With Sorina left far behind like a distant memory, the farmers now refugees, found solace in a calm dip in the valley floor engulfed in tall bronze grass and the fresh scent of nature. Cool water trickled from a nearby stream, collecting in a crystal-clear pool, while protective hills encircled the area, shielding them from the elements.
After days of arduous travel, the weary wanderers sought respite and a chance to regroup for the road ahead. Their wagons formed a protective circle, offering both a sense of security and a communal space. Tents were erected, providing additional shelter and a semblance of home. Dozens of displaced families gathered around a crackling fire, their eyes drawn upward to the cosmic spectacle of the night sky.
Arthur, well versed in the stars, pointed out specific shapes among the constellations, unravelling their ancient origins and their deep-rooted connection to the earth and primal elements. Ellie sat beside Charles, her head gently resting on his chest, her hands cradling Scarf, the young water Elementlet, who once more for the time lay dormant.
As Charles glanced at the starry expanse above, he found himself unable to recognise any pattern. Instead, a mesmerizing array of colours unfolded before his eyes.
Inspired by Arthur's teachings, the assembled group began to share stories, passing them from one person to another. They held their children close, animating the tales with lively gestures, assuming roles from damsels in distress to fearsome villains and valiant heroes. Children's giggles echoed through the camp as their shared stories wove a tapestry of wonder.
Charles wholeheartedly joined in, his laughter intermingling with the chorus of voices.
Emboldened by the effects of Rose's sparkling brews, he took his turn to recount a tale. Chuckling to himself, as he delved into his favourite story from his homeland, a captivating saga of a young man who embarked on a perilous, other worldly journey to rescue a princess from the clutches of a mysterious sorcerer draped in black.
Enclosed by a hushed silence, the camp listened intently as Charles spun his tale. Jaws slackened, minds wide open, they immersed themselves in the fantastical narrative, transported to a realm where imagination knew no bounds. Of magic and swords. In that moment, their worries faded, replaced by the enchantment of their imagination.
As a brief lull settled over the crowd, a familiar face made its way into the circle. All eyes turned towards the newcomer, their expressions lighting up with recognition and warmth. Whispered greetings and words of reassurance rippled through the gathering.
Rose stood by the newcomer's side, offering her support as he leaned on her for strength. His face carried the marks of battle, but his spirit remained resilient.
“Maze,” Arthur said with a smile. “Have you the energy to be out and about?”
The old storyteller grinned. “Enough? Probably not.”
“Just you be careful, your strength has yet to return,” said Rose her face etched with concern.
He gave her a genuine smile, then addressed the crowd. “You’re not telling stories without me are you?”
The crowd shuffled in their seats as they watched the seasoned expert. It was if their aged instructor was testing them on the tales they’d learned during their lessons and the teacher had just tested them all.
With a warm smile Maze said, “you’ve all done so well. The stories you told tonight were flawless.”
The crowd breathed a sigh of relief.
Maze turned to Charles quickly, “Except your story my lad, what was that nonsense? I’ve never heard of such rubbish.”
Charles grinned and relented. “You are right it was rubbish, glorious fantastical rubbish.”
Maze sighed, then looked at the expectant crowd. “I guess you all want to hear one of mine then,” he scratched his chin before continuing, “Well most of the tales you spun tonight were once mine. Either way, I shall tell you another. One that I have not recounted for a long while. Count yourself lucky. The mood has struck me, and I shall tell you the tale of ‘The Sons of the Dragon’.”
The camp fell silent as they waited on bated breath for the old man to begin. He wandered into the middle of the camp as Rose found a seat nearby. Surrounded by the light of the campfire, Maze threw his arms out and spoke.
“A long time ago, in an era steeped in ancient legends and fabled creatures, there lived a woman who carried within her the precious gift of life. However, tragedy had befallen her family as her husband had sacrificed himself in defence of their homeland against a formidable enemy. And yet, her pregnancy was fraught with complications and uncertainty. In her desperate plea for help, she called upon the spirits of old who still wandered the land.”
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“Oh, benevolent spirits, she beseeched with a tremor in her voice, I implore you to grant your divine aid to my unborn child. May he find his place in this world and become a beacon of light, for nothing but darkness surrounds us. In the midst of her plea, the woman believed her words fell upon deaf ears, lost in the vast emptiness of despair. Little did she know that, at the very same moment, another anguished mother had uttered her own desperate cry.”
“Spirits of the ethereal realm, the second mother's voice trembled with sorrow. My child lies asleep, trapped devoid of light. I beg of you, release him from this eternal darkness that holds him captive. Caught in an impossible predicament, the ancient spirits were faced with an unfathomable decision. Unable to save both children and driven by an unimaginable sacrifice, they chose a path that defied all reason. The mother carrying her child within her womb was destined to depart from the mortal realm, while the child was spirited away to a distant land. As the child opened his eyes for the very first time, he found himself surrounded by the impenetrable walls of a pristine white egg—a vessel that cradled his birth. In an extraordinary union of flesh and soul, the spirits merged the essence of both children into a single body, crafting a being unlike any other.”
“Thus emerged a man of unparalleled power, capable of shape-shifting at will. Known as the White Drakon, he possessed the ability to breathe fire and reshape the world around him. Fuelled by the fiery essence within him, his existence transcended the limitations of mortals. He outlived countless generations, ascending in strength and establishing a nation where he ruled as an immortal King. An era of golden prosperity flourished under his benevolent reign, yet the weight of kingship proved too burdensome for him to bear alone.”
“For many years, he stood alone, until one fateful day when his eyes beheld a beauty so extraordinary that it took his breath away. Not only was she physically appealing, but her soul radiated a purity that resonated deep within him. She was the first mortal he had encountered who embodied perfection in every aspect. Enthralled by her presence, they embarked on a courtship that transcended time itself. Eventually, they joined together in the sacred bond of marriage, blessed with the gift of three sons.”
“The eldest son, destined to inherit his father's legacy, embodied justice and integrity. Strong in both mind and body, he was a paragon of virtue. The second son, although physically frail, possessed an indomitable ambition that drove him to seek shortcuts and manipulate his way to the top. The youngest son, enamoured with knowledge and surrounded by an ever-growing collection of books, possessed an insatiable thirst for wisdom but remained innocent and naïve to the complexities of the world.”
As the tale unfolded, the audience listened in captivated silence, their imaginations kindled by the words of the seasoned storyteller.
“In the twilight of his immortal existence, the aging king pondered the future of his kingdom. As he reflected on the remarkable fire that had coursed through his veins, granting him an enduring life, he knew it was time to pass on not only his crown but also the essence of immortality itself. With his beloved wife by his side, he gracefully departed from the realm of the living, leaving behind a legacy of unparallel prosperity.”
“Among his sons, the eldest saw the weight of the crown as a solemn duty. He embraced the responsibility of safeguarding the land and preserving the golden era his father had forged. Determined to honour his father's memory, he vowed to uphold the kingdom's prosperity and protect its people.”
“However, the second son harboured resentment towards his elder brother, consumed by jealousy and a burning desire to possess power of his own. Driven by ambition, he embarked on a quest to acquire a magic that would rival his brother's. Yet, despite his relentless search, he soon realised that he lacked the necessary strength and support to achieve his grand ambitions. It was then that he turned his attention to the naïve and impressionable younger brother, seeking an ally in his reckless pursuit of power.”
“Though the brothers were not immortal like their father, their lifespans exceeded that of ordinary mortals. They witnessed the ebb and flow of time outliving both friends and foes. Eventually, the younger brother succumbed to the allure of forging his own destiny, driven by a burning desire to establish a nation in the southern reaches dedicated to knowledge, progress, and enlightenment. For a time, both kingdoms prospered, fostering a symbiotic relationship through trade and cultural exchange, uniting their people in pursuit of common goals.”
“Yet, unbeknownst to them, a sinister figure lurked in the shadows, eagerly awaiting an opportunity to alter the course of fate. This enigmatic presence yearned to reshape the destiny of both brothers and their realms. It was not long before the younger brother succumbed to treachery, manipulated by the unseen puppeteer.”
“Brother turned against brother, and once-unbreakable bonds were shattered. The clash of steel and the unleashed fury of newfound magics echoed across the lands as the two kingdoms plunged into a prolonged and bloody war. At the fateful city of Hornbare, the climax of their bitter war drew near.”
“Swords clashed and spells entwined, yet unbeknownst to them all, a far greater plot was set in motion. The middle brother, the puppet master arranging their tragic dispute, had a final scheme in mind. He sought to wield an unprecedented power by siphoning life from the deceased, extracting forbidden energies from the entire realm, and draining the very essence of the spirits themselves.”
The assembled crowd fell silent as Maze’s forbidding expression fell to his feet, as if defeated by the ghosts of the past.
“I would like to tell you all that the middle brother failed,” Maze said with a sigh that spoke volumes. “But the story of the Sons of the Dragon... Doesn't have a happy ending.”