The stone lions outside of the library cast eerie shadows on the cracked pavement below. They stood as protectors of the knowledge the old stone building held. Weather worn and tired they did their job.
The large oak next to them swayed in the night breeze. The moonless night gave no light to the world below, only shadows. From the great oak a figure appeared it slipped a piece of paper into the scroll one of the lions held under its paw.
The figure stroked the lion's head. Whispering words of an ancient language long since forgotten. The lion's eyes glowed a brilliant violet before dimming back into stone. The figure disappeared back towards the oak.
Just before dawn another figure appeared. Swift and graceful it bounded from shadow to shadow as if it didn't exist. The figure touched the scroll the violet eyed lion had. It's eyes gleamed back into their vibrant color and it snarled softly.
"Be a peace my friend, I come for the message written by your master," the figure whispered. The lion fell silent and moved its paw ever so slightly. The figure took the paper and slipped it into its pocket.
"Thank you," it whispered. Then, quick as a flash, the figure bounded away.
The figure unrolled the paper and read the note.
Was attacked.
Item lost.
Speak with PoorBird
She holds the answers now.
Koorb Nekieg
YOU ARE READING
Curse of the Black Lion
FantasyI don't really have a description yet because it's not done and I don't know how I wanna end it. Please comment on what you think constructive criticism is never a bad thing. I don't own the picture used on the cover all rights are reserved to the...
