The market square buzzed with life, the air thick with the aroma of spices and roasted meats.
Zayn maneuvered through the bustling crowd, his basket balanced on one shoulder. As he arranged his wares on a wooden stall, he noticed a storyteller gathering a crowd near the fountain. Intrigued, Zayn edged closer.
The storyteller was an old man with a booming voice. āAnd so, King Kaelion drew his sword, the emerald light casting shadows on the castle walls. āFace me, demon!ā he roared, and with a single strike, he banished the creature to the void.ā
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Zayn felt his chest swell with admiration. He could almost see the king, his golden armor gleaming, his cape billowing in the wind. It wasnāt just Kaelionās strength that Zayn admiredāit was his journey. The king had once been a farmerās son, as ordinary as Zayn himself.
Later that night, as Zayn lay on his cot staring at the thatched ceiling, he whispered, āIf Kaelion could do it, so can I!
Watch out for the next chapter!
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About the Creator
Robš¦
Passionate storyteller and social impact advocate, I write to inspire change and share insights on education, sustainable development, and creative innovations.
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"What We Leave for Each Otherā
They did not speak anymore, but every morning the porch between their doors was used. By seven, one of them would place something thereāa mug, a folded note, a piece of fruit set carefully on a napkin. Nothing was announced. Nothing was explained. The object was never the same twice, but it always appeared in the same place, aligned with the seam between the boards as if that line still mattered.
By Jeannie Dawn Coffman5 days ago in Fiction
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