A microfiction I wrote before NaNoWriMo. It is a little more traditional than the fantasy I tend to write. Enjoy!
I’ve seen a lot in my lifetime. I’ve seen grown men come back from the brink of death, I’ve seen children die. But that was nothing compared to this. The smell of death and charred bodies was everywhere.
Golden light glinted off my sword even as ash fell onto it. I held it ready, the metal ready to tear into whatever hideous flesh might await me.
The precipice stretching below me was jagged, a sadistic bloody smile waiting to devour me. An internal glow emanating from the earth below was the only light in here. It was the perfect den for a worm. I held <old English for fire or truth> in my hands, ready for a strike. The enchanted sword had been made for my hands, its power intertwined with my own heartbeat, life of my own life.
I descended, wondering at what turn I would see the black eyes of the terrible dragon, Meremoth.