Another story from Dreams of a Fantasist. The title was inspired by Lyndsey’s track, but the story is a Fantasist original.


I run through the battlefield, dodging swinging swords as I go. My weapon long lost, the balance tips further in their favour. Blooded ground stretches out before me until it meets dark mountains beyond. Only starlight casts a faint glow to see the silhouette of the treacherous peaks. 

Loss weighs heavy on me. This war has stolen more than I can bear. 

Fire bursts in the sky and rains down, scorching the land. A phoenix cries from within the flames and heads towards the mountains, its wings sparking and sputtering with fatigue. I must follow it. 

Now, there is only one hope, a beacon I’ve fought hard to find, and finally, I see it. Light glimmers in the distance, and my hope is renewed to end this war as the phoenix lands and awaits my arrival.

The steep slopes grow closer as I chase the heat trail of the phoenix. It whispers words of hope and comfort. For its fire never burns those whose intentions are true. I want this war over and for peace to reign. 

Scrambling up the rock takes all the strength I have in me, each limb pushing further than ever. My last battle. 

Battle cries echo from below, creeping up and piercing my ears. I’ve fought enough in that battle. I’m done. My true quest lies atop this mountain. With one last push, I crawl over the edge and lie flat. 

A tower looms over me, ancient and oddly jagged in its form. I wonder how it can hold itself with such a toppling structure. An arched door opens, and I get to my feet. Golden spirals and whorls adorn the frame, shimmering through the dark night. 

The voice calls again, urging me through the doorway. Stairs greet me, and I take that first step. As I ascend the spiralling stairs, the night sky peeps through sporadic windows, but inside is lit with soft candles that guide my way. 

More light pours in from above, and a soft voice whispers. My legs ache from the climb, but the light spurs me on until it floods a crystal dome at the tower’s tip. Flames reach out, twisting and reforming into something new. 

I breathe in the warm air and let the flames wash over me, bath me, fill me with hope.

A heavenly angel sits upon her winged steed in the centre of the dome. She smiles and reaches out a hand. Wordless, she slides gracefully off her steed and takes me in her arms. Closing my eyes, I absorb her strength, her power, her hope. 

When I open my eyes again, she is gone along with her steed, but the light still fills the dome. I look down to see the light is mine. My skin glows and almost blinds me. Wings form behind me in vibrant flames. The steed’s flight. 

Smiling, I step towards an opening in the dome. Morning sun tints the sky in colours I have I never known. Luminous rays touch the earth where the battle still rages below. They stop their attacks and stare up. Not at the sun, but at me. 

My wings flutter behind me, and the need to leap overwhelms me. The battle ends, and clanging of falling swords echoes throughout the land. I relish in the quiet and peace and hope that no battle is too great to win.

I take flight. 

Feature image by Mark Frost from Pixabay 

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