The unmoving water of the lake reflects the dark sky with the bright silver moon high above. In the distance, the wind takes petals from black and white flowers, landing on the lake.
In the distance A bit further away from the lake is an old, ruined chapel. In the darkness, it looks mesmerizing, the smooth stones of the chapel reflecting the moonlight.
On the shore of the lake, there is a sword embedded in the soft ground. It's standing high and straight as if it was used by someone great, and even now the sword refuses to falter. On the guard of the sword, there is a crown hanging. There is a crown made of gold with amber, sapphire, ruby, and various other gems embedded in it.
On the other side of the sword guard, there is a cloak made out of pure crimson. On the edges of the cloak, there is bright white fur outlining all of it, and then the wind blows gently against the cloak, ruffling it slightly.
***
Deep beneath the water surface, there's another sword buried beneath a thin layer of mud. Its sharpness has not yet decreased even after millennia; its flawless steel reflects the soft moonlight that reaches this far down.
The light of the sword reflecting the moon is almost blinding. Its sheath is long gone.
The handle of the sword is a deep black, the guard of the sword has various engravings on it, and then on the sword itself is engraved It says, "Take me up and cast me away," and yet it still sits at the bottom waiting for someone worthy.
(next story)
Water sprays against the deck of the ship, the darkness of the night all-devouring. No shred of light from beyond the dark clouds above makes it this far down.
Another wave smashes against the ship, pushing the crew to the left, nearly throwing most of them off, some of them thrown into the cold, deep abyss. The rest feel the frozen rain pelt against their skin.
Then the world is lit up as a thunderclap resounds throughout the black sky. The lightning, like a blink of light in the darkness of the storm.
Then as soon as the lightning appeared, it was gone, the fierce wind nearly tearing the sails off.
The rest of the fleet has long disappeared into the darkness or into the sea.
Some of the sailors rush below to bucket out the water, their instincts kicking in after this surprise storm appeared.
Below deck in a corner of the ship, a young girl is on her knees praying to what looks like an X with a horizontal line through the middle.
"Oh goddess of death, please don't open your gates for our poor souls yet." Her words are drowned out by another freezing wave smashing against the hall.
Another lightning strike strikes the sea, giving the world light for a month, and if anyone was actually looking, they could see an outline under their ship.
(next story)
The sound of clashing swords and rain hitting metal, the squelch of mud being trampled upon, the sky darkening as a lightning bolt strikes from the heavens, giving the field a moment of daylight.
Another thunderous clap rings out, but this time it's not from the sky; in the distance, what looks like a ginormous rocky stone pillar rises from the ground as another thunderous clap runs out from the heavens, not from lightning but from something far worse.
On the ground there is a knight in a full suit of armor. He stands there, his sword on the ground, as he looks up; a roar rings out as flames consume that area of the field, and the flapping of leathery wings descends from the clouds, and then it crashes into the ground, opening its fiery maw to let out its hideous hellfire, bathing that area in fire.
Then suddenly descending from heaven, a stone hand larger than itself throws the dragon like a toy at speeds that break the sound barrier, ascending high above the clouds.
Another thunderclap rings out as a lightning bolt falls, and then another, then another, as if the very gods themselves are in despair. The rain turned into a harsh, frozen hail.
And then, once again, a part of the battlefield was destroyed by the stone pillar falling, obliterating anything beneath it.
On the other side of the field, a stone pillar falls to its knees and crumbles as rocks from the heavens above start to fall, turning into meteors falling on friend and foe alike.
In the mud is a soldier with an X with a horizontal line through the middle holding it over his chest. His armor was long ruined, blood seeping out of his chest.
"O-Oh goddess of death, please d-do not open your gates." He lets out a coughing fit before a different soldier dressed in red—or is that blood?—drags his great sword across the muddy ground. Then he lifts it up and put the tip on the dying soldier's neck and thrust downward as the world started to fade to black.