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A Busy Night
Excerpt written for the weekly @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt!
Even this far down the street, her arm burned from their presence. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, Duskend was known to collect all sorts from across Esharial, with how easy it was to slip away in such a large city if you could find your way to it. Still, the strength of such wards this deeply embedded into the building was unnerving. They had to be ancient, but the power hadn’t drained out yet. Whatever was sustaining them was powerful, and whoever possessed such an object would be dangerous.
All of this to say this was the most likely place to find what she needed.
Wonderful.
At least she didn’t need to break these, just slip through a crack. Hopefully one that was already present.
The sky was pitch black overhead, but that didn’t mean a thing. Duskend was still flooded with lights, from those in the street, to the windows high overhead, to even some of the passersby carrying lanterns, shadows few and far between for a place known for hiding. Or perhaps it was due to that reputation that had led to a paranoid need to drive away the activities of some of those who had needed to. Like what she was planning.
She forced her breathing to stay steady alongside her steps as she walked until she was just across the street.
There was a thin alley that at least one other person was using to smoke. The smell turned her stomach, but she would have to suffer it for the moment, it was unfortunately the best excuse she had. The taste was worse.
Plenty of people still walked the streets, but few paid her any mind now that she was dressed plainly and without her umbrella. All of them avoided the building, not even paying it the sideways glance some gave her. An effect of the wards perhaps? Or did it or the owner just have that sort of reputation?
Closing her eyes and letting her head fall against the rough brick, she moved her sleeve just enough to press against the rune on her wrist. The burning faded as she gave into the pull in her mind.
Opening her eyes, the street was now covered in colors from the magics used for the lights, items on some of the passersby, and the vehicles, but none were more vivid than the building, now covered in a thickly woven blanket of different threads. Of course it wasn’t one or two or even three wards, the rainbow held far too many that mixed and blurred to even know one ended. No wonder it had hurt so much.
She blew a cloud out slowly, as she ground the cigarette under her foot, before she crossed the street into the opposite alley. No one was in this one, but no one even spared a glance as she entered it. Or as the dagger appeared in her hand.
The weave was tight everywhere easily accessible from the ground, the owner having done their due diligence. There wasn’t even any give with a light press of the dagger. The sheer amount of time that must have taken. Had each new owner added to it? Filling in the cracks until the current generation’s was this perfect?
If she pressed her luck, how long would she have before they were alerted or returned? Were they even gone? The windows were dark, but of course that meant nothing. If she did wait and prepare, how long would it take to create even a tear, if she even could? Or maybe…
The colors faded as she looked out at the street, but still no one seemed to be paying attention.
The building she had leaned on previously was multi-storied as well, not quite as tall, but enough that the top of it wasn’t as lit as the street. That could be enough with the thin shadow at the back of the alley.
Concentrating on the roof’s edge, she took a breath, stepped, fell into the shadow–
–and blinked into the sea of lights below, staggering back when she realized her foot was over the edge.
“Fucking Abyss,” she breathed.
Her previous opinion was wrong, Duskend was the abyssal damned worst shard.
When her heartbeat had steadied, she reactivated the rune.
From this distance, it was harder to make out the different threads again, but the colors were still unfalteringly vivid. How paranoid were these people that they warded it so far into the empty sky above the building? And to keep it just as tightly woven there too?
Perhaps it was time to give up and pray to whatever would listen that it was somewhere else.
But no, the chances of that were slim.
And no wards could be that perfect. If the top and bottom were reinforced, perhaps… There. A waver, a story or two from the top, just over a dark balcony. Almost too perfect.
She smiled.
With another breath, another step, and another fall–
–the landing was a loud thud that had her wincing more than the fall itself. But she was in.
Blinking away the colors again, she pulled open the door, and closed it with a soft click. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the…apartment? There were couches and chairs and a small table arranged like a living room. A small one too. There was even a connected kitchen.
And with a flick of the lights, a man standing in it, with a wine glass and a smile. “Tell me, little thief, why I shouldn’t end you where you stand?”
#writeblr#writing#excerpt#amwriting#wip excerpt#duskend wip#andy#yeah yeah yeah i haven't talked about this one in a bit#but the prompt made sense for her since she can't be in daylight anyway#so she gets up to some shenanigans#wow i spelled that word right?#anyway#enjoy
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Find the Word Tag
Thanks for the tag @chauceryfairytales!
My words are green, rain, ghost, cat, and time. I'm pulling across three different wips here
Green-WotG
A flurry of blue and green feathers had him turning quickly to the source, memories of an elaborate cape of a similar design and a cocky voice filling his mind.
Rain-WotG
Just outside the door they hadn’t bothered to close, the rain was heavy enough to obscure the rest of the town, and it drummed a pounding rhythm on the roof. Hopefully the old wood could stand one more night. Or day. Whatever fucking time it was now.
Ghost-Abyssal Damned
Even her own friends would struggle for more insight into her as a person past the surface level of her interests. It doesn’t seem to be a purposeful thing though, she’s rather warm and inviting after all, it’s more just, Ilm exists as a ghost of sorts, slipping from one group to the other easily, fitting in with practically anyone and everyone, but never really lingering or connecting, and keeping to herself most often. Not an unusual habit for the scholars of Glassfeld.
Very confused that I can't find one for cat when I know one of my characters has a cat??? Maybe I'm looking through the wrong files
Time-Duskend
“Hm? Oh you mean in my apartment all that time ago? You think I don’t know about every single shardwalker the moment they fall onto this shard? I’d be a fool not to.”
Tagging: @concealeddarkness13 @duskforged @ratracechronicler and @sparrow-orion-writes (feel free to ignore if you don't do these)
Your words are: fire, lonely, hope, ancient, and song
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It’s not raining for once, the clouds barely blocking the bright sun, making it difficult for her to see even through the window, but its enough to see the figure sitting near the edge of the roof.
He was almost never in daylight either, but then, that might have been for her benefit more than his. And it seems an oddly vulnerable space for one always seemingly in control of the situation, always doing his research on everyone and everything, and rarely standing with his back to anyone if he can help it.
But then, this is his home, and he likely has just as many if not more wards layered into the very foundation of the building than she could safely secure into her little apartment.
She could walk away, probably should walk away before accidentally intruding on something private. There’s no reason for her to open the door. No reason to walk out there and need to fuck with her parasol just to be yelled at or snarked at for something useless.
As such, she has no explanation for doing just that.
Its even brighter when she steps out, blindingly so, but she had yet to take her gloves or scarf off so her skin is safe. And for once it’s warm. Enough to almost be comfortable with all her layers, though he sits without a jacket, sleeves rolled up as usual.
Even though she can’t see it, he’s facing towards the sea, the scent of which is heavy in the air here. More than it should be. And there’s the faintest trace of...ah. What a strange rune to bother with up here.
But he must like the scent.
“I never thought I’d come back here, you know,” he says when she’s only a few steps behind him, but he must have known she was there from the moment she opened the door. Probably even before then.
“You’ve been here before?” Gem always complained that no one ever left once they were here. The ones that did were lucky for it. Reine certainly seemed to have felt lucky for it, though she had come back as well. Somehow though, lucky didn’t seem to fit with the picture before her.
“I was born here. Or at least, Conor was.”
She cocks her head, and takes a step closer after a moment’s hesitation. He isn’t chasing her off yet. “Wasn’t aware there was a difference.”
“Perhaps there’s not. I know you can’t see it right now, but I woke up with on the shore not far from the docks. Have you been there?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, that’s a travesty I have no desire to personally help remedy for you, but I’m sure Gem would love to take you there.” He hasn’t turned to look at her throughout this exchange.
Somehow that seems like permission.
She sits with room between them. Enough they could both get away quickly. Enough not to accidentally brush against him to make him flinch or break whatever trance he’s fallen into, starring out at things she couldn’t understand even if she could see the same view. But close enough they reach out if either desire too.
His ears were pointed down ever so slightly. On someone else, it would mean nothing. On him, who kept his own emotions so guarded, ears only ever twitching when he was listening to them all, it meant everything.
She was intruding, and this was private.
But he wasn’t pushing her away.
She was practically still a stranger to him. Sure, he probably knew more about her than she could ever hope to begin to even see of him, but she was still a stranger.
“All I wanted, was to leave. I didn’t want to know what had happened or who I was. So as soon as the first ship showed up, I snuck aboard.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Now he looked at her, lacking the usual curiosity or mask of his emotions. “Probably for the same reason you walked out here.”
She rolled her eyes, part of the spell having fallen away with the words. “Cryptic as ever.”
There were actually plants up here. Did he even know the first thing about taking care of them, or did he have one of the others downstairs do it?
“Does ‘I don’t know’ make you feel better?”
It did not.
In fact it unsettled her more.
“Why did you walk out here?”
The same reason he told her about the shore.
The sun seemed to be getting even brighter, and her arm was getting tired from the umbrella.
“Are the promises because you can’t lie or a different magic?”
His lip quirked at the abrupt change of subject, the smirk returning, but it doesn’t feel like a barrier. “Ah. How long have you known?”
She shrugs. “It wasn’t that hard to figure it out actually, you keep your words very careful and only swear or promise things that you already seem to know you can fulfill without problem.”
“Most people never catch on.”
“I’m hardly most people. So answer?”
Truthfully, she doesn’t expect one. She had just wanted the change. If anything, she might have been hoping he’d tell her to fuck off, or whatever that was in Conor speak.
“I don’t know, to be perfectly honest. I know very little of what was done to me. Only its affects.”
“So did you wake up with the knowledge-”
“Do you plan to have me reveal all my darkest secrets, dear Dragon, or just the ones that interest you?”
“That interest me.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes, leaning back, but silent.
His ears had reverted back to normal.
The silence stretched on long enough, it might’ve been his fuck off, and she almost stood up or opened her mouth, but he finally spoke. “I just physically cannot lie. I’ve tried, but my tongue won’t form the words and it burns too much if I force it. Not that I feel particularly inclined towards it ever, I attempted out of curiosity.” The last part is said nonchalantly. He twists words to mask his meanings and keep everyone off guard, which could be a form of lying.
Or could be his form of defense.
“And the promises?”
The silence stretches again, but he’s starring into the distance again, his ears have ticked down again, and that alone silences her. “I can’t promise anything I don’t intend to keep.”
She didn’t ask the next question.
He answers anyway. “I’ve only ever broken one promise that I’ve made. It wasn’t consciously or even in my control, but I promised to protect someone once. I don’t think I need to tell you the details of what went wrong there.” It’s a bitter grin. Despite being unable to tell lies, this one feels like the second honest expression she’s seen out of him. The first the one he wore when she walked out here. “It killed me in the most agonizing way possible, slow and worse than any poison I’ve ever been forced to suffer.”
She doesn’t say sorry.
She doesn’t say anything.
And neither does he.
It could have been seconds spent like that, him starring into the distance unknown histories and pain locking him inside his head, and her sitting there wondering after it all in an attempt to...to what?
Offer comfort?
Her hand aches slightly from holding the parasol for so long, and she almost moves to leave.
“Let me.”
He holds out his hand, and she can only stare at it dumbly for a few seconds, before hesitantly offering the handle.
“And you?” He asks as he takes it.
And it startles a laugh from her, even as she eyes his hand. “Nope. No we’re not doing me. We’re diagnosing your trauma here, not mine.”
“Is that what we were doing?” It’s said as a joke, evident by the smirk and raised eyebrow, but it settles funny in her head. “Here I hoped it was tit for tat.”
He could move the parasol at any time. He could stop her from leaving.
“Does anyone actually say that anymore? Anywhere?”
“I just did.”
“You’re also how old? It’s amazing we even speak the same version of Common.”
He doesn’t move it.
“I suppose you have me there. Though language has always come easy to me. But if that’s not it, what are we doing?”
It registers that she rarely lets go of her parasol around other people, and she handed it over for the same reason she walked out here. For the same reason he told her all that and answered her questions.
For the same reason she looks at the plants on the edge of the ledge and opens her mouth, “I left, because I was scared of what all it was doing to me. Of how much I would lose myself to the Abyss before I realized what was happening.”
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(Conor showed up, dying in Andy’s living room, and has just come back to her sitting across from him, just waiting.)
“Did you know this is probably one of the most heavily warded areas in the entirety of Duskend, outside of your own home, possibly the entirety of Esharial, for the purposes of keeping one person out?”
“I’m flattered,” he groaned as he sat up.
“Don’t be. It’s not for you.”
“I’m offended.”
“But somehow you also manage to get in here constantly.”
“I need a favor.”
“You know how normal people ask for a favor? They call on them, and say things like, ‘Wonderful to see you again! How are you settling in? Did you like that new restaurant I showed you?’”
“I never showed you a new restaurant.”
“They don’t bleed to death on my favorite chair.”
“Poisoned, blood was just a side effect.”
“And they certainly don’t say things like that.”
“And you’d be so terribly bored of that normalcy in a week, month tops.”
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The Esharial Codex
Shard-Walkers, as told by Andromeda Char
Becoming a shard-walker, irrevocably giving a part of your soul up to the Abyss in exchange for power, it’s bound to change you in ways you could never understand when making the choice.
We can freely move between the Shards, not restricted to the gates or whims of the dragons, but that’s because we no longer belong to them. We’ve been split in two, half here and half there at all times. Mentally, that’d fuck anyone up. Our sleep is plagued by the half of us left there, surrounded by the dead and the Angels and the nothing. When you pass through a gate all you see is the empty space, or darkness. You don’t know what’s in there. Don’t even know something can be in there.
Physically, we’re restrained to the dark. The light hurts because it doesn’t exist in the Abyss, and our eyes are too sensitive to it now. It’s a bitch to step from the a dark shard to the middle of the day not knowing. And we’re cold, all the time. I hate that the most sometimes. I miss heat, and will be freezing before snow can even appear. You want to get away from all shardwalkers, move to the mountain tops or the frozen shards.
Most don’t survive the walk into the Abyss. It drives them insane before they reach the other side. Or it rips them apart. Those of us that do…I think we only survived because we can’t remember what we saw that first time. What exactly it was that changed us.
But it’s not like you change once and it’s done, you can walk anywhere you’d like with a simple thought. You have to keep doing it, walk to places you can see. Then other places on the shard. Then past. Over and over again to make sure you get it right. You don’t always get it right. Sometimes you step into something. Sometimes you step only into nothingness. Sometimes you take too long and years have passed by without you. Too many things can go wrong with every step.
And you’re already unstable. That’s where it all comes from after all. But it manifests differently for all of us. Sometimes it means you’re intangible to others, barely more than a ghost if there’s any difference. Sometimes it means you can see things that’ll happen. Sometimes it means being able to pull others through. Sometimes it’s understanding the Abyss. Sometimes it’s being able to rip others from—
There’s no way to know.
Some of us start to look more like the natural inhabitants of the Abyss. You’re lucky if it’s the dragons.
You start getting paranoid with each step, if something else is different, if you’re a little less human than you were a second ago.
At least, that’s what happened to me.
.
Esharial Worldbuilding Tag List: @concealeddarkness13 (because I figured you’d be interested)
Let me know if you want to be added or taken off!
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The Duskend Shard Tag List: @concealeddarkness13 @jezifster (and I’m not sure if someone else wanted to be added, so let me know!)
Duskend, she had been told, was good for two things: rain, and disappearing into without a trace. Now, standing on the cobbled street just under the wooden sign proudly welcoming her to the city, one gloved hand holding a bag that contained everything else she owned and the other her umbrella, it was easy to understand why.
The rain had been the first thing to greet her upon stepping onto the Shard, the drops the only sign the forest surrounding her wasn’t a part of Faedaal’s extensive greenery. A welcome change. The Fae’s Shard was always bright and sunny, made infinitely worse by the gemstone-like material of their buildings that only amplified the light. A testament to their colorful natures, and a deterrent to Shardwalkers like her.
It had even been too much for Belladonna.
Here though, the dark gray clouds had persisted in the skies throughout her walk from her point of arrival to here. It was almost nice. The dark permitted her to see, and there was something comforting in the rhythmic pats of rain on her umbrella. Of course, she could do without the damp chill that had permeated into her clothes. It was fine though. Natural warmth was a luxury she’d forsaken long ago.
Even through the mist of the rain, the sheer size of the city sprawled out ahead of her signaling the second promise she’d been given. There were too many faces to be found here for any one to be recognizable. Too large to ask too many questions, and too used to the strangers that arrived, either through want or fate.
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Fairytale WIP
“You want to know what happened to the Third Shard of Esharial?” A voice asks. “To the Kingdom of Evashen? They will tell you it is a story of heroes and demons. Of good or evil. Light versus dark. As simple as the fairytales we were told as children. In reality, it is much more complicated than that.”
“I’m sure you heard the story of how Evashen was found by the Veyrits nearly one thousand years ago.” A second voice starts. “The other Shards called us a beacon of magic and knowledge for all of Esharial, drawing scholars and mages and those hoping for riches or salvation from every corner of our broken world. The Golden City at her heart boasted the largest library dedicated to magic and history, and was rivaled in grandness only by the main temple to Leyraveyrit.
It was beautiful until the last moments.
And at the beginning of its eighth century, a new Prophet of Leyraveyrit rose, with powers unseen since the first Prophetess. They said S̷̠̹̝̭̺͕͍̹̳̖͉̝̪̀͒͌̓̇̽̿̾̎͋̓͌̈ͅą̶͍̣͇̟͍̙͔͖́̇͗̑f̵̲̞̉î̸̗͇͎͚̪̤̝̯̯̽̑̏̍̌͂̓̑́̈́̒̑ȑ̷̝̪͇̈̇̍̓́̓͌͂̋̚̕̚͝͝ę̶͔̭͚͈͍̱̲͓̔̍̄̉͋̕͝l̸̡̖̟̬͙̬̲̻̜̤̲̯̰̝̟̏̾͊̒̃̃̐̍͒͝ would lead us into a golden age.
But darkness unseen in our land since before the Shattering descended and attacked everything in its path to the Golden City. Nothing the Order did could stop it. Except..”
“Except for the one named their hero.” The first voice picks up the narrative. “A vey chosen as the right hand of the Prophet by the Veyrits themselves they said, to protect the kingdom. And for a time, they succeeded. And for a time, there was hope.
Until they disappeared.
And just like that, darkness reached the city of light to challenge the Veyrit of the Sun Herself.
As the story goes, the army of creatures reached the gates, either of the city herself, or the temple depending on who you ask, and then a great blinding light consumed the Golden City. Everyone inside cut never to be heard from or seen again. And the surrounding area for countless miles was still touched by darkness, warring with creatures of light, and giving birth to even worse monstrosities not yet seen.
But in the outer fringes, civilization persisted, and life went on. Trapped on a Shard embroiled in war between powers we could barely understand. Somehow, safe for the most part.
Of course, some creatures wandered from their battles a little too close to us, and we fought back. But mostly? We survived, we lived, and people prayed.
Some prayed to the precious Light and Leyraveyrit to save them for salvation, for their hero to return, for a new Prophet to rise.
Others prayed to the Dark and Veylaveyrit to free them, to start a new era, to end the Shard and war.
And the years passed.
And passed.
And passed.”
“For a time, the Light thought they had a new Prophetess, until her powers never came, and they discarded her. And what the Light lost in a Prophetess, the Dark gained in a Demon.” The words are dripping with venom from the second voice, before the first continues again.
“But most of us just waited.
“And survived.
“And lived.
“And lost.
“And fought. Until we couldn’t anymore.
“But you’re not here to learn of the era of the Arleyrail War, and the ordinary people caught in it, or the politics involved in surviving. You only want to know how it all ends, and the heroes or villains that ushered it in. But how do you even start a story like that?”
“You start it,” A third voice offers, words hard, “in the twenty-third year of the Ninth Century of Light. Almost one hundred years to the day since that blinding light that covered the kingdom and took the Golden City, the light reappeared, and the last knight of the Veyrit Order opened their eyes in an unfamiliar land.”
-Taken from Recovered Recording #312 of the Esharial Codex in the Korryn Library. Date of recording unknown. Recording first tracked to the collection donated from the Angel Manor of Duskend, owner believed to be the recorder.
Attached Notes:
First voice identified as Damen Rinilmoor of Moorfyren, otherwise unknown
Second voice identified as Leyna Blytridj of Ridjnajen, the purported Witch of the Arleyrail Order.
Third voice suspected to be the Rowyn of Adrisilen, the Last Knight of the Veyrit Order.
Corruption regarding evidence of Safirel not as far along as other recording fragments.
Further research into Veylaveyrit needed, possibly first known reference to the Veyrit.
Was anything ever recovered from this Golden City’s library?
#writing#writeblr#amwriting#excerpt#wip excerpt#sorta wip intro#fairytale wip#rowyn#leyna#damen#safirel#esharial codex#....guest appearance?#not really but kinda#more a reference
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A(nother) writeblr (re)introduction
I don’t remember when I last did one, and I’m suspiciously close to 300 followers for the out of context nonsense I post
Hi everyone! I’m Rye (they/them and rarely he/him), this is mostly a writeblr (though at the moment I’m a college student so I’m not always super active)
I write angst fantasy! (and occasionally poetry). Common themes in my writing are: found family, angst, hurt/..comfort?, magic, gods, dragons, assume all my characters are queer, friends to enemies and enemies to friends, consequences of magic and power, there’s a tiny bit of horror in what I write?
All of my stories are set in the fictional Esharial:
The gods created a world long ago, one that was filled with magic as we’ve never seen it, unlimited and powerful beyond imagination we’re led to believe. And life, all the creatures that we know and one’s we’ve never met, but they also grew to fear their creations, for unknown reasons.
As a result, the world became fractured and divided as fighting broke out between the different sides. It’s unclear whether what they did was meant to divide us further, or to save us, but the gods that remained used the already existing fractures in the world to permanently divide it into the Shards we know today.
Each Shard is almost it’s own world now, with its own cultures and creatures. The only means between them is through the Shardgates left behind, the points that they might’ve still been connected to before the break. But in between each Shard is only the Abyss, a void watched over by the same dragons that permit us use of the Gates, but also the corrupted angels and shadows of the dead.
And what became of the gods? What was left, became the Eternal Beings that watch over us now. Though some believe the old gods are still out there, on a Shard we’ve never found...
My main two WIPs are:
The Duskend Shard (formerly called Eternals):
Having left behind a group of Shardwalkers (beings that have learned to walk between the Shards at will for a high price) that are determined to find a way to control the Gates, to control the Eternals, Andromeda Char settles into the city of Duskend, hoping to disappear. She thinks she’s succeeded at something resembling a normal life in the rainy, coastal city, with a job in a greenhouse, a few new friends, and her beloved griffin. After meeting a woman who’s just moved back with her friend after years away on an adventure of their own, Andy even thinks she might’ve found someone like herself.
But Duskend has it’s own secrets. Ones that Conor had tried to ignore when he woke up with no memories in the city years ago, but now may be the answer to everything he ever wanted. And very little will stop him from getting it now. After learning what and who Andromeda is, he thinks she might be the very key he’s been looking for to get it.
With her old friend, Avery, showing up on her doorstep to warn her that the past she left behind is coming to investigate rumors of an undiscovered Shardgate in the area, and disappearances linking back to it all cropping up throughout the city, Andromeda is forced to side with Conor to try and get the Gate first. She doesn’t trust him either, but what other option does she have?
The Wyvern Whispers:
Oliver joined the Wyvern Coven of the Korryin Shard when they were very young, following after their sister Serah. Evander was chosen to join his aunt among their ranks at a similar age. The two quickly became friends, and quickly developed and proved their skills as Casters over the years, dreaming of the future they would have as Masters in Coven.
But those dreams were shattered when Serah died in an attack while exploring a distant part of Korryin. The attack was the first of many across the Shard, focused on Casters perhaps, but the death and corruption they caused affected every living thing.
Including Evander after a failed attack on the Coven’s Spyre itself. While their friend struggles to hold on, visions of their sister, still alive, begin to plague Oliver, alongside a voice calling them to save her. Guided by a dragon sent from the gods, proclaiming them a champion, they set off to find the source of all of this and end it.
The attacks stop, and the corruptions fades from Korryin. But they don’t come back.
And now Evander unknowingly hears the same voice his friend once did, and the same dragon appears to him asking for help finding the missing hero.
.
(Though saying they’re my main wips always seems to curse them) I do have other wips I will occasionally drag back from the abyss to yell about, but I expect no one to keep up with those given the infrequency of my posts on them.
But hi guys!
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