The picture above, is of Death Valley. One of the most desolate places on earth. And yet, seen like this, it is also one of the most beautiful. Kind of hopeful, isn't it? The following excerpt is very old. I wrote it several years ago, and I can't remember why. But with a few fixes, it's ready for the post, and hopefully it will help inspire you. Please post feedback! I'm always looking for constructive criticism.
She levitated on her mountain, smiling through glowing coal eyes at the world beneath her. The little heroes, silver light around their little frames, fighting their valiant little battles. Constant clashes, screams, wails, even laughter spreading to the red horizon. She had just inherited this lovely show from her mother, but it was already coming to a close. Humanity was slowly learning to compromise, and the heroes were winning. The unrest was lessening. Time to restart.
Mortema raised an unblemished finger to her bee-stung lips, and blew a kiss over the masses. For what better to fight for, than love? A black shimmer floated and settled over the expanse. For a moment, all was still. Then hell broke loose. Silver auras turned red, and red turned Silver. The sides mixed. Her eyes brightened, turning to molten gold as the violence intensified. Her mother had been a fool to not use it sooner.
Furcifen appeared behind her, his grey-cloaked figure blinking into existence. They were silent for a bare moment, watching the havoc below. His slate-colored eyes met her gold ones, and she smiled, lips parting over white teeth as she lowered herself to stand on the soil and link her chilled hands behind his neck.
“How goes the tide?” His voice rumbled like thunder down the mountain, and sent a shiver up her spine.
“The tide continues. The war has restarted, and the heroes are falling.” Compared to his, her voice was sickly smooth and cloying.
“Then all is well.” again, the rumble.
“Do you bring news?”
“Proelium has died.”
Once again she smiled, laying her head on his chest.
“Finally. My mother will no longer reign over my control. And my father?”
“Your father lives, but he is attending for Proelium’s burial.”
Mortema pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Perfect,” she purred. “Bellum will kill him, and then I will truly wreak havoc on the little warriors.”
They both stared out over the red horizon, a thousand years of old dreams finally coming into fruition. More heroes were struck down, and the darkness continued to spread.
But she had underestimated heroes. They have survived everything so far, and the battle wasn’t over yet. Her plans were hanging by an invisible, mysterious thread.
Under Furcifen’s cloak, there was a dagger. Silver-edged, and intended for Mortema. Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. And many would willingly die to protect the others. This is a message to all of you. Not all is lost. Just hold on.
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