Jahanra's Writing Corner

Chapter 2      The ebony blade had been forged in the fires of his brother’s breath. The Onyx clan was not known for making deals; yet when Zalum, the eldest son, crossed paths with a shunned demigod Gannuk, he was offered a bargain too tempting to refuse.      Azrael still remembered the night his brother betrayed him. The mountain winds had been fierce, snowfall heavy and relentless. His wings strained against the storm as he fled— still a fledging, barely strong enough to fight back. Then came the dagger: obsidian-black and hungry for power, sinking into his side, forcing him into his more vulnerable human form. A battle between brothers followed, a clash of blood and fury, ending with young Azrael dangling off the edge of a cliff.      Zalum had never cared for Azrael. He hadn’t marked his birthe, his first shift into humanoid form, or his first flight. Perhaps, as the eldest, he’d grown weary of the endless ritual and reverence surroundi...

  Chapter One      Outside a tavern in a small village called Midland sat a poor beggar man of quite an old age. Accepting coins from whoever gave him pity, but other than that, he kept to himself. The town folk didn’t know what else to do with the silent man and mostly ignored his stench.      It was a rainy day when the town’s witch came to the tavern. Dressed in her usually muted garb, she looked nothing like the old crone she should have been. There had to be a primordial power keeping her look youthful, for the old man had not seen her age since he was young. He didn’t know why she ventured this far from her cottage; she was not known to converse with many people in the village besides those who sought her out for healings or potions.      It was not a few minutes later that she stepped back outside, her feet covered in blood, holding the same black dagger the Master’s son had been sporting just a few days prior. The old man looked ...