NOVEL FROG The Wraith's Embrace
The glow of the silvery full moon cast strange shadows in the room, and Leo Strongheart found himself once again gripped by the eerie state his mother had called the Wraith's Embrace. He lay motionless, unable to move, as though bound by invisible chains. His eyes darted around the room in growing terror. An icy chill filled the air, creeping into his bones and immobilizing every muscle.
Above him, a shadowy figure floated, whispering a strange spell. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a second figure moving about the room, its form shifting and swirling like smoke. This wraith moved swiftly but silently, its hollow, dragon-like eyes glowing a sickly yellow as it searched the room with predatory intent. Leo's heart thumped madly in his chest as the birthmark on his wrist—eerily similar to the creature's eyes—heated up, burning intensely. He tried to cry out, but no sound came. Nor could he flee.
He was held prisoner, ruthlessly trapped by the creature's power.
The wraith continued to move around the room, its long, angular, fearsome fingers rifling through his family's few belongings. What are you looking for? Leo's unspoken words never left his mind as he willed himself to break free from the spell that held him. What was it Mother said I should do? Leo strained to remember, but his memory failed him. He silently willed his body to break free, but the Wraith's Embrace held tight, his body refusing to obey his frantic commands.
The second wraith neared his bedside and paused, its glowing, horrifying gaze locking onto Leo's terrified eyes. It floated up, joining the other wraith. Moments passed in deathly silence until both wraiths released a terrifying, primal scream before fading into the shadows, finally releasing Leo from his paralysis. Immediately, he noticed a small, blackened circle near the hearth—burnt into the wooden floor. His heart skipped a beat. They had left something behind.
The room smelled of sulfur and smoke. Leo sat up, his eyes scanning to make sure the creatures had truly gone before grabbing his wrist. He quickly pulled his hand away as the birthmark burned his palm.
"Ouch," he cried out, but immediately stifled his voice, shaking his head to clear his racing thoughts.
"Mom, Eme!" he whispered, bolting from his straw-filled mat.
As he passed through the small opening to the only other room in their cottage, he had to bend down. Leo was already four inches taller than most other boys his age. Inside, he was relieved to find his mother and sister lost in quiet slumber. His mother's mat was on the opposite wall, and his sister's was closest to the door.
"It was just a dream," he whispered, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else, releasing the tension in his shoulders as they drooped in relief.
He breathed heavily and turned to return to his mat. Looking at the circle on the floor, he knew it hadn’t been a dream. As he re-entered the room, the faint smell of sulfur filled his nostrils again. He rubbed his wrist and glanced down. The birthmark had changed. His mother always told him that the birthmark was a family trait from his father's side, passed only to the most special members of the family.
Leo never believed it. There was no proof. He did not know any of his father's people, and his father had left when Leo was just four, before his sister Emelina was even born. His birthmark had always been remarkable, resembling a dragon's eye. But now, it looked like a two-headed dragon, each head facing a different direction. As Leo peered down at the mark in the moonlight filtering through the window, he noticed new additions beneath the dragons: a flame, wavy lines like water, a cloud, and a tiny mountain range.
"This can't be. I must be dreaming," he muttered, running his fingers around the image, half-expecting it to burn again. When it didn’t, he touched the symbols beneath the dragons.
Leo jumped as he realized the symbols were raised like scars. Shaking his head, he tried to wake from what he thought could only be a nightmare. He pulled the blankets over his head and tossed and turned before finally falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The Village and Castle
By the time Leo was awakened by the smell of his mother's porridge simmering in the hearth, the darkness had given way to misty dawn light. He opened one eye and cautiously peered around the room. Nothing appeared out of place. The burnt circle on the floor was gone. The cottage's walls were made of interwoven strips of wood, covered with a mixture of mud and straw. The thatched roof provided shelter, and the floor, made of packed earth, was layered with straw to keep the home warm and clean. A small hearth provided cooking and warmth, where his mother, Gwendolyn, baked bread.
His mother was kneading a large mass of dough, her fingers moving rhythmically. Her baking provided a meager income for the family, and Leo helped by taking odd jobs with the blacksmith, farmers, or anyone needing extra hands. He did not mind the work much, but his heart longed for adventure. More than once, he had been caught staring wistfully up at Dragonsreach Castle, daydreaming about one day becoming one of King Benedict's most trusted knights.
He inhaled deeply and glanced out the window. There it was: Dragonsreach Castle, its spires gleaming in the early morning light. The castle stood tall, perched on a giant cliff overlooking the Mythic Sea. The cliff stretched far into the shimmering waters, where rumors told of mysterious magical creatures swimming below the waves. Surrounding the castle was a moat, fed by the SoulTwin Rivers, which circled like a protective serpent. Where the rivers met behind the castle, they plunged down the cliff as the mighty Trident Falls, creating a curtain of roaring water over the caves below.
Every sunrise and sunset painted the castle's towers and spires in brilliant colors, making them seem like guardians of peace and harmony. Twin dragon heads adorned the eastern and western turrets—one gazing toward the rolling sea, the other into the deep, dense forest. They stood as silent sentries, a reminder of the land's ancient magical history.
Leo’s breath caught as he looked at the two dragons and then down at his birthmark. He quickly pulled his tunic sleeve down to cover it before returning his gaze to the castle.
Though the realm had known peace for many years, lately, whispers had begun to stir in both the castle and the village below. Rumors spoke of dark magic being practiced outside the boundaries of the enchanted Whispering Forest—a practice strictly forbidden.
Long ago, magic had been freely used throughout the kingdom, until two of Mage Cleitus' students turned evil. After they were cursed, it was decreed that only those trained by a mage could use magic—and only within the Whispering Forest. Anyone caught breaking this rule would be thrown into the castle's dungeons.
The Whispering Forest itself was alive with secrets, a world unto its own. The air seemed to hum with magic, filled with strange creatures, plants, and trees. The forest moved and breathed as if it were a living, sentient being.
The villagers both feared and admired the forest. Its emerald trees sparkled with mystery, guarding ancient secrets. Tales of terrifying creatures and the threat of imprisonment kept most from venturing too deep, leaving its mysteries to the mages and oracles who dared to explore. Not all who entered came back. Still, the forest was essential to the kingdom, offering magic and medicine, and it was home to the realm's royal oracle and mage, making it as important as the castle itself.
Most villagers only dared approach the forest during the four yearly festivals—celebrations for spring, midsummer, the autumn equinox, and the winter solstice. These were special times when the entire kingdom gathered to witness the towering trees at the forest's entrance. In spring and fall, the trees displayed brilliant colors. At midsummer, a magical play of light danced through the entrance, and in winter, the brightest star shone directly above.
Below the castle, the bustling town of Dragons Gate thrived on the edge of the Whispering Forest. Nestled within the castle's protection and bordered by the forest, Dragons Gate had once been filled with the sounds of daily life: the blacksmith's hammer, children's laughter, and the soft murmur of the market.
But things had changed. Mothers now clutched their children tightly, and neighbors grew suspicious of one another. Rumors swirled about villagers sneaking into the forest to perform forbidden rituals, evading the king's sentries who patrolled the area.
Talonridge's King Benedict the Benevolent ruled with wisdom and grace. He was loved and respected by his subjects, and under his leadership, the realm had known peace and prosperity.
Yet beneath the grand halls of Dragonsreach, darkness was stirring, foretold in a prophecy by Zaria, the king's oracle. She spoke of a looming threat—a war fueled by jealousy and dark ambition, one that could unravel the very fabric of their peaceful world. The dark specter was now gathering forces, both human and magical, threatening to emerge as a true danger to all of Talonridge.
As the kingdom carried on, unaware of the brewing storm, a lone falcon soared above the landscape. It flew over the village and came to rest upon a cottage directly across from where Leo was staring out the window. Its piercing gaze sent a shiver down his spine. The falcon cawed loudly before taking flight once more, and Leo felt his birthmark begin to warm. He shuddered, his heart filled with unease.