Post by oceanstar on Aug 10, 2016 22:41:49 GMT -5
I just wanted to share my first draft of the prologue for my fantasy fiction book :3
Hope you all like it!
At sunset the sky was ignited with the fire that raged below. The trees and undergrowth in the fringes of the once-great forest seemed to stare silently at the holocaust before them, awaiting their undeniable fate with no hope for reprieve. The lucky animals who had narrowly escaped their incinerated homes were all too conscious that their lives had changed forever. The fire had torn a deep divide in the thread that connected all life in the Forest of Elisa. The forest's usual energy, which was paradoxically serene yet lively, was replaced by a dull air of despair and suffering.
There were two left alive in the forest's core. Though they were alone in the dying woods, they could not flee, for the siren dance of the ambient infernos incapacitated them. Normally, the King and the High General knew how to shield their minds from the numbing power of a forest fire, but the chain of events leading up to this crucial moment had exhausted their minds. The King's head buzzed with the roar of the flames, and he watched horrified as his General—his best friend—fell pathetically to his knees, accepting his fate. But the King would not.
As if he were moving through a dream, the King tore his gaze away from the person he had known forever and ran. Stripping off his battle armor piece by piece, he jumped over the burning bodies of his men and dodged flaming branches as the forest crumbled. He stumbled past his soldiers' camp, now aflame, and in his mind the King thought he could hear the roar of the fire taunting and accusing him. Traitor. It seemed to sneer. What kind of King leaves his entire army to die, without even a burial? He forcefully shook his head, trying to silence the sinister voice, as he continued his scramble for the yet unaffected fringes of the dying Forest of Elisa. But the King could not ignore the voice, as much as he tried, for it voiced his own doubts. You do not deserve to live, coward. Return and burn with your slaughtered army. And for a few heartbeats the King halted, the stillest thing in the forest, the blaze still razing everything around him. In those few seconds he realized that he would be returning to an unprotected Kingdom, with terrified citizens, as a selfish coward. All his honor would be taken from him in the final hour of his great Kingdom's existence. He would watch even more of his people suffer and die. And then he would die anyway. With resolve, the once feared and loved King of Elysium turned around. He bent down and retrieved one of his men's swords; then, with dignity, he straightened himself and looked to the heart of the forest that bore his mother's name. With the ravenous flames quickly approaching, he shut his eyes calmly, and the blackness of his eyelids ebbed away into nothing.
Hope you all like it!
At sunset the sky was ignited with the fire that raged below. The trees and undergrowth in the fringes of the once-great forest seemed to stare silently at the holocaust before them, awaiting their undeniable fate with no hope for reprieve. The lucky animals who had narrowly escaped their incinerated homes were all too conscious that their lives had changed forever. The fire had torn a deep divide in the thread that connected all life in the Forest of Elisa. The forest's usual energy, which was paradoxically serene yet lively, was replaced by a dull air of despair and suffering.
There were two left alive in the forest's core. Though they were alone in the dying woods, they could not flee, for the siren dance of the ambient infernos incapacitated them. Normally, the King and the High General knew how to shield their minds from the numbing power of a forest fire, but the chain of events leading up to this crucial moment had exhausted their minds. The King's head buzzed with the roar of the flames, and he watched horrified as his General—his best friend—fell pathetically to his knees, accepting his fate. But the King would not.
As if he were moving through a dream, the King tore his gaze away from the person he had known forever and ran. Stripping off his battle armor piece by piece, he jumped over the burning bodies of his men and dodged flaming branches as the forest crumbled. He stumbled past his soldiers' camp, now aflame, and in his mind the King thought he could hear the roar of the fire taunting and accusing him. Traitor. It seemed to sneer. What kind of King leaves his entire army to die, without even a burial? He forcefully shook his head, trying to silence the sinister voice, as he continued his scramble for the yet unaffected fringes of the dying Forest of Elisa. But the King could not ignore the voice, as much as he tried, for it voiced his own doubts. You do not deserve to live, coward. Return and burn with your slaughtered army. And for a few heartbeats the King halted, the stillest thing in the forest, the blaze still razing everything around him. In those few seconds he realized that he would be returning to an unprotected Kingdom, with terrified citizens, as a selfish coward. All his honor would be taken from him in the final hour of his great Kingdom's existence. He would watch even more of his people suffer and die. And then he would die anyway. With resolve, the once feared and loved King of Elysium turned around. He bent down and retrieved one of his men's swords; then, with dignity, he straightened himself and looked to the heart of the forest that bore his mother's name. With the ravenous flames quickly approaching, he shut his eyes calmly, and the blackness of his eyelids ebbed away into nothing.
