Monday, May 10, 2010


This place holds unseen power.
Titans battled here and the shadows of their magic remains.
External buttresses hold the ceiling two hundred yards above.
Once these halls were crowded with life.
Now they are empty and hollow.
The sound of my footsteps echoes off the neighboring colonnades.
And I am reminded of the masses of trolls that met here.
That was before the dragons came.
They set fire to the villages of Trollhaven.
Now they’ve come for me.
I lift my gaze to the stained-glass windows.
And think of the green trees and blue sky of the past.
Smoke and ash fill the air, along with the hiss and pop of crackling flame.
I clutch the hilt of my father’s sword, Odin’s Claw.
My time approaches.
I hear the deep, bass pulse of giant wings flapping on the wind.
I am the last of my kindred.
And I go to my fate with a heavy heart.
Odin’s Claw is sharpened and polished.
It will not be lost without putting a scratch or two into the scaled hide of an invading dragon.
I take my leave of this cathedral and go to the chambers of my father.
The wyrms await me.


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