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[karanthos-blog]

Lost Legends Stories 5! Monthly Fantasy Stories, for your reading pleasure!

Greetings to you all!

We are back with a new episode of Lost Legend Stories!

This time, the Story circles around Petra, from a race called "Haer". Follow her and embark in a small journey, following her story.

Support us at:

With that out of the way, enjoy this snipped of the full story with the Title: Petra the haeress and the bountiful market.

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The thin stretch of time where summer became fall had always been Petra’s favorite time of year.

The hot breath of the sun became less oppressive, washed away by cool breezes and occasional rains that drew steam up from the bogs in thick clouds of mist.

It was also not so coincidentally the time of year that her colony would move their nests to the winter woods,

returning to burrows that had been established generations ago under towering golden oaks. Beneath their wide, gnarled roots, the Haer would spend the cold months in a state of torpor,

only venturing out in the gravest of emergencies. The time of preparation that preceded this hibernation was ripe with opportunities for adventure, and Petra planned to make the most of it.

It was on such an early autumn morning that Petra pushed herself through the small tunnel leading out of her family’s burrow and out into the dewy meadow that surrounded it.

The ferns that populated the forest floor swayed in the slow wind, tickling her long, furred ears. With a soft squeak of a sneeze,

Petra tucked them against the side of her head, running her paw-like hands over them as she took in the morning with a contented sigh.

“Pe-” the voice was muffled by the dirt beneath her. Petra paused a moment waiting for the loud grunt followed by the wide, dark brown face of her mother popping up through the hole.

“Petra!” her mother gasped. “Don’t go off too far today. Mrs. Fleetfoot saw you at the edge of the wood yesterday. You know how dangerous it is beyond the border.”

“Yes, Mother,” Petra said with a loud sigh.

“Don’t ‘yes mother’ me, or it’ll be me that puts you in a stew.”

“Yes—” Petra stopped herself and decided on a simple nod instead.

Her mother wiggled out from the burrow and pulled a linen pack out from behind her, thrusting it and a pair of shoes into Petra’s hands. “Come back when this is full, don’t linger.”

“I will!” Petra took the pack and slung it over her shoulders as she slipped on the shoes, bounding away as her mother called out further warnings.

The sound of her maternal voice grew distant as Petra sped around the wide trucks of familiar trees, the canopy above speckling the green earth with golden spatters of light.

The spell upon her shoes was fresh and would last until evening, giving her already rabbit-like limbs a swiftness to outmatch any predator. Petra sprinted through the brush,

leaping and bounding over clumps of prickle bush and sliding through hollowed-out logs on slick green moss. The winter woods were so-called because they were known far and wide for their unique foliage. Despite the thick and months-long carpet of snow that would bedeck the forest floor,

the Oaks themselves would remain fully alive, losing neither leaf nor luster, unlike most other trees excepting pines and spruces, of course. It was this magic that kept the Haer safe and warm as they slept in their burrows,

and it was fear of that same magic that kept humans from encroaching upon the forest, their axes not daring to infringe upon its borders for fear of otherworldly repercussions. The truth of Petra’s mother’s trepidations instilled in her curiosity rather than wariness,

a fact that Petra kept close to her heart. Haers were an elusive group, and they liked it that way. Or most did, anyway. Those that did attempt adventure were often talked about in bedtime stories meant to frighten young kits into childhood submission.

But not for Petra. No, Petra had heard outlandish tales of humans and their villages brimming with gardens practically oozing food and simply forgone the conclusion that such temptations ended poorly.

This was the first fall where she was of the age where foraging alone was not explicitly forbidden, and her heart had been fluttering against her ribs all morning in anticipation.

Bees as fat as her fist floated by, their furry bodies bedecked in the last of summer's bountiful pollen. Petra's long feet pushed her higher with each leap forward, until she was bursting through clumps of wildflowers with shouts of gleeful laughter.

Mossy forest floor and wildflower groves gave way to soggy earth as she approached the edge of the winter woods, her nose twitching against the peaty air that now surrounded her.

Petra shrank back into a grove of blackberry bushes, most of which had already been picked clean by the birds of the forest. She popped an overripe one into her mouth as she carefully watched the border where the forest met marsh.

Dragonflies swooped in and out, their soft hum almost too quiet to be heard over the chorus of frogs and toads. Petra’s ears sprang up above her head, twisting and turning to capture every sound; her wide eyes searched the glimmering shadows around her,

searching for friends and neighbors who might snitch. Finding none, she took a tentative step out from the company of the rotting blackberries and out into a clump of grass at the edge of the bog. The night before, Petra had pressed her cheek to the root that shaped her room of the family burrow,

listening to the whispers of her parents as they discussed a village just beyond Briar Bog, the marsh that lined the northern edge of the winter wood, and how humans had been seen fishing there. Her parents had, of course, spoken of the sightings with murmured fears. But, as Petra looked out on the misty path before her, the only emotion lingering in her rapidly rising and falling chest, was excitement.

Petra’s whiskers twitched as she leaned forward, her eyes searching for the next clump of path she could trust amid soaked mud and decaying plant life. Spying a sturdy-looking patch,

she sprang forward confidently, landing about three lengths of her body further into the marsh. Petra glanced back, searching one last time for any well-meaning Haeren spies that would report her mischief back to her mother.

Then with a grin she savored for herself, she turned and began to hop from clump to clump and stone to stone, disappearing from the safe view of the winter wood and traversing into the unknown beyond. The early daylight glittered here, diffused around her like dim starlight by the fog.

Where the forest was still, the swamp was brimming with activity. The steady thump thump thump of her feet only added to the odd orchestra of sound and movement obscured by the moist morning haze.

Amid the buzz of insects and the twittering of birds hidden betwixt long drooping reeds, Petra heard a sound. A sound that struck her almost instantly as out of place. Petra squatted down, ears aloft, waiting for the noise to repeat itself. It came again,

a quick splash followed or preceded by low grunting. With careful, slow movements, Petra crawled forward over a large rock,

keeping her body low among the rushes. The warmth of the sun was beginning to disperse the haze with its warmth, revealing a patch of bog cleared of reeds. Standing there, spear in hand, was a human man.

The heart in Petra’s chest was beating so loudly she almost feared the fellow might hear it, the tips of her ears slung low, tucked beneath her chin as she watched him from the safety of the foliage.

He was bent over at the waist, his eyes scanning the surface of the water as she slowly raised his spear, its pronged tip glinting grey against the sun's rays. With a soft grunt, he thrust the weapon into the water. When he pulled back on the linen rope attached, the spear took with it a fish.

The man let out a proud cry, tossing the glimmering shimmering catch into a basket already brimming. Satisfied, the human turned, attaching his fishing spear to a loop at his back and lifting the basket of fish onto his hip. Petra felt her eyes widen,

and she made the decision in that moment to follow him.

IF you enjoyed that sneak peak, consider reading the full story at the link above! Thank you for reading!

Yours

Kara

[karanthos-blog]

ANIME GIRL ADOPT FROM DLCHANNEL

Hey everyone!

For a while now, I'm thinking about how I use my tumblr and I figured, I post and help friends, by posting their stuff to eventually give a little more reach.

I do hope, you people like it!

Many thanks in Advance,

your Kara!

--------------------------------------------------

Todays Posting is the adoptable character of my friend DLCHANNEL!

If you are interested, please follow the links and check out all the details!

Deviantart (Direct link to the character)

Deviantart (more characters and option to buy them)

TWITTER

Commissions are also buyable (even naughty ones)

That would be all! big hug,

your kara

[karanthos-blog]

CERBERUS ADOPT FROM DLCHANNEL

Hey everyone!

For a while now, I'm thinking about how I use my tumblr and I figured, I post and help friends, by posting their stuff to eventually give a little more reach.

I do hope, you people like it!

Many thanks in Advance,

your Kara!

--------------------------------------------------

Todays Posting is the adoptable character of my friend DLCHANNEL!

If you are interested, please follow the links and check out all the details!

Deviantart (Direct link to the character) 

Deviantart (more characters and option to buy them) 

TWITTER 

Commissions are also buyable (even naughty ones)

That would be all!  big hug, 

your kara

[karanthos-blog]

Lost Legends Stories 4! Monthly Fantasy Stories, one click away!

Greetings to you all!

We are back with a new episode of Lost Legend Stories!

This time, the Story tells of the Fern, featuring an Princess and Doris the sea spirit, who butt heads over and over about who is the most beautiful at the beach and on all land.

Written by R.E. Levy Produced by Saltome.

Support us at:

www.patreon.com/relevyauthor

www.patreon.com/phoenix_star

Now. Please enjoy  LLS4: When the beauties clashed at Fern beach.

Princess Fernanda Alessia Luciana Esposito was as beautiful as her name was long, or at least that is what people said. 

Those who were lucky enough to get close to the famously winsome Princess would quickly find that she preferred "Fern" to her entire title. 

As pragmatic of a nickname as it was, Fern was still royalty, and her entourage was sized accordingly.

This was how Princess Fern found herself accompanied by a handful of palace guards,

the royal caterer, the palace chamber orchestra, and the Kingdom's championship sand volleyball team.

In her eyes, this was the minimum required for a successful outing to the beach.

Such a large caravan of royal leisure took not an insignificant amount of time to set up.

Luckily for Fern, it was a gorgeous day, and so her golden litter was gently set into the sand in the shade beneath a clump of palm trees while her staff organized. 

Leaving Fern sipping on an extravagant coconut-based drink as her handmaiden fanned her dutifully.

The private beach that Princess Fern frequented in the summer months was the one place in the Kingdom where she was not constantly harangued by suitors. 

This was only made possible by a decree from her father, King Luigi Giuseppe Salvatore Esposito, 

who made the consequence of disturbing the Princess at said beach a capital offense punishable by death. Such extremes were, 

in practice, the only way to keep starcrossed gentlemen callers from ruining Fern's outings.

"That fellow from Calafast was rather persistent this morning, wasn't he,

" Fern's handmaiden said wistfully, I've never seen someone scale three stories of a castle like that before."

"Rather impressive for a Baron," Fern said after a loud sip of her tropical beverage. 

"And bold, considering Father isn't going to ever accept a proposal from anyone of lower station than a Duke."

"Anyone of note catch your interest lately?" The handmaiden asked, her eyes sliding toward Fern with a sideways glance.

Princess Fern sighed, "Amelia, you know I hate the whole ordeal of marriage. Must we discuss it in the one place I am free from those pathetic boys?"

Amelia giggled, "Sorry, your majesty."

Princess Fern and Amelia watched as a rope net was strung up across the beach, and the volleyball team began a private match exclusively for their enjoyment. 

As scantily clad men and women lunged and dove for the brilliant white ball, Fern cheered uproariously, drawing more than a few bright red blushes from players on both sides.

"I'm starved," Fern said languidly, "Is the food ready yet?"

Amelia glanced to the right, where the servants responsible for the refreshments were buzzing around a long, white linen-lined table like bees. 

"Enzo!" she called out. "How's the grub coming along?"

Enzo, a portly gentleman with an exceptional mop of curly black hair, appeared seemingly from thin air before them. 

"Nearly there, your majesty. The dessert is proving...complicated in the heat."

"You're a miracle worker, darling," said Princess Fern with a generous smile.

Enzo dipped down into a quick bow and disappeared once more into the nearby scrum of waitstaff.

"Giorgio," Fern motioned to one of her heavily armed guards, one of the four that had carried her litter, 

"Would you be a doll and freshen my beverage?" she waved her empty coconut in the air for emphasis.

"Of course, your highness." Their fingers brushed as Giorgio dipped down to retrieve the drink from her hand, 

and the guard cleared his throat, an involuntary response to the physical touch and the way she beamed up at him in gratitude.

An exciting play was happening on the volleyball court, and Princess Fern stood from her litter to shout encouragement. As the point landed, 

she clapped in delight, spinning around in the shady sand, spraying it everywhere. 

Amelia dusted off her own bathing gown and gave a tut as Giorgio returned with a refilled coconut and fresh paper umbrella.

"If it's so exciting, why don't you go play with them?" Amelia asked.

"You know..." Fern turned and grinned at her devilishly, setting down her drink, 

"That's a great idea, come on!"

Princess Fern yanked on her friend's hand, dragging her toward the game, Amelia giving flabbergasted complaints the entire way there.

"Is there something wrong, Princess?" asked the Captain, his golden brown skin glowing with sweat as she approached.

"No, not at all!" Fern chirped. "In fact, we were hoping to join your game, weren't we,

Amelia?"

Amelia's mouth was parted in surprise as she gawked at the god-like specimen of athleticism standing before them. 

Only sputtered nonsense left her lips in reply.

"We would be honored, your highness," said the Captain, dipping into a deeply low bow,

"but is it altogether an appropriate activity for one of your station?"

"Isn't one of my station allowed to do whatever she wants?" Fern countered, her voice soft and coy.

The Captain bit his lip to hide a smile. "Well...I suppose exceptions could be made for the most beautiful creature in all the ten kingdoms—"

At those words, a deep gurgling rumble shook the beach. Cries of horror and dismay radiated from the catering table as a chocolate fountain went spilling off the side, accompanied by trays of hour devours.

“Whoislbthemoeustbeawettufulcreechinalldedenkwingdoms?”

A voice, a shriek, a terrible incomprehensible roar of sound came from the water just off the beach as ripples of waves began to beat the shoreline aggressively.

Half of the players abandoned the volleyball court without hesitation, their feet leaving wide dents in the sand as they scrambled further up the bank toward the line of palm trees. 

Fern, the Captain, and Amelia held their ground. For her part, the Princess showed not an ounce of fear; her brow furrowed in curious dismay as she watched the waves grow higher, 

even going so far as to reach her feet as the bubbling intensified.

"What?!" she cupped both her hands around her mouth and shouted back at the indecipherable voice.

"WHO isdemossbweaUTIFULcweechINALLTHdwenweendoms!?" The voice was even more insistent this time.

The Captain, Fern, and Amelia all shared a confused glance and then shouted back in unison, "WHAT?!"

At that moment, a small geyser of water shot up above the waves, dousing them all thoroughly. Princess Fern sputtered, wiping away the salt from her eyes. 

As she opened them, a remarkable sight popped her jaw wide with surprise.

A being, a creature, something startlingly incandescent, was walking up the beach toward her. A train of mother-of-pearl colored hair, smooth as silk, followed in the wake.

"Who!" A dazzlingly feminine voice boomed from the figure as she approached, 

"Is the most beautiful creature in all the ten kingdoms?!"

The team Captain paled in shock as the creature neared, her gigantic pastel-blue eyes stunning him into silence.

"I believe he was referring to me," Fern said confidently, tossing her long raven hair over one shoulder.

The creature stopped. Her voluptuous form seemed to ripple slightly, just like the water she had sprung up from. 

"You!" She gave a long, beautiful laugh as clear and as strong as the sounding of a coronet. 

"Ridiculous! What human woman could possibly match the beauty of Doris?"

There was a long silence on the beach.

"I'm sorry..." Fern coughed to hide her chuckle. "Did you say, Doris?"

"I did, as that is my name," thundered the creature, "Doris, the most beautiful daughter of Oceanus himself! Envy of all goddesses! Beloved by fisherman and all sailors for the luck and bounty I bring!"

Princess Fern smirked, "beloved by all sailors, huh?" she cast a sideways glance at Amelia, who giggled, 

covering her mouth with her hand. “Gotta be exhausting.”

"Do you DARE mock a goddess?" screeched Doris.

"Do you DARE to dismiss my beauty?" Fern shouted back, her hands snapping into fists at her sides as the sun sparkled off her salt-water damp skin. 

"I have men crawling over themselves to marry me. 

When was the last time someone made you an offer."

Doris seemed to grow taller, her shadow stretching over the sand. "You are insolent for a mortal. Your beauty will fade, as have others. Mine will live on as long as there are tides."

"Perhaps it is mine that is truly the fairer then?" Princes Fern posed, "for fruit is sweetest savored in its season."

"Enough poetry!" Doris swung one hand before her, water spraying everywhere as she did so, drenching the three of them again. 

"Only one of us can truly be the most beautiful. It must be decided now."

"If you insist," Fern said with a deep curtsey, "Your defeat will only add to the legacy of my loveliness."

Doris's already wide eyes ballooned at that, and the waves at the lip of the sand grew more turbulent with her anger.

"Is beauty not subjective?" Enzo shouted from the safety of the palms, "How will we judge a winner in earnest?"

Princess Fern and the goddess Doris both paused, staring each other down as Enzo's words rang true in their ears.

"How about, instead," Amelia chimed in slyly, "A contest of perseverance, for whoever is the most beautiful will surely be the most determined to win."

"What are you suggesting, human," Doris crossed her willowy arms over her bountiful bosom, 

"be clear."

Amelia plucked the volleyball from the Captain's arms and held it aloft over her head. 

"A contest of sport! Let whoever is the most beautiful win!"

"An interesting proposition," said Doris, her iridescent hair shimmering and swirling as if she were still below the waves.

"I accept this proxy contest," Fern said, crossing her own arms stoically. "Champions!

Return to your posts!" she said, turning to call back the players who had abandoned the court in their terror.

The athletes glanced at one another and then began to approach slowly, their faces holding varying degrees of wariness. 

The players hovered as Doris and Fern started to pluck each of them to either side of the court, choosing their teams as if the fate of the world depended on it. At the edge of the palm grove, the waitstaff and guards watched in anticipation,

fully aware of the mortal versus goddess showdown that was about to take place before their very eyes. Enzo occasionally barked out orders, cleaning up the mess Doris's entrance had made.

"They will be hungry once the contest is over!" he declared, "do not gawk; arrange!" he pointed to the discarded kabobs of fruit that littered the catering table.

Doris looped her arm through the Captain's elbow, pulling him to her side. Something in the magic of her immortal being had him weak at the knees, and he wobbled unsteadily beside her.

Fern rolled her eyes and turned to Amelia, "I wanted you anyway," she said in a hushed conspiratory tone.

"Wh-ho s-serves first?" asked the Captain, 

his voice breaking with nervousness.

"Age before beauty," Fern shot back over the net, grinning as Doris's lips pursed in a sour expression.

Amelia tossed Doris the ball, and the goddess stepped back, throwing the white orb into the air and leaping up in the first serve. 

The ball sailed over the net, and Amelia dug down to meet it, her fists hitting the sand and springing the thing back up into the air. 

One of Fern's teammates rushed forward, setting the ball with practiced skill so the Princess could lob it back toward the opposition in a well-placed strike.

The Captain threw himself toward the ball, saving the potential lost point with a loud "oomph." Doris screeched commands as her team, and they hustled to do her bidding, tumbling into one another in confusion, the ball thudding unceremoniously onto the beach.

Doris stomped, sending up a spray of sand that her human teammates shied away from in fear. "Unacceptable!"

"While you were studying the wave, I was studying the game!" Princess Fern chirped, licking her pointer finger and marking up an invisible line, "One down, fourteen to go."

Doris's pale face went green with rage as Amelia stepped back to serve. This time the goddess did all the work herself, 

her limbs slithering into tentacles that quickly knocked the ball back over the net to continue the rally.

"Now hold—" Fern set the ball with a snap of her forearms, "—on that can't possibly be allowed!"

As Doris slammed the ball back onto Fern's side of the court for a point, the goddess grinned. 

"We did not specify the rules for shape-shifting."

Princess Fern immediately shot off into a string of unintelligible language that was certainly not fit for a princess. 

Amelia and the Captain approached the net, having become the negotiating mouthpieces for their respective beauties without ever being commanded to do so. The two of them murmured between themselves for a long while, 

heads nodding and shaking amid hushed words. Finally, they returned to their teams.

"No shape-shifting," the Captain commanded as forcefully as he could.

Doris pouted, her lips curling downward so dramatically that Fern snickered.

It went on this way for some time; rallies became more contentious, Doris found new ways to subvert the rules, while Fern found new ways to insult the goddess. 

By the time the next hour arrived, both sides were covered from toe to head in sand and sweat, chests heaving for breath.

"This is ridiculous," Princess Fern panted. "We've been tied this entire time!"

"It's true," Doris admitted lazily, she being the only one still as pristine as when they began. "Why don't you just admit defeat and declare me the winner."

"Over my dead—" Fern growled, advancing on the net.

Amelia held her back with a firm arm. "Don't tempt her," she warned.

"If I may, your highness?" Enzo approached carefully, his curly head bobbing with respect. 

"Perhaps it is best to call it a draw, Perhaps—

he glanced at Doris, "The truth of the matter is, you are both the most beautiful creatures in all the ten kingdoms of your...respective spheres. One of mortals and the earth, the other of immortals and the water."

Princess Fern and Doris shared a long, meaningful gaze. The Captain and Amelia did the same.

Fern stomped up to the net, sticking her hand through a gap in the rope. "Truce?" she asked gruffly.

There was a stagnant, heavy pause as every human held their breath; each and every eye turned toward Doris.

With an elegant glide, Doris was at the net, her damp hand shaking Fern's. "It was a pretty good showing...for a mortal,

" she sighed. “

"Would you like to join us for some after-competition delights?" said Enzo sweeping one hand back toward the palm grove.

Doris blinked languidly. "Very well. What goddess doesn't love a good feast?"

Princess Fern immediately dove into a raving review of Enzo's culinary capabilities as she led Doris by the elbow back toward the catering table.

Reading the room, the royal chamber orchestra picked up their instruments and began to play, the teams dispersing joyfully to partake in the food and drink that now flowed like ambrosia.

Only Amelia and the Captain remained at the net, both of them sighing deeply in tandem.

“I think they’re going to get along splendidly,” Amelia gestured toward the two unearthly beauties.

When the Captain did not respond, Amelia turned to study him. He could barely meet her gaze.

“So...um...” The Captain ran one tanned hand through his untidy hair. "Would you ever-do you-can uh—"

Amelia gazed up at his handsome face demurely through her eyelashes.

"I'm free tomorrow evening," she said with a coy smile.

The Captain sniffed through his nose and nodded quickly, "Good good, um, 

do I just...pick you up...at the castle?"

Amelia laughed joyfully, startling him into a smile. "Let's hash out the details later," she said, 

nodding toward the buffet and party that awaited them. "It isn't every day you get to party with the two most beautiful creatures in all the ten kingdoms."

"The three most," the Captain grinned back at her.

Amelia could not help the blush that flooded her cheeks at that, and the two of them walked hand in hand toward the celebration.

Hope, you all did enjoy it! 

Till next time. 

Yours

Kara

[karanthos-blog]

Lost Legends Stories! The Summoning

Fantastical Stories and many other upcoming projects from Phoenix Star, that you might enjoy!

And of course, a big THANK YOU for stopping by! If you like the content, be sure to check out the Patreon!

https://www.patreon.com/phoenix_star

https://www.deviantart.com/saltome

Stories from the Lost legends are usually not dependent on each other and let you immerse yourself in a wide spectrum of topics.

If there is enough interaction, new chapters will be produced and published as time goes by!

This is a short story describing ones summoning incident in the world of the Lost Legends.

Written by peachapplecider.

Enjoy!

The Summoning

The air swirled violently around the room, tearing at the paintings on the walls with long, frantic fingers. It would have scared Melody, it would have, only she understood why it was acting the way it was and she didn’t blame it for a second. She imagined that if she, too, was relaxing in the ether, and then was unexpectedly yanked into some random witches hut, she would be clawing at the walls just as frantically.

The sigil on the floor pulsed, electricity crackling up and down the chalk with fervor, and Melody had to brace herself against the tornado of wind, struggling to keep her hands in the air, to keep chanting. Arcane magic sapped her energy enough as it was without the extra workout, and this particular incantation was sure to completely put her out of commission for the rest of the day.

There was a final, giant thrum of energy. It crackled through her, spidering around the room in lightning strikes. The whirling winds ceased as quickly as they had started, and the cacophony of noise that had filled the hut for the past hour instantly vanished like a mirage. Instead the room was still and quiet, the sigil pulsing gently as it returned to its normal state. Melody collapsed to the ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to recover after summoning up so much power. She rolled onto her back and put a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment as she leaned against the wall and waited for the exhaustion to pass.

It was always like this, for a few moments. Shakily getting back to her feet, she willed the blood back into her limbs, rubbing her arms to regain feeling, and stretching her legs to get the kinks out. It was a routine she’d repeated a thousand times before, but every time it felt every bit as exhausting as if it were the first time she had ever done it.

She had a few minutes before whatever she had summoned would show itself. It always took a few minutes for the veil to thin itself enough. It was like throwing sparks at a sheet of silk; the magic needed to fizzle a bit, before it could burn a large enough hole in the fabric for something to make itself known. With a sigh, Melody walked across the room towards the hearth and threw a log onto the fire.

Her hut was small, but cozy, filled with little treasures collected over the years and decorated with all manner of charms and talismans. Magical implements of all shapes and sizes hung from the walls and from the ceiling, each one imbued with its own power and purpose. Pots filled with various herbs and decorative plants were scattered across the shelves, shoved in every corner that could fit them. There was a small herb garden outside, too, but she liked the way the scents mingled, mint and rosemary and thyme swirling in the air and mixing with the smell of the fire. She smiled as she sat down on a stool in front of the hearth, legs crossed. It wouldn't be long now.

"Hello?"

The voice was soft and uncertain, so quiet that she almost didn't hear it at first. But it was clearly coming from somewhere in the room. She looked up and saw a blur of light materializing in the space between the door and the ceiling, spiraling downward until it was hovering just a few feet above her head.

"Hi!" she replied, smoothing out her skirt as she stood. "What's your name?"

"Carys" the light pulsed a little brighter for a moment, and then grew dim again, and somehow Melody got the sense that it was thinking.

"I'm Melody," she held out her hand, retracting it just as quickly as soon as she realized her mistake. "sorry, I forgot you didn't have arms. Can you... see me?"

"Sort of," Carys, or at least the light that was them, bobbed a little in the air. "You're blurry. Like a pond someone's dropped a pebble into. What is this?"

"Well... I was trying to summon something powerful. There's war brewing, see, and I was hoping for some insight."

"I don't know if I can offer that. What sort of war?"

"A grim one," Melody made her way over to the stove, filling a kettle and setting it onto the flames. "One that promises more casualties than are necessary, I think. I was hoping to prevent it altogether, really. Or hold it off long enough for tempers to cool."

There was a beat. The light bobbed gently. Melody held a hand towards the kettle, willing the flames to burn hotter. This sort of conversation was best had with tea.

"We have war here, too. Or, had, I suppose. I'm no stranger to it."

"Where is 'here'? Where are you from?"

"Meadow-On-Berrybrook. It's our largest kingdom."

Melody tried to shake off the surprise. Arcane magic was meant to tear small holes into the ether, let spirits and gods make their way through for however long they had before it healed itself. But Carys was not a spirit, and they were not a god. If anything, they sounded like a regular person.

"We don't have anything called that here," Melody said, rolling the information around in her head in the hopes it would begin to make sense. "We don't have anything named that way at all, the naming conventions aren't right. You aren't from the ether, are you?"

"The... what?" asked Carys. Melody squinted. Somehow, she seemed to have torn straight through the veil and pierced the other side of it. Into an entirely separate dimension, it seemed. She was doing her best to be calm about it.

Tea entirely forgotten, she glanced at the clock on the wall. They only had a moment before the connection was broken. Already, the light was starting to waver.

"I'll summon you again, okay?" she called as Carys began to fade. "I don't know who you are, or how I managed to get to you, but I won't let it rest until I figure it out!"

Carys only managed a bobble before they were gone completely, leaving Melody standing alone in an empty room. The kettle shrieked.

[karanthos-blog]

A new Beginning! Lost Legends!

Fantastical Stories and many other upcoming projects from Phoenix Star, that you might enjoy!

To begin with… Thank you for stopping by! If you like the content, be sure to check out the Patreon!

https://www.patreon.com/phoenix_star

https://www.deviantart.com/saltome

Right now, there are several short stories that I will post over time. So, look forward to that!

Let's start with Lost Legends 3: Beatrix Sallow and the Wine Cellar Caper ->

By. R. E. Levy

"Hello, Mr. Teapot. How are you this afternoon?" Beatrix pulled the fine china down from the cabinet, standing on her tip-toes to do so. "Oh, I'm lovely, thanks for asking," she responded to the silence of the inanimate object. "And how is your wife, Ms. Sugar Bowl?" Beatrix asked, retrieving the other piece of the set. "I see…" she replied stoically. "Thank you for telling me."

The kitchen of Lord Griswold's mansion was empty, save for Beatrix, and in fact, the silence that permeated it traveled throughout the entirety of the enormous house. At one time, it had made her anxious, but now she talked to the tea sets, which made the immediate loneliness a little more bearable. Beatrix had never liked other people much anyway, or at least that was what she told herself.

"Not too hot for you, Mr. T?" she asked as she filled the wide white belly of the teapot with the floral brown of earl grey.

"Oh, no, only one for me, Mrs. S. I shouldn't indulge," she said, placing one sparkling white sugar cube into the bottom of a thin porcelain cup.

The tea steamed as she poured it over the sugar cube, the confectionary quickly melting away and disappearing entirely into the brew.

"No, I haven't had any word from Lord Griswold in quite some time, Mr. Creamer," she paused as if listening to a response, dribbling the tiniest splash of milk into her tea. "You're right. It is a bit disconcerting."

She sat down at the table, the white linen of the tablecloth brushing her stockinged legs.

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. C," she nodded solemnly, "But Lord Griswold entrusted the care of his estate to me and only me. He trusts me," she took a long, loud sip, "If he didn't, why would he have left me here?" the tenor of her voice lost some of its confidence, "Alone?"

There was a long, tense silence.

"I am very capable," she said with a giggle, patting the teapot lid, "thank you for noticing."

Beatrix set the cup of tea down and smoothed the folds of her black skirt beneath her hands, hearing only the swaying tick of the grandfather clock in the corner. For whatever reason, she ended the conversation with the fine china there. There were no more awkward questions from Mr. C, no more fawning compliments from Mr. T, and certainly not a peep out of Mrs. S. Beatrix simply drank the pot of tea in the still quiet of the mansion.

There was no loneliness in her expression, however, and from time to time, she would hum a tune to herself or swing her feet under the table, her demeanor something like a child waiting for the return of a parent on an errand. When the tea was gone, she carefully cleaned up, washing out the serving dishes and then drying them meticulously until they practically sparkled with the effort. Then she slid the tea set back into the cabinet, placing it precisely where she had found it as if it had never been used at all.

"Time for more work," she said with a light sigh, tightening the strings of her apron at the small of her back.

Beatrix skipped out into the foyer and inspected the intricate tile mosaic that made up the entryway to Lord Griwold's mansion of an estate.

"This could use a good scrub," she proclaimed, her hands on her hips with determination. Beatrix procured a mop and a bucket, filling the thing to the brim with hot, soaping water.

She struggled back to the entryway, some of the stuff slopping over the lip of the bucket and splashing at her feet.

"Ugh," Beatrix said distastefully, "too much work."

She set the bucket down, and with a wave of her hand, the sudsy container of water was levitating in the air. "That's better!" she said gleefully.

Beatrix moved from one corner of the room to the next, sweeping the broom almost as if she were dancing with it. The tile beneath her feet sparkled and shined. She used the same magic to empty and return the bucket to its place with a twirl of a finger, wringing out the mop and setting it inside the broom closet.

"What's next?" she asked the empty mansion. "Mhhm," she nodded her head and began to walk up the grand staircase that led to the second floor. "A little dusting in the library sounds perfect. I might even read a book!" she ended the thought with a hapless giggle.

The double doors to the library always filled Beatrix with a sense of wonder. Their ornate, carved shape looked more like a painting than carpentry, and it was with a reverent hand that she pushed them open. One of her many tasks was checking each tome for book lice, and though it was a monotonous chore, it did allow her to get to know the selections of Lord Griswold's personal collection.

Today she started with the titles that began with 'E,' having finished up with 'D' the day before. The first book she pulled from the shelf was titled Eggsellent, One Chef's love affair with the Humble Egg. Intrigued, Beatrix flipped open the book and began to peruse its recipes. After her inspection revealed no sign of insect intruders, she snapped the book shut, ran her feather duster over it, and returned it to the shelf.

"I'll have to try making that quiche," she said to herself.

She moved methodically down the row this way, finding travel diaries, biographies of famous wizards, and even a field guide to exotic mushrooms. It was one of the less tedious tasks she had been assigned by Lord Griswold in her singular upkeep of his estate and one she not-so-secretly looked forward to every day. Perhaps it was the interruption of her favorite task that led to the events that followed.

Beatrix's focus and peace were shattered by a significant clamor coming from below. She thrust the book in her hand back onto the shelf and raced out of the library, pausing at the landing to the grand staircase. There was a prolonged silence, and then the ruckus came again. The simple black flats on her feet slapped against the stairs as she flew down them, careening toward the kitchen.

Beatrix skated into the room, gripping the wash sink for support as she slid to a stop and listened once more, just to make sure. The noise was louder here, a chaotic mixture of chatter and roughhousing. Beatrix paused her whole body tense with the act of listening. She took a steadying breath and approached the servants' stairwell that led down to the wine cellar. The racket pinged off the stone stairwell, bubbling up from below.

"Bandits?" she whispered to herself, "After Lord Griswold's rare collection of vintages? How did they get in?"

Carefully she began her descent, one step at a time, her ears piqued to any noise or talk that might reveal more about the intruders. There was a loud crash and the sound of shattering glass, and Beatrix pressed herself into the wall as a gruff voice broke over the chaos.

"Grub! Watch those damn clumsy hands of yours, dammit!"

"Sorry, sir!" came a higher-pitched, almost wheezy response.

Beatrix peered around the corner, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light of the cellar. A few torches had been lit, their flickering orange glow dancing shadows across the stone floor and walls. In the shadows moved odd shapes.

"These are the smallest bandits I've ever seen," she murmured as the intruders continued to argue amongst themselves.

Gradually, as her vision grew more precise, Beatrix realized that her newfound roommates were not actually human at all. The tallest of them, the one that had been referred to as "sir," could be nearly her height, she supposed, but all the rest would come up to her waist, at best.

"And they're…green," she said to herself, her eyes going wide.

One of the bandits came dangerously close to her as he stuffed bottles of wine into a large sack. Beatrix studied him, calling to mind the many scientific guides she had perused in the Lord's library. The creature's short stature and algae-green skin were not enough to identify his species, but the large, almost luminous eyes combined with blunted fingers that ended in sharp claws gave him away.

"Goblins!" she shrieked at full volume, and the thief closest to her startled with a loud yelp, the bag of wine he was holding splashing to the floor and spreading out in a purple pool.

"Who's there!" called the gruff, tall one, stepping fully into the torchlight.

Beatrix gripped the handle of her feather duster tightly in her right hand and moved out of the stairwell into the center of the room. "Mine name is Beatrix Sallow, and you are trespassing in Lord Griswold's wine cellar!"

The goblins around her began to snicker, the what she now recognized as a hobgoblin leader let out the loudest guffaw of them all.

"You're awful brave for a maid," he said, orange eyes glinting at her as his fanged mouth opened in a grin. "But we can't have you following us, now can we?"

The goblins surrounded them now, eager for whatever they assumed would happen next.

Beatrix pulled on the handle of her feather duster and watched at the blade inside it was revealed, gleaming red in the light of the torches. The hobgoblin took a step back in surprise, his cat-like eyes blinking rapidly.

"I said you're trespassing," Beatrix hissed before leaping at the leader.

The hobgoblin quickly drew his own weapon, a crude ax that met her blade mid-air, sending an aching vibration down Beatrix's arm. It did not deter her. She snarled and pushed forward again as the goblins around her recovered from their surprise and began to cheer for their leader.

"Get her, sir!"

"Snark! Snark! Snark!" chanted some others.

"Your name—" she gritted her teeth together as their weapons caught, "—is Snark?" Snark, the hobgoblin gave a guttural laugh as he forced her backward, "Your name is Beatrix?"

"Beatrix is a fine name!" she snapped back.

"Snark is a traditional Hobgoblin name! I am named after my grandfather," said Snark, brandishing his axe menacingly.

Beatrix paused, "Oh, that's very nice, actually."

"Thank—Thank you?"

"This fighting is getting us nowhere," Beatrix sighed and shook her head.

"Why—"

Snark was cut off as Beatrix waved her blade, a blue glow now suffusing the metal. The hobgoblin's body went rigid.

"You're going to take me to your leader," she said authoritatively.

"Boss?" asked one of the goblins in concern as he raced to Snark's side and began to tug on his coat.

"There's no problem here, Grub. This nice lady wants to meet the boss."

"That seems like a problem if I'm honest, sir," Grub pointed out.

Snark waved away the goblin, and Grub shuffled back to the small collection of goblins at Beatrix's back.

"You try anything, lady, and we'll getcha!" said one of them.

Beatrix turned and fixed the offending goblin in her sternest gaze. The creature squeaked in fear and ducked behind his compatriots. Snark turned and strode behind one of the large caskets of golden ale that lined the back wall. Beatrix followed and let out a gasp as the crumbled-away wall behind it was revealed.

"So that's how you got in," she whispered.

"Wasn't so hard," Grub chimed, "you should really tell your Lord to reinforce this foundation."

"Isn't up to code," said another.

Beatrix took in this information with a grave nod.

Grub skittered ahead, torch in his hand, leading the way down a crudely carved tunnel that Beatrix had to crouch to fit through. The air around her felt damp, and the loamy smell of dirt suffused the space.

"How far does this go?" she asked, her voice muted by the confines of her surroundings.

"Oh, it'll take us most of the afternoon," answered one of the other goblins. "Name's Loo, by the way," he held out one forest-green, gnarled hand.

Beatrix shook Loo's hand vigorously, "Nice to meet you," she replied, "I have to say that digging tunnels into cellars doesn't seem like the most efficient way to rob people."

"You think this is our first heist, Missus?" responded Loo with a wild cackle, "We've broken into half the manors in this county alone."

"Always through the cellar?"

Loo shook his head, "No, don't be ridiculous. This was just the best option for this particular job. Would have gone off without a hitch—" he raised his voice, "IF SOMEBODY HADN'T MADE SO MUCH NOISE."

Grub snapped his head around and glared at Loo.

"First time," Loo jabbed his thumb in Grub's direction and shook his head at Beatrix as if in commiseration.

"Ah," Beatrix sighed knowingly.

The odd group traveled in silence for a while, Beatrix's blade still glowing a subtle blue, maintaining her control over Snark. The tunnel began to widen slightly and slant upward toward the surface. Beatrix craned her gaze around the lumbering form of Snark and caught a glimpse of a light glowing beyond. As they neared it, the goblins around her began to grow agitated.

"I really don't think the boss is going to like this," she heard one whisper.

"Especially coming back empty-handed," said another.

"Snark is in charge. He's gonna take the heat, not us."

Snark, for his part, seemed unmoved. In fact, the hobgoblin was humming happily to himself as they approached what Beatrix could only assume was the exit.

A subtle heat radiated through the air now, and a distinct sulfur flavor to the atmosphere. Beatrix covered her nose with her hand.

"Where on earth are we headed?" she asked.

"You wanted to see the boss, so to the boss, we go," Snark said, his gravely voice mixing oddly with the sing-song tone of his words.

Beatrix covered her eyes with her other hand as she stepped out of the tunnel and out into whatever awaited them. The light was not altogether that bright; to her surprise, it only seemed so in comparison to the dankness of the path that had led here. She blinked, her eyes more comfortable now as she began to look around.

Beatrix and her green companions now stood in a large, cave-like structure. Massive stalagmites and stalactites dotted the cavern, covered in effervescent mushrooms that lit up the space like lanterns. The floor rippled with tiny rivulets of water streaming around their feet, a mist of unknown to her gas hovered in the air, the source of the sulfuric smell.

"Where are we?" she asked, her mouth parted in awe.

"Home sweet home!" Answered Grub.

"We're under White Peak Mountain," Loo replied more informatively.

"Really?" Beatrix asked, her eyes going wide with surprise, "We really traveled that far?"

"Time flies when you're walking through an endless tunnel of dirt," Loo snorted.

"I don't think that's how that saying goes," replied Beatrix in all seriousness; Loo's creased face furrowed further in frustration.

There was the sound of shifting rocks, and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. Beatrix gripped her feather-duster blade tightly in her fist, prepared for what was to come. A large shape loomed out of the inky blue light, uncoiling itself like a rope.

"A dragon?" Beatrix stood her ground, watching as the goblins around her began to tremble visibly.

"The boss," whispered Loo as he ducked behind a stalagmite.

The dragon's massive, scaled head glittered like a thousand stars as it swung back and forth, its luminous red eyes searching.

"Snark…where is the loot?"

Snark, still unbothered, addressed the dragon. "We don't have any boss. This maid here wanted to meet ya, so we—"

Snark paused as the dragon lowered its head down to the hobgoblin's level and fixed him in a deep stare. "She's charmed you…interesting…"

"What—" Snark was cut off as the dragon's tail appeared out of the shadows and smacked him full-force in the chest. His body flew to the side, smashing into the rock and sending thousands of mushroom spores showering over him like snow. The hobgoblin slid down to the cavern floor with a groan.

"Tell me," the dragon addressed Beatrix now, and she felt the full weight of its ancient magical gaze, "how did a powerful sorceress such as yourself end up a simple maid for Lord Griswold of all people?"

Beatrix released her hold on Snark, the glow of her blade dimming as she replied in total confidence, "Not even going to introduce yourself? I expected more manners from such a distinguished beast."

The dragon cocked its head to the side in surprise. "My, we are cheeky," it said and then gave a loud rumbling laugh that broke off one of the stalactites, sending goblins scattering away as it smashed into the rock floor.

"You may call me Maulg," the dragon finally answered, "Mistress of the White Peak." "Honored to meet you," Beatrix gave a deep curtsey, "I am Beatrix Sallow."

"Are you going to answer my query now, Beatrix Sallow?" The dragon lowered her head

to the ground, staring up at Beatrix with a surprisingly docile, curious look in her red eyes.

"I lost a bet," Beatrix admitted with a light sigh.

"You…" Maulg arched her neck, raising her head back into the air and looking down over the whole cavern. "You lost a bet?"

"Mhm," Beatrix nodded. "Lord Griswold is a powerful wizard, you see, and nearly a century ago, he cleaned me out in a poker game."

"A poker—" Maulg seemed at a loss for words, and Beatrix rocked her small frame back and forth on her feet as she waited for a complete response. "How long have you been paying off this debt?"

"Oh," Beatrix's voice chimed lightly in the air, "Coming up on a century, I'm nearly finished with my work for him."

Maulg blinked, her tail slithering around a stalagmite and gripping it tightly in a coil. "I see…"

"So I would appreciate it if you could hold off any further raids on his estate until I am gone from the premise. Otherwise, I may have to kill all of your minions, and I'll admit I've grown fond of them."

"Awww," she heard Loo squeak from his hiding place.

The threat amused Maulg. "When are you free of your contract?"

Beatrix calculated something in her head, "A month and three days."

Maulg's head disappeared into the shadows, a low rumbling chuckle filling the air.

"Very well, Beatrix Sallow, this has been very amusing, I have to say. For that alone, I will abide by your proposition."

"Thank you," Beatrix gave another curtsey.

"I have only one request," Maulg reappeared, her neck snaking toward Beatrix until they were nearly touching noses. "Come visit me when your debt to Griswold is paid."

"Why, Mistress Maulg?" Beatrix asked, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead in surprise.

"Goblings are not… titillating company."

Beatrix giggled. "I think that can be arranged."

"Very well," Maulg slowly withdrew back into the shadows. "Escort her back to Lord Griswold's estate, boys, and see she gets there safely."

Loo and Grub reappeared quickly, Loo even going so far as to grab Beatrix's hand and pull her back toward the exit. "You heard the boss!"

Beatrix glanced over her shoulder as they reached the tunnel's threshold and waved. There was a brief pause, and then the tip of Maulg's tail waved back subtly in reply. Did you enjoy it? Be sure to like and comment and visit the links above.

Big hug,

Kara