Dyansty Stories

It's ever spring's thaw beyond the shore, and so I know, and so I know. The dead sprout wings while the salt rain pours, and so I know, and so I know. The prey bird falls as the trodden rat soars, and so I know, and so I know. The streams shall slow, and the blood shall shore, the flames come to dance, my lord. The flames come to play. The flames come to dance, my lord. The flames come to flay. The flames come to dance, my lord. The embers come to stay. It's been a century and a half since the reign of Velarion the Conqueror, a time most people call the Aveon Golden Age. It is an era of excess and peace, stability and justice. But as a child monarch ascends to a throne he wasn't originally meant to inherit, tiny cracks start to show as nobles scheme and plot. Soon, chasms will open to swallow the nation whole.