Fantasy Fan!

One of my favorite genres is fantasy. I’ve talked about reading the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan, but one other author I like is Sarah J. Maas, author of the Throne of Glass and A Court of Thorns and Roses series. I also enjoy stories about King Arthur and his knights, Merlin, and eventually one day I’ll do the Dragonlance series, which is an insane undertaking (150 novels and short stories!!!), but one that I’ll do.

Because I love it so much, in college I decided I would take on trying to write a fantasy story. I don’t have much on this story written, but I know where I want this to go. Here’s the prologue of my yet-to-be-titled fantasy series!

Rina was found to be able to speak to the gods at a young age.  Her parents dedicated her at the Temple of Prosperity once it was confirmed, and she went to the monastery to become a priestess.  She did not see her parents or brother again, but she knew they were well taken care of.  She missed her brother dearly—they were two sides to the same coin.

           There were whispers in the monastery lately that the king was growing vain and unconcerned about the gods.  She prayed every day for him, and the whispers from the gods were comforting.

           Rina was chosen to be oracle that year for Konaal, the night the veil between the human and divine worlds was thinnest.  She had always loved that feast day.  Plenty of apples, bonfires, music, dancing.  The smell of burning leaves.

The farm boys in the hay and the spiced wine and kisses they would share.

As oracle that year, she was shown the utmost respect.  Men left and right bringing whatever she wished.  They carried her to the temple when it was time for her to speak with the gods.

Rina was nervous.  What if the gods would not talk?  That’s silly.  They chose me.

As she passed through the incense, she began to feel drowsy.  She made it to the cushion and table for her to write the message, and fell asleep to the world.

She awoke in her chambers in the monastery with the kind face of her prioress there.  She looked troubled, but still smiled at Rina as a mother would.

“The king wishes to speak with you, my dear.  Come.”

Rina was lead to palace and up many steps to the great hall, where the king was sitting.  She did the customary three bows: one each for kings past, present, and the ones to come.

The king clutched a paper in his hands.  “I am giving you an opportunity to explain this,” he snarled as he handed the paper to a servant, who then handed it to Rina.

The Raaelin will fall.

Rina felt her heart stop as she read the words she had written in her trance.  They were the words the gods spoke and she was ordered to convey.

The words that would mean her death.

She trembled as she looked at the king.  His face was stone fury.

“Please, your highness.  The gods—”

He held up his hand to silence her.  “Maybe we have put too much stock into the gods,” he growled.  “They have become too powerful.”

She gasped at the blasphemy, but quickly covered her mouth as the king glared at her.

“If I may, your highness?” the prioress asked.  The king nodded, at least having enough sense to respect the prioress.

“I can assure your majesty that Rina did not know what she was writing.  As oracle, you enter a trance so strong you do not awake for hours, even though she wrote one sentence. The herbs mixed with the incense ensured that.  You journey to the land of the gods and they give their mandate.  We do not know how long she was there—perhaps years.  There have been oracles who even became wives of gods while in their trance.  We do not fully know the nature of her visit.  She is simply their messenger.  Rina is as loyal to your majesty as the queen.”

“Be that as it may,” said the king, “this is treason.  There is no way for her to prove she was in a trance when she wrote this.  We cannot prove she is not my enemy.  I sentence her to die at dawn tomorrow.”

There were gasps and screams.  No king had ever dared to kill a messenger of the gods.  Rina trembled and tried to breathe.  She was taken to the cells in the palace, where the jailkeep had a kindly and sympathetic disposition towards her.  He allowed the prioress to stay with Rina and brought her apples when he asked what she would like to eat.

At dawn, she was taken from her cell to the execution block.

Her final thought was of the taste of apples, the smell of burning leaves, and boys with spiced wine.