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duxbelisarius · 5 months

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Euron's Götterdämmerung

Warning! Spoilers ahead for A Dance With Dragons, A Feast For Crows, and ASOIAF in general

Alternate Title: The One Where Euron Pisses Off the Volcano

Back with another analysis/theory that I happened upon while reading on break; this time our subject is Mr. Nihilism himself Euron Greyjoy, and his likely endgame in TWOW. My argument for this theory is two-fold: 1) The Iron Islands sit atop a dormant, partially submerged volcano, the caldera of which is formed by Great and Old Wyk; and 2) Euron will sound a 'kraken summoning horn,' aka The Hammer of the Waters, to pulverize Oldtown and the coast of the Sunset Sea, causing the Wyk volcano to erupt and setting the stage for a second Long Night.

A huge shout out to Company of the Cat and her video about the Iron Islands being volcanic (skip to 9:37 of the video for her explanations), which inspired me to pursue this theory. To summarize her arguments, everything about the islands from their rich ore deposits, the mythology of Nagga the Sea Dragon, the prevalence of fire in Ironborn culture and imagery despite being a sea-faring people, and the similarity of Great and Old Wyk's shape to the known volcanic islands of Marahai in the Jade Sea, point towards the islands being volcanic. A past eruption could also explain the Ironborn mythology surrounding the Drowned God's conflict with the Storm God; to Dawn Age observers, the collapse of the volcano's caldera combined with volcanic lightning within it's ash cloud (which may be referenced by the arms of House Kenning of Harlaw) could have been explained as the Storm God casting down the god of the Islands, giving rise to the legends of the Drowned God.

This brings me to my second argument; from where things stand at the end of ADWD, Euron's plan seems straightforward: Euron wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms and intends to marry Daenerys, bending her dragons to his will with the Dragon Binder horn he allegedly found in Valyria and crushing all those who stand in his way. But as anyone can attest that has read "The Forsaken," an excerpt of an Aeron Damphair POV from TWOW, these may only be a cover for his true aims:

He showed the world his blood eye now, dark and terrible. Clad head to heel in scale as dark as onyx, he sat upon a mound of blackened skulls as dwarfs capered round his feet and a forest burned behind him.

“The bleeding star bespoke the end,” he said to Aeron. “These are the last days, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new god shall be born from the graves and charnel pits.” Then Euron lifted a great horn to his lips and blew, and dragons and krakens and sphinxes came at his command and bowed before him. “Kneel, brother,” the Crow’s Eye commanded. “I am your king, I am your god. Worship me, and I will raise you up to be my priest.”

“Never. No godless man may sit the Seastone Chair!”

“Why would I want that hard black rock? Brother, look again and see where I am seated.”

Aeron Damphair looked. The mound of skulls was gone. Now it was metal underneath the Crow’s Eye: a great, tall, twisted seat of razor sharp iron, barbs and blades and broken swords, all dripping blood.

Impaled upon the longer spikes were the bodies of the gods. The Maiden was there and the Father and the Mother, the Warrior and Crone and Smith … even the Stranger. They hung side by side with all manner of queer foreign gods: the Great Shepherd and the Black Goat, three-headed Trios and the Pale Child Bakkalon, the Lord of Light and the butterfly god of Naath.

And there, swollen and green, half-devoured by crabs, the Drowned God festered with the rest, seawater still dripping from his hair.

...

The dreams were even worse the second time. He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood-red sea. He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles. Beside him stood a shadow in woman’s form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire. Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed …

As indicated Aeron Damphair's Shade of the Evening dreams, Euron aspires not merely to kinghood but godhood. This makes sense with George building-up towards a second Long Night, as Euron makes obvious parallels to the Bloodstone Emperor who was responsible for the first Long Night in Yi Tish mythology. They both came to power by murdering their elder sibling (Balon Greyjoy, the Amethyst Empress), and have committed similar atrocities. According to TWOIAF, Bloodstone "practiced dark arts, torture, and necromancy, enslaved his people, took a tiger-woman for his bride, feasted on human flesh, and cast down the true gods to worship a black stone that had fallen from the sky." While Euron has yet to marry a Tiger-Woman or raise the dead, on all other accounts he is emulating Bloodstone: he uses blood magic; we know from Aeron's POV that he tortures foes; he sells his captives from the Shield Isles into slavery; he forces the Qartheen warlocks he captured to eat their dead companion; and it is made abundantly clear that Euron is a godless man bent on destroying the existing organized religions.

With Euron set-up as the one who will unleash the second Long Night upon Planetos, the question remains as to how he will do this; for a concise account of how the first Long Night happened, I recommend consulting David Lightbringer's videos that I linked in my previous ASOIAF theory. Some have suggested that Euron means to sound the Horn of Winter, aka the Horn of Joramun, which may be in Sam's possession in Oldtown, but I find this very unlikely. For starters, Jon in ACOK and Sam in AFFC both describe the horn found by Ghost as being old and cracked, suggesting that repairs or magical intervention may be needed to get it to work if it is the Horn. There's also the problem of Euron being at the opposite end of the continent from the Wall; if the Horn is indeed used for lowering and raising the Wall (as suggested by Cat in her video about magical horns in ASOIAF), it would be a massive liability for it to be capable of doing so from anywhere in the world.

I believe a clue for how Euron will trigger a second Long Night is Aeron's first vision quoted above, in which Euron blows a horn and caused dragons, krakens and sphinxes to bow to him. As Company of the Cat argues in her magical horns video, a 'kraken summoning horn' most likely refers to the Hammer of the Waters and/or similar objects. We know that Krakens are drawn to bodies and blood in the waters, as mentioned in both Fire and Blood and Arianne's TWOW sample:

"It was said that the waters between the islands were so choked with corpses that krakens appeared by the hundreds, drawn by the blood." (Fire and Blood, Reign of the Dragon: The Wars of King Aegon I)

"And krakens off the Broken Arm, pulling under crippled galleys," said Valena. "The blood draws them to the surface, our maester claims. There are bodies in the water. A few have washed up on our shores." (TWOW, Arianne I)

From what TWOIAF has to say about the breaking of the Arm of Dorne, the Hammer of the Waters could also account for the dragons and sphinxes:

"And the old gods stirred, and giants awoke in the earth, and all of Westeros shook and trembled. Great cracks appeared in the earth, and hills and mountains collapsed and were swallowed up. And then the seas came rushing in, and the Arm of Dorne was broken and shattered by the force of the water, until only a few bare rocky islands remained above the waves." (TWOIAF, Dorne: The Breaking)

If we assume the sphinxes to refer to the statues that flank the gates of the Citadel, these would likely be destroyed by the earthquakes and tsunamis of the Hammer, 'bowing' at the command of Euron. High magnitude earthquakes would lead to volcanic eruptions, thus accounting for the dragons answering Euron's command. In addition to Wyk erupting, we'll likely see Dragonstone erupt as well, esp. in light of Melisandre's talk about 'waking dragons from stone.' Based on Jon and Tyrion's recollections in the eighth chapters of ADWD, an eruption at Hardhome can also be expected:

"Only the brightest stars were visible, all to the west. A dull red glow lit the sky to the northeast, the color of a blood bruise. Tyrion had never seen a bigger moon. Monstrous, swollen, it looked as if it had swallowed the sun and woken with a fever. Its twin, floating on the sea beyond the ship, shimmered red with every wave. "What hour is this?" he asked Moqorro. "That cannot be sunrise unless the east has moved. Why is the sky red?"

"The sky is always red above Valyria, Hugor Hill."" (ADWD, Tyrion VIII)

"Hardhome had been halfway toward becoming a town, the only true town north of the Wall, until the night six hundred years ago when hell had swallowed it. Its people had been carried off into slavery or slaughtered for meat, depending on which version of the tale you believed, their homes and halls consumed in a conflagration that burned so hot that watchers on the Wall far to the south had thought the sun was rising in the north. Afterward ashes rained down on haunted forest and Shivering Sea alike for almost half a year." (ADWD, Jon VIII)

The symbolism and imagery surrounding Euron strongly implies that he will use the Hammer of the Waters; as already noted, a volcanic eruption on Wyk may have inspired the mythology of the war between the Drowned God and the Storm God. Euron is heavily associated with the Storm God, starting with his murder of Balon Greyjoy:

"The Storm God cast him down," the priest announced. For a thousand thousand years sea and sky had been at war. From the sea had come the ironborn, and the fish that sustained them even in the depths of winter, but storms brought only woe and grief.

...

Better to be scorned by Balon the Brave than beloved of Euron Crow's Eye. And if age and grief had turned Balon bitter with the years, they had also made him more determined than any man alive. He was born a lord's son and died a king, murdered by a jealous god, Aeron thought, and now the storm is coming, a storm such as these isles have never known." (AFFC, The Prophet)

"Oh, and Balon was the third, but you knew that. I could not do the deed myself, but it was my hand that pushed him off the bridge." (TWOW, The Forsaken)

Euron's title is Crow's Eye, while his personal coat of arms feature ravens, further tying him to the Storm God:

He had no love of maesters. Their ravens were creatures of the Storm God, and he did not trust their healing, not since Urri. (AFFC, The Prophet)

"Crow's Eye, you call me. Well, who has a keener eye than the crow? After every battle the crows come in their hundreds and their thousands to feast upon the fallen. A crow can espy death from afar. And I say that all of Westeros is dying. Those who follow me will feast until the end of their days." (AFFC, The Drowned Man)

There's also the matter of House Goodbrother, an Ironborn house situated on Great Wyk who draw their wealth from their mines. Not only is their sigil is a warhorn while their house seat bears the interesting name of Hammerhorn, but Euron is compared to Urrathon IV Goodbrother ("Badbrother") in ADWD:

"Torgon Greyiron was the king's eldest son. But the king was old and Torgon restless, so it happened that when his father died he was raiding along the Mander from his stronghold on Greyshield. His brothers sent no word to him but instead quickly called a kingsmoot, thinking that one of them would be chosen to wear the driftwood crown. But the captains and the kings chose Urragon [Urrathon] Goodbrother to rule instead. The first thing the new king did was command that all the sons of the old king be put to death, and so they were. After that men called him Badbrother, though in truth they'd been no kin of his. He ruled for almost two years."

...

"Badbrother had proved to be as mean as he was cruel and had few friends left upon the isles. The priests denounced him, the lords rose against him, and his own captains hacked him into pieces." (ADWD, The Wayward Bride)

TWOIAF claims that Hrothgar of Pyke possessed a kraken-summoning horn during the Age of Heroes; assuming that this was the Hammer of the Waters, it's possible that the horn fell into the Ironborn's hands during their raids into the Riverlands, since we know that the Greenseers of the Children congregated at the Isle of Faces on the God's Eye lake when they called upon the Hammer to break the Arm of Dorne. It also makes sense that Euron would not reveal the Hammer, given the subtle hints George has given that Euron intends to sacrifice his fellow Ironborn in pursuit of his goals:

“Why would I want that hard black rock? Brother, look again and see where I am seated.”

...

“Your victories are hollow. You cannot hold the Shields.”

“Why should I want to hold them?” His brother’s smiling eye glittered in the lantern light, blue and bold and full of malice. “The Shields have served my purpose. I took them with one hand, and gave them away with the other. A great king is open-handed, brother. It is up to the new lords to hold them now. The glory of winning those rocks will be mine forever. When they are lost, the defeat will belong to the four fools who so eagerly accepted my gifts.”

...

The dreams were even worse the second time. He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood-red sea. (TWOW, The Forsaken)

Euron seated himself and gave his cloak a twitch, so it covered his private parts. "I had forgotten what a small and noisy folk they are, my ironborn. I would bring them dragons, and they shout out for grapes." (AFFC, The Reaver)

Clearly, Euron's ambitions exceed those of his fellow Ironborn, and this makes Aeron's vision of longships adrift on a boiling sea particularly ominous. At the end of "The Forsaken," Aeron Damphair, Euron's pregnant saltwife Falia Flowers, and a collection of holy men and women kidnapped by Euron are tied to the prows of his ships. With a naval battle looming between Euron's forces and the ships of the Hightower and Redwyne fleets, Euron's plan seems to be to use this naval battle in the Whispering Sound alongside his captives as the sacrifice required for the Hammer.

The evidence that Euron will sound the Hammer of the Waters is very strong IMO, as is the evidence for Wyk erupting. Firstly, we have Daenerys' visions from the House of the Undying in ACOK:

"From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire. . . ." (ACOK, Daenerys IV)

The smoking tower most likely refers to the Hightower at Oldtown, while a 'great stone beast' that breathes 'shadow fire' sounds an awful lot like a volcano. That the beast takes wing and appears to fly can be seen as a reference to Euron's crow/raven symbolism, as well as his obsession with flying:

"When I was a boy, I dreamt that I could fly," he announced. "When I woke, I couldn't . . . or so the maester said. But what if he lied?"

...

"Perhaps we can fly. All of us. How will we ever know unless we leap from some tall tower?" The wind came gusting through the window and stirred his sable cloak. There was something obscene and disturbing about his nakedness. "No man ever truly knows what he can do unless he dares to leap." (AFFC, The Reaver)

We then have Melisandre's vision in ADWD:

Then the towers by the sea, crumbling as the dark tide came sweeping over them, rising from the depths.

...

"If it comes, that attack will be no more than a diversion. I saw towers by the sea, submerged beneath a black and bloody tide. That is where the heaviest blow will fall."

"Eastwatch?"

Was it? Melisandre had seen Eastwatch-by-the-Sea with King Stannis. That was where His Grace left Queen Selyse and their daughter Shireen when he assembled his knights for the march to Castle Black. The towers in her fire had been different, but that was oft the way with visions. (ADWD, Melisandre I)

Many of the theories I've seen about this vision identify the towers as Oldtown, and while I agree that the Hammer will devastate that city, the description doesn't quite add up. The Hightower and the Citadel are the only real towers associated with the city while House Costayne's seat of Three Towers, at the mouth of the Whispering Sound, was only briefly mentioned by Sam as the Cinnamon Wind approached Oldtown in AFFC. There's also the issue of Oldtown's location well inside the Whispering Sound and many miles from the sea. The Iron Islands fit the description quite nicely, in particular Ten Towers on Harlaw and Pyke itself:

Ten Towers had always felt like home to Asha, more so than Pyke. Not one castle, ten castles squashed together, she had thought, the first time she had seen it. She remembered breathless races up and down the steps and along wallwalks and covered bridges, fishing off the Long Stone Quay, days and nights lost amongst her uncle's wealth of books. His grandfather's grandfather had raised the castle, the newest on the isles. Lord Theomore Harlaw had lost three sons in the cradle and laid the blame upon the flooded cellars, damp stones, and festering nitre of ancient Harlaw Hall. Ten Towers was airier, more comfortable, better sited . . . but Lord Theomore was a changeable man, as any of his wives might have testified. He'd had six of those, as dissimilar as his ten towers. (AFFC, The Kraken's Daughter)

As it happens, Harlaw is situated right next to Old and Great Wyk; but the tower imagery is even more pronounced with Pyke:

The Greyjoy stronghold stood upon a broken headland, its keeps and towers built atop massive stone stacks that thrust up from the sea. Bridges knotted Pyke together; arched bridges of carved stone and swaying spans of hempen rope and wooden planks.

...

Greydon left him when the sun was up, to take the news of Balon's death to his cousins in their towers at Downdelving, Crow Spike Keep, and Corpse Lake. Aeron continued on alone, up hills and down vales along a stony track that drew wider and more traveled as he neared the sea. (AFFC, The Prophet)

The shore was all sharp rocks and glowering cliffs, and the castle seemed one with the rest, its towers and walls and bridges quarried from the same grey-black stone, wet by the same salt waves, festooned with the same spreading patches of dark green lichen, speckled by the droppings of the same seabirds. The point of land on which the Greyjoys had raised their fortress had once thrust like a sword into the bowels of the ocean, but the waves had hammered at it day and night until the land broke and shattered, thousands of years past. All that remained were three bare and barren islands and a dozen towering stacks of rock that rose from the water like the pillars of some sea god's temple, while the angry waves foamed and crashed among them.

Drear, dark, forbidding, Pyke stood atop those islands and pillars, almost a part of them, its curtain wall closing off the headland around the foot of the great stone bridge that leapt from the clifftop to the largest islet, dominated by the massive bulk of the Great Keep. Farther out were the Kitchen Keep and the Bloody Keep, each on its own island. Towers and outbuildings clung to the stacks beyond, linked to each other by covered archways when the pillars stood close, by long swaying walks of wood and rope when they did not. (ACOK, Theon I)

What became of Valyria is well-known, and in the Iron Islands, the castle of Pyke sits on stacks of stone that were once part of the greater island before segments of it crumbled into the sea. (TWOIAF, Ancient History: The Coming of the First Men)

What remains of Pyke today is a complex of towers and keeps scattered across half a dozen islets and sea stacks above the booming waves. A section of curtain wall, with a great gatehouse and defensive towers, stretches across the headland, the only access to the castle, and is all that remains of the original fortress. A stone bridge from the headland leads to the first and largest islets and Great Keep of Pyke.

Beyond that, rope bridges connect the towers one to the other.... Beneath the castle walls, the waves still smash against the remaining rock stacks day and night, and one day those too will doubtless crash into the sea. (TWOIAF, The Iron Islands: Pyke)

Earthquakes, tsunamis and a volcanic eruption would more than suffice to submerge Pyke beneath the waves. Such a cataclysm striking the Iron Islands would also fit with Aeron's vision of Ironborn longships adrift on a bloody, boiling sea; while this could refer to Victarion's Iron Fleet and it's close proximity to Valyria and the Smoking Sea, we know that the ships of the Iron Fleet are larger than the normal longships of the Ironborn, and I believe it further points towards a disaster befalling the Ironborn as a result of Euron's schemes.

The final and most blatant evidence for Wyk erupting comes from Victarion, who offers this account of the Doom of Valyria while stopped at the Isle of Cedars near Slavers Bay:

On the day the Doom came to Valyria, it was said, a wall of water three hundred feet high had descended on the island, drowning hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children, leaving none to tell the tale but some fisherfolk who had been at sea and a handful of Velosi spearmen posted in a stout stone tower on the island's highest hill, who had seen the hills and valleys beneath them turn into a raging sea. Fair Velos with its palaces of cedar and pink marble had vanished in a heartbeat. On the north end of the island, the ancient brick walls and stepped pyramids of the slaver port Ghozai had suffered the same fate.

So many drowned men, the Drowned God will be strong there, Victarion had thought when he chose the island for the three parts of his fleet to join up again. He was no priest, though. What if he had gotten it backwards? Perhaps the Drowned God had destroyed the island in his wroth. His brother Aeron might have known, but the Damphair was back on the Iron Islands, preaching against the Crow's Eye and his rule. No godless man may sit the Seastone Chair. Yet the captains and kings had cried for Euron at the kingsmoot, choosing him above Victarion and other godly men. (ADWD, The Iron Suitor)

This passage is what sold me on this theory being more than just tin foil, as the elements it employs fit a Wyk eruption scenario perfectly. We have a massive volcanic eruption accompanied by tsunamis, along with Victarion's musing on whether the disaster was a punishment from the Drowned God. This fits perfectly with the idea of the Drowned God being a submerged volcano, as it's subsequent eruption could be seen as divine punishment for placing a 'godless man' upon the Seastone Chair.

Even more suggestive is the description of the wave's height, and how some Velosi spearmen survived due to being in a stone tower atop a hill. The Hightower of Oldtown is said to be as tall as the Wall or over 700 feet tall, with it's base being constructed from fused black stone similar to the Valyrian roads. Even more telling, the island on which the Hightower sits is called Battle Isle, which is similar to another name for the Isle of Cedars:

The girlish maester Euron had inflicted upon him back in Westeros claimed this place had once been called 'the Isle of a Hundred Battles,' but the men who had fought those battles had all gone to dust centuries ago. (ADWD, The Iron Suitor)

In the event that Euron attacks Oldtown, I expect him to make a bee-line for the top of the Hightower, and not so he can see the Wall and bring it down with the Horn of Joramun. Rather, it's because the top of the Hightower might be the only relatively safe place for miles when he sounds the Hammer of the Waters and unleashes a 'black and bloody tide.'

#euron greyjoy #euron crowseye #ironborn #iron islands #asoiaf #asoiaf spoilers #asoiaf speculation #asoiaf meta #house greyjoy

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nanowrimo · 1 year

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Read the YWP Novel Excerpt Contest Grand Prize Winner (13 and Under Age Group)!

In February, we challenged you to submit a 400-word excerpt from your NaNoWriMo novels. From over 650 fantastic entries, we chose two Grand Prize Winners and four Runners-Ups. We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we did! (For more excerpts, check out this forum thread.)

A Kingdom of Embers and Ash by Hannah G.

I slip there unnoticed, and sure enough, Willow slumps against the fence. Her arm is through the hole, beads of blood glinting on the metal where it bit into her skin. She clutches at the twisted metal as though it is a portal to a better place.

And maybe... maybe it is.

But maybe it isn’t. And that’s what’s kept us from running for all these years.

"Hey, Wil," I whisper, sliding to the ground beside my sister, my anger forgotten, the pain in my cheek and my heart pushed into a place where I can’t feel it. My sister… she's more important than any of that, than anything. "What's going on?"

Willow turns to me suddenly, her face red and blotchy, streaked with tears. Her eyes are like that of a wild animal: cornered and desperate and terrified. It scares me.

"Sage, I can't!” she wails. “I can't stop it! I can't do it! I can't not do it!" Her voice is pitched with distress, a hysterical edge to it that scares me.

I look at her with concern creasing my brow, coating my voice. "Willow?"

But suddenly, it isn't Willow I'm looking at. It’s a fox, white as the first snow of winter, with oddly human, intelligent, pleading eyes.

Willow's eyes.

I freeze in shock, staring at the fox that is Willow.

At Willow, who is a fox.

At my whole life, my whole world, being upended before my eyes.

And then — my sister is back.

I can't stop the stories we've been told about the creatures outside the fence, magical and evil, from flashing through my mind. The stories that have always been applied to us. And even as I look at Willow, my Willow, who I have known and loved all my life, a small part of me can't help but wonder if they’re true, if we are what they say we are.

Witches. Demons. Monsters.

But then, with a twist of revulsion aimed at myself, at the thing that just went through my mind, at Oke Darm and everyone living in it for conditioning me to think that way, I banish the unfaithful thought from my head. Because this is Willow, my Willow–no matter what form she takes.

But I know I'm the only one who will see it that way.

"Wil," I whisper. "Willow... We have to run. Now."

Guest author judge Sarah Suk had this to say about A Kingdom of Embers and Ash:

"In just this short passage, I was able to get a sense of the world, the stakes, and the bond between the characters in a way that made me instantly root for them (protect them at all costs!). Impressively told with a voice that shines."

Hannah Gumpert is in 8th grade, and admittedly spends way too much time absorbed in a book. When she isn’t reading, you can usually find her with her family, at a coffee shop with her friends, or writing and/or imagining her latest story, completely deaf to the world because she's living in another. Hannah wants to be a writer when she grows up — but she's not going to wait around until then.

#nanowrimo #writing #young writers program #ywp #novel excerpt #writing contest

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ambidextrousarcher · 7 months

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ஆகட்டும், தாயே" என்று சொல்லிவிட்டு மதுராந்தகர் புறப்பட்டார். அரண்மனையில் அவர் தங்கியிருந்த பகுதிக்குப் போனார். அவருடைய உள்ளத்தில் ஆத்திரமும், அசூயையும் கொழுந்து விட்டு எரிந்தன. யாரோ வழியோடு போகிற ஆண்டிப் பண்டாரத்துக்கு எவ்வளவு தடபுடலான மரியாதைகள்! இராஜ குலத்தின் கௌரவத்துக்கே தம் தாயினால் பங்கம் நேர்ந்துவிடும் போலல்லவா இருக்கிறது! பழுவேட்டரையர்கள் தம் அன்னையைப் பற்றி அடிக்கடி குறை சொல்லுவதில் வியப்பு ஒன்றுமில்லை. உடம்பில் சாம்பலைப் பூசிக்கொண்டு ருத்திராட்ச மாலைகளை அணிந்து கொண்டு யார் வந்தாலும் பெரிய மகாராணிக்குப் போதும்! பதிகம் ஒன்றும், அவன் பாடிக்கொண்டு வந்துவிடவேண்டும்; அல்லது கோயில், குளம், திருப்பணி என்று சொல்லிக் கொண்டு வந்துவிட வேண்டும். இப்படிப்பட்டவர்களுக்கு அள்ளிக் கொடுத்து இராஜாங்க பொக்கிஷத்தையே இவர் சூனியமாக்கி விடுவார் போலிருக்கிறது! போதாதற்கு இளவரசி குந்தவை ஒருத்தி எப்போதும் அருகில் இருக்கிறாள். கோவில் திருப்பணி செய்து மிச்சம் ஏதேனும் இருந்தால், அதை மருத்துவச் சாலை ஏற்படுத்துவதற்காகச் செலவிட்டு விடுகிறாள். இப்படியெல்லாம் இவர்கள் செய்வதற்கு இடம் கொடுத்து வந்தால் நாளை நம்முடைய மனோரதம் எப்படி நிறைவேறும்? சோழ சிங்காதனத்தில் ஏறி நாலா திசைகளிலும் சோழ சைன்யங்களை அனுப்பி இந்த நில உலகம் முழுவதையும் வென்று ஒரு குடை நிழலில் ஆளுவது எவ்விதம் நடைபெறும்?”

Excerpt From

Ponniyin Selvan Anaithu Pagangal (Tamil Edition)

Kalki

This material may be protected by copyright.

Context::Madhurantakan meeting his mother, just after their conversation.

“So be it, mother!” saying so, Madhurantakar left. He went to the part of the palace where he was staying. Anger and dissatisfaction were burning in his heart. How they heaped respect on some wayfaring nobody! It seems that the prestige of the royal clan was in danger because of his mother! There is no surprise in the complaints the Pazhuvettarayars made frequently against his mother. It is enough for the elder queen if.anyone comes bearing the sacred ash ad rudraksha beads on his body! He’d come singing a hymn, or saying that a temple or holy place was in need of repair. It seems like she would reduce the treasury to nothing, giving heaps t men such as these! As if that wasn’t enough, there is one Princess Kundavai forever at her side. If.there is anything left after repairing temples, she’d take it citing need for hospitals. If they are allowed to do such things, how will our dreams be fulfilled in the future? How will it be possible to ascend the Chozha throne and rule all the lands of the world under one flag?

Spiteful as he is, Madhurantaan has a point.How will the Kingdom afford the expenses of wars of conquest if everything is used in these pursuits?

Another snippet of the series! Tagging @mizutaama @celestesinsight @whippersnappersbookworm @harinishivaa @racoonpaws @rdx-dcm @deadloverscity @favcolourrvibgior @willkatfanfromasia @humapkehaikaun @themorguepoet @thereader-radhika @thelekhikawrites

#ponniyin selvan #book 3 #snippet #madhurantakan

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silversdragonemporium · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday

Excerpt from: The Wolf Lord

“Ingrid,” Byleth called out to her, waving. “Now that we’ll be going to Gronder Field, I’ll need you to deliver this letter to Claude. He should still be stationed in Ordelia territory. I need you to deliver this letter to him and only him. Is that clear?”

“Of course, Professor Byleth!” Ingrid bowed at her with a smile. “I’ll be back by nightfall!”

Byleth handed her the sealed letter, which Ingrid immediately put into the sealed pouch she used to carry letters with. With the letter secure, Ingrid immediately walked off towards the pegasus pens.

“Byleth,” Dimitri called out to her, the bags beneath his lone eye deep and dark and his lips in a near-permanent grimace.

“What is it?” Byleth asked. Knowing him, he was most likely about to complain to her about something or other.

“You are still in correspondence with Claude von Riegan?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

Dimitri’s scowl deepened.

Byleth calmly waited for him to bring up his usual list of complaints. But it seemed that even he was growing weary of that tired old charade that neither really enjoyed nor were willing to change their mind about. It didn’t matter how many times Dimitri tried to tell her that Claude was untrustworthy, or that she was exposing the army with her misplaced sentimentality. It also didn’t matter how much Byleth tried to remind him that Claude and the Alliance had much to lose if the Kingdom was completely defeated in the war.

Dimitri simply shook his head in clear disapproval and walked away. Which was perfectly fine for her. She had other things to think about. Claude had written that he had been working on a scheme for the past five years about Gronder Field. She wondered what he meant. Did he ever suspect that there would be a massive pitched battle on Gronder Field?

On one hand, a predictable pitched battle was much better than being forced into an ambush in the middle of a field of fire or being forced to maneuver in a tight bridge.

“Professor!” Ashe bowed at her, “Oh! I mean… Your Grace!”

“It’s fine,” Byleth said. “Do you have a report for me?”

In the last report, Ashe reported that there was a fog over the field, making it hard to get much idea of what the Empire was planning, apart from seeing that the fortress on the southernmost side of the field was flying the red-and-gold banners of Adrestia.

Byleth hoped that the fog would have cleared by now, as the days were getting warmer.

#wipwednesday #silverfic:wl #silvercoldbrew

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deancasbigbang · 2 years

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Title: o weary traveler

Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden

Artist: Sketcheun

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Eileen, minor Sam/Ruby

Length: 85000

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Imprisonment

Tags: angel!Cas, The Odyssey AU, wings, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mutual pining

Posting Date: November 8, 2022

Summary: Still reeling from the death of his father, Dean Winchester has one goal: make it home to Lawrence, where his kingdom and the rest of his life are waiting for him. His task is made infinitely more difficult when he shipwrecks on a mysterious island. When his crew and then his brother disappears, Dean enters into a deal with the island's mysterious inhabitant, Castiel, to keep them safe. The catch? He can never leave. Bound by his deal, Dean has no choice but to get to know Castiel, and what he finds is surprising. Castiel is kinder than he originally thought, even though he's harboring his own secrets and guilt. Dean needs to return to Lawrence, but he finds himself reluctant to leave Castiel behind. Meanwhile, Castiel knows that the kindest thing to do for Dean is to let him go, regardless of his own feelings towards him. As their relationship deepens into friendship and then something more, Dean and Castiel face both outside dangers as well as their own doubts. Can Castiel find it within himself to let Dean leave? Can Dean find it within himself to go? Or can these two create their own destiny?

Excerpt: Something passes behind the man’s eyes. In the shifting sun and shadows of the room, Dean can’t quite see it, but when he speaks, there’s no hint of any inner turmoil. “What would you do to keep them safe?” “Anything,” is Dean’s immediate answer. The man scoffs. “A coward’s answer. Easy to promise, and difficult to fulfill.” Dean lifts his chin. “I’m their captain, and when we get home, I’ll be their arch. An arch is nothing without the support of his people. In order to be worthy of their loyalty, I have to be willing to take on their burdens as well.” The man’s eyes narrow. “You would take on danger for their sake? You would risk yourself and all that you’ve gained for the chance that they might survive? That they might be happy?” Dean’s upper lip lifts in a sneer. “Are you deaf? How many times do I need to say yes before you understand? You ask me what I would do to keep Sam safe? There’s not a damn thing that I wouldn’t do, the angels and demons both be damned.” “Would you take on their punishment?” The question comes swiftly, and it’s dropped like a stone into a calm pond. The ripples threaten to bowl Dean over, at least at first. “Yes.” The man straightens, staring at Dean. Dean shifts. Though it’s ridiculous, he feels like the man can see straight through him, into his soul, or whatever Sam would say he has. “You will never leave this island,” the man says slowly, giving each word enough weight to sink on Dean’s chest. “Your family and friends and lovers will move on without you. Time and life will pass you by.” Each word feels like the man is carving a slice out of him, like he’s losing something vital with each syllable. Dean doesn’t crack, though. He stands firm and takes it, with only the faint wobble of his lower lip to give truth to his feelings. “As long as Sam and Ash go free,” he says, putting every ounce of conviction he can into his words. Light flashes in the man’s eyes, blue-white swirling in his pupils, and Dean has just enough time to draw back in fear before the man reaches out and grips Dean’s left shoulder. The swirling light in his pupils brightens to an almost painful brilliance, and searing pain envelops his left shoulder. Dean cries out, but almost as soon as it arrives, the pain is gone, leaving nothing but a dull ache in its place. “What did you do?” Dean asks. He wants his voice to snap, but he’s too shaken. It wobbles instead. To hide his shame, he yanks at his sleeve, tearing the fabric to reveal a bright red scar, shiny on his otherwise pale arm. It’s the man’s handprint, seared into his skin. Dean hisses as he touches the tender, raised edge.

DCBB 2022 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2022 #fic preview #2022 promo #deancas #destiel

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lemonsoday · 5 months

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Hi guys so I made a fake cover for one of my oc stories. I'm just now realizing that it doesn't quite fit the vibes of this current excerpt but I promise it makes sense with more context 💀 I thought I'd post something to go along with it and so here's the prolog chapter!

Any feedback or comments are appreciated 🫶

PROLOG

Every star in the sky is that of an ancestor looking down from the land beyond mortals. The names of those still residing in the memories of generations to come are the names belonging to the brightest stars.

As time goes on and memories twist and turn through each person's account, the people behind those names slowly turn to ash, leaving behind hollow gods — mere figures in legends and prayers. A long time ago, one such star existed. The founder of the kingdom high upon the mountains, Hua Xinyang, shone with splendor never seen before in the northern sky. Never obscured by clouds, he was Yujun's symbol even long after his physical body had been devoured by dirt and worms. But he too, would disappear one day. When a dark void appeared in the spot where his star would have shone, Hua Xinyang, although still remaining in the hearts of his people, was truly pronounced dead.

Ever since then, the two other gods who watched over Yujun alongside him, were rarely ever seen again. They said that one secluded himself in his realm in the depths of The Abyss, while the other, crushed by grief, hid away in his garden and never dared to cross any form of life again. Even though their stars still existed in the night sky, their absence made it no different from the death the people of Yujun had experienced just moments before.

That was 500 years ago. Yujun has moved on from their grief and the kingdom has learned to live on without their Tri-Deity. Today, their names are only uttered in respect; for the small fragment of history that people are still able to remember. However, whatever happened before, in between, and after that brief moment in time was a mystery, one that would never reach their descendants because nobody who lived through it was around to tell those stories anymore.

But there was somebody who lived, unbeknownst to anyone besides himself and the gods who had disappeared long ago.

One day when the descendant of Hua Xinyang took in a boy from the south of Yujun, Xiang Yulan, who'd laid dormant in his Silk Pavilion for years, felt that something was out of place within the mortal world. After a distanced observation of the child, the link between them only became clearer. However, he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Bai Ming who'd disappeared from the eyes of all beings — living and dead — suddenly returned to check on this "disturbance." Something wasn't as it should be with Hua Beifang's boy, and as time went on, Bai Ming's suspicions, although believed to be illogical even by himself, seemed to be proven true. The child had memories of the past; the deities' past. He wasn't sure whose memories they were, but they were certainly more accurate than the myths being passed around as the trio's history in the current day.

As a god of the underworld, truth be told, Bai Ming was unnerved by the occurrence. The boy was an anomaly to the cycle of life and death. His duty should have lead to him killling the boy to restore all that is natural, but due to his own personal desire, he could not bring himself to do so.

By the time Hua Xinyang perished, he, Bai Ming, and Xiang Yulan each had their own skeletons in the closet. However, whatever the latter two were hiding was an open secret compared to the events that Hua Xinyang hid away, even from Xiang Yulan.

Despite the shining image of brotherhood that the people of Yujun saw Bai Ming and Hua Xinyang as, Bai Ming couldn't care less about the secrets that the founder had. For what it's worth, if they were to disappear just like their owner, he still would not have felt as if he'd lost something important. On the other side of that spectrum, there was Xiang Yulan. The death of the founder was a secret that he was hiding in itself, one that he was hiding from Xiang Yulan specifically. At least that's what the moon god believes. He didn't know why his companion would do that, but he knew that he must've been keeping something from him, something big, something... awful.

When the boy entered the picture, Xiang Yulan thought that he could be the key to the puzzle. So, he sought after him. He waited for the moment he'd be able to take him as his contract disciple. He always watched him, but never interfered. Without realizing it, he'd watched him grow up.

Bai Ming was aware of this. The revivification of the moon god was a surprise, but, at the start, it was a welcome one. He and Xiang Yulan's relationship had strained after the founder's death, so all he could do was look after him from afar. It was once he'd grasped the other god's true intentions that he finally stepped in. The moon god had no obligation to listen to him, as the death god had no obligation to stop him. But Bai Ming wanted something too, and he was willing to destroy whatever legacy they'd left behind as a trio in order to achieve it.

When the two couldn't reach an agreement, it was settled that from then on, the moon and the waters below were enemies. How people would remember them now was unimportant, because at that point, neither of them had anything to lose.

#my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip #original character #oc artwork #oc art #worldbuilding #I wish I had a last name to put on the cover

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jade-mythriil · 9 months

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A Tale of the Scorching

In the distant past...

Before the dragons took over...

Ancient humans roamed free upon the land...

They had massive kingdoms and built a paradise for themselves with their skill and ingenuity.

But in their greed, humans had taken too much from the land...

and stole from the dragons, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.

Until one day, the world was set ablaze...

In an act of vengeance, the dragons brought their fury upon the ancient humans...

and scorched the land leaving none to survive their unending wrath.

The ancient humans, unable to defend themselves from their own retribution...

were forced to flee to the safety of the undergrounds...

and hide until their entire legacy was wiped away in the infernal cataclysm they had brought upon themselves.

When they finally returned to the surface...

the world no longer belonged to them.

The remaining humans, shattered and broken, struggled to survive against the dragons that now dominated the land.

But they persevered and survived...

for such a time that civilization would rise again from the ashes...

and they would once again stand on the surface without fear...

free from the threats of the dragons that now threatened them.

They rebuilt whats left of their old society...

And continued to thrive in the new realm dominated by the dragons...

Hoping for the day they can finally return to the surface...

And roam free as their ancestors did before them...

- An excerpt from the History of the Bush Clan

#wings of fire #wof #the scorching #scavenger #scavenger oc #wof scavenger

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bewitchingbooktours · 2 years

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Seekers: The Winds of Change by Troy Knowlton #YAFantasy

Seekers: The Winds of Change

Seekers Saga

Book One

Troy Knowlton

Genre: YA Fantasy

Date of Publication: July 12th, 2022

ISBN: 979-8840330708

ASIN: B09VDBYBK7

Number of pages: 356

Word Count: 86000

Cover Artist: Lara Lampert, 99designs

Book Description:

After an assassination attempt that could lead to an all-out war, Tyras and Oren, two young Seekers of the Argan Empire, are each given secret missions in an attempt to thwart the coming chaos. Both tasks require the Seekers to venture through the war-torn continent of Tiarna where the young men face mortal danger, horrible monsters, and hostile groups – all challenges Seekers are trained to combat.

Luckily, the two Seekers also find guidance, friendship, and romance along the way. However, powerful and mysterious forces are conspiring behind the scenes and both Tyras and Oren will have to overcome a host of obstacles, including their own inner demons, in order to maintain a glimmer of hope for success.

With war imminent and the unknown ahead, will the Seekers triumph, or will they be swallowed by the turbulent, relentless Winds of Change?

Set in a new, masterfully created high fantasy world, Seekers: The Winds of Change is perfect for fans of An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir and We Free the Stars by Hafsah Faisal.

Amazon

Excerpt CHAPTER 1- THE PHANTOM IN BLUE

The night sky was like A dark and shifting ocean, pitch-black and ominous. Strong winds kicked up swaths of desert sand into the horizon. The waves of brown earth raged across the heavens with a low roar. The rough weather spewed thousands of coarse, rocky grains that tore into anything standing in their path. It made the inhabitants of the Koterran mining camp miserable. The small encampment sat at the edge of a large rift in the sands, where precious iron and sandstone had already been torn from the earth. Webs of scaffolding hugged the edge of the chasm and stretched deep into the hole below. The tents of the camp were arranged in two circles. A dozen or so constituted the outer circle, and five made up the inner circle, the largest of which housed the spoils of the dig. A robust campfire sat in the center, which shone defiantly against the darkness of the wild night.

Serana sat on a rock at the edge of the campfire’s light and peered off into the distance. She wondered why her father made the decision to send her to this bizarre corner of the kingdom to guard this tiny, insignificant camp. A whole party of knights accompanied her, which seemed unnecessary. There’d been reports of bandits attacking caravans in the area, causing the High Commander to take action. He’d entrusted his daughter with organizing the camp’s protection. On the surface it made sense, but this was a job for regional guards, not Serana and thirty royal knights. Perhaps there’s some other reason, besides bandits. What if there’s a threat too dangerous to reveal, one he wanted to keep secret? The idea both terrified and excited her.

A powerful gust of wind smashed through the circling encampment like an ocean tide crashing against rocky shores. It ripped through the tents and carried enough force to extinguish the fire, shrouding the camp in near-total darkness. Bedlam ensued as miners and knights ran around in that darkness, fumbling like blind infants, trying to find where they had left their torches.

Serana didn’t join in the hysteria. She listened through the commotion, blocking her ears from the miners’ squabbling and sensing outward. She could feel a presence approaching the camp’s edge. She squinted at the outer circle of tents and saw the shape of a figure moving across them, like a predator circling its prey. Her hand reached for the sword at her hip, but she stopped short.

She realized there was a danger in having her weapon drawn, with so many people running around in the dark. In her moment of hesitation, she lost sight of the figure. She shouted a command to her knights: “Gather your bearings and spread out. We aren’t alone!”

Most of the soldiers had already lit their torches and were quick to follow their leader’s command. They began fanning out toward the camp’s edge, swords in hand. Serana scanned back and forth, observing their progress, watching and waiting for one of them to spot the unknown assailant.

A sharp noise cracked through the air, like a tree branch snapping under heavy duress. Serana looked in the direction of the sound and noticed that one of the torches had gone out. She called out to the knight holding it. No response. She ran toward the shadowed area, hand on her sword hilt. She made it halfway to the perimeter when she noticed movement on the roof to her right. Serana instinctively drew her blade and slashed upward as a figure leapt from atop the tent, vaulting over her. Her weapon missed its mark, only managing to cut a small amount of fabric off the edge of the intruder’s cloak. A dark blue scrap of cloth blew off into the wind. That cloth and its color were enough for Serana to understand what kind of enemy she faced. The blue of the material, coupled with the acrobatics, identified the invader as a Seeker of the Argan Empire. Serana turned around and bolted back toward the campfire, shouting as she ran, “Knights, hurry back to the center of camp; the trespasser is going to the supply tent!” Her soldiers had the tent encircled mere moments after the order had left her mouth. She knew that she had the Seeker cornered. She paused at the tent’s entrance, signaling for two of her most trusted knights to follow behind her. They shuffled to her side, and the three of them entered the tent, swords drawn and ready.

Upon passing the threshold, she saw the Seeker sitting on a pile of sandstone, holding the artifact in his gloved hand. The emerald orb, roughly the size of an apple, glittered in the faint torchlight. It had a perfect round shape and gave off a pulsing green luminescence.

The Seeker ignored Serana, staring at the artifact with curious eyes. He spoke to the Koterrans in a tired and dismissive tone. “Well, I have what I’ve come here for. Let me leave in peace, and there won’t be any trouble. I’ve no quarrel with any of you.”

Serana’s fury boiled out of her. “You’re in no position to be making orders, Seeker! How dare you invade our camp in the middle of the night, like some blue phantom coming to haunt us. That artifact belongs to the Kingdom of Koterra, and I’m not letting you steal it from us. If you want this to end peacefully, you’ll hand it over right now!”

The Seeker turned and looked at the Koterran, his blue eyes perfectly visible even in the night’s darkness. He looks young for a Seeker, she thought. He couldn’t have been much older than her, and she was a couple years shy of her second decade. His pale skin reflected the orange tint of the torch fire, and his messy brown hair poked out from under the blue hood of his cloak. His deep blue eyes shimmered in the flickering firelight, giving off a slight luminescence of their own. The Argan foreigner had a calculated look on his face, as if his mind focused on something far, far away.

A few tense moments passed wherein both parties seemed to be sizing each other up. The Seeker’s voice broke the silence.

“You know as well as I do that I can’t do that. Under imperial law, all artifacts of the Lost Kingdom must be impounded and sent to the Archive at Arga for safekeeping. I’m doing you a favor, really. Get out of my way and let me do my job!”

“Watch your tone, Argan! You’re far away from your empire, and there are plenty of dungeons in Koterra that I’d be happy to toss you in.” Serana clenched her teeth together, adrenaline mixing with her rage as she squeezed the hilt of her blade.

The Seeker lowered his gaze and shook his head. “Well, I can’t say that I didn’t give you a choice. I would suggest that you duck and cover.”

Serana only had a few seconds to ponder his cryptic words before the explosion knocked everyone off their feet. Debilitating ringing echoed through her ears. It was the last thing she heard before going unconscious. The blast disoriented everyone except the Seeker, who had braced himself for it, knowing that it would arrive at the perfect time. A flurry of sand, broken tents, and rubble showered the poor Koterrans, subduing them. The Seeker found it easy to escape in the chaos, and he made his way through the camp with little resistance. He’d almost reached its edge when the second explosion went off. He hadn’t counted on this, and the surprise rattled him, sending him flying into the dark envelope of the tumultuous night.

About the Author:

Troy Knowlton has always had a burning desire to tell stories. He started at a young age by drawing maps of made-up continents and fantasy kingdoms. The empty kingdoms beckoned to be given life, and his work eventually blossomed, leading him to create full narratives and characters for his worlds. He currently lives in California where he works as an X-Ray technologist and teacher when he isn't writing. He's also a great lover of history, currently working to earn his bachelor's degree in History and Political Science.

Website: www.troyknowlton.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/troy_knowlton

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TroyKnowltonWrites

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22334349.Troy_Knowlton

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aboutbirds · 2 years

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I would be good—oh, I would be upright and good. To what purpose? To be shining not sinful, not wringing out of the hours petulance, heaviness, ashes. To what purpose? Hope of heaven? Not that. But to enter the other kingdom: grace, and imagination,

and the multiple sympathies: to be as a leaf, a rose, a dolphin, a wave rising slowly then briskly out of the darkness to touch the limpid air, to be God’s mind’s servant, loving with the body’s sweet mouth—its kisses, its words— everything.

Mary Oliver, excerpt of “On Thy Wondrous Works I Will Meditate,” from Thirst

#mary oliver #on thy wondrous works i will meditate #thirst #out of my collection

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mightymorphingayagenda · 6 years

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Kingdom of Ash Excerpt 25th August

The Prince

He had been hunting for her since the moment she was taken from him.

His mate.

He barely remembered his own name. And only recalled it because his three companions spoke it while they searched for her across violent and dark seas, through ancient and slumbering forests, over storm-swept mountains already buried in snow.

He stopped long enough to feed his body and allow his companions a few hours of sleep. Were it not for them, he would have flown off, soared far and wide.

But he would need the strength of their blades and magic, would need their cunning and wisdom before this was through.

Before he faced the dark queen who had torn into his innermost self, stealing his mate long before she had been locked in an iron coffin. And after he was done with her, after that, then he’d take on the cold-blooded gods themselves, hell-bent on destroying what might remain of his mate.

So he stayed with his companions, even as the days passed. Then the weeks.

Then months.

Still he searched. Still he hunted for her on every dusty and forgotten road.

And sometimes, he spoke along the bond between them, sending his soul on the wind to wherever she was held captive, entombed.

I will find you.

The Princess

The iron smothered her. It had snuffed out the fire in her veins, as surely as if the flames had been doused.

She could hear the water, even in the iron box, even with the iron mask and chains adorning her like ribbons of silk. The roaring; the endless rushing of water over stone. It filled the gaps between her screaming.

A sliver of island in the heart of a mist-veiled river, little more than a smooth slab of rock amid the rapids and falls. That’s where they’d put her. Stored her. In a stone temple built for some forgotten god.

As she would likely be forgotten. It was better than the alternative: to be remembered for her utter failure. If there would be anyone left to remember her. If there would be anyone left at all.

She would not allow it. That failure.

She would not tell them what they wished to know.

No matter how often her screams drowned out the raging river. No matter how often the snap of her bones cleaved through the bellowing rapids.

She had tried to keep track of the days.

But she did not know how long they had kept her in that iron box. How long they had forced her to sleep, lulled into oblivion by the sweet smoke they’d poured in while they traveled here. To this island, this temple of pain.

She did not know how long the gaps lasted between her screaming and waking. Between the pain ending and starting anew.

Days, months, years - they bled together, as her own blood often slithered over the stone floor and into the river itself.

A princess who was to live for a thousand years. Longer.

That had been her gift. It was now her curse.

Another curse to bear, as heavy as the one placed upon her long before her birth. To sacrifice her very self to right an ancient wrong. To pay another’s debt to the gods who had found their world, become trapped in it. And then ruled it.

She did not feel the warm hand of the goddess who had blessed and damned her with such terrible power. She wondered if that goddess of light and flame even cared that she now lay trapped within the iron box - or if the immortal had transferred her attentions to another. To the king who might offer himself in her stead and in yielding his life, spare their world.

The gods did not care who paid the debt. So she knew they would not come for her, save her. So she did not bother praying to them.

But she still told herself the story, still sometimes imagined that the river sang it to her. That the darkness living within the sealed coffin sang it to her as well.

Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom...

Down she would drift, deep into that darkness, into the sea of flame. Down so deep that when the whip cracked, when bone sundered, she sometimes did not feel it.

Most times she did.

It was during those infinite hours that she would fix her stare on her companion.

Not the queen’s hunter, who could draw out pain like a musician coaxing a melody from an instrument. But the massive white wolf, chained by invisible bonds. Forced to witness this.

There were some days when she could not stand to look at the wolf. When she had come so close, too close, to breaking. And only the story had kept her from doing so.

Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young...

princess who loved her kingdom...

Words she had spoken to a prince. Once - long ago.

A prince of ice and wind. A prince who had been hers, and she his. Long before the bond between their souls became known to them.

It was upon him that the task of protecting that once-glorious kingdom now fell.

The prince whose scent was kissed with pine and snow, the scent of that kingdom she had loved with her heart of wildfire.

Even when the dark queen presided over the hunter’s ministrations, the princess thought of him. Held on to his memory as if it were a rock in the raging river.

The dark queen with a spider’s smile tried to wield it against her. In the obsidian webs she wove, the illusions and dreams she spun at the culmination of each breaking point, the queen tried to twist the memory of him as a key into her mind.

They were blurring. The lies and truths and memories. Sleep and the blackness in the iron coffin. The days bound to the stone altar in the center of the room, or hanging from a hook in the ceiling, or strung up between chains anchored into the stone wall. It was all beginning to blur, like ink in water.

So she told herself the story. The darkness and the flame deep within her whispered it, too, and she sang it back to them. Locked in that coffin hidden on an island within the heart of a river, the princess recited the story, over and over, and let them unleash an eternity of pain upon her body.

Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom...

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