Born and raised in Utah, Chelsea Jensen has been enthralled with storytelling as long as she can remember. A writer since childhood, she rarely shared her work with others. Now, she lives by the motto “Dare to do, and never wonder what if”. Daring to pursue her dreams, she is currently studying Creative Writing at Full Sail University. Chelsea desires to share her dreams and fantasies with the world and inspire other writers like herself to stop the what if’s, and share their own unique voices with the world.
Chaos has Returned
Conan would have never called his life exciting in the least. Despite hailing from Wolfpine and spending his days traveling the hazardous Dragon’s road between his own village and Frosthold. There were all those tales of creatures and beasts in the woods, but to be honest, Conan hadn’t seen any in years. Despite his own experiences, few dared traveling the route unless necessary, so you could imagine his surprise when a young wood elf begged him for a ride down to Frosthold moments after passing out of the gates of Wolfpine.
Bringing his cart to a halt the old and weathered man stared down at this youngster who couldn’t have been more then fifteen years old… Though it was hard to tell with Elves since they aged differently. For all he knew this ‘child’ could very well be older than him!
“Please sir, just to Frosthold. That’s where you’re going, right?” The elf said, taking him from his thoughts.
“What business do ye have in Frosthold? Yer kind don’t come to town much,” Conan answered, raising an eyebrow.
“I,” The child said, stopping after only a moment. “I want to go south.” Conan scratched his chin.
“That’s an odd place for yer kind. But fair ‘nough. Get on,” He said, motioning for the nameless elf to climb up. With that nimble elven grace the child scurried up with ease and settled in the back of the cart and next to a pile of animal pelts. With a flick of his wrists Conan snapped the reins and his horses started to move once more.
The journey between Wolfpine and Frosthold was a dull trip, when not met with creatures of the woods that is, and the majority of it was spent in a long canyon. While it had no official name on any map, the residents of the two villages called the Canyon “Ruggyn’s Haven”, after the local goddess of hunt and the wilds.
“As the story goes, Ruggyn lives in this here canyon. Calls it home, and watches over us all. Makes sure that only those she likes can pass safely,” Conan said, making small talk as he and his little hitchhiker followed the well worn and familiar path along the cliff’s edge.
“Ruggyn doesn’t live here anymore.” Said the small elf. Conan blinked, and looked over his shoulder.
“What’d ye say?” He asked.
“She’s gone. Just like all the rest,” Was the elf’s answer as they finally looked up at the great mountains around them. “People have stopped believing in the gods, and without faith and worship they are too weak to stay in this plane.”
Conan, a man of simple means, was very confused but also worried. He’d never been much of a devotee, but he’d always given the gods and offering before his journeys. Always knew to paid them his respect and to never trifle with them.
“Ye don’t mean that. The gods are always there, they just don’t talk much,” He finally said. The elf didn’t respond, and the rest of the canyon passed in silence. Once they were finally free of it’ high walls and perilous drops Conan brought the cart to a stop and looked over his shoulder at the small elf. “Now tell me really, why are ye going south? Ye elves keep to the woods. Once ye leave these mountains yer in the desert. No trees or water for days. Not a good place for ye elves.” The elf met his gaze, and for the first time Conan felt a chill run down his spine.
“Ruggyn and our other siblings trapped me here for two thousand years. And now that they are too weak to keep me subdued, it’s time I claim the world for my own,” The elf answered, only this time their voice was different. It was old and powerful. “You humans forgot your gods and set me free with your faithlessness. I’m going to show all of you petty humans what your precious gods were protecting you from for so many years.”
With a swirl of smoke and fire the elf exploded, leaving nothing in their place aside from a single phase etched into the wood of the cart.
Only after the elf disappeared did Conan realized something; he’d never even gotten their name.
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