One Final Stand, Chapter 0

Well, here's another story. I had a very bad case of writer's block for Dead Princess Duet, so I decided to write something else instead. This was actually supposed to be a one-chapter thing that I decided to write to vent out some emoness, but I found a way to connect it to the next long story I'll be writing, One Final Stand. Think of this as a teaser of some sort. Please comment if you can spare me five minutes.

This takes place a few years after Dead Princess Duet, if you guys are wondering. So, without further ado, I give you One Final Stand Chapter 0.

One Final Stand

Chapter 0 
 

Screams pierced the sky as crowds of people scrambled with great haste towards the tunnels. The city was falling, and panic was in the hearts of all as fires blazed all around.

In the midst of the flowing sea of people, a single man went against the current, searching desperately, screaming one name over and over:

Alitranna.

*     *     *

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She said to him in her sweet, melodic voice. They sat side by side in the starlight, on the rooftop of the city's eastern watchtower, her hand in his, marveling at the splendor of the city that lay before them. Before them was Hallowedwatch, known as the city of justice by all who came by, headquarters of the church of Tyr and a sanctuary for any who asked for refuge. One structure stood out from all the rest, for it was built in the very center of the city, on top of a tall hill. It was a monument to the God of Justice , a brightly glowing, gigantic representation of Tyr's holy symbol: balanced golden scales resting on top of a warhammer.

"Yes, it is," he replied, referring as much to the sight before them as to the woman sitting next to him.

They sat there, dwelling in that moment of tranquility for a long while, leaning back and watching the ever still stars twinkle in the sky as the numerous lights in the city began to disappear, one by one. She turned to face him, illuminated in the starlight, and broke the silence.

"Do you love me, Finiarel?" She asked, turning to face him, her silken black, shoulder-length hair swaying with the movement before being caught in the slight breeze.

"How could I not, Alitranna?" he replied, "How can I not, when it was you who gave my life meaning? Before I met you, I was but a lowly guard, doing my duty for no reason other than that it was expected of me, living every day exactly like the last. Who knows how much longer that endless cycle would have gone, without you in my life? You showed me something I could have never have hoped to see  on my own: You made me see what made life so special, you made me realize that life was more than just standing on the walls of  our city, looking out for intruders and waiting for the day to end. You gave me a reason to live. No man in his right mind would not love someone who granted him that gift of gifts."

He raised his hand to her face and gently stroked her hair. "Yes, I love you, Alitranna, more than anything I have ever loved, and probably more than anything I ever will. I love everything about you. Your eyes, your smile, your sweet voice that echoes in my ears even in my dreams."

He then lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, then, looking staring into her eyes, said "Alitranna Anterune, will you be my bride?"

*     *     *

The sky was darker now, for dark clouds formed  above the city and rain began to fall in torrents as lightning flashed in the distance. Finiarel kept running long after he had passed the last of the evacuees, and now he was running, cold and wet, through the rain, searching in vain for the one he loved.

He ran on, through the long and winding roads that had once been so filled with people, so filled with joy, laughter and merriment, but now was as empty and desolate as a long forgotten ruin, filled only with the rubble of the closest building. His feet began to tire, but he forced himself to move on, not allowing himself to stop until he found her.

Breathing became harder and harder, his clothes became heavier as water weighed them down, and the cold rain numbed his muscles, but he kept going, knowing that he was nearing his destination. He went around a bend in the road, and he stopped in his tracks.

Before him was Anterune manor, or at least what was left of it. The magnificent gates made of the finest steel lay on the ground, twisted and broken, and the walls that had protected the manor were now nothing but piles of rubble.

He hesitated at the gates, fearing what he might find if he went inside, but something made him move forward, something made him take those few tentative steps past the ruined gates of his love's home. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, and somehow, he knew that he would find her there, whether she was dead or alive.

He walked silently in the courtyard, hearing only the sound of the raindrops and the light splash as he took every step, looking around, seeking her. For a while, he didn't think that he could find her in the large estate, then he saw it- an unmoving figure lying on the ground in front of the fountain. It was hard to tell from his distance, but he could tell that the figure had black, shoulder-length hair. He recognized her in an instant.

He ran once more, tripping as his foot hit a loose stone on the path. His ankle twisted painfully, but he had to keep going, he had to reach her. He grabbed the ground in front of him with his hands and pulled with the remaining strength he could muster, moving him forward. He dragged himself, slowly but surely, towards the figure lying on the ground.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally made it to her. He sat up and held her hand, calling her name.

"Alitranna, I am here."

She didn't reply, didn't move. He called to her again, louder this time, hoping that the sound of the rain had drowned his voice, wishing that he could once again see her open her eyes, so full of life.

"Alitranna, I'm here, just like I promised." He said once again to her, and once again she did not reply. He sat there, next to the corpse of the woman he loved, and wept. From his lips escaped a cry of pain and sorrow, of tragedy and irony, from the very depths of his soul.

*     *     *

 
"Alitranna Anterune, will you be my bride?" He asked her in the moonlight, only a night before the calamity.

She looked at him with her deep brown eyes and a smile appeared on her face as the soft breeze made her hair flutter. She answered him:

"Of course, my love."

Dead Princess Duet, Prologue

So, I was able to copy-paste the Dead Princess Duet file from my laptop and finished in our desktop. Yay.

Please comment and rate. :D

Dead Princess Duet

Prologue: Nightmares

Every night, I dream about you. Every night, I watch you die. Again and again and again. Forgive me, Milica. If only I were stronger then.  Maybe. Just maybe. I could have saved you. Why? Why did I let you go?  I'm sorry.

*   *   * 

The first thing I realized when I awoke was that I was sitting up in my bed, and that my heart was pounding in my chest. The next was that it was the dead of night, and the room was blanketed in darkness, except for a small area at the side of the bed that was bathed in silver moonlight. I then noticed the four forms kneeling around me. I stared at them and they at me for a few moments of awkward silence. One of the forms, the one farthest to my left, broke the silence.

"Another dream about her, Alioth?" came an unmistakably elven female voice from the form.

"What else have I dreamt of lately, Lesa?" I sighed, gazing absentmindedly into the black shadows that clung to the walls and floor of the room, shaking my head.

She didn't reply, neither did the other three, for they all knew the answer.

Never have I had a peaceful sleep since that fateful day, six months ago. The day Milica Illancet, one of our companions, died in battle-- died when I could have saved her! She fell in front of us, impaled by an opponent's blade-- and only a few steps away… How could I let that happen?

I shook away my thoughts and told them, "I'm all right. Please, go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you all up at this time."

For a moment, the four of them didn't move. Then, slowly, beginning with Lesa, they all got up and went to bed. One figure, the only male in the group of four, lay down on the bed on the other side of the open window. As the other three left the room, I let myself fall into my bed, my heart still pounding hard in my chest.

"Are you really alright, Alioth?" came a voice from my right. "You've been having nightmares every night, and it's already been six months."

"I told you, I'm fine. Please, just get some rest. We have work to do tomorrow, remember, Azareth? The Zhentarim is planning something. We need your spells if we're going to survive." I told him, while staring at the ceiling.

"Suit yourself." Azareth replied, then he went back to sleep. I continued staring at the ceiling, trying to bring myself to rest, to close my eyes for the night, but the thought of that nightmare kept me awake for a longer time than I, or anyone else in our group, would have liked. Then, finally, as my heart began to slow its frantic pace, my eyelids began to feel heavier, and I simply let sleep take over me once more.

*   *   *

I saw gray. An infinite gray, as if an impenetrable fog had surrounded me.

I felt weightless, as though an invisible force was keeping me aloft in a place where no gravity existed.

A figure appeared in front of me, one that I instantly recognized. It was Milica Illancet, exactly as I remember her on that day so long ago. She wore her usual fine white shirt that had lacy cuffs, a pair of leather breeches and tall boots. Her beautiful dirty blonde hair flowed in ripples down to her shoulders. I saw her delicate face, and her angelic smile, while she looked at me with her deep green eyes-- eyes that seemed to pierce into my soul.

I wanted to call out to her, to say the things I never had a chance to say. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, that I was sorry, but nothing would come forth from my mouth. I wanted to go to her, to hold her in my arms, and keep her safe-- The one thing I had failed to do, but I couldn't. I tried to run towards her, but no matter how much I tried, it never seemed like I had moved any closer.

Then I heard it again, just like it was last time and the time before. Those accursed footsteps that have been echoing in my mind for what seemed like eternity.

The footsteps began to fade, and another figure appeared in front of me, this one more vague than the last. But I did not need to see it clearly to know who it was. The figure raised its sword, a strange cross between a greatsword and a rapier. It looked too thin for its length, but I knew better. I knew that that sword was made of the strongest of metals.

I also knew the outcome of this battle.

Milica drew her sword and stepped to the side, dodging the figure's first blow as she went around for a counterattack. The figure snapped up its sword in an impossibly quick block, easily defeating Milica's attack.

The battle continued for what seemed like an eternity, with Milica always on the losing side. Every single one of her thrusts was either blocked or dodged, and she only narrowly escapes the attacks of her formidable opponent. The gray space around me began to echo with the loud ring of sword hitting sword as I tried to get to Milica. Once again, I could not cover the distance between us, and all I could do was watch in horror as she began to slow down, exhaustion beginning to take over her. The

The figure took a quick step back, and in that instant, aligned its sword with Milica's chest. It sprang forward, too quick for the eye to see, and the next thing I saw was the image of that sword cutting through the chest of the woman I loved, stopping her heart forever.

I stood there, in the space created by my mind, and began to weep as everything around me turned from dull gray, to blood red.

It had happened again... The same nightmare I have every night…

*     *     *

I woke up again, for the second time that night, and cupped my head in my hands.

"Will I never get a peaceful sleep?" I asked myself, seriously doubting it.

"Did you have another nightmare, mister?" came a voice from somewhere in the room. It was the sweet, innocent voice of a child, and from the corner of my eye, I could discern the shape of a young girl. She was short, and she looked as though she were around the age of eight, but something was very unusual about this particular child: something that smelled of black magic. I could feel a chill run down my spine as I felt her aura in the room. "hee hee hee… I thought grown-ups never had nightmares..."

At that, I snapped my head around to face her, and for a split second, I was overcome with horror beyond comprehension. For a split second, I saw her face, that delicate face warped by the dark powers of necromancy, with eyes that were pitch black and slug-white skin. Then, as quickly and as quietly as she had appeared, she was gone.

They say that nightmares are only a figment of one's imagination, that they are harmless, even that they can become a way for us to overcome our greatest fears.

Those people have never experience nightmares like the one I was about to go through, and I pray they never will.
 

The Sword Of Glass Chapter 1, Part 3

I finally finished chapter 1! I already have a bit of an idea what I'll do with my characters after this, but I guess I'll go with Dead Princess Duet first, since I'm already sure of the plot for that one. Anyway, heres the final part of Chapter 1! Please comment.



As the cloud of cold dissipated, Ferathavel lowered his sword and examined the area around him. The entire area around him was frozen over with a layer of ice, but a small, five-foot circle around him was not. In fact, the snow in that small circle had melted, exposing the rock below and leaving Ferathavel in a puddle of ankle-deep water, which began warm, then suddenly became ice-cold as soon as the moonblade's enchantment ended.


Strange , he thought, I always believed that moonblade enchantments were constant, or at least lasted as long as I needed it. He began to feel the cold of the wind again as the sky grew darker with a coming thunderstorm. He had to be fast if he wanted to defeat the dragon without getting himself killed. He spread his wings as wide as they could go-- a full twelve feet from tip to tip. With one flap, he was eye level with the beast, heading towards it. Another flap brought him just above the dragon's head just as it released another, seemingly weaker blast of breath energy. He spun in midair, landing on the dragon's large head, fighting to keep his balance as the dragon began flailing about. He raised the sword above him, pointing it downwards, straight towards where the dragon's brain should be, and he stopped.


The blade did not glow. It did not shine with the brilliant white light that it emitted earlier. Something was wrong.


The dragon suddenly whipped its head around, throwing Ferathavel off balance and causing him to fall headfirst-- right in front of the dragon.


He fought desperately to gain control of his fall, but stopped  when he saw the dragon, upside down from his vantage point, raise a huge claw, poised to strike at his vulnerable form. He panicked. Frantically, he put in between him and the dragons claw the one useful thing he could find-- his sword.


The dragon swung its huge claw at him with terrifying speed and power, and the moonblade began to glow again, but much weaker this time, glowing with a shade more akin to gray than the pure white it was earlier. Something was definitely wrong.


The dragon's claw went straight towards Ferathavel, but stopped a meter away from him, as if an invisible wall had suddenly been conjured up in between them. Ferathavel sighed his relief, but as soon as the sound escaped his lips, another sound echoed in the air, then another. The first was another thunderous roar from the dragon, probably the most powerful he had heard the entire day, but it was the sound that came after it that wracked his soul with more fear than anything else-- the sound of something shattering. The sound created by a shattering wall of magic to be exact.


He realized then that it was over. The dragon's claw continued to swing towards him, though weaker this time, most of its momentum taken by the wall of protection-- and hit him, hard.


He felt the air blasted from his lungs at the impact, and he felt himself being stabbed in different places on his chest, and he thought for a while that it was the claw's doing, but he soon realized, to his horror, that the moonblade had shattered, and now he was being killed by the shards of his own blade. He felt (and heard!)  his hollow ribs break apart as if they were nothing but dried twigs. He tried to scream out as waves of pain more intense than he could have ever imagined shot through his body, but he couldn't scream, couldn't even breathe as his lungs were crushed with that single blow.


After a moment that seemed as though it had lasted forever, he felt himself airborne again, thrown by the dragon's mighty claw. For a passing moment, he had felt peaceful as he began to succumb to the numbing pain. All he felt at that moment was the wind on his back and wings as he began to fall, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot all his worries, one by one. Then he remembered.


Ellithiel! He thought, jerking violently and causing more waves of pain to surge through his body. He screamed in agony as he remembered that he had left her outside the cave, as vulnerable as a child. Tears began to form in his eyes, not from the excruciating pain that he experienced, but from the realization that he had left the one he loved in the claws of a white dragon, the sworn enemy of his race. He cried for Ellithiel, who would definitely be dead if the dragon would find her, and thought how much he wanted to forsake his life for being so foolish.


He opened his eyes and saw his own chest, bleeding from several wounds caused by the shards of the shattered moonblade. He stared at the wounds in utter disbelief. Elven weapons were some of the best crafted weapons in the Realms, rivaled only by the weapons of the dwarves, and the weapon he had wielded was a moonblade, a legendary blade with extraordinary powers and strengthened by numerous enchantments. How could it break so easily?


He moved his gaze upwards, to the sky above him, and was amazed at the sight that greeted his weary eyes. The storm that had been forming during the battle with the dragon was no ordinary storm; It was made up of clouds the darkest black, and instead of lightning, blue flames leaped from cloud to cloud and occasionally struck the ground below, casting an eerie glow on the land.


This was the last thing he saw before he succumbed to the pain once more, no longer expecting to awaken.


In these moments, Ferathavel could only think one thing. A sentence he mouthed once as his eyes closed, seemingly for the last time.


"I'm sorry, Ellithiel… I... couldn't... protect you…"


~-   ~-   ~-   End Of Chapter 1   -~   -~   -~

I've already started working on the Prologue of Dead Princess Duet: Nightmares, so visit in a few days or so. Please comment. :D

Dead Princess Duet Teaser

Okay, besides SoG, I'm also thinking of working on another story. With this one, I actually know what I'm going to do with the characters, and I already have seven chapters planned (including the prologue and epilogue). So, since im going to end up stuck with SoG sooner or later, I've already begun brainstorming for Dead Princess Duet (title still tentative). It's going to be a fantasy/horror/romance story centered on the paladin Alioth Ras'Elased.


I watched as my spell began to illuminate the area around me and my companions, bringing to light a relatively small area of the cathedral. We looked around and saw the broken pews, their wood splintered as if an entire army had marched through the place, and far into the darkness, we saw runes on the walls, runes glowing a dreadful reddish-black, the remnants of the desecration ritual that had made this place reek of evil. On the far end of the cathedral, was a wall made completely of stained glass, which, along with the numerous stained glass windows that dotted the walls to the sides were the only other source of illumination we could see besides my spell. The colorful streams of the light passing through those glass panels copied the intricate designs on the windows onto the stone floor below us, giving the place an eerie, but undeniable beauty.

As the spell's area of effect increased in size, a figure came into view. It was shrouded in a fine mist, making it hard to determine what, or who, it was, but then it began to materialize, shifting from a hazy outline, to a more solid figure, then to the form of a young human woman.

I recognized her in an instant, and tears began to form in my eyes.

I recognized her face, that pale, delicate face, and I recognized her hair, that beautiful dirty blonde hair that flowed in ripples down to her shoulders. My heart almost jumped for joy at seeing her but her eyes, they were different. They lacked the emotion and depth I saw the last time that looked into them, on that day so many months ago. 


Of course I remembered. How could I forget?

How could I forget her smile, her face?

How could I forget the sound of  her voice and her laughter, ringing in my head everyday since the last time we exchanged words?

How could I forget her, the woman I loved, if I had been dreaming about her every night, and even in the waking hours of day, ever since the day she was murdered in front of my very eyes?


Yay. I really like this one, but I'll finish SoG Chapter 1 before I actually begin with the actual story. This is just the teaser, so expect a few changes here and there when I post the actual thing, for example, the actual story probably won't even be in first person, since I have a hard time writing in first person.

The Sword of Glass, Chapter 1 Part 2

Ahem ahem. Presenting Part 2 of The Sword of Glass! I'm Sleepy. Please comment.

The Sword of Glass, Chapter 1 Part 2

Everything had happened in an instant. Ferathavel, with a single, powerful flap of his wings, launched himself and rode the air current generated by the dragon's intake of breath, and grabbed Ellithiel, trying to get as close to the dragon as he can. At the same time, the dragon brought its head forward, unleashing its freezing breath on an entire half of the large cavern. Never in his fifty years of life had Ferathavel ever seen such a display of power. He hovered in midair just under the dragon's neck, out of range of the devastating cone of freezing energy, and yet he could still feel the bite of the cold as he watched an entire half of the cavern, including the area where he and Ellithiel were standing only seconds before, become glazed over with a thick layer of ice. He watched, and didn't believe for a second that they could have possibly survived such an attack. He looked down to the form he held in his arms, that of the unconscious Ellithiel. She had fainted, but she seemed alright. He knew that he had no choice but to escape.

He got ready for a shallow dive, a desperate maneuver that would hopefully bring him and Ellithiel out of the entrance to the cave before the dragon could use its breath weapon again. He looked to the exit, the only hope for them to survive the encounter, took a deep breath, and dove, folding his wings to allow the fastest speed towards the exit, which now only seemed a light in the distance.

He did not notice that he could no longer hear the howl of the wind. He did not notice that the light streaming through the entrance of the cavern was not distorted only because of the sting in his eyes from the dragon's breath, but because of a wall of ice that had formed, blocking most of the cave entrance and leaving only a small opening, too small for either of them to fit through.

He did not notice, of course, until he was barely fifteen feet from the wall of ice, too late to stop his desperate dive.

His mind raced, and purely on reflex, he let go of one of the hands that held Ellithiel and drew his sword, putting it in between him and the wall of ice preventing his escape.

The sword was an elven moonblade, called so because of the moonstone fastened into the base of it's perfectly crafted mithral hilt. Its blade was about the same length as a common longsword, though it was less than half its width, and was made out of a mithral-adamantine alloy, a perfect combination of the lightest and strongest metals in all the Realms. But, what was truly special about this sword was not its name or its make, but its origins and powers. Elven moonblades are family heirlooms that can only be wielded by elves with the same blood as the blades original wielder, and have incredible power, depending on the wielder--but only once the moonblade has awakened to the elf who wishes to wield it, and that has not yet happened for Ferathavel's. Not until now.

All he could think of was her. He wanted more than anything at that moment to save her, to bring her away from that place and that monster, to bring her back home. He hated himself at that moment for allowing such a thing to happen, for allowing her to be put in such danger. His intentions were pure, and the moonblade heard the call of his soul.

The moonstone exploded in a pure white light, bathing everything in its glow. The blade followed soon after, exploding with light a fraction of a second later, with the same intensity as the previous blast and Ferathavel had to close his eyes to protect his eyes. Behind him, he heard the dragon roar in pain, and he felt something give way in front of him, he heard a sound from the area in front of his hand, not the sound of a sword snapping in two, but the sound similar to that of shattering glass, only much louder, like an incredibly large sheet of glass that was dropped from the top of the highest temple tower in Aerie.

He flew out of the new exit, only to be greeted by a powerful gust of wind, knocking him and Ellithiel powerfully to the side. He found himself rolling in the snow, and Ellithiel far to his side. With a great effort, he got up to his feet and plowed through the ankle-deep snow, picked Ellithiel's prone form up once more, then he found shelter from the wind behind a rock outcropping. He tried to look around for the peak that Aerie was, but the clouds had obscured his vision, and to make matters worse, he heard a familiar sound from inside the cave-- a roar so powerful that it was not scattered by the wind.

It was not a roar of pain, but one of rage. The roar was soon followed by another, he felt the ground shake when the dragon began to move towards the cave entrance. A moment of tension passed, when the only sound that Ferathavel could hear was the soft whisper of the wind, which had died down slightly, then, what remained of the wall of ice that sealed the entrance was destroyed, shattered completely by the weight and strength of the dragon that crashed through it. Another roar escaped from its mouth, just as powerful as the previous one, but Ferathavel held his ground, knowing that the power of his ancestors was with him, thinking that he had the chance he needed to defeat the monster.

The dragon raised its head, taking an incredibly deep breath, charging up its signature power. Ferathavel raised his sword in front of him, putting its pommel, with its glowing moonstone, in front of his face, and it began to shine again. This time, it had a different kind of glow, one that radiated a feeling of security instead of the ferocity and power it radiated before. Ferathavel secured his feet to the ground and braced himself.

The dragon brought its head forward, unleashing its devastating breath once more.

Ferathavel expected the impact to knock him from his feet, but what he saw instead amazed him even more than the spectacle of the dragon's might. The blast of freezing cold flew straight towards him, but instead of hitting him, it went around him and over him, temporarily obscuring his vision of everything around him, as if a veil of white was suddenly draped around his eyes. He expected to freeze from the cold, but what he felt was the exact opposite. He felt warmth emanating from the sword's hilt, enveloping him in a feeling of comfort, and sealing him in a shell of protection. It would be hard, but he could win this battle.

* * End of Part 2 * *

I only got my internet back just now, and I'm too sleepy to do anything else... Again, please comment.

The Sword of Glass, Chapter 1 Part 1

This is part one of the prologue of a story I'm planning to write. Planning to because I actually have no idea what's gonna happen after the first chapter. The idea just came to me a few days ago, and I started writing from there. Please comment on how much you liked (or didn't like) it. Well, here goes nothing.


The Sword of Glass: Chapter 1

"Get out of here, Ellithiel!" Ferathavel shouted desperately at his female companion, panting as he ran, trying hard to make himself heard over the deafening wind, for they were close getting closer to the entrance of the cave, he had been a fool for entering it without first bringing it to the attention of the council. They were Avariel-- winged elves, and small places, such as the cave they were running for their life in, was not suited for their style of battle. "Don't risk your life for mine! I'm not worth it!"

"How can you say that?" She replied, stopping in her tracks as they reached the center of a large cavern near the exit of the cave. She knew the dangers of staying. She knew very well that she was gambling for her life by delaying their escape, but she didn't care. "I will never leave you," she continued, "I will stay by your side and we will fight together."

"You fool!" He shouted at her, but she didn't flinch. She knew exactly what she wanted. "Go back to Aerie! Back to where it's safe! We can't both go; the wind outside is far too strong to allow us safe flight, and without a proper head start, IT will catch up to us, and we both die!" He was frustrated now, he wanted her to live, to see the dawn of a new day, but she wanted to stay with him, even if that would mean giving up her life. He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him, and looked into her eyes, as blue as the clear sky, and as deep as the sea of fallen stars, and told her again, pleadingly this time, tears beginning to form in his eyes, "please, go. Save yourself. I will never forgive myself if I allow you to die here, even if my life is taken as well."

The sound of heavy footfall came from the tunnel they had just emerged from, followed by a booming roar that sent tremors through the stone of the cave, and chills down the spines of the two elves. They exchanged terrified looks and knew that blood would be spilled that day.

The creature's scaly head appeared around the first bend in the tunnel, and the couple gasped with fear and awe. Its head was elongated and ended in a snout. Its mouth, though closed, showed a set of teeth so sharp that it could rip flesh from bone in an instant. Its scales were the purest whites but held no luster, and its gaze pierced through the soul. It exhaled, and the pair saw a layer of frost appear on the wall a full meter away from its snout. They knew they had to move, but somehow, they couldn't. Fear had frozen them in place.

As the creature made its way around the bend, the muscled middle portion of its body was slowly revealed. The creature had four legs that ended in wickedly curved claws, and it had huge, leathery wings that it kept folded to its body, for the lack of space in the cave did not permit it to stretch it out to its full length. The creature's back was decorated with large spines. Not long after, the creature's long, sinuous tail appeared. Judging by its sheer size, the pair didn't doubt for one second that a single swing from that tail could easily crush every bone in their bodies.

The dragon stopped as soon as it entered the cavern that the elves were standing in, and straightened its body, so that it towered above the Avariel. The dragon opened its mouth and inhaled so deeply that the pair of elves felt the air around them being drawn into its wide open maw.

"Go!" he cried, seeing what the monster was doing, and quick as his freezing legs could allow, he turned and ran. "Run away!"

But she couldn't. Horror overwhelmed her and, no matter how hard she tried, she could not make her legs move the way she wanted them to. Ferathavel saw this, and moved to run to her side, but Avariel were not made to run at high speeds, since their large wings, which granted a great advantage out in the open, only served as a hindrance when folded. He knew he could not run to her in time.

Ellithiel felt herself being pulled closer and closer to the dragon as it inhaled, she screamed, thrown by a powerful force, then, all went black.

* * End of Part 1 * *

Thanks for taking the time to read this. I'll post part 2 in a while. Oh, and as you can see, I'm not that experienced in writing.

A bit of information you might like to know: in D&D, dragons come in different sizes and colors, and all of them have breath weapons, blasts of pure energy. This one is a white dragon (duh). All Whites are evil and their breath weapon is a blast of pure cold energy.