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Dark clouds.  Smoke on the water.  And the sea will burn. 

Lar Colari – Vision 10-146   

Chapter 30 (17th of Alshu in the year 6199) 

“Ah,” King Turon beamed at Reane as she entered his private study, “there you are.”   

“Yes,” Reane grumbled, stopping to stand before him, annoyance hanging in the air around her.  “See,” her foot tapped as she looked away and then back to him, “funny thing. I’m trying to find out why, rather suddenly, it’s so hard for me to find the supplies I need to finish the repairs on the Oracle.”    Read more…

For even the frozen heart of the wicked may melt if granted the power of love.   

Psalm of Peace

Chapter 29 (18^th of Earonitan in the year 6199) 

“I appreciate,” Deran croaked out, “you putting in a good word for me with Lord Hedric.  But,” he hesitated even as he and Cassandra moved at a hurried pace down the corridors in the bowels of the palace.   

“You’ll do fine,” Cassandra encouraged him with a smile.   

“But Commodore of an attack fleet?”  He pulled at the collar of his shirt.  “I mean, I know about all the tactics and theories, but -”   

“It’s not that hard,” the Sub-general admonished him in the lightest tone she could manage.  “Trust me. You think I’m the sharpest sword in the rack?”    Read more…

Diur’s palace is the center of the cosmos and all things rotate about him.  He is the keeper of all that is, and his daughters the balance that stabilizes the cosmos.   Without them, all would cease, all would end into darkness.  

-Generations 1:6

Chapter 28 (15^th of Earonitan in the year 6199) 

Tapping the tip of his quill on the book’s cover, Lord Hedric pondered the diagram now before him.  The hastily sketched copy was of a drawing he had found in the reference.  It was a simple illustration, nothing more than an inverted triangle with a circle at each point.  In the center sat the spiraling, ever watchful Eye of Earoni.   Read more…

The course of life is like a river.  It flows the path that it chooses, except when more powerful forces take an interest in it.  

Elven Proverb  

“Ah-hem,” the abrupt clearing of the throat brought Cassandra out of her trance.  She’d been focusing on her conceptual drawings of the Dragon Ships, now spread out on the massive drawing bench she had confiscated for her own purposes.  Some of what had littered the top of the desk had been unceremoniously shoved to the floor.  

Looking up, she affixed her stare upon a young man in fairly common clothes and perhaps not more than two to three years her senior, if even that much.  He stood in the doorway, his arms full of rolled up parchments and his hands stained with ink. There were additional slight smudges of that same ink on his face.  Everything about the way he held himself there, particularly the way his dark brown eyes locked onto hers, caused Cassandra a moment of pause.   Read more…

The thing about darkness and evil is that there is not as much of a need for it as there is light and good.  The mortal soul is drawn to the dark, so a small amount of it goes a long way.  

 Fyon Rolsun, 3rd King of Hitithe  

Chapter 26 (8^th of Earonitan in the year 6199) 

The cavernous, unending tomb was a murky pit of darkness and despair, brightened only by the molten, jagged flows of swirling red, orange, and yellow that broke through at random places.  The oozing rock coalesced in sweltering pools that boiled, making the air hot and uncomfortable.  At least to those that could feel pain and discomfort.  

Descist could feel neither.  He could, however, feel his mother straining to maintain the barriers holding him here.  Just as he could sense how alive the darkness of his prison really was, pulsing with the joyless souls of the Cursed Ones.  The only sensation these tormented souls had been allowed to retain from their former lives was, conveniently, their senses of pain and discomfort.  Their agony translated to lamenting moans that merged together into a low, monotonic groaning whisper that would strike fear into any mortal that would hear it.   Read more…