John Jones
Stories
6
Chapters
3,883
Words
1.6 M
Comments
0
Reading
5 d, 15 h
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Three days had slipped away, and the day of departure towards the summit had finally arrived. The palace buzzed with an undercurrent of anticipation as preparations for the journey were set in motion. The courtyard echoed with the sounds of bustling servants, the clattering of horses' hooves, and the murmurs of advisors finalizing arrangements.? Yet, amidst the flurry of activity, Lyon's mind remained clouded by the enigmatic revelation of his lineage's involvement in the lost age. As he gathered his…
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"Lyon, I think you understand what this means, right?" asked Nyi with a tinge of excitement in his tone. His eyes brightened as new hope was unveiled right before his very eyes. "I can guess," said Lyon. "Though, if you used my relationship as a tool in the summit, you can't really weed out your enemies." "That's the consequence," Nyi sighed. "However, Drogan can't really do anything now, unless he is willing to risk offending one of the young masters of the Sky Clan." "Would he now?" Lyon raised…
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Nyi's hands shook as he held the weight of the formal invitation letter. His eyes traced the elegant calligraphy, each word carrying the gravity of the impending events. The realization settled upon him like a heavy cloak, the knowledge that the tides of war were rising, threatening to engulf the land he held dear. Leander, his father, watched Nyi closely, sensing the mixture of trepidation and determination that played across his son's face. He placed a comforting hand on Nyi's shoulder, his voice…
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Nyi's smile slowly faded as he nervously asked Lyon, "I hope you don't take offense." Lyon raised his brows and looked at Nyi's slightly apologetic complexion. He giggled, "If you know who I truly am, I'll be the one asking you." "Huh?" Nyi was at a loss as he heard those words. As Nyi tried to utter something, Lyon slapped the back of his delt with a nod before leaving him. Lyon sighed inwardly as he was making his way back to the courtyard of the palace. A heavy burden was coiling around his…
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High King Leander held the weathered book in his hands, his expression betraying a mixture of concern and curiosity. The tattered cover and yellowed pages spoke of the book's age and the countless hands that had turned its leaves throughout time. "Nyi," Leander acknowledged his voice warm yet tinged with a trace of weariness. Nyi's curiosity burned brightly as he gazed at his father, High King Leander, his eyes filled with anticipation. He could barely contain his excitement as he posed the question…
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"Heh, as expected of Lyon's mother," said Nyi before his eyes sharpened. "During the battle with Drogan, I wish to help you, and I'm certain that you will need help." "A helping hand won't hurt," said Lyon. "Though, are you sure about this? From what I've heard so far, Drogan will not be alone." "Burgeon Swan is with him, at least the loyalists, and Drogan's support, not to mention his right-hand man, Ferece is with him as well and also Niamh," said Nyi. "All will be revealed at the final battle."…
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Queen Mother Isabella's eyes widened in astonishment as the words reached her ears. The revelation that Lyon had once come so close to victory in an archery competition, only to be bested by an elf who was destined to be the Elven Emperor, struck her as a remarkable feat. A mixture of surprise and intrigue danced across her features, momentarily disrupting her regal composure. But then, as quickly as the shock had taken hold, Queen Mother Isabella's melodic laughter ran across the courtyard. Her…
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As the first rays of the morning sun danced through the opulent chamber, Lyon stirred from his slumber. The plushness of the bed beneath him provided a sense of comfort and luxury, a stark contrast to the humble origins from which he hailed. Stretching his limbs, Lyon allowed his senses to fully awaken, immersing himself in the grandeur of the surroundings. The chamber, a testament to the royal hospitality of King Nyi, exuded an air of elegance and refinement. Intricately carved furnishings adorned with…
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King Father Leander sat in the dimly lit library of Elyrianth's palace, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls. His aged hands delicately turned the pages of a book on mystical beasts, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. The moon, casting a silvery glow through the stained glass windows, illuminated the room, adding an ethereal touch to the atmosphere. His son's words echoed in his mind—descriptions of an extraordinary transformation, a manifestation of power and wonder.…
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The guard stood rigidly before King Father Leander, his eyes widening in surprise as he witnessed the unexpected movement of the aging monarch. King Father Leander's gaze fixated upon the grand entrance of the palace, his brows furrowing with concern. The guard said, "Your Highness, is something amiss?" King Father Leander answered, "Wake my son, I need to speak with him." The guard's astonishment quickly transformed into a resolute determination as he comprehended the gravity of the situation.…
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