Upon the Battlements of City Illium
The sun is setting on white snow, making everything unnaturally bright.
A mute child carries a sword and walks on the battlements behind the frowning General who looks upon the ranks within the city, ready for war.
It’s the new year...
The Road to Illium
The road is long and winter falls.
Emir knows that the the Dark Mage is at the very edge of the Empire.
Siorial is puzzled, "But he's just a cat."
Emir snarles and Murin chuckles, patting him, "Not just a cat, my dear sister, he's a descendant of the Aestheri race, sensory. He can sense any Mage he's seen or smelt."
Siorial laughs and pets the tabby, "Nice kitty, nice kitty."
The woods are silent tonight. No birds screech in the forest for there is no forest. The cold glint of gold betrays the existence of a man wielding a wand and a golden scythe, a scarred, middle-aged man who cuts his way through the trees that howls silently.
Gold conquers wood.
Prompt: what do you see?
𝟘𝟙
But we might never find them. Your family, I mean, if we go off together.
That’s what she said to him the night before the end.
He answered ——
I don’t care.
···
Prompt: write something about this picture:
Stave One: Nightfall
The woods of Elmaroth were desolate that night. The crows came to claim the dead. Blood was spilled.
The sun was dipped in blood; it illuminated the trees with a ruddy glare. The ground was also red - only more so.
Melanie sobbed over her mother’s body, sobbed and shook. The protruding arrow in the woman’s chest symbolised the imminent danger of death.
“Find him,” then woman rasped, “Find him, Melanie. Take my dagger. Compare it with his. The heir. The Prince.”
“Mother…don’t leave, don’t leave me…”