They raged toward us, with their swords glinting in the sun. My mother's long amber hair waved from the wind and glowed slightly blue while she released a powerful Jwarda, or in other words, magic or power. She hid me behind a big board on the wall, slanted so a five-year-old like me could fit. She looked at me and gave me a soft smile, a smile I would never forget. Her brilliant blue eyes glistened with tears that refused to flow. “Donovan, stay here. You could be hurt out there. One of the villagers will come get you later. If they don’t, listen for the words ‘Warnta’. The people who say that will help you.” I nodded, even though I did not understand. For hours on end, a war kept raging on. When are people coming to get me? After a few hours of war, silence was brought upon our land. Momma? I hear, “Warnta!” I peeked out of my tiny hidey-hole and looked around. Mother was nowhere to be seen. There was a man with ash blond hair, reaching just past his ears, looking around, looking a bit crestfallen with the amount of casualties now laying around him. He noticed me and looked a tiny bit surprised that a survivor, much less a child, had survived. The blackened craters which now carve the mountains that were meant to protect us were haunted with the unsuccessful attempt to save the town. Trees and bodies littered the ground, some burned, others with wounds from arrows, swords, or daggers. The man picked me up and left with me on his shoulders. We left my land in shambles.
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The Spirit Within
FantasyDonovan and his friends are out on a quest and gain some friends, all while recovering some ancient magic and ways. Just realized I never mentioned, but this is basically post-apocalyptic, so there are some modern, some new, and some old. This is wa...
