journey.

“Be safe, my love,” she whispers, her words carried away on the evening breeze. “Come back to me, to us all.”

And with that prayer, that quiet plea, S’vyyra turns back to the palace, back to the duties and challenges that await her. She is a queen, a leader, a woman of strength and courage, and she will not rest until her kingdom is secure and her beloved is home once more.

Lysandra’s laughter echoes through the snow-laden trees as she darts ahead, her footsteps light and nimble on the frozen ground. Gareth, his armor clanking softly with each step, struggles to keep pace, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Lysandra calls over her shoulder, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. “At this rate, we’ll never catch up to the others!”

Gareth grunts, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Not all of us have the luxury of prancing about in leather,” he retorts, gesturing to his heavy plate armor. “Some of us have to actually protect ourselves.”

Lysandra’s laughter rings out again, a sound as bright and clear as the winter sky above. She slows her pace, allowing Gareth to draw level with her, and bumps him playfully with her shoulder.

Her honeyed voice teased him, her gaze raking over the intricate metal armor that encased his broad frame. “I must admit,” she purred, “the way it hugs your form and accentuates your chiseled physique is quite alluring.” The polished plates glinted in the light, adding an air of strength and danger to his already tempting figure.

Gareth feels a flush creep up his neck, and he looks away, suddenly fascinated by a nearby tree. Lysandra’s flirtations always leave him tongue-tied and off-balance, a fact she seems to relish.

As they trek on, the trees begin to thin, giving way to a small clearing. Lysandra stops abruptly, her head cocked to one side, listening intently.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered, her hand drifting to the knives at her belt.

Gareth strained his ears, but heard nothing save the soft whisper of the wind through the branches. He shakes his head, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.

“I don’t hear any-“

His words were cut off as Lysandra whirled around, her hands coming up to grab the front of his armor. Before Gareth could react, she pulled him close and pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss. Catching him off guard she swept his legs and they both tumbled down into the snow. Lysandra landing on top.

Gareth’s eyes widen in shock. Lysandra’s lips are soft and warm. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind – the impropriety of it, the risk of being caught, the sheer, overwhelming sensation.

Lysandra pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked down at Gareth, while on top of him in the snow. “What’s the matter, brave knight? Lost for words?”

Gareth struggled to regain his composure, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and tried to speak, but Lysandra silenced him pressing her index and middle fingers to his lips gently.

As they pulled away from each other, Gareth’s heart still racing as Lysandra’s delicate touch sent electric currents down his spine, a mixture of both anticipation and apprehension. “I’ve never done this before,” he blurted out nervously, his voice trembling with excitement. Lysandra met his gaze, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

But then, as quickly as it began, the moment was over. Lysandra pulls back, her eyes dancing with excitement and something else, something deeper and more intense. Gareth stands frozen, his heart pounding in his ears, his lips still tingling from her touch, his stomach in knots. “until next time lover boy.”

“I… you… what…?” he stammers, his usually sharp wit deserting him entirely.

A mischievous glint danced in Lysandra’s eyes as she leaned in closer, her lips a hairsbreadth away from Gareth’s. With a teasing grin. “Don’t worry, big boy,” she purred. “Your secret is safe with me.” Then, she kissed him once more and pulled away with a playful smirk.

Gareth’s heart raced as he struggled to find his voice. “I…I like you, Lysandra,” he managed to stammer out. “I can’t stop thinking about you since our trip started.” He blushed, looking at her expectantly. “Does this mean we’re a couple now?” he asked tentatively.

But instead of answering, Lysandra smirked then turned and ran off into the trees, her laughter echoing behind her like a siren’s song. Gareth stood frozen in place, his mind reeling and his body on fire with desire that had nothing to do with his magical armor.

“Lysandra!” he called out desperately. “Wait!”

But she was already gone, vanished into the shadows of the forest. Gareth takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the racing of his heart. He knows he should be angry, or at least annoyed, at her teasing and games. But all he can feel is a deep, aching longing, a yearning for something he cannot name. This is all new for Gareth and something he doesn’t know how to navigate.

With a grunt of frustration, Gareth sets off after Lysandra, his steps heavy and determined. He doesn’t know what this thing is between them, this dance of flirtation and denial. But he knows one thing for certain – he will follow her, to the ends of the earth if need be. Lysandra had captured the young man’s heart. It was a new experience for Gareth and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Gareth catches up to Lysandra just as they rejoin the group, the companions trudging through the snow-laden paths of the Silverwood Forest. Their eyes meet briefly, a passionate glance passing between them, a secret shared in the midst of their journey. Lysandra’s lips curve into a coy smile, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief, while Gareth’s cheeks flush a deep crimson, his gaze darting away in a futile attempt to conceal his emotions.

Around them, the camaraderie among the Iron Guardians grows stronger as they made their way through the forest, Laughter ensues as they swap tales of past adventures, their voices a warm counterpoint to the chill of the winter air. Even Alaric, usually so stoic and reserved, cracks a rare smile at a particularly bawdy joke from Lysandra.

As they walk, Gareth finds himself gravitating towards Lysandra, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Their shoulders brush, sending a jolt of electricity through his body, and he stumbles slightly, catching himself on a nearby tree. Lysandra’s hand shoots out to steady him, her fingers lingering on his arm a moment longer than necessary, and Gareth’s breath catches in his throat.

“Careful there, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself before we get to the good part.”

Gareth swallows hard, his mind racing with thoughts of what the “good part” might entail. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words stick in his throat, his tongue suddenly heavy and clumsy. Lysandra just smirks, a knowing glint in her eye, gently touching his hand before sauntering ahead, leaving Gareth to trail behind her, his heart pounding in his chest.

As the day wears on and the sun begins to dip below the horizon, Alaric calls for a halt, the group settling into a small clearing to make camp for the night. Gareth busies himself with setting up his bedroll, trying to ignore the way Lysandra’s gaze seems to linger on him from across the fire. He can feel the heat of her stare, a palpable weight on his skin, and he shifts uncomfortably, suddenly feeling too warm despite the chill of the evening air.

Alaric, meanwhile, sits apart from the group, his brow furrowed in thought as he reflects on the progress of their journey. They have come so far, faced so many challenges, and yet there is still so far to go. The weight of his responsibilities sits heavy on his shoulders, a burden he bears willingly but not easily.

And yet, as he looks around at his companions, at the bonds that have formed between them, Alaric feels a renewed sense of purpose, a determination to see their quest through to the end. They are more than just a group of adventurers now – they are a family, bound by love and loyalty, united in their cause.

Alaric’s gaze falls on Lysandra and Gareth, huddled close together by the fire, their heads bent in close conversation. He sees the way Gareth’s eyes soften when he looks at Lysandra, the way her hand lingers on his, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“About damn time,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head in amusement. “Maybe now they’ll stop dancing around each other like a pair of lovesick fools.” he glances over at Eadric who also notices with a wry grin.

And with that thought, Alaric settles back against his bedroll, his eyes drifting shut as he lets the sounds of the forest lull him to sleep. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new dangers, but for now, in this moment, all is well. The Iron Guardians are together, and they will face whatever comes their way as one.

As the night wears on, Eadric drifts off into a peaceful slumber, leaving the two lovers to bask in the quiet intimacy of the night. Finally alone, Lysandra snuggles closer to Gareth next to the fading fire, a gentle smile on her face as she recalls their earlier tender moment together. “I can’t stop thinking about our day,” she whispers softly, breaking the silence between them. Gareth now nervous and never being in this situation before he wasn’t sure how to express his feelings into words.

“I see,” Lysandra says softly in his ear. “My adorable shy hero. Come here I want to show you something,” she says standing as she grabs his hand pulling him towards her tent. “There is this thing I found earlier today. I put it in my tent. Maybe you might know what to do with it.” Gareth now genuinely intrigued by this new information.

“What, what did you find?” Gareth asks with wonder.

“It’s just in there.” Lysandra says as Gareth kneels down before going into her tent.

Gareth looking in front of him confused as all that was there was a bed roll and her gear. “I don’t see it.” what does it look like?”

A mischievous grin tugged at Lysandra’s lips as she replied to Gareth, “Oh, I must have left it in my pack.” Her tone was playful and full of mischief. As Gareth crawled into the tent to look in the pack, Lysandra followed close behind him closing the tent flap behind her. Gareth was now looking in the top pouch of her pack confused as the only thing in there was some basic climbing rope and hooks. confused he turned as his eyes widened immediately in surprise and shock at the sight before him. Lysandra stood provocatively. Before he could even gather his wits, she pushed him down onto the bedroll with one swift movement. Lysandra whispered to Gareth, “Relax.” Gareth could only nod, his mind consumed with the heat and urgency of the moment.

As the first rays of dawn kissed their skin, Gareth couldn’t contain the overwhelming rush of emotions coursing through him. He gazed into Lysandra’s eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt as they lay entwined in each other’s arms, so close that their lips almost touched. The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in this moment together.

The words spilled from Gareth’s lips like a confession of the deepest kind, his voice soft and earnest. “I am in love with you, Lysandra,” he stated, each syllable carrying a weight of emotion. His heart raced as he waited for her response, hoping she could see the truth in his eyes and feel the sincerity in his words.

“Say it again pretty boy,” Lysandra purred, her lips leaving a trail of warm kisses down the curve of Gareth’s neck. He tried to form the words she wanted to hear, but the overwhelming sensation of her lips and tongue on his neck made it impossible. She stopped after a few minutes, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

“I’m infatuated with you, you big dork,” she chuckled, running her fingers through his hair. It was a playful statement, but there was an undeniable honesty behind it. “I suppose that makes us a thing now. As for love, play your cards right and I might.” she grinned devilishly.

Gareth couldn’t help but laugh at her teasing tone. As if their actions hadn’t already solidified their relationship status. But before he could respond, Lysandra’s hand brushed over his cheek, sending a jolt of desire straight to his core knotting up his stomach.

“we still have a few more minutes before we have to get up…” Lysandra breathed as she leaned in kissing his neck. The morning sun began to filter through the tent illuminating their entwined bodies as she left a few love bites.

Back in Grambondll, the balcony’s cool marble soothes S’vyyra’s bare feet as she leans against the ornate railing wearing one of her tunics, her gaze drawn to the distant Silverwood Mountains. The setting sun paints the sky in hues of lavender and gold, casting an ethereal glow upon the snow-capped peaks. A gentle breeze, laced with the scent of silverwood blossoms blows across the palace and the city below.

Despite the tranquility of the moment, S’vyyra’s thoughts are restless, wandering to Alaric and the Iron Guardians, traversing the treacherous landscape far beyond the city’s protective walls. She closes her eyes, picturing Alaric’s reassuring smile, the determination in his piercing blue eyes. “Stay safe, my love,” she whispers, her words carried away on the evening wind.

The weight of leadership settles upon her shoulders, a mantle she wears with grace and resolve. In Alaric’s absence, S’vyyra has risen to the challenge, navigating the intricacies of ruling a kingdom with unwavering dedication. Yet, in moments like these, when the day’s duties have been fulfilled and the palace grows quiet, her heart yearns for his return.

S’vyyra’s fingers absently trace the intricate patterns carved into the balcony railing, a testament to the craftsmanship that defines Grambondll Palace City. The city stretched out before her, a tapestry of life and energy, its streets humming with the echoes of laughter and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages. She draws strength from her people, their resilience, and their faith in the crown.

As the last rays of sunlight fade into the gathering dusk, S’vyyra straightens her posture, she knows that Alaric will stop at nothing to protect Elyria, to safeguard the realm they hold dear. And she, in turn, will stand strong, a beacon of hope and stability for her people.

With a final glance at the distant mountains, S’vyyra turned away from the balcony, her footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor as she makes her way back inside the palace. There is work to be done, decisions to be made, and a kingdom to lead. And she will do so with the same unwavering resolve that guides Alaric and his companions on their perilous journey.

For in the end, they are all bound by a common purpose, a shared love for Elyria and its people. And no matter the distance that separates them, their hearts beat as one, united in their quest to save the kingdom.

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(MLE) Natural Allies CH. 6

The crunch of snow beneath their boots echoed through the dense, snow-laden Silverwood forest. Alaric led the way, his piercing blue eyes scanning the foreboding landscape ahead. Crystalline breaths hung in the crisp winter air, the only sign of life amidst the skeletal trees draped in icy cloaks of white.

As they ventured forth, a sudden vibration emanated from Alaric’s satchel. He reached inside, retrieving the small magical communication device. S’vyrra’s voice crackled through, urgent and strained. “Alaric, news from the eastern shore expedition. Rivlet reports strange disturbances and unnatural weather patterns. They request further guidance.”

Alaric’s brow furrowed, the weight of this new development settling upon his shoulders like an unwelcome burden. He tucked the device away, his jaw clenched with determination. “We press on,” he declared, his voice rumbled steadily despite the mounting concerns. “Elyria’s fate depends on us.”

The group trudged onward, their steps heavier now, laden with the knowledge of the challenges that lay ahead. The forest seemed to close in around them, the twisted branches reaching out like gnarled fingers, eager to ensnare and entrap.

Suddenly, a shimmering mist began to swirl and coalesce before them. Ancient forms emerged, their bark-encrusted bodies blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The Ethereal Treants stood tall and imposing, their faces etched with the wisdom of centuries.

“Greetings, travelers,” the largest Treant rumbled, its voice deep and resonant, like the groaning of ancient timbers. “We have watched your progress through our domain. However, A darkness spreads, corrupting the very heart of these woods.”

Alaric stepped forward, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword. “We seek to rid these lands of the evil that is spreading from the east, ancient ones. What aid can you offer us in this quest?”

The Treant’s eyes, glowing like embers in the depths of its wooden visage, fixed upon Alaric. “Our strength is yours, young king, but we too require assistance. The corruption gnaws at our roots, threatening to consume us all. Help us purge this malevolence, and only then shall we stand with you against the coming storm.”

Alaric nodded solemnly, the weight of this new alliance settling upon his shoulders. He turned to his companions, their faces etched with determination and resolve. “We have much to discuss,” he said, his voice low but filled with purpose. “The fate of Elyria hangs in the balance.”

As the group gathered around the Treants, the ancient beings began to share their knowledge, their words painting a grim picture of the challenges that lay ahead. Alaric listened intently, his mind racing with strategies and plans, even as the icy tendrils of fear threaded through his heart.

In the depths of the Silverwood forest, amidst the snow-laden boughs and the whispers of ancient magic, a new chapter in their quest had begun. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, but with the wisdom of the Treants and the strength of their bond, Alaric and his companions stood ready to face whatever trials awaited them in the coming days.

While the group was traveling down a well beaten path, Lysandra’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a familiar figure among the small traveling group they just stumbled across deep within the Silverwood forest. The man’s features, though weathered by time and hardship, were etched into her memory like a scar that refused to fade. Her heart quickened, a tumultuous mix of anger and unresolved emotions surging through her veins.

She stepped forward, her hand instinctively reaching for the blade at her hip. “Roran,” she called out, her voice tinged with bitterness. “I never thought I’d see your face again.”

The man’s eyes widened in recognition, a flicker of fear dancing across his face before being quickly masked by a façade of nonchalance. “Lysandra,” he replied, his tone even. “It’s been a long time.”

Gareth tensed beside her, sensing the unspoken history between them. He glanced at Lysandra, concern etched into his features, but remained silent, allowing her to take the lead.

Lysandra closed the distance between them, her emerald eyes blazing with intensity. “Not long enough,” she spat, her words laced with venom. “You have some nerve showing your face after what you did.”

Roran held up his hands in a placating gesture, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now, now, Lysandra. Let’s not dwell on the past. We both did what we had to do to survive.”

A mirthless laugh escaped her lips. “Is that what you call it? Survival? You betrayed me, Roran. You sold me out for a handful of coins.”

The revelation hung heavy in the air, the weight of her words pressing down upon them all. Gareth’s jaw clenched, a flash of anger crossing his face as he understood the depth of Roran’s treachery.

Roran’s gaze darted between Lysandra and her companions, calculating his next move. “It was nothing personal, love. Just business.”

Lysandra’s hand tightened around the hilt of her blade, the leather of her gloves creaking with the force of her grip. She wanted nothing more than to make him pay for his betrayal, to watch him suffer as she had suffered. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw a flicker of something else—regret, perhaps, or a hint of the man she had once loved.

She released her grip on the blade, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Leave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Leave now, and pray our paths never cross again.”

Roran hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on Lysandra’s face. Then, with a curt nod, he turned and signaled to his traveling companions. They melted back into the forest, disappearing as quickly as they had appeared.

Lysandra stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the spot where Roran had stood. Gareth stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “No,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. “But I will be.”

As they turned to rejoin their companions, Lysandra felt the weight of her past bearing down upon her. The betrayal still stung, a wound that had never truly healed. But as she looked at Gareth, at the unwavering support and understanding in his eyes, she knew that she was no longer alone. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, their bond stronger than any betrayal from the past.

Gareth’s heart ached as he watched Lysandra’s shoulders sag, the weight of her past visible in the slump of her posture. He wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms, to shield her from the pain that haunted her emerald eyes. But he held back, unsure of how she would react, afraid of crossing a line that might shatter the fragile bond between them.

Lysandra took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she turned to face the group. “We should keep moving,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil Gareth knew she must be feeling. “The Treants are waiting for us.”

Alaric nodded, his piercing blue eyes softening with understanding. “Lead the way,” he said, gesturing for Lysandra to take point.

As they trekked deeper into the Silverwood forest, Gareth found himself gravitating towards Lysandra, his steps falling in sync with hers. He searched for the right words, wanting to offer comfort but unsure of how to broach the subject.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and gentle, “if you ever need to talk about… anything, I’m here for you.”

Lysandra glanced at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “I appreciate the offer,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “but I’m fine, Gareth. Really.”

Gareth raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his tone laced with a hint of dry sarcasm. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re carrying the weight of the world on those shoulders of yours.”

Lysandra’s eyes widened, a blush creeping up her neck at Gareth’s bold words. She opened her mouth to retort, but Gareth held up a hand, his expression softening.

“I’m not trying to pry,” he said, his voice earnest. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to face this alone. We’re a team, Lysandra. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

For a moment, Lysandra was silent, her gaze searching Gareth’s face. Then, with a sigh, she nodded. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gareth smiled, swelling with a mixture of relief and affection. He knew that Lysandra was not one to easily accept help, but the fact that she had acknowledged his offer meant more to him than he could express.

As they continued their journey, Gareth found himself stealing glances at Lysandra, admiring the way the dappled sunlight played across her chestnut hair, the determined set of her jaw as she navigated the treacherous terrain. He knew that his feelings for her were growing stronger with each passing day, but he also knew that now was not the time to act on them. Lysandra needed a friend, not a lovesick fool pining after her.

Unbeknownst to Gareth, Eadric had been observing the exchange between him and Lysandra with a knowing smile. The silver-haired scholar fell into step beside Gareth, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“You know,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief, “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Gareth’s head snapped towards Eadric, his eyes wide with surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice gruff.

Eadric chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course you don’t,” he said, his tone teasing. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my friend. Life is too short to waste time denying your heart’s desires.”

Gareth opened his mouth to protest, but Eadric held up a hand, his expression turning serious. “Trust me,” he said, his eyes distant with memory. “I know a thing or two about regret. Don’t let fear hold you back, Gareth. Embrace the moment, for you never know when it might slip away never to return.”

With those words, Eadric clapped Gareth on the shoulder and strode ahead, leaving the swordsman to ponder his advice. Gareth’s gaze drifted back to Lysandra. Perhaps Eadric was right. Perhaps it was time to stop hiding from his feelings and take a chance on someone.

But for now, they had a mission to complete, a kingdom to save. Gareth squared his shoulders, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Whatever the future held, he would face it head-on, with Lysandra by his side and the strength of their bond to guide them through the darkness.

Meanwhile, Alaric found himself seeking out Eadric’s counsel, the weight of his responsibilities heavy on his shoulders. The silver-haired scholar smiled as the king approached along the path, his brown eyes warm with understanding.

“What troubles you, my liege?” Eadric asked, his voice gentle.

Alaric sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Everything,” he admitted, his voice low. “The fate of Elyria rests on our shoulders, and I fear that I am not strong enough to bare the burden this time.”

Eadric placed a hand on Alaric’s shoulder, his touch comforting. “You are not alone in this, Alaric,” he said, his voice firm. “You have the support of your people, the loyalty of your companions, and the wisdom of those who came before you.”

Alaric’s brow furrowed, his blue eyes searching Eadric’s face. “You speak of my father,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eadric nodded, a wistful smile playing across his lips. “Your father was a great man,” he said, his voice distant with memory. “He faced many challenges during his reign, but he never lost sight of what truly mattered: the well-being of his people and the strength of his convictions.”

Alaric’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his father’s legacy bearing down upon him. “I fear that I will never live up to his example,” he confessed, his voice raw with emotion.

Eadric shook his head, his expression fierce. “You are not your father, Alaric,” he said, his voice strong and sure. “You are your own man, with your own strengths and your own path to forge. Your father would be proud of the leader you have become, of the courage and compassion you show in the face of adversity.”

Alaric’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, his throat tight with emotion. “Thank you, Eadric,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Your words mean more to me than you can know.”

Eadric smiled, his brown eyes soft with understanding. “I am here for you, my liege,” he said, his voice warm. “Always.”

As they continued their journey through the Silverwood forest, Alaric felt a renewed sense of purpose.

The ancient trees of Silverwood loomed above them, their gnarled branches reaching out like twisted fingers. Eadric’s brow furrowed as he studied the tome in his hands, Kaelithorne’s intricate script glimmering in the dappled sunlight. The book was a trove of knowledge, a guide through the treacherous terrain that lay ahead.

“The King of Dragons speaks of hidden paths,” Eadric murmured, his finger tracing the faded ink. “Trails that wind through the heart of the forest, known only to those who bear the mark of the ancient ones.”

Alaric stepped closer, his eyes scanning the dense undergrowth. “Can you decipher the riddles?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.

Eadric nodded, his gaze still fixed on the pages. “I believe so,” he said, his mind already working through the cryptic clues. “The first marker should be just ahead, a stone carved with the symbol of the moon.”

As they ventured deeper into the woods, Eadric took the lead, his keen eyes searching for the signs described in Kaelithorne’s tome. The group followed close behind, their senses heightened and their weapons at the ready.

Suddenly, a flurry of movement caught their attention. Tiny, luminous creatures darted through the air, their wings a blur of iridescent color. The Sprites hovered before them, their eyes glittering with mischief and mystery.

“Beware, travelers,” one of the Sprites whispered, its voice like the rustling of leaves. “The path ahead is fraught with danger, with traps that snare the unwary and creatures that hunger for flesh.”

Lysandra’s hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger, her eyes narrowing. “What sort of dangers?” she asked, her voice edged with suspicion.

The Sprite tilted its head, a cryptic smile playing across its delicate features. “The forest hides many secrets,” it replied, its voice a haunting melody. “Some are ancient, some are dark, and some are best left undisturbed.”

With those enigmatic words, the Sprites vanished, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air.

During a brief respite, Alaric stepped away from the group, his hand reaching for the magical communication device tucked beneath his tunic. The crystal pulsed with a soft, blue light as he activated it, his thoughts already reaching out to S’vyrra and the others left behind.

“S’vyrra,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent. “What news from the east?”

The device hummed, and S’vyrra’s voice echoed in his mind, her words tinged with concern. “My King,” she replied, her tone formal yet strained. “Ithic and Rivlet are preparing for their journey to the eastern shore. They have gathered a small group of our most skilled warriors, but the reports from the coast grow more troubling by the day.”

Alaric frowned, his brow furrowed. “What have you learned?” he asked, his grip tightening on the device.

“The darkness spreads,” S’vyrra said, her voice heavy with worry. “Villages have fallen silent, and strange creatures have been spotted along the shoreline. We must act quickly, my King, before the evil takes root.”

Alaric nodded, his jaw clenched with determination. “Understood,” he said, his voice firm. “Tell Ithic and Rivlet to proceed with caution, but to waste no time. We will continue our quest here, but the fate of the kingdom rests on their success. Once we finish our quest, we will regroup and meet up with Rivlet and his Regiment.”

As the connection faded, Alaric turned back to the group, his eyes shadowed with urgency. “We must press on,” he said, his voice ringing with authority. “The dangers we face here pale in comparison to the threat that looms on the eastern shore.”

The group waded through the snow-laden forest, their boots sinking into the soft carpet of powdery white that blanketed the ground. The underbrush was dense, the trees towering overhead, casting long shadows over the trail. The air was crisp and biting, carrying with it the fresh scent of pine needles and frosty breaths. The silence was deafening, broken only by the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional whispered exchange between the members.

As they trudged deeper into the woods, a sense of foreboding began to settle over them like a heavy cloak. The path ahead was obscured by thick fog, swirling and dancing around the trees like ethereal ghosts. The air grew colder still as they pushed onward; an icy chill creeping up their spines despite the warmth from their coats and firewood packs.

Suddenly there was movement ahead; something large crashing through the underbrush towards them. Their hearts pounded in their chests as they readied their weapons and peered into the foggy gloom ahead. Whatever it was, it was coming straight for them – fast!

The silence was shattered by a blood-curdling scream that echoed through the forest. Out of the darkness, a horde of twisted creatures emerged, their distorted forms illuminated by the dim light of the moon. Their bodies were grotesque, resembling a fusion of rotting flesh and bone, with jagged protrusions jutting out at odd angles. The stench of decay and rot was overwhelming, making it difficult to breathe. As they advanced towards the group, their eyes glowed with a malevolent green light, reflecting their hunger and malice. Their claws scraped against the trees, leaving behind trails of slime and gore in the snow. You could hear the low growls emanating from their throats. These monstrous beings that seemed to have emerged from the depths of hell itself.

Lysandra not hesitating moved like a blur, her daggers flashing in the dappled sunlight. She danced among the creatures, her movements graceful and deadly as she teleported in and out, striking at their weak points with ruthless precision.

Gareth’s heart raced as he charged through the thick of the battle, his Holy sword slicing through the air with a resounding clang. The corrupted swarm writhed before him, their twisted flesh offering little resistance against his powerful strikes. He could feel the heat emanating from his sword as it cleaved deeper into the putrid mass, releasing an acrid stench that burned his nostrils.

Despite the ferocity of the onslaught, Gareth stood tall, his powerful holy magic and imposing frame serving as a bulwark against the relentless assault. However, there were just to many. The creatures landed heavy blows upon him, their claws tearing into his armor and leaving gashes in his flesh. But each time they struck, he shrugged off the pain with a grunt of determination, leaving behind bruises and cuts that only served to fuel his rage.

With every step forward, Gareth could feel the ground shake beneath him as he pressed deeper into the heart of darkness. His mind was focused on one thing alone – to end this abomination once and for all. And with each swing of his sword, he drew closer to achieving that goal.

Eadric’s voice boomed above the chaos, resonating with a demonic power. His hands moved in intricate patterns, tracing symbols that glimmered with ethereal light. The air around him crackled with energy as he chanted under his breath, weaving a tapestry of magic.

Suddenly, walls of flame erupted from the ground, forming a fiery barrier that shielded his companions from the onslaught of monstrous creatures. The heat was palpable, searing the skin and singeing hair. The smell of burning flesh and sulfur filled the air, mingling with the sound of screeching beasts and clashing steel. the ground smoked from the intense flash of fire.

In response to the flames, bolts of lightning danced across the sky, illuminating the battlefield in brilliant flashes. They struck down violently upon the monsters, leaving scorch marks in their wake. The thunderous booms echoed through the hills, shaking the very ground beneath their feet.

Despite the ferocity of the attack, Eadric remained calm and focused. His eyes glowed with an devilish determination as he continued to weave his spellwork. With each passing moment, the creatures grew more desperate, their attacks becoming more frenzied. But still they were no match for the power of Eadric’s magic.

Meanwhile Alaric was fighting with a grim resolve, his two swords dancing through the air in a deadly ballet of steel and blood. The battlefield was a chaotic mess of screams and clashing blades, but he moved through it like a ghost, his nimble footwork allowing him to dodge and weave past the grasping claws and snapping jaws of the monstrous creatures that assailed him. His eyes were fierce orbs of determination, scanning the battlefield for any sign of weakness or opportunity.

His voice cut through the din of battle, a commanding roar that rallied his companions to greater heights. They followed him into the fray, their swords and axes echoing his rhythm as they struck true against their foes. Together, they formed a wall of steel and courage, holding back the overwhelming tide of darkness that threatened to engulf them all.

The battle raged on, the air filled with the clash of steel and the howls of the twisted beasts. The group fought with a desperate ferocity, their skills pushed to the limit as they struggled to hold back the tide of corruption.

Just when it felt like the evil horde would overwhelm them, a thunderous crash echoed through the trees. The forest guardians had arrived, crashing into the fray with ferocity. Their presence turned the tide of battle, providing a much-needed reprieve for Gareth and his companions.

The final blow echoed through the battlefield as the last creature collapsed, its lifeless form disintegrating into a thick, malodorous sludge that oozed into the cracked earth beneath their feet. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of death and decay, mingling with the metallic tang of freshly drawn blood. The group stood in silence, their heaving chests rising and falling in unison as they struggled to catch their breath. Sweat dripped from their brows, stinging their eyes as they surveyed the carnage around them. Their weapons and armor were caked with the dark, viscous residue of their enemies, each groove and crevice bearing testament to the ferocity of the battle they had just survived. and just as fast as the Forest Guardians appeared they vanished into thin air leaving behind specks of flickering golden light for a moment as they vanished.

Lysandra’s body sagged against the rough bark of the tree, her eyes glazed over with fatigue. Each breath she took was heavy as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. A deep gash carved through her armor, exposing a raw and bloody wound on her outer upper thigh. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the earthy smell of freshly turned soil, making it difficult for Gareth to swallow past the lump forming in his throat. He limped towards her, his own injuries momentarily forgotten as he reached out to steady her trembling form.

“Are you alright?” he asked gruffly, his brow furrowed with concern.

Lysandra managed a weak smile. “I’ve had worse,” she quipped, but the pain in her eyes belied her casual tone.

Eadric moved among the group, his hands glowing with a soft, golden light as he tended to their wounds. The magic knitting flesh and soothing aches. Yet even as he worked, a deep unease settled over him.

“This is only the beginning,” he murmured, his gaze distant. “The corruption spreads like a cancer, tainting all it touches. We must find a way to stop it, before it consumes everything.”

Alaric nodded grimly, his face etched with weariness. He pulled a small vile from his pack and threw it back. slowly his wounds started to close up. “We’ll take a few days to rest and gather our strength,” he said, his voice heavy and worn. “Then we press on. We cannot falter, not now.”

The group made camp in a small clearing, tending to their injuries and repairing their gear. The mood was somber, the reality of their quest settling over them like a shroud.

Lysandra sat by the fire, her eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Her mind wandered to the stranger they had encountered earlier, the one who had stirred up old memories and unresolved feelings. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside. There was no time for distractions she thought.

Gareth watched Lysandra from across the camp, unsure if he should talk to her. He knew that their mission demanded all of their focus, all of their strength. Yet in moments like these, when the shadows closed in and the future seemed so uncertain, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have been.

As the day passed and their wounds fully healed, the group repacked their gear ready to continue the quest. They knew that the road ahead would be long and perilous, that the forces arrayed against them were vast and terrible. But they also knew that they had each other, and that together, they just might stand a chance.

Gareth approached Lysandra, his steps slow and measured. He sat down beside her, the warmth of the fire a welcome respite from the chill that had settled in his bones. For a moment, they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth said at last, his voice low and gruff. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have…”

Lysandra looked at Gareth dead eyed for a moment then shook her head, a rueful smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “No, it’s not your fault. I just… I have a lot of baggage, you know? Things I’ve done. It’s not easy to let that go. Nor is it easy to explain it.”

Gareth nodded, his eyes fixed on the flames. “We all have our secrets, our regrets. But that’s not who you are, not anymore. You’re one of us now, an Iron Guardian, and we’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Lysandra felt a warmth bloom in her stomach, a feeling she’d thought long dead. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I kinda figured that back at that creepy abandoned town though.” she said as she looked at the fire slowly grabbing Gareth’s hand and gently holding it with hers as they sat.

They sat like that for a while, their fingers intertwined, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the stillness of the night. Lysandra felt a tension building between them, a yearning that she knew they could never act upon. Not now, not with so much at stake.

As if sensing her thoughts, Gareth cleared his throat and stood up slowly, his armor clinking softly. “I should get some rest,” he said, his voice gruff once more. “The Treants said they had something to show us in the morning.”

Lysandra nodded, pushing herself to her feet. She knew that whatever lay ahead, they would face it together, bound by a bond stronger than any magic.

As dawn broke over Silverwood Forest, an ethereal chill swept through the camp. The Treants stood at its edge, their eyes glistening with a pale light that danced in the early morning mist. One of them spoke, its voice rustling like leaves in autumn winds.

“You have done us a great service,” they said solemnly. “In return for your help saving our home, we offer you a clear path – a way forward through this darkness. It will not be safe, nor will it be quick.”

With a powerful gesture that caused the air around them to shimmer and shift like water rippling on a pond, they revealed a hidden trail that wound deeper into the heart of the forest – towards Snowmelt Trade City. But this was no ordinary path; it was fraught with more danger – corruption spread like a plague here; creatures twisted by its influence lurked in every shadowy corner. The Treants warned them to be vigilant and brave as they embarked on this perilous journey – their survival depended on it…

Alaric stepped forward, his eyes hard with determination. “This darkness, this evil has spread faster than I imagined. We understand the risks, that’s why we’re hear” he said, his voice steady. “But we have no choice. We must press on, no matter the cost.”

The Treant nodded, its branches swaying in the breeze. “Then go with our blessing, and may the gods watch over you.”

As the group gathered their gear and prepared to set out, Lysandra caught Gareth’s eye. In that moment, a silent understanding passed between them – a promise that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together, bound by a love that could never be spoken aloud.

With a final nod to the Treants, they stepped onto the hidden path, the unknown stretching out before them like a vast and uncharted sea. The Silverwood forest closed in around them, its secrets whispering in the wind, and they knew that their journey had only just begun.

The crunch of snow beneath their boots echoed through the stillness of the forest as they moved forward, the ancient trees looming over them like silent sentinels. Alaric led the way, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger.

Behind him, Lysandra and Gareth walked side by side, their shoulders brushing with each step. The tension between them was palpable, a crackling energy that seemed to dance in the air like static.

Eadric was bringing up the rear, looking back as the path entrance sealed up.

“Do you think we’ll make it to Snowmelt before winter sets in fully?” Gareth asked, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Alaric glanced back over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. “It’s hard to say,” he replied. “The Treants warned us that the path is treacherous, and we have no way of knowing what obstacles we may face.”

Eadric nodded, his expression grave. “We must be prepared for anything,” he said, his fingers tightening around his staff. “The corruption that plagues these woods is not to be underestimated. It will only grow stronger the closer we get to the source of the magic.” he said just above a whisper, cautiously with a look of unease in his eyes.

As they pressed deeper into the forest, the trees seemed to close in around them, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers. The air grew colder, and a thin mist began to swirl around their feet, obscuring the path ahead.

Lysandra shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She could feel the weight of the forest’s gaze upon her, as if the very trees were watching their every move. Beside her, Gareth’s hand brushed against hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her veins.

“Are you alright?” Gareth murmured, his voice low and intimate.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The memory of their earlier conversation hung between them, the unspoken words thick in the air.

Suddenly, a twig snapped in the undergrowth, and the group froze, their hands flying to their weapons. Alaric held up a hand, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the surrounding trees.

“What was that?” Lysandra whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.

Gareth shook his head, his jaw clenched. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice tense. “But whatever it is, it’s close.”

They waited, barely daring to breathe, as the seconds ticked by. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the distant cry of a raven.

And then, without warning, the attack came.

Spellwork crackled through the air, a volatile energy pulsing with each casting. The creatures lunged and snarled, their vicious attacks growing more frenzied by the moment. Eadric stood firm, his magic a shield against their onslaught.

In the heart of the chaos, Alaric moved with lethal grace, his blades a symphony of death in the tumultuous dance of battle. The clang of steel and roar of beasts blended into a cacophony around him, but he remained a ghostly figure, dodging and striking with precision.

“Watch your left, Alaric!” Lysandra’s voice cut through the clamor as she fought back-to-back with Gareth, their movements synchronized in a deadly rhythm. Their weapons flashed in the dim light, each strike finding its mark.

Gareth let out a grunt as he swung his massive sword, his muscles bulging with each blow. “Just hold them back for a moment!” He yelled to Lysandra, his voice strained. Quickly, he dropped down onto one knee and drove his sword into the ground.

“Alaric, behind you!” Eadric’s warning came just in time as Alaric spun to parry a massive clawed strike, his swords ringing out in protest against the creature’s hide.

“Stay focused! We can do this!” Alaric bellowed, his voice a commanding presence amidst the chaos. His companions rallied around him, their resolve unwavering.

Lysandra dancing around Gareth throwing dagger after dagger faster and faster trying to keep up with the unsightly creatures. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she parried another blow from an unseen foe before spinning away just in time to avoid being impaled upon some foul creature’s tusk or talon – sweat glistening on skin already slick with blood from earlier wounds sustained during this never-ending dance through hell itself where death lurked around every corner waiting patiently for its next meal

“I CAST YOU FROM THIS PLANE!” Gareth commanded at the creatures. With a flick of his wrist, a faint blue glow emanated from the weapon before a powerful burst of energy exploded outward vaporizing anything evil within it.

#ActionAndAdventure #actionAdventure #adventure #chapter6 #dbw #Elyria #epicFantasy #fantasy #fiction #kingAlaric #landOfElyria #MysticalLandOfElyria #shortStory #storiesByDbw

Worms, Spiders, Ghosts—Oh My! CH. 5

The Iron Guardians; Lysandra, Alaric, Eadric, and Gareth, trekked through the forests walking their horses due to the density of the trees in the southeastern region of Elyria, the sun cast slanted beams of light through the towering canopy, dappling their skin in warm golden patterns. The crunch of dry leaves and rustle of bushes filled the air as they made their way deeper into the forest. King Alaric, always alert and watchful, led the way, his keen senses picking up on any small changes in the environment. Lysandra, her lithe figure graceful and agile, moved with an ease and stealth that belied her profession as a shadow walker. Eadric, the scholar and elder mage, trailed behind them, his eyes scanning the undergrowth for any signs of interest. Gareth, with his enchanted armor glistening in the sunlight, brought up the rear, his wary gaze darting left and right as he scanned the area behind them for anything out of place.

They had been traveling through the forest for days now, off the beaten path and fatigue was starting to set in.

Eadric looking at the map, “The map depicts magical constructs guarding the lair,” but they had yet to encounter any sign of it.

The air was thick with anticipation and excitement, seasoned with a hint of nervousness. The trill of a bird in the distance or the huff of a distant wind made them all jump, on edge for the unknown that lay ahead.

“It’s been days going on weeks since we left Grambondll,” Lysandra said, brushing a stray strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear. “How much further to Kaelithorne’s Lair?”

“I’m not sure,” King Alaric replied, his voice low and measured.

“According to the map, we should reach the area of the hidden entrance in a few more days give or take a few,” Eadric stated. He glanced back at Lysandra who nodded in affirmation.

Eadric adjusted his pack, making sure his precious scrolls and vials were secure. “The draconic text speaks of golems protecting the entire area,” he warned.

Gareth grunted. “Eh, construct, monster what’s one more?” he muttered, hefting his enormous sword. ” I’ve faced worse.”

Lysandra couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the warrior’s bluster. Gareth’s bravado was equal parts infuriating and endearing. She quickened her pace, catching up to Alaric. “Do you really think we’re ready for this? Legends are one thing, but a real guardian…”

“I am not one to run head first into battle mind you. There’s a reason they call me a shadow walker you know.” Lysandra states worried.

The king’s jaw clenched. “We watch out for each other, I expect you and Eadric to hang back when we get there and provide cover support.” Alaric States. Besides we don’t have a choice in the matter, Lysandra. With our combined strength and skills nothing short of the King of Dragons himself could stop us. Failure is no option—”

The forest suddenly went silent except for a few birds chirping in the distance as they inched forward.

They quickly stumbled out of the forest abruptly upon a small glade, the ground soft and carpeted with ferns and wildflowers. The towering trees stood like massive arches around them, their branches stretching high into the sky. In the center of the glade was a large mound of dirt and large rock, the azure sky above like a shimmering jewel once out of the canopy of the forest. As they approached the mound to cross it, they noticed something strange about it; it seemed loose, pulsing gently in time with their hearts.

The companions froze, every instinct honed by years of danger screaming at them to seek cover. Their horses started to become uneasy, even the birds fell silent, as if sensing the impending doom. The earth beneath their feet began to shake, the tremors rapidly growing in intensity with each passing heartbeat.

“Run!” Eadric shouted as he took his first step, but it was too late.

From the depths of the earth erupted a gargantuan purple worm, its segmented body tearing through the forest floor like it was parchment. Its massive, tooth-studded maw gaped open, revealing a cavernous pink interior, while rows of bone like teeth lined its body in perfect symmetry.

The air split with an ear-piercing shriek, and the monstrous worm hurling large rocks and debris in every direction. Everyone except Alaric was caught off balance and thrown to the ground by the force of its emergence, completely defenseless against the beast.

Alaric already had drew his enchanted red blade, its fiery glow slicing through a large boulder effortlessly as it fell to the ground split in two behind him. “On your feet!” he bellowed, charging head-first into the maelstrom while drawing his second blade wisdom that is beaming with brilliant white energy.

Alaric now at a full on sprint towards the creature as the group regains their composer. His swords both on his right side the tips dragging on the ground as they start to create a swirl of red and white energy. Meanwhile the Gargantuan purple worm whipped its tail around revealing a massive stinger half the size of an adult human hurling towards Alaric.

The others gained their footing shortly and soon were a tide of steel and magic at their backs. Eadric unleashed a barrage of icy shards that ricocheted off the creature’s hide, while Gareth raised his massive sword into the air creating a swirling of clouds directly above him.

The worms stinger flew with piercing speed as Alaric, screaming, whipped his swords in an upward arch in front of him and over his head creating an energy burst as he dug his boots into the ground to an abrupt stop. The swirling red and white energy flew into the beast like a large blade slicing into it, disrupting its attack and causing its stinger to miss Alaric completely.

The clouds above Gareth shot an insanely massive lighting bolt down striking Gareth’s sword as he held it high. As the blade started crackling and sparking wildly before pointing towards the purple worm and releasing a sharp lighting bolt from the tip of it.

The beast’s tail whipped back at the group, flying right at Gareth. Lysandra’s reflexes kicked in, and she grabbed the back of his armor’s collar, phasing them both backward to safety at the edge of the tree-line, just as towering pines toppled backward like matchsticks.

Gareth gasped, wincing as his thick skull collided with a low-hanging branch.

Lysandra grinned. “you’re welcome, dimwit.” She quipped before disappearing back into the fight.

Eadric’s ice magic slowed the creature’s movements, but it was far from finished. The purple worm thrashed and coiled, striking out with unnerving speed. Alaric and Gareth’s blades chipped away at its armored hide while Lysandra’s enchanted throwing daggers found exposed flesh, eliciting high-pitched ear shattering shrieks from the creature. The clearing soon ran with the creature’s acidic blood.

A low growl rumbled in the beast’s gullet, and its serpentine neck shot forward, jaws gaping wide. Eadric’s ice shield shattered as the worm engulfed him whole, filling his senses with the putrid stench of decay and the rank stench of death.

“Eadric!” Lysandra screamed, eyes blazing.

Gareth dove for the worm’s maw, sword raised. Alaric joined him, their blades moving in a lethal ballet as they carved their way through its scaly side.

Inside the worm’s darkened cavern of a stomach, Eadric choked on noxious fumes, his heart pounding in his chest. He threw a handful of his freezing dust which mixed with the toxic gas. Barely able to put up a magic barrier as the ensuing explosion propelled him through the beast’s gaping maw, along with a torrent of stomach acid and half-digested prey. He landed in a gasping, retching heap on the glade.

The worm howled, flailing in its death throes , before it collapsed lifeless and bloody to the ground.

“Eadric!” Lysandra dove toward him, her face a mask of relief.

He spat out foul bile, gulping fresh air. “Thanks for the rescue,” Eadric croaked out, smiling weakly.

Gareth nudged Alaric. “That,” he grinned, “was the most epic escape I’ve ever seen!” as excitement breathed into Gareth for the first time on their quest.

Alaric grinned. “I guess Eadric didn’t settle well with the beast,” looking at Gareth while chuckling lightly.

Exhausted but triumphant, the Iron Guardians stood over their defeated foe. Sweat and blood mingled on their skin, their hearts racing from the adrenaline-fueled battle. They could hear the distant rumble of thunder in the distance, warning of an approaching storm. Gareth gestured towards a large rocky outcropping nearby, and they made their way towards it for shelter. As they huddled underneath, the wind picked up, howling through the trees and sending leaves and debris flying through the air. The sky grew darker by the moment as bolts of lightning flashed across the sky.

“we need to find better shelter from this storm coming in.” Alaric suggested to Eadric. “Is there anything close by on the map?” he suggests.

“Maybe, let me take a look. Just remember, everything on here is pretty old and might not even exist anymore.” As Eadric pulled out the map, he began scanning every detail of their current area. “There looks to be a small village nearby in the forest here, I have no idea if it is still there. I do not recall ever having heard of it.”

“Does it have a name?” Lysandra asked sarcastically.

“The Arcane City of Häwold is what it says here on the map.” Eadric replied.

“What are we waiting for?” Alaric paused looking at his companions. “Let’s go, we don’t have time to sit here and decide or Gareth and I’s armor will turn to rust.” Alaric stated as the storm gained momentum.

They quickly headed back into the forest from the glade, a light drizzle began to fall. Leafy canopies above did little to muffle the noise as the storm intensified with a loud thunderous crash that was so loud the sound wave could be felt as it rang out, for what seemed like minutes.

“We need to move faster, the storm is gaining momentum.” Gareth panted, a Sheen of Sweat on his brow. “my armor is not conducive but conductive to lighting! I don’t want to end up like burnt hog meat on a skewer.”

“Look!” Lysandra pointed ahead to a town, “I think we made it. Just in time too,” She commented.

As they approached, the town came into view. It was a ghost town, abandoned, dilapidated and overgrown as the forest is slowly reclaiming the land. The once-bustling streets were now covered with vines and moss, the buildings crumbling and collapsing in on themselves with some held up by the foliage that is growing around it. The air was thick with a sense of panic, as if the very earth whispered dark secrets to them. Lysandra shivered involuntarily, her hand moving instinctively to the hilt of one of her daggers. She glanced at her companions, who were equally wary of their surroundings.

The rain picked up as they hurried down the cobblestone streets. The only sounds were the pattering rain and the pounding of their hearts. They navigated the overgrown paths, noticing remnants of a past life – a broken-down well, a few collapsed cottages, and a once-grand hall missing 2 of its walls. The hair on the back of Eadric’s neck stood on end as he felt an unseen presence watching them from the shadows. A prickle of dread danced down his spine.

Finally, they reached an old inn that was barely held together, its sign swinging dangerously in the wind.

Eadric stopped to look at the weathered sign as if he had seen a ghost. “Barden’s Cove? This place is supposed to be cursed, I’ve read about this place in the old lore books back at the great library. So that would mean this town is over 900 years old according to the lore,” he remarked softly. “I’m not sure if this is a good choice. It said the travelers of this inn were brutally murdered at random. Oddly enough, the town was never spoke of.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Alaric said, kicking open the rickety door. The doors rusty hinges squealed as it flung open, revealing an dilapidated lobby covered in dust and cobwebs. “We will look for something else after the storm passes. Maybe whatever was killing them died with the town?” Alaric replied questioningly as he walked inside.

Gareth frowned, his sword at the ready. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Inside, mildewed tapestries hung in tatters, and rainwater pooled on the warped floorboards. Alaric struck a tinder-box flame he found next to the candelabra, illuminating their grim surroundings.

“We’ll take watches,” he said, voice laced with weariness, ” Gareth, your on first watch, I’ll take second watch. Lysandra you can take third watch with Eadric.”

As the others bedded down on mildewed couches, Gareth took up position at the far end of the room by the window, his gaze scanning the rain-soaked streets. The storm not showing any signs of letting up.

An hour later, he was joined by Lysandra. “I Can’t sleep.”

“Aren’t you exhausted?” he replied, questioningly.

“A bit…,” she admitted, perching beside him looking out the window. “Nice view,” she teased, gesturing at the downpour.

“hmm,” he muttered, but couldn’t hide his crooked grin.

They sat in silence together, watching as the storm raged outside. Thunder shook the Inn’s foundations, and the air thickened with tension.

“Gareth?” she said, her voice a whisper.

“yeah?” Gareth replied.

“Why does it feel like we’re being watched?”

Gareth’s blood ran cold as he met her worried gaze. “I… I can’t say for sure,” he lied, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword on his back.

Suddenly, the rickety door slammed shut with a deafening bang, shattering the quietude and plunging the room into complete darkness. Gareth’s heart raced as he fumbled for a candle, but it was no use; something or someone was toying with them. The hairs on their nape stood at attention as an icy draft caressed their skin, the distinct feeling of unseen eyes upon them.

“A-Alaric?” Lysandra whimpered, clutching Gareth’s arm.

“I’m here,” came a strained reply from across the room. “Eadric? Gareth?”

“Here,” they chorused, their voices barely audible above the howling wind and pounding rain.

“We’re not alone,” Alaric said, his voice quivering with fear. “And I think our watcher just made themselves known.”

In that moment, a ghostly glow illuminated the room, revealing a sight straight out of their darkest nightmares. A translucent figure in tattered robes floated before them, its hollowed-eyes brimming with malevolence. Lysandra let out a sharp scream as the apparition raised its spectral hand, its bony fingers stretched towards them.

“Run!” Gareth bellowed.

They bolted for the door, but it had been sealed shut, trapping them with their supernatural assailant. The ghost cackled, its voice sending shivers down their spine, and advanced on them, its ethereal form passing through solid objects with ease.

“We fight!” Eadric commanded, raising his cane towards the apparition.

Gareth’s mind raced,”I-I’ve got an idea,” he blurted, remembering a passage about the repelling power of iron. “Form a circle! Stay close!”

Trembling, they did as he said, linking hands as Gareth brandished his sword before them. Quickly pouring holy water he kept in a water bladder over the blade. The ghost hesitated, its glowing orbs narrowing in fury.

“Whatever you are, leave this place at once!” Gareth bellowed, his voice deep with righteous fury. “You have no business here!”

The apparition hissed, its form shuddering as if repelled by their combined wills and the Holy water. With one last menacing glare, it lunged towards them, as Gareth commanded, Divine light shot out of Gareth’s blade in all directions. Unable to get away the apparition screamed seeping through the cracks in the walls and vanishing into the stormy night.

The rain continued to lash against the shutters, as they watched.

“What in the nine hells was that?” Lysandra gasped, her face as pale as the ghost that had just menaced them.

Alaric shook his head, his eyes wide with terror. “I don’t want to know. “Let’s just find a dry spot and wait out the storm.”

“Let’s clear this place so we can sleep soundly,” Gareth suggested. “Follow me.” He commanded as he headed into the inn and down the hallway.

Something quickly scuttled across the floorboards. The group tensed, weapons drawn. Was it just the storm or something more? They crept carefully down the stairs, peering into the darkness of the main room. A chill ran down Lysandra’s spine as she saw wisps of mist curling around their feet. The air felt thick and humid from the storm.

“There better not be anymore ghosts or I’ll take my chances with the storm outside.” Lysandra stated timidly.

Up ahead, a door creaked open ever so slightly, revealing a small room filled with cobwebs and dust. Something moved within, casting long shadows on the walls. With a collective gulp, they rushed forward, swords at the ready. But instead of bandits or monsters, they found an old desk littered with parchments and scrolls. Eadric slammed the door shut quickly, not wanting to invite whatever was out there inside.

“Looks like we found a potential treasure trove,” Alaric mused, examining one of the documents. “We should search the place for anything useful. Who knows what might be here.”

King Alaric’s sword Wisdom suddenly shone bright as he spoke, as if sensing the danger close by. The others nodded in agreement, spreading out to comb through the abandoned building. Lysandra felt her heart racing as she descended into the cellar, searching for anything that might provide shelter from the storm. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she froze. There was something else down here…

As she turned around, she saw it. A dozen pairs of beady eyes stared back at her, surrounded by furry black bodies and hairy legs. Giant wolf spiders, their fangs dripping venom, crawling out of the holes in the corner. Her breath hitched in fear, and she fought the urge to scream. No one must ever know about her irrational fear.

The group just behind her gasped, seeing this new threat. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Would they come to her rescue? Or would they think she’d take care of them by herself, as she stared trapped and defeated?

Gareth charged forward, sword drawn while Eadric started chanting under his breath. Soon the room filled with a soothing green glow as Alaric finished casting. Then a mighty gust of wind pushed the spiders back and slammed them against the back wall. some splattered against the wall while the rest quickly regrouped, but didn’t stop coming. Their menacing clicks and clacks echoing in the dank cellar. But it was too late. A spider crawled up her leg, fangs sinking into her skin before she could react.

“Lyss!” Gareth called out, rushing to her side. “Hold on, stay with me! We’ll get you out of here.”

She screamed, more out of pain than fear. Gareth wrestled the spider off her leg with his free hand, crushing its body with his boot and stabbing the head with his sword. She felt the venom course through her veins, burning like acid. Gareth grabbed her with his free hand, lifting her over his shoulders as Alaric and Eadric continued to fend off the spiders with their magic. Alaric stayed back to assist Eadric as the group escaped the cellar, running out into the torrential downpour that pummeled them both. Soon after Eadric and Alaric came sprinting out like their souls had escaped.

Gareth carried Lysandra, struggling to keep his footing on the muddy road while the storm raged around them. Thunder shaking the very ground beneath them. Just then lightning struck a tree close by catching it on fire in the rain, bathing them in blinding light. He could hear her shallow breaths while he could smell her sweat mixed with the rain. Her soft curves pressed against him, her body limp in his arms. He clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to comfort her as they tread through the treacherous overgrown street. The rain was relentless, pounding on his armor, soaking him to the bone. A cold shiver raced through his body as he spotted a clearing up ahead. He couldn’t lose her now Gareth thought anxiously.

Eadric created an invisible energy shield around them, protecting them from the storm. They huddled together, protected from the elements yet still drenched to the bone. The paladin’s focused gaze as he laid her down gently onto the wet earth. Then laying his sword over her, he holds his hands upward over her closing his eyes calmly while chanting.

“Amidst the hall of death I stand,

Yet despair shall not consume me,

Even when faced with wickedness and despair,

Be it foe or treachery.

Though death’s touch lingers on me,

My blessed sword shines bright,

For it shall guide me to the halls of light,

And stand as sentinel for all God’s children.

Until the hour of my dying breath,

I shall go fearless,

into the serpent’s den,

Wielding my blade for heaven.”

Gareth’s voice rises, fervent and passionate as he holds his hands tenderly over Lysandra’s body, as the venom starts slowly pulling out of Lysandra, into the air. Eadric quickly pulls a vile from his pocket and fills it with some of the venom. Swiftly, the rest of the venom starts to evaporate.

“I think I removed all of the poison! Let’s get the hell off this street and out of the storm!” Gareth shouting over the intensity of the storm.

Gareth, quickly but carefully picking up Lysandra who is still unconscious. The group made their way down the street quickly, the rain beating down on rotten wooden structures and abandoned shacks like tiny knifes hitting an impenetrable wall. The wind was howling like a hungry beast. As they continued down the street the rain kept coming down so fast the streets started to flood and become a muddy mess under them. It was as if nature itself was against them, try as it might to drive them back and off course.

Finally, they found an old stone library barely standing. Its interior was dry and safe from the storm, providing some respite. King Alaric dropped to the floor just inside, leaning against a table. “We’ve come so far,” he said, panting heavily. “But we’re not done yet.”

Eadric nodded in agreement sitting next to him. “This storm won’t let up anytime soon; we need to recover our strength.” He closed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought.

Gareth placed Lysandra gently on the floor then quickly pulling out and wrapping her in a fur blanket to keep her warm. Shortly Gareth joined King Alaric and Eadric against the table. Alaric pulled out a flask from his belt and took a long swig before handing it to him. He accepted gratefully, taking small sips as he tried to ignore the burning sensation in his throat. Gareth doesn’t ever drink as he is usually always training. “What now?” he asked between gulps trying not to cough.

Eadric opened his eyes again, his brow furrowed. “I’ve studied these Golems for years. They’re not your typical sentinels,” he said slowly. “They are assembled using old world magic. Something much stronger and far more dangerous than what you would find today. We’ll have to use our wits if we wish to pass them.”

“Wits and brute force,” Gareth added with a grunt.

Eadric laughs at Gareth’s remark. “These Golems were designed to guard the Dragon King’s lair. Each one was built then imbued with magic. This magic is the life force of these Golems. If you understand how they work, they become simple traps to dismantle. These days spell casters use more humanitarian methods for protecting areas. Ones that are also much more difficult to defend against.”

Alaric turning to Gareth, “the lore told tales of their savage nature; even a scratch from one could prove fatal if you don’t nullify their magic.” They couldn’t afford any more injuries Alaric thought. “We will stay back and let Eadric take care of these guardians.”

“I’m starting a fire, the temperature keeps dropping and we need to stay warm.” Eadric announced before pointing his cane, casting a fire spell on the stone floor in front of them.

“I’ll watch the entrance, but be mindful of the inner door as well. We have no idea what’s in this place.” Gareth says as he sits in a chair facing the window over by Lysandra.

Shortly they had a small fire that was somehow warming the entire room.

After a few minutes Lysandra slowly came to, Gareth caught her sloth like movements out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you alright?” Gareth asked, concern etched on his face.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath. “I’ll live.” Her voice was hoarse from dehydration and pain. “Did I ever say I hate spiders.” she said forcing a smirk with what little energy she had.

“Just rest. The danger has past.” Gareth replied concerned. “Here, drink this it will help.” He said as he hands her a bladder of water, but Lysandra had already passed out, still completely exhausted. Gareth places the bladder next to her for when she wakes again.

Eadric walked over to lysandra and started to murmur incantations under his breath as he waved his hand above her. Soon and just for an instant Lysandra’s skin was glowing orange.

“That should help speed her recovery,” Eadric stated as he looked over to Gareth, “She is worn from today’s events. the poison had worked its way pretty deep before you removed it. Let her rest, she will be fine in time.” He declares before sitting back down over by Alaric.

The storm raged on outside, thunder shaking the walls and rain pounding against the windows all while the temperature kept dropping. Gareth’s gaze never left the window facing down the street towards the inn they narrowly escaped. The howling wind and endless rain created an eerie symphony, like the world was crying. He couldn’t help but think about home, about his mother’s warm cooking and sister’s laughter. But here he was, far from home, fighting for a cause he barely understood. With people he found himself starting to care for like a family.

Soon enough, everyone was asleep, except for Gareth who found himself watching Lysandra as she slept next to him – her chest rising and falling rhythmically under her stretchy black wraps she wore on her torso like a long shirt and legs like tights. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye. She seemed so vulnerable in her sleep, and yet he knew she could handle herself just as well as he could.

Gareth sat up straighter, his swords shaft resting against his inner thigh and shoulder. His eyes darted to the door every time there was a loud crash of thunder or gust of wind. He knew they were safe in their temporary shelter, but the tension remained.

King Alaric paced the room during his watch, a solemn expression on his face. He trusted Eadric’s knowledge but still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap. He began to strategize how to avoid the dangers as much as possible.

The night passed slowly, with each hour marked by another round of thunder and lightning. Eadric murmured incantations under his breath during his watch, casting spells and wards to keep them safe while they slept.

The rain slowly turned to sleet then quickly to snow. in the early hours of the morning Eadric casting warmth spells and making sure the group stayed comfortable. Eventually sleep took its hold over Gareth as he slowly nodded off not moving an inch as if made of stone while his massive sword stayed rested against him.

Finally, dawn broke. The storm had passed, leaving only a few inches of snow on the ground. Gareth felt exhausted, but he didn’t sleep well. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Lysandra and how she is feeling. He rose to his feet as Alaric grunted awake.

“Any sign of trouble?” Alaric asked slowly gaining composure rubbing his eyes.

“Not last night, but look,” Gareth pointed outside. The spiders from yesterday were crawling over the building they’d left down the street, their many legs making sinister patterns on the walls. “They’re back.”

Gareth put on a heavy pelt tunic over his armor than swung his sword over his broad shoulder letting it come to rest on his shoulder, “I’ve had enough of these damn spiders. Wait here, I’ll take care of this. Eadric, select whats for breakfast, I’m starving,” Gareth declared. as he ducked under and passed through the doorway leading outside. his footsteps crunching on the freshly fallen snow. The air was colder now and crisp as he took in a deep breath.

“Let’s do this,” Gareth mumbled, psyching himself up as he walked down the road towards the cursed Inn.

The spiders were relentless, their fangs dripping venom as they spotted him approaching.

“I’m gonna make short work of you pests. Hurt my friends, you’ll taste this blade.” he said walking up as if talking to the spiders.

Gareth stretched his sword out to his side, with the blade parallel to the ground, then quickly twisting his wrist forward turning the blade at the spiders general direction. he started whipping his arm around and immediately shooting out a blinding light, it seemed to be brighter than the sun driving most of the spiders back into the Inn. The remaining half dozen or so were hacked through with his massive blade, his sword humming through the air casually and with a deadly efficiency, like he’s chopping blades of grass.

The group watched as Gareth aggressively controlled the entire fight like a divine entity. Alaric was getting dressed as fast as he could while Eadric was sitting calmly going over the choices for breakfast.

“Relax Alaric. The boy can take care of a few spiders,” Eadric said as he stood, walked over to Alaric while holding food in both hands.

“Now for the important question Alaric, eggs with Hash?” Eadric says raising his right hand that’s holding a plate. “Or, leftover mushroom mash with garlic on rye toast?”

“Toas…,” Alaric begrudgingly starts to reply as Eadric stuffs the toast into his mouth. Alaric eyeing Eadric as he smirks leaving the eggs and hash, then walking over to Lysandra.

Gareth cast the rest of the giant spiders back into the Inn with one more shot of blinding light from his blade. Just then He stabbed his sword into the ground next to him, his hands started weaving through the air as if he were conducting an orchestra. The spiders started to crawl and over take the building consuming it. Shortly after casting a large celestial appeared in the air above the Inn casting a massive beam of fire directly down onto the cursed Inn smashing the old glass out and destroying the building and everything within.

“Gareth one, Spiders zero.” Gareth chuckles to himself.

His efforts paid off, and soon the fight was over. The spiders lay singed and lifeless as the inn was now in rubble and on fire.Gareth started to walk back to the Library carrying his sword over his shoulder, while snow started to fall again softly to the ground. The group breathed a collective sigh of relief, but they kept their wits about them as they were only getting started.

“Lysandra,” Eadric says softly as he gently presses against her shoulder crouched over her holding the eggs and hash plate.”

Lysandra slowly came to and as she sat up, Eadric comically dropped the plate in her lap. causing her to wince as she caught it.

“Eat up, we need you strong.” Eadric says walking back over to the fire.

“Thanks,” Lysandra said half heartedly.

As Gareth comes back through the entrance into the room placing his sword now by the door.

“Lysandra, I see you’ve returned to the living.” Gareth smirks looking over at her as he stands next to Eadric who has a plate of eggs and hash stretched out at him as an offer.

“Don’t let him fool you Lysandra, the boy was worried to death about you last night.” Eadric remarks smirking at Gareth.

“Funny,” Gareth replies.

“I would joke but I’m too exhausted.” Lysandra replies choking down the food before lying back down.

The storm was back as a full on blizzard now, while early winter was now under way the group needed to head further into the old dilapidated Library.

“Gareth, Eadric, we need to search this library and find a more suitable stay until this weather passes. Lysandra you need to stay here and rest until your strength is back.” Alaric declares. “The rest, grab your gear and let’s go sweep the library. Let’s try to be more careful this time. We don’t need anymore injuries.”

Alaric slowly unsheathed wisdom as he opened the large nailed wooden door into the hallway leading to the main hall of the library. The tension was palpable as the adventurers cautiously entered the dusty library, guided by the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows. The air reeked of mold and decay, and the silence was heavy enough to suffocate. Gareth’s heart pounded in his chest as he carefully approached the pedestal, his eyes transfixed on the ancient tome. His hand reached out confidently to pick it up.

“Wait!” Eadric hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. “There might be traps.”

Gareth froze, his hand mere inches from the book. Eadric cautiously circled the pedestal, searching for any signs of booby traps or magical wards. Satisfied that the book was clear, Eadric nodded.

“I think it’s safe,” he said, his voice still hushed.

Gareth exhaled in relief and gently picked up the tome. A thin layer of dust rose into the air as he opened the cover, sending chills down their spines. he began to leaf through the yellowed pages, his eyes darting over the archaic script.

“It’s the arch mage’s journal. Or it seems to be that of a senior member.” Gareth states handing the book over to Eadric. “what do you think?”

Gareth looked at the name on the book and a look of dread immediately, spread across his face. “we should leave while we can,” there is very strong magic in this place and we don’t want to disturb it.”

“We don’t need anymore problems than we already have, let’s get out of here.” Alaric whispers.

As they backed away from the pedestal, a sinister creaking echoed through the library. The air seemed to thicken, and the stench of death became stronger. The adventurers turned as one, their senses on high alert. From the shadows, a chilling hiss filled the room, and a legion of undead creatures shambled into the dim light from nowhere. Bones clacking and foul-smelling, they advanced, their hollowed-out eyes fixated on the interlopers.

“Great, what are we waiting for?” Gareth grumbled sarcastically, “Let’s get this over with.”

Gareth drew his sword from its sheath, hands tightening on the hilt as he became more serious. “Looks like we’ll have to fight our way out. You hold them off while I work my magic – pun intended,” he said with a smirk.

As the undead horde closed in, Eadric and Alaric Stood in front of Gareth while he started to chant, ready to face the evil undead horde in front of them.

From the depths of the shadows, a sinister voice laughed, mocking their determination. “You fools,” it cackled. “You’ve played right into my hands.”

The chilling laughter reverberated off the walls, raising goosebumps on their arms. Suddenly, the undead creatures stopped their advance, turning as one to face the source of the voice. Emerging from the darkness, a cloaked figure glided into the flickering light.

“My, my, what have we here?” the figure purred, his emerald eyes glinting with malice. “If it isn’t our intrepid heroes, come to end my reign of terror.”

“You know nothing of us or our intentions,” Gareth growled, stepping in front of the others. “Don’t listen to his lies,” he exclaims looking at the group. “Show yourself, coward!”

With a flourish, the figure tossed back his hood, revealing the face of none other than the High Mage, who’s journal they grabbed. Gasps of disbelief escaped Eadric’s lips, while Alaric’s grip tightened on his sword.

“It’s the High Mage from the journal!” Eadric uttered.

I’ve been waiting for you,” the High Mage cackled, “The power in this place has kept me strong, thanks to you it’s time to finish my transformation.” With a grand gesture, the floor began to fracture beneath them. “I will use your life force to complete my ritual, Die you fools!”

The companions had no choice but to leap for their lives as the chamber bucked and heaved, the undead horde tumbling into the new-formed crevices. Alaric grabbed the back of Gareth’s chest plate as Gareth almost slipped into one of the gaping crevices.

“Hold on,” Eadric yelled as he cast a magic bubble separating them from the arch mages attack just as the ground beneath gave way. Eadric then swiftly levitated them over the chasm to a stable area of the room before the bubble dissipated, the High Mage cackling with malignant glee.

“Foolish children,” he sneered. “You cannot stop the inevitable!” With a flick of his wrist, the undead throng began to climb out of the crevasses, their rotting limbs flailing towards them as lightning crackled from the mages aura.

“We end this now,” Alaric shouted, determination in his eyes. He shot a couple bolts from his wrist at the High Mage, but they disintegrated before reaching him.

The High Mage sneered and declared, “Your toys will not protect you. Soon, you will join my army of undead!” He lifted his hand towards Alaric, releasing a bolt of electricity in his direction. However, Alaric’s armor dispelled the magic as he took the hit head on.

Gareth’s face twisted into a look of pure rage as he lifted his sword and bellowed, “Shut your mouth, fool! You don’t even know you’re already dead!”

Gareth’s voice echoes through the chamber, his chant growing louder and more fervent as he holds his gleaming blade aloft. “I banish you! I banish you from the light!” he cries, his eyes blazing with determination. The undead, their rotting bodies encircling Gareth and his companions, seem to cower at his words.

With a sudden burst of energy, a brilliant, radiant light shoots through the stained glass windows and into the dark chamber. It bathes the room in a warm glow, illuminating every corner and casting shadows on the faces of the undead. They screech and writhe as they are consumed by the holy light, their silhouettes etched into the ground beneath them like dark stains.

But amidst the chaos, the High Mage remains unfazed. His expression is twisted into a scowl as he floats menacingly above them, his power still pulsing through the air. Gareth stands tall, his sword still held high as he stares defiantly at his enemy. Victory may be within reach, but their battle is far from over.

As the tension mounted, Eadric brandished his glowing cane with ferocity. Alaric gripped his sword tightly, knowing he couldn’t reach the elusive spirit. But then, Eadric summoned a powerful column of ice, creating a bridge from them to their target. Suddenly, a crackling black light surged through the air like electrifying lightning from Eadric’s cane, striking the arch mage with deadly precision. The mage let out a gut-wrenching shriek as the dark energy consumed the entire room in its chaotic grasp.

Amidst the dimming light, every eye was drawn to Alaric as he launched from the edge of the ice bridge, his sword of wisdom blazing like a beacon. With a fierce thrust, it impaled the High Mage’s chest, unleashing a surge of electric and magical energy that reverberated through the room. Alaric was sent flying back against the wall, his armor charred and singed from the intense impact.

“Alaric!” Lysandra’s voice pierced the tense air, her footsteps echoing through the dimly lit chamber as she hurried back to him. King Alaric lay still against the rough stone wall, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, a faint furrow on his brow hinting at his temporary state of unconsciousness. The flickering torchlight cast gentle shadows on his features, emphasizing the peaceful expression that graced his face, reassuring all that he was merely resting.

Eadric frowned, tapping his cane on the missing floorboards. “This won’t do at all,” he muttered. With a flick of his wrist and a sharp focus of his mind, the room began to restore itself – floor and windows included. Eadric’s intense concentration was evident as he worked his magic.

“that’s a neat trick.” Gareth remarks watching everything slowly going back together.

With a sigh, Lysandra offers her hand to Alaric and helps him up. “I suppose we should search the rest of the building,” she says. “Although, I highly doubt we’ll find anything after all that noise.” Alaric brushes off his clothes as he stands.

As night fell, they made camp in the grand hall of the ancient castle. Eadric, ever vigilant, took first and last watch while Lysandra rested, her injuries still not fully healed. His keen eyes scanned the darkness for any sign of movement, his hand firmly clutching his sword. Alaric found a bench to settle on, exhaustion tugging at his bones. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off, dreaming of S’vyrra’s warm embrace, a cold ale in hand, and a hearty meal waiting for him. Gareth took second watch, sitting by the dwindling fire. The embers crackled and sparked, casting an orange glow over his features. But even as the fire died down, there was another flame that burned bright in his mind – the alluring figure of Lysandra. Her intoxicating aroma lingered in his memory, drawing him back to thoughts of her soft touch and captivating presence. Despite the darkness surrounding them, her light shone through and left Gareth entranced.

As the weight of exhaustion finally pulled his eyelids shut, Gareth was greeted by the familiar sight of Lysandra’s face. Her delicate features were illuminated by a small, mischievous smile that both unsettled and excited him in his dreams. The image lingered in his mind, taunting him with its alluring yet elusive nature. He could almost feel her breath on his skin and the warmth of her touch, making it difficult for him to fully surrender to sleep. But as he drifted off, he couldn’t help but wonder if this vision was a mere figment of his imagination or a manifestation of his deepest desires.

In the morning, they awoke to a world covered in white; the snow blanketing everything outside. The storm had passed, leaving behind a sense of calm. They gathered by the window, peering out at the landscape transformed by the snowstorm. A fresh layer of powdery snow covered the ground, making their surroundings look almost ethereal.

“Well, that was quite the storm,” Lysandra said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s like nature itself was trying to keep us away from whatever lies ahead.”

“Aye,” Alaric agreed, looking out at the snow-covered trees. “We’ve come this far, we might as well see it through.”

The group broke their fast with the food they had, their stomachs growling in appreciation of the warm meal. They set out again, trudging through the snow. The world seemed to be endlessly white, and it was easy to lose track of time.

As they journeyed deeper into the forest, they noticed the trees growing thicker and more twisted, as if they were alive with malice. The air became colder, and the snow deeper. The wind picked up again, but this time it was less fierce than before. The group huddled together against the bitter chill.

“We need shelter,” King Alaric said, leading them to a low overhang carved into the large rock face ahead. It was just big enough for all of them, so it would have to do. They huddled close to stay warm, the fire crackling merrily between them. “We’ll rest here for the night.” he assured them.

“At least the ground is untouched under it.” Eadric says as he started cooking a meal, using dried meats and vegetables from their packs. The smell of sizzling venison filled the air, making their mouths water.

Lysandra settled down next to Gareth, pulling her cloak tight around her. He put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

She leaned into him; her warm breath caressed his cheek as she whispered, “I never thanked you for rescuing me, Gareth.”

“Don’t,” he replied. “We’re in this together. I would expect the same from any of you.” Despite his own fears, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie with her.

Lysandra rolled her eyes. “You get a pass today, but tomorrow I go back to teasing you when you say stupid things like that.” She smirked as they sat there, trying to stay warm, huddled together.

“Ok, Food’s ready. Eadric past the food down as they all sat huddle together, Eadric, Alaric, Lysandra, and Gareth at the end.

Eadric kicked the fire into the snow then cast a barrier spell in a 15 meter radius all around them, keeping the elements out. He then cleared off the snow in a small area in front of them using a wind spell.

“this was always your father’s favorite part on our journeys Alaric,” Eadric stated before rubbing his hands together ferociously back-and-forth.

It was as if he was trying to start a fire with them like you would kindling. after a short while everything became warm and the snow in the barrier started to melt.

Then he summoned a large tent for them.

“That’s insane!” Lysandra states excitedly as she jumps up and heads into the tent.

“Thanks,” Gareth says as he also heads in the tent following Lysandra like a stray puppy.

“Where the hell has this been?” Alaric remarks, looking at Eadric while out stretching his arms and gesturing at the tent.

“It’s too cold to stay out under the stars. Eadric replies. The barrier spell will only last a couple of hours. Oh, and the tent has been in your bag of holding. I just summoned it out.” He states smirking as he enters the tent, Alaric smirking, following directly behind.

Back at the Palace Winter was underway, the snow covered gardens looked like molded white marble. S’vyrra, the fierce Queen of the kingdom, was in deep discussion with her council about the brewing trouble on the eastern shores. Meanwhile, Rivlet, her trusted Chief Commander, was sending updates on the current situation with the kingdom via their Little magic box Eadric had crafted.

“As Chief Commander I recommend we send a full regiment out to the edge of the eastern mountains to help keep an eye on this trouble and find out what exactly is going on. Make sure to send a full team of experienced mages to lead, I don’t want any rookies on this mission. Rivlet stated to the Council members.”

The long, drawn-out debate among the council members festered an air of unease in the room. Eyes darted back and forth, voices rising and falling in intensity as each member voiced their concerns and proposed solutions to the growing threat on the eastern shores. Queen S’vyrra’s patience wore thin, and she slammed her fist on the table, silencing the bickering crowd.

Queen S’vyrra chimed in, “That is an excellent suggestion, Chief Commander.” She pauses, scanning the room with her eyes. “I won’t tolerate any further disagreements,” she declares firmly. “We must act quickly and take control of the situation before this threat spreads to the entire eastern shore and potentially beyond.” She states confidently.

The council fell in line with S’vyrra’s orders, letting Rivlet send his Regiment.

“I’ll get started right away.” I assume you will be apart of this won’t you Rivlet?” S’vyrra smirks.

“You know me to well Queen.” Rivlet smirks.

“Very well take only your best fighters, Ithic Make sure to assist Rivlet and send your best platoons of mages. Some are the most advanced I have ever seen. They will be of great assistance I am sure.” S’vyrra states.

Rivlet nodded. “Of course. Ithic and I will pull the troops together shortly. Now if you will please excuse us.” The council dismissed Rivlet and Ithic, who quickly departed to assemble the Regiment.

#ActionAndAdventure #adventure #book #books #chapter5 #Elyria #fantasy #fiction #fictionSeries #fictionalStories #landOfElyria #MysticalLandOfElyria #novel #shortStory #storiesByDbw #writing

(MLE) The Iron Guardians CH. 4

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(MLE) Set in stone CH. 3

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(MLE) Into The Dark CH. 2

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Every country is built on revolution.

The Prince's Poisoned Vow by Hailey Turner is now on sale for just 99cents!

Download your copy today!
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From the author who brought you the Amazon best-selling Soulbound series comes a queer steampunk-inspired epic fantasy.

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katana V1 Personaje de DC

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I just posted the first chapter of book two of, The Creation of Xyphus. A #scifi saga with #timetravel, #actionandadventure, and even some #romance. An epic, save-humanity type story....[[|:-)

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https://medium.com/@minus1digit/the-creation-of-xyphus-dega-iii-act-i-bc209ba22331

Starting now, we return to #streaming our #writing. We'll plot a #serial #sciencefiction #spy #thriller. Join in the creativity!
#twitchstreamer #sciencefictionnovel #mysterynovel #sciencefictionwriter #adventurenovel #actionandadventure https://twitch.tv/davidalanlucas

Today, we return to #streaming our #writing. We'll plot a #serial #sciencefiction #spy #thriller. Join in the creativity at 9 AM CDT.
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Starting now, we return to #streaming our #writing. We'll plot a #serial #sciencefiction #spy #thriller. Join in the creativity!
#twitchstreamer #sciencefictionnovel #mysterynovel #sciencefictionwriter #adventurenovel #actionandadventure https://twitch.tv/davidalanlucas

Tonight, we return to #streaming our #writing. We'll plot a #serial #sciencefiction #spy #thriller. Join in the creativity at 9 PM CDT.
#twitchstreamer #sciencefictionnovel #mysterynovel #sciencefictionwriter #adventurenovel #actionandadventure https://twitch.tv/davidalanlucas

Tonight, we return to #streaming our #writing. We'll plot a #serial #sciencefiction #spy #thriller. Join in the creativity at 9 PM CDT.
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Trouble, inbound at full bound.

#photography #dogs #snow #ActionAndAdventure

Issue by Issue - War is Hell #3 https://thetelltalemind.com/2022/11/05/issue-by-issue-war-is-hell-3/ via @TheTelltaleMind #WarisHell #DickAyers #PaulReinman #FrankBolle #Marvel #MarvelComics @Marvel #WarComicsMonth #warcomics #comics #actionandadventure #beatingtheodds