The wind whistled through the wlliowlls. Aged as old as the age of grace when demigods romared and monsters beguiled to terrify and when a fishmongers daughter was the most powerful out of them all. Beyond the 8 lands of wealth beyond the seas of gaiety. There was the kingdom of a sorrow. Where the lands rulers were as the branches of the tree and the the religion the roots of it all. The land was known for its temples each unique to its own god. Some where fully made of polished diamonds for the goddess of truth and some other made of only of swords and bones for the god of of the men who challenged the religion or even for the simple crime of challenging the gods existence. But some where at the edge of the kingdom lived a fishmongers daughter who was known only to be lost in her own world. She was pretty but not enough to draw the attention of the village boys and she was thankful for it.
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Wind Whispered tales
Short StoryShort stories filled with melancholy. From tales of a doomed prince to a fishmongers daughter weilding more power than the gods.
