Past, present and future clashed, combining, tearing, clawing and scratching into lost fixtures, empires and figures. An avid inferno of emotions brewed within Lena’s barrel, drowning under the aches and pains of frustration, agony, anxiety and apprehension. Loyalty, valor, mettle and courageousness covered the onslaught of terror rippling through her, the brutality carved within her, and the nefarious ends conjured amongst her veins. Pulled, pushed, and drawn into varying avenues, smothering her mind in the smoky clouds of savagery again and again, until her dedication, her perseverance, her tenacity and stalwart prowess covered the shaking in her pillars, the quivering trace in her limbs. She’d committed many errors in her fluttering moments of Helovian crusades, dancing under solemn noses, harboring too many secrets and sharing none of her own, but defending her herd had never been one of them. The shadows stalked their hides, clutched, snagged, grasped at their souls, stole children from their nests, and her heart couldn’t refuse the call to arms, the whisper of war drumming at her ears. The apocalyptic chains courted her to urgency, to disaster, to ruin, until it was the constant beat of her own music, her own tunes, her own vivid hums courting her vocals, attempting to soothe her own swift, birdlike motions. But what was worse? To sink deep into their mountainous chasm, hide and watch as more of their brethren were snatched from the edges of darkness, seized and coiled in chains? To simmer in the fathoms and depths of their desecration, to seethe and boil, grind and clench, concoct nothing but the idle longing for vengeance? Or to bleed for them, yearn for them; desire their safety in the cloaks of peril, in the choking, smoldering tendrils of conquest, of triumph, of sieges and assaults?

Her steps took her from the silent auroras, crossing over newly rich soil, prospering from the alteration of seasons despite the imminent darkness, until she ultimately traced enemy lines. The World’s Edge, abyss, fog and mystery, familiar cliff tops she’d strolled in suns and moons past, her first home, her journey from floret to undaunted, indomitable spirit. The tumultuous, shaky moments where she’d concocted her rudimentary battle, before the winter’s callous, cold-hearted temptations, before the monster roaring its heinous upheaval, before she’d waged valor into her lungs and audacity into her flesh. They’d lost its contents, pledged strength and pernicious scales to its den, felt the roughened rim of rancor and defeat. It’d etched hardiness in their bones, fed the armaments of their resolutions, and sown convictions into snow and ice. Here they were again, ghosting and coasting along the borders, struggling to catch a glimpse of tiny creatures pilfered from their family, immersed into the grandeur of pending, augured conflict and combat. She peered into the mist, and saw naught but the damnation of their foreboding onslaught. Imogen, bright, luminescent, stronger than even she, chirped at her side, murmured one word over their silent connection.

Brave.

Confidence invoked, the nymph’s noble head twisted towards the thickening haze, honeyed eyes sharpened, creased into daring, gallant threads. They were intrepid, they were bold, they were lionhearted, and perhaps The World’s Edge would remember the price of kindling a glacial kingdom.


[Setting: Early morning, misty/foggy. Edge borders, forest.
535 words. Lena awaits a defender.
0/4 invasion duel system. Time frame window to start an invasion or defense is until 8/18.
0 + 0/1 additional Basin Champ magic used. 0 companion used.]