Chronicles of the Sunblade: Dawnbreak

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Glossary

To my superhero of a mom, who has gone through the fight of her life and has come out victorious; you rock mom!

Dear Reader(s),

I hope you enjoy this. It’s the gateway to my world. My thoughts. My very being, is in your hands. You hold me. My light, my goodness, my darkness. This is all from me, a gift to you and for your entertainment. I hope you’ll like it.

Sincerely,

BryceGolsen

P.S . . . If you get confused, look into the glossary in the back. (Yes, I know the names may be a little confusing) . . . SKU-000445257_TEXT.pdf

PROLOGUE

Ah, my friends, what can I provide for you? Lorcus Sunblade asked in a humble tone as he stepped down from his throne. Metus looked up at him from the shadows, watching him bask in the sunlight. Lavien, the leader of the half elves, strode in with a worried face. Metus knew his former friend had a hint of his intentions. He had to strike, now.

Metus hissed the words his new, dark master had taught him as he stepped out of the shadows. Suddenly, a dragon’s maw shot forth from his moving hands, flying towards Lorcus Sunblade. Lavien was too late. Metus sent his spell faster than Lavien could cast his own.

The druid shot forth a gust of wind, blowing Metus to the far wall, but his spell couldn’t stop Metus’ evocation. Lorcus drew the Sunsword, but even its holy presence proved to be futile to this new power. Lorcus screamed in pain as hot flames licked his soft, elvish skin and dark energies pierced every nerve in his body. The spell had literally torn him to pieces faster than it was cast. Metus laughed, his new form more dark and demonic looking than any High Elf. Lavien stood, sorrow encroaching upon his very thoughts.

The royal guard rushed in after hearing the ruckus, only to find their ruler burned and bloodied pieces. Their attention deviated from his remains to the two elfkin standing in the middle of the room. Lavien, unable to explain the reasoning for such an event, shape-shifted into an owl and haphazardly flew away while arrows darted for him and swords were drawn after him. However, Metus teleported away, narrowly escaping. It only took a thousand years later and two long wars for the High elves to even think of the word peace with the half elves.

CHAPTER 1

A shower of rose petals cascaded around her as her curved, thin body gracefully swayed with the horse’s hips on the brick streets. Her hair, a beautiful shade of bright gold, caught a few of the pink and white petals showering from the city walls only meters away. Her face, bearing a proud smile, was tan from the sun’s gentle rays kissing her soft skin. Her blue-green eyes glanced from person to person in the roaring crowd as they cheered in the elegant high elven language, Valash cal a Bladia grania! or, the Bladed Grace has returned! She responded to these roars in celebration with only a casual wave of her hand from one person to the next while her horse trotted through the gap made by the watching audience.

Usually, the rangers were marveled by the common people. Their bodies fit with the maximum capacity of strength, skill and muscle any natural elf could have. But The Bladed Grace, was the most exalted and beautiful. She was their protector. Their guardian. She alone was the greatest swordswoman and archer that ever existed. She was the high commander general, the second in command to the legendary Sun King.

Once far into the crowd, she stood onto the saddle of her favored horse, Firstbreeze, and blew kisses into the wind with her left hand with her right hand waving. The crowd roared. She then looked back at the rangers loyally following her, all damaged and exhausted. She knew they were happy to be home. She turned back forward in her saddle and sighed. She was happy to be home too, especially after their skirmishes with the dark elves on the retreating borders of the high elven country.

Commander Starfall she heard from the crowd. She quickly turned toward the direction of her name through the ruckus of the screaming audience. Yet to her disappointment, it wasn’t a friend or a civilian at all, but a squire of the king, holding a parchment. With guards following him and the banner of the Sun King fluttering above, the squire opened a parchment and read aloud to Seera and the now quieting crowd, Seera Starfall, High Commander to the High Elven armies of Kalvoni, and Grand military advisor to the king-

Yes? Seera asked in an annoyed tone.

The King wishes for you to receive this, the squire proceeded.

Seera snatched the paper out his hand and read it. The crowd, once wild like an animal, was now silent as each person watched her intently. Her eyes darted from one side of the scroll to the other. A moment later, Seera looked up, biting her lip in deep thought. Her face was filled with anger and anxiety. The squire asked, Are you alright, Commander?

No, Seera responded, I must make haste, for it is dire

Commander- the squire barely pushed out, but she was already out of ear’s reach. He watched as thousands of heads turned to watch her race towards the towering palace that looked over their grand city.

No! Lavien screamed, vainly shaking in his chains, begging for freedom, Don’t touch her!

She’s mine, druid, Metus chuckled, You can only watch her demise.

Lavien Clawstrike looked into the looming darkness, unable to see the demon worshiper and his victim. He only heard her screams; her bone chilling shrills wrought from fear and agony. Lavien implored the warlock to cease his appalling actions, but to no avail. Then, the sound of a blade tearing apart flesh and bone echoed throughout the chamber. Tears pooled in the old druid’s eyes as her limp body fell to the hard, stone floor. Her blonde hair spread across her bare back, stained by her own blood.

No! Lavien croaked, No-

Consciousness flooded into his very soul as two yellow orbs shot open, tears drowning them in a salty wash. Sweat dripped from his brow as he arose in his hammock, thousands of thoughts rushing through his skull. Lavien sighed, wiping off a drop of sweat from his earth-colored forehead. The druid glanced out from his hut, only to see looming clouds blocking the rich sun, their droppings battering his home like a siege. The druid looked up and stuck his right hand through the opening of his animal skin shelter and listened. His dream was no ordinary product of sleep. It was a vision. His wrinkled face twisted into a troubled image. Each drop of rain that splashed into his palm sent whispers into his mind, telling him of his far sight. As a druid, he could understand and control all variables of nature, the earth, water, wind, and forests. Yet he was an elder of prophecy. He saw the fates of the world, but couldn’t do anything to stop them. Yet this was different. This would lead his lands into doom. He had to act.

The ancient Kalvonian doors within that palace creaked open as Seera grunted to push them with all her weight. The great doors hardly swung halfway to make a space wide enough for her slim body to slither through it. Only a shortening pillar of light from the opening behind her pierced the darkness. Besides the slam made by the doors, Seera could only hear the breathing of a different crowd around her. Just from their inhalations, she could sense anxiety in the room. Yet, another force manifested in the air. Seera stared into the darkness, sending a wave of tickling chills onto her hairless skin. It felt evil. She slowly drew her sword from the sheath, the sound of metal sliding on leather echoed throughout the large room.

That, Seera, will not be necessary, a young voice bellowed, breaking the eerie silence.

Ah, there you are my King, she blurted in a sarcastic tone, What is the reasoning behind this?

See for yourself, he responded. She could barely make out one of the king’s hands as he lifted them to towards the evil concentration in the room. Suddenly, his hand sparked with a brilliant flash of light and the whole room was lit within seconds. Seera made out the handsome face of the Sun King. He had brilliant dark blue eyes, a rare color for the elfish race, and his hair, an oaky brown, covered most of his forehead and neck. At the young age of one hundred eight, he was at the point in his life to be known as a late teenage elf. But the light was not the only thing that filled the room. Once it touched the center, gasps and yelps of pure terror pierced the air. Seera looked onto the platform where Solarus was standing. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the monstrous creature tightly chained to a tall post atop of the platform. It was a dark elf, with its armor stripped from him and his weapons disposed of. His bleach white hair covered his lowered head and face, only his pointed ears broke through the threads. Seera’s fists clenched in hatred as she cautiously stepped up the stairs leading to the platform.

He’s a Warlord, Solarus said, a high ranking dark elf in their armies, one of the scouting parties near the border ambushed a small group of them-

Please, Sire, spare me the details, Seera interrupted, "I’d rather hear him sing," referring to the mysterious captive. Without hesitation, she lifted her sword to the soft, meaty flesh that filled its neck. She took the flat of the blade and forced his face up, making him look into her cold, sea-green eyes.

Now, let’s start with something simple, child of demons, she coolly cooed, What’s your name?

The dark elf opened his mouth as if to answer that question,