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World Fire Sun, Moon, Stars
Fahrla took a step forward, tearing off her veil and revealing that same hair and face that he had loved and cared for all these years. Bandages wrapped around her eyes, obscuring her vision entirely, and she had grown a little taller, too. But aside from that, there was no difference. She stretched out her hand.‘Locke, hand her over.’Locke took a step back. Caria Laire, barely conscious, stared at Fahrla and Straza with terror.‘I can’t, Fahrla. I can’t hand her over.’‘But he is just saying that.’ Straza let out a powerful laugh. ‘You want to save Fahrla, don’t you? You want to live a life of peace with Fahrla, right? Yes, he thinks. Yes, to both. Yet he wants to stop us from acquiring this girl, which is a key to our success, which would grant you that peaceful life.’‘What do you want her for?’ Locke shouted, taking another step back. I feel weak, Elandra, I can’t hold the fire anymore.
World Fire Aftermath of Scars
When Locke came to, he found that he was in his dimly lit bedroom back at the Amber Hall. Bandages ran up and down his body, and there was woollen padding around his shoulder where he had been stabbed. It was night, but a candle burned softly on his desk, illuminating Kets in an orange light.She sat there, her head lolled off to one side, her eyes ever so slightly parted. Noticing movement, her eyes sprang to life, and focused on Locke.‘Locke, your awake, ya ha,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell Belvon Laire when I get the chance – he’s busy attending to Stocke.’‘No, wait,’ Locke said. It was difficult to talk, and a nauseating pain pulsed through his body. ‘Can you catch me up to speed? What happened? Why weren’t you, Trys and Arla with us in the Laire estate?’‘We were attacked enroute. One of the Coordinator’s actors blew up our mode of travel, and we were stranded.’ Kets reached forward, grabbed Locke’s hand and held it up to her. ‘The Laires, now without their mansion, and their daughter
World Fire The Fire that Burned the World
World Fire What am I to do?
Stocke, who healed unnaturally fast, regained consciousness the next day. Despite Belvon’s protests, he clawed his way up to his feet despite his dizziness and made to leave the room.‘Stocke, my boy,’ Belvon Laire said with his usual dramatic voice. ‘Lay down, rest, there is no good to come from rushing oneself.’‘Thank you, Belvon, but no. I’m in quite a bad mood, need some time to myself.’Stocke returned to his room, shut the door behind him, and stared out at the field outside. Flowers were blooming, the wind brushed at the grass, and the sun gleamed from the east. The weather mocked his foul mood.From the events surrounding the Laire mansion, he felt so utterly useless – and betrayed! He noticed the indecision in Locke’s posture and face. He saw how he had edged closer to hand Caria Laire over to Straza. But … was it really his right to be mad? Caria Laire had treated him so poorly back at the containment camp. She had aided Kelnaxx Laire in the cutting off his ears and tails.
World Fire The Opening of the First Act
The sand stretched to the horizon in every direction. Great dunes formed like waves in the sand sea. The sun beat down from the cloudless blue sky, creating waves of heat that reached a few metres above the sand. The place was devoid of detail, except for a column of sandy dust that worked its way between the dunes as it headed westward. A large, scaly beast charged through the column of dust. More than ten metres wide and thirty long. It was a triceratops, far larger than a normal one, and domesticated. Leather straps lined the body, holding a platform of wood and stone tight on top of its back. There was a crowd of people on this platform. One of them was at the front, wearing a pair of goggles, looking through a spyglass to navigate the sandy land in front of them. This man was Miles Rodger. He was a man of the Amber Army, a squadron of the Royal Army of Justisar that was dedicated to roaming the land and bringing peace. He hid his sleek black hair underneath a leather cap and twi
World Fire Fahrla and Locke
'Locke, can we go to the beach today? The wind is so pleasant, and the sun is warm, but not hot. It would be a waste not to go,' Fahrla said. 'Sure, let's go.' He grabbed her hand and pulled her up to her feet. Fahrla was only a year younger than he was, but her figure was small and frail, the result of a girl that could never have a proper and regular diet. This poor health left her always in the tender care of Locke, who had to watch over her every step. Locke himself was only fourteen but had grown strong enough to carry her. Fahrla climbed onto his back and held onto his shoulders. 'Careful now,' he said, gently stepping down to the lower platforms and onto the streets of the slums. As they walked down the street, he waved to the familiars of the Arindel slums. There was Old Broom, the name everyone gave to the old man who always swept at the sandy street ways. People said that he never quite recovered from the shock of losing his wife, and now devoted his life to sweeping the
World Fire Straza
A shadow swished in the darkness in front of them, and with a slash of silver, a demented figure appeared, holding a scythe with one hand. Locke skidded to a stop, and Fahrla held onto his shoulders tight. The figure laughed at them. He wore a hooded cloak, and underneath the cloak, Locke could make out a skull. Bone knuckles flashed underneath the hem of his sleeve. Lightning and thunder crashed around them as the rain sunk into their rags and their skin. Danger! Locke's senses cried out at him. Whoever this person was, he was out here to bring harm. 'Danger, so he thinks.' The figure stretched out his bone hand and touched Locke's forehead. 'And danger, so she thinks.' He touched Fahrla's forehead. With a touch, Locke found that he could not move. Fear gripped at him, holding him tight. He felt Fahrla's delicate body shudder against his own, her breaths short and sharp, and her finger trembling against his shoulders where she held him. 'St-stay away!' Locke cried. The cries in th
World Fire Atop the Triceratops
When Locke came to, he found himself sitting on a rocking wooden platform on top of a massive triceratops as it made its way east. 'Hey, you're awake.' A girl he did not recognise smiled at him. Before he realised what was happening, she had handed him a bowl of rice and a fork. 'Eat up, eat up. Stag will want to speak to you, so eat up while you can. I'm Trys.' Trys had orange hair that fell to her shoulders. Eyes as green as moss and freckles that stretched across her face, she had the mien of a cheerful and jovial girl who let little bother her. 'I heard about what happened,' she said as she shovelled rice into her mouth. 'Really sucks, I hope you can find her again.' Locke could hardly make out what she was saying from all the rice in her mouth. He was still in that state between dream and reality, and he was struggling to remember what had happened. 'Where am I?' 'You're on top of Dorothy the triceratops. Come on, eat up. Or I'll eat it for you.' 'Who are you?' 'Huh, I alre