The twin fortress islands of Rhodeus and Rimera once served as the foundation for the Southern Isles regional militia and were the first to fall under the Dragoness's new empire before the Religious Purge wiped out Ethomoore, fracturing faith and security throughout the region in the years since.
The lush mountainscapes now reeked of death, and the citadels burrowed into the rock lay dormant and reclaimed by the wilderness. When the Isles lost its ability to defend itself, it was overtaken in a matter of days.
Lawlessness reigned. Without order, nations evolved. Port Haradem harboured thieves, scoundrels and murderers. Ethomoore became a vast grave, and Roxundam was the heart of a new legacy of evil.
But not everything was a curse. Not for Loranna Van Sin.
Beneath the Dragoness's tyranny, there was freedom for a people oppressed for generations—an opportunity to be valued and loved.
Loranna climbed the tallest peak of Rimera's crooked topography, sweat sticking to her exhausted body while her lungs stung with each inhale of ash-tainted air she took. With every muscle in her arms trembling, Loranna pulled herself up the final rock, dug her fingernails into the dirt, and stood.
With her face freed from the obstruction of the red veil, she allowed her amber eyes to assess the befouled world.
Cannibal tormented the skies and investigated the surrounding area for signs of her prey. The dragon's shadow devoured the island in her wake, a gust of wind knocking Loranna off balance. She quickly reclaimed her footing and watched the other six dragons, ranging in colour from green, purple, and grey, loop around Rhodeus with accelerated efficiency.
With Roxundam's fall, a kingdom of mankind was destroyed, and an opportunity she had craved all her life was born.
Loranna could finally seize her power. She was no longer a weak Serpentblood or an abnormal species but a proud Talon embracing the present reality that adopted children of the Dragoness now held dominion over the Isles.
Even before the three years of darkness cloaked Roxundam, Talons were outsiders, lost souls always wrestling over which bloodline they most identified with. Were they more human or dragon? It was an age-old question that often garnered humiliation for Loranna and her people in society.
But things had changed.
Talons were now the alphas instead of the feeble omegas, feared and proclaimed to hold the fate of the new world.
"Daughter Forsaken, the dragons have searched every crevasse on the islands. There is no sign of the traitors or their ship."
Loranna looked upon Sister Forsaken as she struggled onto the rock, her breaths rapid and heavy.
"What about a wreckage?" Loranna asked.
"Nothing," said Brother Forsaken, soon joining the gathering. "We searched for gulls circling debris in the water but found no evidence that their ship sank into the depths."
"Yet you assured me an ocean tempest would surely condemn them to the cold, blue hell of the sea floor," Loranna said, keeping her tone sharp. "Heran could not have sailed far. There is nowhere else to go! Tell the dragons to fly another perimeter. Scour the fortresses. I want them found!"
Brother Forsaken grunted. "We already have-"
Standing close to him, Loranna unsheathed one of Brother's rapier swords and swung outwards, severing his left hand.
Crimson blood spurted from the wound as Brother fell to his knees, wailing in pain.
"Do it again," Loranna demanded.
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RISEN | ONC 2024
FantasyA boy born with Serpentblood. An exiled dwarf in pursuit of his destiny. A she-elf guided by a religious prophecy. Together, they must rise to find the coveted Light of the World, a saviour who promises to tip the scale of waging Spiritual War in t...
