My new assignment for Creative Writing was due yesterday, and I got to workshop it in class. I realized it is the first time I have ever presented a piece of my own fantasy fiction in a class. I have shared fan fiction. I have shared my fantasy online. But I had to sit and be quiet while a room full of people critiqued my story. It was terrifying! Lol
This assignment was supposed to be about an object, a thing. I realize in retrospect that apparently a few weeks of studying poems and actually writing one seems to have affected my prose–in a good way. Both the imagery and the rhythm seem to have been affected, and it was noticed by my classmates.
This is going to be part of a longer piece. This is the beginning of that longer piece.
I mentioned on Twitter the other day that I am taking information from Creative Writing, Horror & Science Fiction, and Mythology to write this piece. Creative Writing inspired this piece with the “thing” prompt. Horror & Science Fiction is inspiring the piece that will immediately follow this. And Mythology is inspiring me to tighten up the lore of my fantasy world.
The two pictures are the closest I could get to how I picture the Sunstone and the Temple of Yargonae. The picture of the Temple, is actually a temple in the city of Palitana in Gujarat, India. Perhaps I’ll have to doodle something of my own at some point.
I’d like to make a habit of a short piece on Fridays, for Flash Fiction Friday. We’ll see how long I can keep myself on a schedule.
As the sun rose that morning, its golden light hit the Sunstone–refracting from that perfect piece of topaz to lighten every corner of the Temple of Yargonae–for the last time. The Sunstone, Scale of the Dreamer, nested stoically upon its pedestal, singing and warbling as sunlight passed through it like wind through a wind chime, changing tone as the rays of light changed shape. It perched as on any other day since the birth of the world, while within its crystalline depths spun the secrets of creation and existence itself.
Below, far beneath where the Sunstone sat with its infinite patience, Rhaegar, the Dreamer, held that existence together, precariously, in his ever-sleeping mind. No mortal could know the dreams of Rhaegar. To witness the inky blackness, the slithering and sloshing monstrosities trapped within the bowels of Dadreon, would have sent them spiraling into madness. Unspeakable, unnamable horrors lay trapped in their prisons–dreaming and balanced between life and unlife, death and undeath–held there only by the will of the great Father of Dragons.
The Temple of Yargonae stood serene that morning, as it had for thousands of years. The shining center of the city of Bethel–beauty personified and home to the pinnacle of elven society–the Temple gave physical form to the splendor that was Yargonae, king of the gods and creator of the planet Dadreon. He who had made order of chaos. He who had created Rhaegar, mightiest of all creatures. He who had imprisoned the malevolent primordial beings now trapped within Rhaegar’s dreams. He who had taken one topaz scale from the Father of Dragons, formed the Sunstone of it, and through the rainbow refractions of that gem had created the protectors of all of his creations–the Dracolords.
On this particular morning, the Sunstone sat alone. Only the sun and its song kept it company.
Its protectors watched the battle of elf versus man as it approached the walls of Bethel, trepidatious and mostly unseen–visible only as rays of light, appearing as a part of the misty morning sky’s rainbow to those below. Ruby red, emerald green , sapphire blue, quartz white, and onyx black–the Dracolords pondered what consequences would arise if the war the humans brought were to breach the walls of the elven city and reach the stairs of the great Temple.
Inside the Temple, the Sunstone was not destined to be lonely long. For there was one who had great interest in it.
Zaeriin, god of darkness and deceit, had planned for this day. Only Zaeriin knew what terrors waited to bubble up from below and onto the battlefield at the gates of Bethel. For he had awakened those terrors, and he counted on their chaotic and destructive natures to bring him to what he most desired–the Sunstone, and with it the secret of creation.
Too long he had languished in the shadow of his older brother, Yargonae. Too long had he manipulated their youngest sibling, Bael, into leading the humans to create the chaos that would give him his chance at the glittering, golden source of his jealousy.
Now, with Bael out of the way, Zaeriin could push his plans forward quicker, without delay.
Already, Zaeriin could hear voices rising in confusion and fear. The din of discord brought a smirk to his face.
Everything was falling into place.
Had the Sunstone been capable of mortal concerns, it would have feared the approach. Instead, it merely reflected the light and sang its warbly tune as its many facets bent and redirected the sun into millions of glittering sparkles.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story and all related material are the original works of Awaiting the Muse and Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti. All rights reserved.
Awaiting the Muse by Effy J. Roan AKA Effraeti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at https://awaitingthemuse.wordpress.com/.