Category: Serial Fiction

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

Ashen Rider — Part Two

TWO In our darkest hour We trudged through the sands. Beneath clear, open sky We boiled in our armor. My horse collapsed at my feet And I was thankful. Her suffering was great Existence tortured. I did not give her a name If I had, I would not have remembered. Unknown author “March to Idraan,” found on a soldier’s body, Year 31. I — On a thoroughfare in Monrovia The Vale Betwixt, first layer of Pandemonium There had been no time to think; she could only run. Kateryna had no desire to think. Thinking meant reflection, and what she had…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

Ashen Rider — Part One

ONE Tonight, we have lost our god! I asked my sister where the god went, And she did not know. “Poof!” she said, “Gone in a cloud of smoke!” And I asked, “What of dearest grandmother? What of her?” But sister only shrugged. “We are alone now,” she said, “No one helms the ferry.” The river has flooded with silver And no one helms the ferry. We are alone now. And so I left my home In desperate search for my god. But still, I did not find her. I found only gray carrion fields, Glowing red by brutal light…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

The Scarlet Chair — Prelude to Ashen Rider

Year 398, during the first Wystran rebellion We made camp in the Kaldkrik, a moldering bog just beyond the borders of the Golden City. The march was merciless and brutal; we’d lost three hundred men crossing our own lands. We knew the risks. We knew the land. We were tired of the southerners laying claim to our home, weary of the Valentines telling us how to be—we’re Wystrans. We know how to be. So we assembled and followed the infallible Queen Collantz over the deadly chain across the Wyse. The motherland is ours, but her winds care not for whom…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

Synchrony — The Weight of a Torch — Part Two

Nael jolted awake. His breath was rapid. Shallow. He gasped. Gulped for air. Heart pounding in his chest. Skipping beats. Speeding up, slowing down, threatening to rip free. “Nael? You okay?” a gentle voice said above him. A teenage girl peered down from her bunk, dangling upside down to face him, her thin face only visible by the moonlight spilling in through the window, reflected in her hazel eyes. She wore fine silken pajamas, simple in design but of a much higher quality than what Nael wore. Her long blonde hair draped all the way to the floor; her expression…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part Five

VIII A Blade Reborn Sight returned to the dead man. Lying upon a bed of lilies, his gaze was met by the somnolent eye of the moon drifting towards the west. Stars flickered as candles in the quilt of night, beacons guiding the weary moon to its diurnal repose. Envy had flared within Izrak’s mind, now replaced by cool sympathy. The moon’s journey was not yet over, and many long hours remained until its passing. An echo; a thought; a memory called to the dead man from the ether. Izrak clutched the worn pouch at his hip. Please… let me…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part Four

VI IT OPENS FROM WITHIN Vision returned to Izrak as he knelt before his executioner. A broken blade lay upon the sand. My son. The mercenary looked up. Ryol kneeled before him, leaning on his grandfather’s sword, its edges dull and rusted, the sigils along the fuller now faded. No longer the dark warrior, Ryol was once again the image of a boy, no more than sixteen. As you were… so long ago. Staring at Izrak, the boy remained silent. Izrak reached out a trembling hand. Ryol’s flesh began to fall away in flakes of ashen decay, his body withering…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part Three

IV DARK SUN Vision returned to Izrak as he stood upon the altar. Lebi was gone, taking with her whatever warmth had remained to a day growing cold under the weary eye of the late afternoon sun. The dead man fell to his knees. Trembling fingers raked over the stone where she had stood mere moments before—and yet so long ago. His roar reverberated through the chamber, his eyes flaring with hellfire. Stone fractured under the force of his fists crashing against the floor. Then silence, and Izrak shrank into himself. Light spilled into the narthex as the iron doors…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part Two

II ONLY ONCE Faith is patience. Resilient in its timeless endurance, faith remains a steadfast sanctuary for lost and weary wanderers of epochs burdened with strife and discontent. Yet faith is not without tribulation. All must pass through the valley of shadow, where hope is naught but a dim light, a distant memory of halcyon days, long since forgotten. And as the afternoon sun drifted towards uncertain horizons, golden light fading behind a veil of grief laden clouds , Izrak Laav came upon a church in the outskirts of the Old City. It was a stout building, despite its age.…

Serial Fiction Sword and Sorcery

A Valley of Shadow — Part One

Prologue No one expects a dead man to walk through the front door. This time was no different. The dozen patrons of the Soul’s Lament went silent as the cobbled door whined on its hinges, and Izrak Laav crossed over the threshold, ducking his head as he passed inside. A trio of men, grim faces flushed, eyes glazed in a half-drunken stupor, sat at a table near the door. Shifting in their chairs as the dead man approached, they whispered as quivering hands hovered over unseen knives. Izrak glanced at the vagrants, the iron studs of his jerkin and mail…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

The Weight of a Torch — Part One

The sun had already set as Kaia approached a squat wooden inn, nestled right off the side of the Celias Way. It was the only structure for miles around, its battered, iron door opening directly to the road. When she approached the threshold, the door swung open, carving a path for the scents of spiced meat and hearty stew to meander into the night air. She lingered at the threshold, staring into an empty dining room, dimly lit with tallow candles. She took a deep breath. “I am but a traveler, seeking rest, that we might hold together the fraying…