The Sisters of Westwinter
The First Law of Atla
Prologue I – Emry of the River
“To be known by your peers a sacred duty, that we are the fire which mustn’t snuff out another’s.”The Book of Kor; Chapter 81, Line 26.
Dragons had not always lived in the valley, long before they’d arrived it instead was the home to a winding channel. Knee deep and filled with flitting wildlife and round pebbles. The banks overgrown with bitter Fickleleaf flower which only blossomed in the winter. Swathes of shrubs and trees guarded the rapids from the clawed feet of the mountains, and provided a shelter for the animals that made the river their home. From where the water burst forth to create such a violent spectacle, few had ever seen. Atop a ridge deep within the mountains held the hushed rumor told by villagers and merchant. Supposedly, there lived a secret society upon the mountainside. If one were to climb into the ridge, they would find a great sparkling lake filled with water blessed by spirits and gods. All who knew of the channel had heard the rumors, but one child who called the valley her home cherished it especially…
Emry Windsholm loved the river, especially so in the first chill of winter as the edge of the banks would freeze over and shimmer beneath the sparkling sun. She and her family had lived there since long before she was born, in a small cabin nestled beyond the tree line but still beneath the watchful gaze of the water. She grew in earnest beside the running stream and in the winter when she was young, her mother took her after each snowfall to pick Fickleleaf and Frostharrow Weed. In the autumn she would hunt with her father. A small bow bent by his own hand and tied with twine her mother had wrapped bounced along her frame as she climbed logs and crouched through underbrush, learning the ways of pursuit. When the winter snow thawed and gave way to spring, she marched to her brothers’ bedroom and demanded they forage for sticks and reeds to build a raft. The first time in her youth, but it had quickly become a ritual to them.
As soon as the river picked up speed and the remnants of ice floated south on their way to the Lake Reilyr, resting on the Northern border of Hiliod Kingdom, they would make their way to a bend in the channel and set sail back to their cabin in a race against the deer and jays they shared the forest with.
The river in their valley was more to her than a simple source of water. As she grew alongside it, she felt herself in tune with the body. With each new knuckle length of hair draped down her head, the river grew thinner. Passing years were not kind to her valley, nor to her family. With the cycle of every year from her youth, she’d raft in the spring and pick bitter flowers in the harsh winter. Two season cycles would pass, on the eave of her tenth year before she woke to find her mother gone from her bed and her father sobbing on the starving shoreline. He would tell her that her mother had gone in the night. Taken by a bear, and he could do nothing to spare her, that they should return to the cabin lest the bear’s children find themselves hungry. Emry listened to his story and knew the river had too, but silenced her questions in obedience.
Still, she obeyed and did as she was told. From that day on she quietly aided around the house and tended to the garden her mother had started before she was born under her father’s careful eye. She continued to pick Fickleleaf as she always had, but a present worry only grew inside of her heart. The rushing of the river a reminder of the night her mother had left, perished at the cruel hands of the forest. In the summer of her twelfth, she could feel the sound of the leaves in the wind. The earth beneath her robbed of something she knew she’d lost, but couldn’t find the words to place. In the winter of her fifteenth, foraging for berries and herbs as she had made tradition, she found trampled bushes and marked trees. Symbols unfamiliar to her carved into the trunks of trees she’d always known, a message she could not understand.
In the Autumn of her eighteenth, she had packed her knife and bow and met her father on the deck. They packed snares and food tight into a leather bag and set off into the woods while her brothers remained home to care for the cabin. It was then, in the crisp cold air that carried falling leaves to their resting place that once more omens had appeared in the forest. Carved trees lined worn paths, boot prints tracked through the underbrush and led to vicious metal traps unlike any she’d seen before. Razor sharp jaws littered the hunting ground she’d known like her own heart, and as she came upon a fawn trapped inside of the clenched teeth she did not understand, she leveled an arrow at it with a tear in her eye and faced for the first time her own heart’s new scars.
The steel teeth of the foreigner’s traps claimed more lives than Emry could count, and each one she softly put out of its misery. Each arrow she imbedded into the body of a helpless animal sent a shock through her as the valley itself mourned the shed blood. The trampled paths only grew deeper and more common the deeper they moved. Her father held his hand and called her to stop when they crossed a camp fire, tinder still smoldering atop a pile of hot coal.
They took all they could carry back to their home and spoke little of what they’d seen. Not until the spring of her twenty first, when she told her father to great objection that she was worried about the valley, about their home. He dismissed her and sent her off to the garden, but she instead walked to the river. Her heart pulled at her as she took a seat beside the still thinning stream. All around her she could see the signs of life not native to her home. Marked trees dotted the landscape and much of the woodland life had fled. Few berry bushes remained close to their home, and the river still grew weaker by the day. Since the night her mother had died, it had become thin enough she could step across it in some places, though still deep in others. Her eyes followed the running water back to the mouth, at the foot of a great mountain two days hike from her cabin. There, hidden behind trees and mist she stared at the ridge.
That night as she slept, her mind was racked with stories from her childhood. Legends her mother had passed on to her about the Ridge and the rumors of what laid inside of it. Stories about spirits and magic filled her dreams, and on the ridge stood her mother, surrounded by cascading waterfalls and carved stone pillars. Emry stepped within and embraced her mother, who promised her the world would not change anymore. The lake at the center of the grand cavern filled and filled, until it swallowed them both and Emry gasped for breath, lurching up from her bed and sputtering. Her heart raced, and she decided she could wait no longer.
She stood and took her hunting sack from its place at her bedside. She loaded up her hunting knife and her bow, a coil of rope and a bedroll. Quiet as she could, she crept through the house to the store room on the other side and took a week’s worth of berries, apples and bread from their kitchen and wrapped it tightly in a linen. She stuffed two handfuls of her father’s jerky into her trouser pocket and passed back through the house to her father’s room to quietly wish him goodbye. As she knelt down and gently placed her lips on his forehead, she caught the sight of torchlight from the forest, a stone’s throw from the cabin.
She backed away from her father as the firelight bobbed in the creeping darkness. What few candles her father had kept lit she doused with her fingers as she crept her way back through the cabin and toward her bedroom window. With a deep breath, she pushed it open and climbed out onto the ground below. Crouched against the cold earth, she sidled her way toward the dense underbrush and away from the torch-bearers on the other side of the house. Hidden beneath the low hanging branches the group of torch bearing men passed by on the other side of the river. Each of six dressed in furs with multiple layers wrapped tight with belts. Swords bounced at each of their sides and their hips were decorated with many pouches. One, however, at the front of the line wore something she’d never seen before. Beneath his ankle length fur coat Emry made out the shape of snake scales, each of which reflected light and glittered in the darkness against the flame.
The group passed by her cabin without pause, and disappeared around a bend in their path out of sight of the cabin. When she could no longer see the flicker of their torches, she turned toward the ridge and set off. The moonlight lit her path well enough that she could make out any metal traps she and her father had forgotten to disarm. Slowly she moved through the forest, certain her father would be hot on her heels the following morning when he’d realized she was gone.
The first day of her travel she’d moved through trails she’d been walking since childhood. Long, tangled paths through the forest beaten in by the feet of her family. These paths carried her through hunting traps to foraging grounds that had long since run dry of flowers or berries. She maneuvered through clearing after clearing, filled with deserted nests and burrows. Each new step further away from what she knew brought with it a familiar feeling that had gnawed at her tender heart as long as she could remember. When she reached the camp she’d come across years before and found it recently used. It had been doused with something sweet, which attracted flies and other vagrant insects. The sick sweet aroma of rotten fruit masked the smell of burnt firewood. Nearby, one of the metal traps had sprung, blood still half dried on the teeth. She continued past the camp quickly, not waiting for the owner of the trap to return.
The sun rose on her second day as she trudged through forest she’d hardly seen before, let alone ventured into. There the trees were marked, and swathes of vegetation had been carved through. Bare dirt beaten in by footfalls exposed paths. These were wide and structured. Far more worn than the footpaths near her home, and she took to passing through the underbrush for the duration of her second day’s journey. She plucked a berry or a piece of jerky from her pack every so often and pushed through the mounting fatigue until she arrived at the end of her second day at the base of the ridge. She emerged from the tree line to meet a weak waterfall that poured into a small lake surrounded by stained rocks. The thin brown lines ringed the stones and marked the height at which the lake once stood, and she climbed upon a large boulder to observe the scene. Her sweat caked brow itched as she laid out her bedroll and tied a rope around her pack. Another handful of berries later, she tossed it up into a tree and climbed into her bedroll nestled in a crevice of stone half covered by the mist of the waterfall.
The third day came quickly, and abruptly. The morning sun shot light down onto her face as she jolted awake and rolled from her bed, her eyes peeled apart the surroundings and when she had satisfied herself that she had not been found, she collected her things and took to the rocky wall of the ridge.
With the sun high above and a gentle breeze against her, she gripped a stone outcropping and pulled herself up. One after another, she spent the majority of her final day on the face of the ridge, until she reached a flat ledge. She hoisted herself onto the stone outcropping and let the sun wash over her and soothe the ache of her arms. Spring in the valley had always been warm, but with each passing year it had only been growing hotter. This day was no exception and as she lay on the warm ledge the exhaustion from her recent trek through the woods pulled on her. By the time the sun had crested wholly over the mountains and cast its glare down upon her, she took a moment to gaze down to the sprawling river far below. She traced the river with her eyes as it wound through the forest and back to the cabin where she was certain her father had already left in search of her. She let out a long sigh as her eyes rested on a small clearing in the forest where many figures roamed along the ground. A group gathered against a large tree, and she watched curiously as they carved through the trunk and toppled it. The great pine swayed at first, and then tilted to its side and crashed through the branches of its neighbors. As the tree cracked against the ground a flock of birds ejected themselves from the woods and flew away and the figures cheered. Emry’s eyes jumped from clearing to clearing and saw all along the valley there were clearings filled with felled trees. Trunks shaved of branches and bark lined the open earth, bound with large chains. Wagons and more figures all across the valley chopped the logs down and loaded them. Where they were going, Emry did not know.
She turned from the sight and continued her climb up the ridge. With a heave, she lifted herself up one hand hold at a time until she found herself at the top, the crown of the waterfall bubbled and frothed a few arm spans to her right side. She pulled one final time and hoisted herself up onto the ledge to meet the mouth of a massive cave. The ledge poured water down to the lake below jutted out like a jaw, and from the basin the cave was nearly impossible to see. She took an uncertain step in and met stone that glittered all along the dark walls. As she pushed further into the tunnel, she stepped alongside a thin running river, that came from a much larger source. She rounded a bend in the tunnel and emerged into a gigantic cave unlike what she had imagined in her dreams. There were no pillars around the walls, no spirits frolicked through the yawning darkness, but there was a body of standing water in a knee-deep bowl at the center. From this water poured the river she’d grown up knowing and loving. As she stepped forward, she placed her hand on the glittering stone wall, her other hand reached into her pack to fetch her torch as she waded into the water. She lit the torch and knelt into the pool to touch the cold, crystal clear water.
She turned to survey the walls of the cave, which sparkled beneath the flickering light of her torch. The stone etched in a faint pattern repeated across the entirety of the wall. She waded through the water and along the wall, her fingers traced the divots in the stone. Faint, rounded triangles in rows. Somewhat like the scales of a snake.
“Is this what I’ve known my whole life?” She asked herself aloud, as she took in the massive size of the wall. A few steps before her, strange spikes jutted from the wall, a single row that steadily grew in size the further along the wall they went, towards the back of the cave. She continued further into the darkness, and the water beneath her grew deeper as she followed the spikes until they sank behind a large crack in the wall and disappeared into the darkness. The wall itself stretched at a sharp angle, like folded bat’s wings piled atop one another. Far, far above in the darkness, there was an opening. She paused to consider climbing the wall, as a rumble began to shake the cave.
“You are Emry of the River.” A growling voice echoed softly through slow, heavy breaths. “I have waited some time to meet you. Come, sit beside me.”
“Who are you?” She called, and spun to face the mouth of the cave, the spiked wall on her left as she scanned the room, searching for the source of the voice. As she took a step forward she slipped on the wet rock and caught herself on one of the stone spikes and then, the wall began to move.
“I am your river.”
Her skin prickled at the words. She jumped back and pushed herself against the far wall of the cave as the wall she’d just walked along rolled and repositioned itself, sprawling along the darkness, she realized the glittering was not stone at all.
It was scales.
“You’ve known it to be your home since you were a child, Emry of the River.” The growling voice continued. “But you never knew what the river truly was.” She watched the mouth of the cave and waited as the wall near the opening slid towards her and spun, and from the darkness emerged a massive head, many times the size of her body as it turned to look at her with an eye as wide as she was tall that struggled to open, the dark crack in the wall which she’d once assumed led somewhere had twisted and turned and had become wings, tightly folded against the body of a massive glittering gray beast.
“Are you afraid, Emry of the River?” The voice growled again, the massive eye on the side of its face stared unblinking as if it depended on her reply.
“Who are you?” She asked through quivering breath.
“I am Jokull, and I am the river by which you call home.” It growled through pursed lips and revealed teeth longer and thicker than both of Emry’s legs. “But Young Emry, your arrival here is unexpected.” The dragon rolled back onto its other side and pressed its body against the opposite wall, its tremendous head rested against the water that soaked into its beard. As the Dragon came to rest, An open wound stretched across the belly of the beast at least two times her height, and from the depths of the wound poured a crystal clear water, rather than blood.
“I am dying, Young Emry.” Jokull spoke once more. His milky white eye locked on her, His great chest heaved each word.
Emry took a short breath and braved a step toward the beast, when it did not move, she took another. The thump of her heart banged against her as she approached the wound and placed a hand on the belly of the dragon. She had brought thread and a needle, but it would have been futile to patch up the dragon’s wound.
“What can I do to help you?” She turned to face the dragon’s head, which had swiveled across the cavern to face her. It’s skull four times her size and covered in many scars. Jokull pushed his head closer to her, and she reached a hand out to gently place upon his snout. The dragon nodded and allowed her to do so and as she touched each scale of his face she felt the bitter cold of coming death.
“Young Emry, you know not how to heal me.” It paused and took a long breath before it continued. “There is nothing you can do. Go, return to your family. Pack your things and move to a new valley. I cannot protect you anymore.”
Emry backed away from the dragon and folded her arms. “Why now? Why have I never known you existed, let alone that you ‘protected’ us?” She crossed to the dragon’s opposite eye.
“Because I promised your mother you never would.”
The dragon lurched its head from the pool and yawned, its tremendous jaw unhinged as a long hot breath emerged from within its throat. Emry shivered.
“Emry of the River, there is little time. They are coming for you. This land is no longer safe. We can’t protect you anymore.” Jokull growled as his yawn came to a close.
“I don’t need protecting.” She huffed and stepped out of the water. “I want answers. How do you know my mother?” She paced back and forth, her mind flooded with possibility. Her mother died, her father vowed as such. Had this dragon killed her?”
“Emry.” Jokull interrupted her thoughts. “You must leave. There will be no further discussion about this.”
Emry huffed and sat defiantly on the cold stone of the cavern, her eyes locked on the dragon. Her mind flushed with wonder as the water trickled from the swollen wound. The faint splash behind the labored breath of the dragon the only sound in the cave. She let her mind run free for a time before, from the mouth of the cave came an incredible rush of air followed immediately by a crash. She ducked behind Jokull’s great beard. The wet hair of the dragon wrapped itself around her in the water, tangling around her ankles like seaweed. His massive mouth exhaled warm breath that somehow comforted and terrified her. Despite her fear, she remained focused on the mouth of the cave, trembling in the water.
From around the bend a shadow stretched. Another dragon approached. This one much smaller than the other. Short horns protruded from its head, a third of the size of Jokull. This dragon larger than a horse but not so large Emry would mistake it for a wall in a cave. It stepped through the cave entrance and into the darkness, glittering golden scales reflected the dim light from the mouth of the cave.
“Jokull,” The new dragon began. “I was unaware you were cavorting with humans again.” This voice, while still gravelly and rough was a much higher pitch than the first. The golden dragon approached Jokull’s body with nostrils flared.
“I can smell you, girl.”
The golden beast crept around Jokull’s head. Each step sent a new wave of fear coursing through Emry as she ducked further beneath Jokull’s beard. The gray dragon remained still. She put her hands to her mouth and slowed her breathing. The golden dragon reared its head around Jokull’s jaw and met her, face to face. “What do you want with my father?” It growled.
“Nothing!” Emry blurted out. Her heartbeat pounded her chest as she stared down the creature. “I wanted to see where the river began, and it led me here.”
The dragon huffed blistering hot air in her direction and laid down, blocking her escape from the entanglement of hair. Then it spoke again.
“Tell me, girl. Did it live up to your expectations?” The dragon’s lips widened in a grin.
Emry ignored the question and gestured toward the wound on Jokull’s body. “What happened to him?” His breathing slowed dramatically and above her, his eyes fell closed.
“He was hunted.” The golden dragon spat. “Like the rest of us.” It slithered its tongue out of its mouth and licked its teeth before it continued. “Jokull paid the price so the rest of his brood might live. Have you come here to finish the job?”
Emry glanced back to the gray dragon’s belly, and saw then what she hadn’t noticed before. It was a rough wound, jagged and ripped, but it was straight. This wasn’t the result of an accident or a wayward branch. It was intentional. The ankles of the Golden Dragon bore numerous scars, like jagged metal teeth had bitten into them. It’s scales were chipped or completely removed from its skin in other places. Thick scars covered the exposed soft flesh where the scales could no longer defend it. “We are hunting you?”
“To extinction.” The dragon growled. “So I hope you will make this easier for me.”
The golden dragon raised a claw above its head. Emry clawed her eyes shut and curled down beneath Jokull’s jaw, fear gripped her. She waited, but as the Golden dragon moved she felt Jokull’s jaw above her. She opened her eyes to see that he reached out with one of his massive claws and caught hers.
“Balshenai, I forbid you from harming this child.” The cave rattled under the boom of Jokull’s voice. “Let her return to her family. She has done nothing to harm us.”
The golden dragon lowered its claw and stood to walk away from Emry. It continued toward the mouth of the cave and paused when Emry spoke.
She pushed her way through the tangle of Jokull’s hair and stood once more in the clear cavern air. “Let me help you.” She pleaded.
“Help us with what, human?” Balshenai turned to face her once more.
“I am a hunter, my father is a hunter. There must be something we can do. We have leather and I’m sure there is something we can do to help you Jokull.” She turned to face the gray dragon once more.
Balshenai laughed. “You intend to heal Jokull with a needle and thread?”
Emry stood and faced the golden dragon, her knees shook as she opened her mouth. “I want to help, however I can. It isn’t fair for him to die like this.”
Balshenai laughed once more. “Fairness isn’t a part of life, girl.”
Emry stepped over to her pack and withdrew her knife. She quickly sliced it into long strips, and took the metal hooks that bound it together into her hand before she returned to Jokull’s side. She worked steadily while Balshenai paced behind her, but with some work she managed to pierce the dragon’s belly with the metal hooks and bound them to strips of leather. She only managed a few strips, but when she was finished the large wound had closed, if only slightly.
“Why waste your time, girl?” Balshenai quipped from across the cavern.
“Because life is sacred, dragon.”
Emry finished hooking the last strip of leather into the wound and took a step back, Jokull, who had drifted to sleep while she worked, slowly awoke.
“Emry of the River, this will not last.” He spun his head to look at her. “But thank you for trying.”
“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” She turned to face Balshenai. “We aren’t all killers, dragon. I didn’t even known your kind existed until this morning.”
Behind her, the gray dragon grinned. “Oh child, I know.” He began. That was by design.” He lifted her water skin from the pool, which had fallen in when she sliced apart her pack. “Drink, child. Then return home.”
“Will I be able to return?” Emry asked, plucking the water skin from the end of the massive claw. Jokull nodded. She took a sip, and as soon as it touched her lips the fatigue of the hike and the fear of what either of the dragons could do to her faded away immediately. A sense of peace washed over her that she couldn’t describe.
“Balshenai, return this girl to her home.”
Balshenai groaned and stepped toward the mouth of the cave, not waiting for Emry to follow. She quickly ran and collected her knife and a handful of jerky before she followed after Balshenai. When she caught up to the golden dragon, she was sitting on her haunches with her wings unfurled and laid flat against the stone.
“Hurry, girl. I don’t want to be seen.”
Emry listened and climbed onto the dragon’s back. She opened her mouth to speak but Balshenai lifted her wings and stood, leaping from the ridge and jostling Emry around so much she could barely breathe, let alone speak. The dragon dipped down and shot them both rocketing towards the lake below. Emry slammed her eyes shut as her stomach climbed into her throat, and waited to be thrown from the dragon’s back, but as they neared the lake Balshenai extended her wings and pulled back, sending them coasting down river and back toward Emry’s cabin. It was a short flight but Balshenai delivered her a few hundred feet away from where she’d left days before. As Emry disembarked, Balshenai rested a large claw on her shoulder.
“Emry of the River, he called you?”
“Remain Emry of the River, and move to another valley. This one is not safe for your family any longer.”
“Why?” Emry crossed her arms. “You’ve been telling me but you haven’t told me why it isn’t safe.”
Balshenai lowered her head. “Because war is coming, girl. A war which Jokull promised you would not be a part of.”
Emry glanced back to the ridge for a moment, and then returned her gaze to the dragon before her whose golden scales glistened in the setting sunlight.”I do not listen to dragons, Balshenai. I will decide for myself.”
She grumbled and launched herself up into the air without another word as Emry turned back toward her cabin. She used down the river until her home was once more in sight and ran onto the patio that overlooked their garden. Her mind raced with the events from the past day, and she’d nearly forgotten as she burst through the door that her father and brothers would likely be out looking for her.
“Father! I’ve got news!” She called into the cabin, but no answer returned. The air was still as she headed toward her father’s bedroom.
“Father?” She called again. Then placed her hand on his door. “Perhaps they are out looking for me still.” She pushed the door open and found her father lying on his bed in a pool of his own blood. Her brother’s bodies piled in a corner covered in cuts and bruises. Sharp incisions along both of their jaws still gushed blood.
Her throat clogged as she rushed to his side. “Father!” She screamed and pressed her hands to his chest, her fingertips drenched in blood.
She jumped over the bed and to her brothers, whose bodies were a tangled mess beside her father’s closet. “No.” She whispered as tears burst from her eyes. She pressed her hands to their chests and felt the stillness of their hearts.
Then, outside the cabin a single torch light flickered in the darkness, approaching. Her mind flashed with the image of the man in scaled armor. The party of men who walked behind him. Their fur coats, the insignia each of them bore. A golden bird standing upon two crossed stakes. Each of them crawling down the river bank as if they were searching for something.
She fell onto the bed, her father’s body drenched with blood as tears burst from her eyes. She glanced back to her brothers bodies once more before she collapsed back against the floor and sobbed. The force of each pounded against her skull. She remained there, heaving breath and watching tears fall until her headache was splitting and the flies had found her family. In was then she summoned courage from a memory of her father.
“My dear little Emry, To Struggle is to Sacrifice.”
She remembered his words then as if they’d been forced upon her, and she stood. She stepped out of her father’s room to gather a shovel and some linen. When she’d collected them she made her way to the river bank, in a spot shallow enough to wade through but not so deep as to peel the mud from their resting placed. She jammed the shovel into the ground and began to dig.
For hours, she worked in silence as the sun fell behind the mountaintops and cast shadows upon the valley. She stood in chest high water and continued dig, and when she had dug enough she returned to her father’s room. Her tattered tunic sopping wet, and slick with their blood she wrapped each of her family members in their own linen and took them gently down to the place she’d dug. She laid each of them calmly in the water and covered the grave, the low water level even lower than when she’d first started. When she finished, she filled in the hole and returned to her home, now hers and hers alone, and sat on her mother’s side of the bed. She stared into the night and reminisced on her childhood and her adolescence, and wondered if Jokull was warning her for a reason.
Emry remained still for some time before she heard the faint sounds of rustling in the trees beyond her window. She turned to meet the sound and saw once more, a torch light. This single flickering flame that bounced in the darkness cast a glow on the pale face of a man in a fur coat, with a sword at his side. He peered into the cabin, carefully checking his surroundings as he made his way to the front door. Without a sound, Emry stood and collected her father’s bow, which hung by the closet. The floor boards soiled with her brother’s dried blood. She took an arrow from his quiver and knocked it, then stepped to the other side of the bed. She waited as his footsteps drew nearer. Each thud louder, and louder inside of her head as the boots of the approaching man rocked her lungs. She quieted her breath as he pushed open the door, the torch light shone a yellow-orange glow into the blood stained bedroom, and he jumped when he realized she was there.
“Who are you?” He asked, and drew his blade.
She stared at him for a moment as he waited for her answer, and she gave it.
“I am Emry of the River. Because of you, I buried my father and brothers in Dragon’s Blood. Tonight, I will find you and your company, and I will bathe you all in Dragon’s Fire.”
Then, she released the arrow.
It feels great coming out of hibernation like this. The world is crazy right now, and things are overwhelming. I’ve been doing what I do best (write and cry) I hope this new project helps take your mind off of things for a while.
“The Law of Atla” [Working Title] is a new Fantasy project I’ve been working hard to bring to life for a while now, and with big plans to release it weekly here for you to enjoy! Make sure you follow me on socials (linked below!) to stay up to date on release schedules and to see some extra goodies about the creation of this series and the characters you will come to meet!
[Still getting used to being back on a posting schedule, bear with me while I adjust and work out something that will work for me!]
Until next time. 🔺