"We're done for today, Ōval," Maron said as he walked away from his throne, his legs trembling as he did. "Are you sure, your grace? I should remain by your side until the moment of your sleep," Ōval stated as he joined his king, walking out from the throne room. "I'm sure," Maron said and … Continue reading Ōval, the blade of the king and the last Charitar of the south. Jalten Short Stories #9
The wind sent waves of dust over the melancholic plains. The once green fields were now lands of corruption and death. Green had faded away and grey had taken its place. Instead of water, dark liquid flowed through the land, poisoning the very earth below. It was a wound, created thousands of years ago when … Continue reading The eastern lands and the greatest Warlord, Ukramon. Jalten Short Stories #8
"Raise the gate!" a guard shouted from the frozen citadel of Aronailos. Mehron walked with determination, staring at the raising gate with fury. His blood-red cape brushed the snowy ground, collecting ice and snow as it did and his hair moved freely in the wind, like the oaks during a storm. After he got inside, … Continue reading Darkness, who lingers under the ice. Jalten short stories #7
"Do they know?" Zylron asked carefully as he poured some wine for himself and his friend. "Only I know, my lord," sir Oran said as he closed the door slowly. He kept his eye on the halls ahead until the door was fully closed. He then locked it and blocked all possible lines of sight … Continue reading Zylron’s secret and sir Oran. Jalten Short Stories #6
"We're not so different, you and I," Thorald said as he fixed his brown feather-covered cape. "Your people are almost like mine. Both of the same origin, yet different from one another,"
"The sun is rising," Calin muttered to himself as he took a sip of his wine while leaning onto a stone railing. He stood at the mountain of arma, at the highest tower of the great castle of Talros, his family. He had lived here his entire life and the castle has been the home … Continue reading The Gates of the East. Jalten Short Stories #4
Osval glanced at all of them, before walking out from the room, without saying a word. Gods, look upon us at this hour of need, he thought.
"Is this justice? Is this truly an act the Gods see as right? If it is… I must be blind" Mehron gazed upon the frozen valley of Aronailos with a deep expression of grief on his face. His long white hair wobbled in the sharp and cold wind and his silver skin glittered in the … Continue reading The pain of Mehron, the grand warden of the north. Jalten short stories #2