What are legends?

  Smoke curled through the air like a living thing, thick and restless. The stench of burning straw and scorched iron clung to every breath, sharp enough to sting the eyes. Roosters shrieked in panic. Somewhere nearby, a pitchfork clattered to the ground, forgotten. One by one, the farmhouses gave way, their wooden frames snapping as fire climbed their thatched roofs and swallowed them whole.

  Then came the roar, deep, hollow, unnatural, rolling across the hills like a warning torn from the throat of a nightmare.

  People ran. Some barefoot, others clutching their children, all of them screaming as terror surged through the fields.

  One family stumbles through the mud, a father shielding his wife and daughter as they retreat from a wall of advancing flame. But there’s nowhere left to run. A grain tower, half-charred, groaning, begins to tip. The three of them freeze. The father wraps his arms around the others. The girl cries out once and then presses her face into her mother’s sleeve. They close their eyes.

  Legends are not chosen,...

  A flash of silver light..

  The fire does not touch them.

  As the beam crashes down, something stands between it and the cowering family. A man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. A scar slices from his temple to the edge of his jaw. His eyes burn with exhaustion. His armor gleams with sigils etched in pale ether. A massive shield glows against the falling wreckage, its light holding firm as the fire curls harmlessly around its edge.

  ...They are forged.

  Elsewhere, a young eldian woman, drenched in sweat and ash, summons torrents of water to drown the fire as her long Eldian robes whip in the wind. Her hands glimmer with Ether. A feathery Nyx, wiry and fast, darts between buildings with electric sparks flickering on his talons, carrying two children to safety in streaks of motion. A falcon circles once, then dives, grabbing a panicked toddler in its claws before landing beside them, shifting into a small Fwlling girl who gently rolls the child toward cover.

  Legends do not wait for fate,...

  Screams rise again as a massive beast charges from the smoke. It towers above the rooftops, black as void, covered in writhing tendrils that lash at stone and flesh alike. Its horns curve forward like a bull’s, its claws glint like steel, and its eyes glow with primal fury. A towering warrior steps forward to meet it with a roar, slamming his twin axes together before blocking its pounce. The two clash, roaring and snarling, steel against shadow.

  ...They act in spite of it.*

  The man with the scar calls out over the roar, "Grock! Push it away from the village!"

  The warrior, straining under the beast’s weight, snarls back, "What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?!"

  The creature surges forward, sending Grock flying into a stone silo near the scarred man. He looks up just as the massive weight of the structure threatens to crush him. In a blur of feathers, a falcon darts past his shoulder, shifting midair into the small Fwlling girl. She lands hard, slams both palms to the ground, and green sparks erupt beneath her fingertips. Vines and roots surge upward like awakened serpents, wrapping around the silo just in time to halt its fall.

  "Thanks, right on time," he says.

  "Got you, gramps," she fires back with a thumbs up.

  Legends bleed,...

  The beast turns toward another group of villagers scrambling through the burning mud. The man rushes to intercept it, drawing his blade to parry a savage swing of its claw. Sparks fly as metal meets unnatural flesh. The beast's strike slices across his forearm, drawing blood. He staggers back, jaw clenched, eyes seething.

  ...And yet, they rise.

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  The man growls low, then twists his blade in a fluid motion, its form shifting and condensing into a gleaming shield of Etherlight. He lunges forward, ramming the beast to force it back from the villagers. As he charges, a woman surges beside him, robes flowing with elemental grace as she unleashes powerful ribbons of water and shards of ice that cut through flame and shadow alike. In perfect harmony, a feathered Nyx dives in, his daggers slicing with swift precision as electricity dances across his talons. With a roar, he drives a surge of lightning straight toward the beast's chest, their movements synchronized like a storm in rhythm.

  But the creature moves with terrifying speed. One of its tendrils lashes out, slamming into the charging duo with brutal force. The feathered Nyx is flung backward, tumbling through dirt and fire before landing in a gasping heap. The Eldian woman crashes into a scorched wall, her limbs going limp as she collapses, unconscious.

  Legends do not seek reward,...

  The Feathered Nyx crawls toward her, panic overtaking him. He reaches her side, lifting her head gently and shaking her shoulder. "Hey, Ellowyn! Wake up!"

  Before he can say more, a blur of amber fur races toward them. A fox darts through the chaos, shifting mid-leap into the small Fwlling girl. She skids to a stop beside them, glancing at the unconscious eldian woman, then at the feathered Nyx, and finally at the scarred man standing firm between them and the monster. His shield trembles under the weight of each blow, but he does not fall.

  ..They pay the price without counting the cost.

  "Toff!" he roars, barely looking over his shoulder. "Get them out of here!"

  "But what about—" she stammers, breath catching, panic in her eyes.

  "NOW!"

  She hesitates, glancing back toward the scarred man, then exhales sharply and shifts once more, her form twisting into that of a broad, hulking badger-like beast with thick fur and stout limbs. With surprising strength, she lifts the feathered Nyx onto her back and gently secures the unconscious Eldian woman in her forelimbs. Then, without a word, she bounds into the smoke, vanishing toward safety.

  He watches just long enough to see the others disappear into the haze. A dry chuckle escapes him, breathless. "Heh... why do I always end up in these messes?"

  Then he roars.

  Ether flares from his shield as it expands, tripling in size, a radiant wall of golden light. His arms shake, muscles taut with strain. With a defiant cry, he shoves forward, lifting the beast off its feet and hurling it sideways with every ounce of power left in him.

  The monster crashes through a half-collapsed house, its massive body twisting as tendrils lash wildly, scattering fire and debris. And in that moment, he hears it.

  A scream rings out, high, fragile, and sharp, cutting through the roar of the fire from somewhere deep within the burning ruin.

  A child.

  He freezes, breath locking in his throat as memories surge back like a wave of ash. For a moment, he is no longer in this burning village, but somewhere far behind him, where screams sounded just the same. The air thickens with a familiar weight, smoke clawing into his lungs, burning, choking. His vision swims. The house ahead glows hotter, red bleeding through the smoke as fire consumes it from within. Its beams groan under pressure, the whole frame straining like a dying beast on the verge of collapse.

  "No dammit! Not again!" he shouts, biting hard.

  He breaks into a run, charging toward the collapsing structure as the cries of the others fade behind him. The world inside is a haze of blinding orange and writhing shadow, the heat pressing in like a dragon's breath. Then he hears it, faint, warped by smoke and distance, an old lullaby, twisted and broken, clawing its way through the flames. A song he thought he’d buried long ago. The same cursed melody she once hummed, before the fire, before the shadows, before everything came undone.

  "Why that cursed song…?" His hands shake. "Why now?"

  Legends are not spared,...

  The structure groans, then gives way with a thunderous crack. He throws himself forward, desperate to reach the child before the world comes down. But he’s too slow. Wood and stone splinter around him as fire rushes in. A massive beam crashes across his back, driving him to the ground. Agony explodes through his spine. He tries to move, but his limbs won’t answer. The weight pins him. His breath shortens, each gasp more shallow than the last.

  From far away, voices broke through the haze. "Edran! Edran, come out!" Another shouted, closer this time, "EDRAN!" Feet pounded against the earth. Someone screamed. Another voice, breathless and near, muttered urgently, "Quick, help me with the beams, he’s under here somewhere!"

  He coughs hard, blood flecking his lips as smoke coils thicker around him, choking out what breath he has left. Through the haze, he mutters, "Dammit... I knew it. I should’ve stayed in my chair."

  His gaze shifts to where his sword lies just out of reach, its surface catching the firelight, and the name carved into its hilt, one that haunts him more than any shadow. A bitter grin tugs at his mouth. "Should be finishing my brew right about now... not chasing ghosts."

  The lullaby drifts again, distant and cruel. His vision swims, edges blurring as darkness tugs at the corners. He hears them still, faint voices calling his name.

  "Edran! Edran!"

  His eyes close.

  All goes dark.

  ...They fall, not to be remembered... but so others can rise.

  Tales of Skyland. This story means a lot to me.

  Tales of Skyland began as a childhood dream. I once filled notebooks with floating islands, silver dragons, and a world that shimmered with peace, yet held something broken underneath. That dream never left me. It grew deeper, heavier, and more real.