It has always been a dream of mine to write a novel. I’ve participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) a few times in the past, but have always fallen off. I’m going to make this my year! You can follow my progress on my NaNoWriMo profile here. I’ve had a story floating around in my head for awhile based off of a D&D setting and story line I came up with years ago. My goal is to flesh this story out into a novel, and post it here for you to read. It won’t be perfect. I’m of the mantra to not go back and edit as I write. Just let the words flow onto the page, and fix it later.
The working title is Shadow of Elshinat: Astral Eclipse. The story follows a young elf named Lirael as she unravels a sinister plot of cosmic proportions. Below is the prologue of the story. As I finish each chapter, I will try to publish it here.
If you do take the time to read, thank you. I am very open to feedback so if something does not make sense, please let me know 🙂
PROLOGUE
Running through the densely packed forest, Elynor looked over his shoulder, witnessing flashes of light followed by a deafening crash. The Dusk Wardens were closing in, relentless in their pursuit. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he moved swiftly and silently, his hands clutching a silk-wrapped package close to his chest. The air was heavy with fog and smoke, and the voices of his pursuers grew ever louder. “He can’t be far, cut him off! We must obtain that blade.”
Voices now echoed ahead, torchlight piercing through the twisted boughs. Elynor thought, “This is it.” He knelt on the ground, clutching the bundle tightly. “Lord Osephis, I apologize for my failure. Please, protect me with your divine light.” The voices grew nearer, and Elynor found himself surrounded. His quiet prayers were almost inaudible. “Lord Osephis, grant me your strength.” With these last words, the bundle began to glow. Even the silk couldn’t contain its brilliance. The blade slipped from Elynor’s hands, leaving him in shock. Looking down, there it was in all its glory—the Celestial Blade, a relic of legend and lore, forged by the gods themselves. “Lord Osephis, lend me your strength!”
Surprisingly lightweight and radiant with the power of the cosmos, the blade shone brightly. “Lumiel i thal, tuula me cala! Osephis, tarni me!” In darkness, there is light. Osephis, protect me.
Elynor’s voice deepened unnaturally, and he felt Osephis’s power surging within him. He raised the Celestial Blade above his head. “Lumiel i thal, tuula me cala!” Elynor, Osephis’s Chosen, Protector of the Aurelian Sentinels has risen.
The once dark forest was now bathed in the radiance of a thousand suns. The approaching figures froze, captivated by the mythical blade before them. Their goal was within reach. Elynor, clearly outnumbered, stood panting, sweat still dripping from his brow. Then he charged forward. Flashes of light burst from all directions as the Wardens hurled magic toward him. An aura of light surrounded him, like a protective shield, deflecting their attacks back into the forest. Bark exploded off the trees as the wayward magic struck them. His blade descended swiftly, cleaving the first Warden in two. The lifeless body fell to the ground, the searing-hot blade cauterizing the wounds, leaving no trace of blood. Then, the next Warden, and the next. With each swing of the blade, Elynor’s power and rage grew. “Lord Osephis, witness your power.”
A few moments later, all but one of the Wardens lay dead, the once pristine forest now strewn with bodies and smoldering bark. Elynor, now panting, pointed his blade at the last Warden standing before him, a smile playing on his face. “Brother.”
“Elynor, look how far you’ve come,” a robed elf said, arms outstretched in a submissive gesture. “It seems your God has answered your prayers, dear brother,” he remarked, gazing at the now-visible full moon. “Unfortunately for you, so has mine,” he cackled wickedly, arms raised to the sky. The robed elf chanted, “Raimus, Heru i Thal, mana i canta cala!” Raimus, Lord of Darkness, may you extinguish the light. With outstretched arms, he began to glow with an eerie blue aura. The once-bright forest, illuminated by the gleaming blade, started to fade. “Raimus, mana i canta cala!” he screamed, extending his arm toward Elynor. A surge of dark magic shot from the elf’s outstretched hand, a wicked smile on his face.
Elynor shouted, “Lumiel i thal, tuula me cala!” bringing the blade into a defensive stance, intercepting the surge of magic. The protective aura around him began to fade, darkness overpowering the blade’s radiance. His feet slid backward, the surge pushing him back. Struggling to keep the sword aloft, cracks began to form in the fading aura. And then, as swiftly as the encounter had begun, it was over. The dark magic pierced the aura and surged into the blade itself. In a blinding flash, the blade shattered, and with it, the world. The world of Arynor, torn asunder.
