The Temple of Elagar by Taylor Petersen
Fall of Istal Book 1
Blake is the Crown Prince of the United Islands. For years he has lived complacent, but now he only wishes to explore the world beyond the walls of the palace courtyard. So when a mysterious crystal sword is given to him, he relinquishes his throne and begins his journey. But fate intervenes, causing him to make an encounter with someone from his past.
However, from the shadows, a dark plot is at play. The Avelian Cult is making its move, and their belief that the Flame Istal, Avelia, has returned has caused disruption throughout the land. As Blake finds himself pointed toward the Temple of Elagar, his visions increase, and he unknowingly stumbles into a plot that could tear the world apart.Amazon
Excerpt from The Temple of Elagar © Copyright 2023 Taylor Petersen
Blake closed his eyes, fully expecting the end to come, but when the anticipated blow didn't land, he opened his eyes. To his bewilderment, he found himself standing again in that void's engulfing darkness. The flames continued to burn, encircling him in their glow.
“What is this?” Blake muttered. His eyes darted around, and he spun in bewildered circles.
“You're here. Good. There's not much time.” It was the same voice that had guided Blake before, the one that had told him to run.
“Who… who are you?” Blake questioned. His eyes searched for the source of the voice but found no tangible form.
“There's no time. It’s taking all my strength to keep you here,” replied the voice. It held a calmness, yet a hint of desperation could be detected.
As Blake listened, a glimmer of light appeared just before him. The light expanded horizontally, and his eyes widened as the light took shape. It was a sword, shining with a resplendent aura.
As the light slowly faded, Blake's eyes could now fully perceive the magnificent weapon before him. It possessed a unique and elegant design—a curved,
one-sided blade. Adorned with a brown wood-like handle. Unlike any Blake had seen before, the guard and pommel shimmered a lustrous golden, and he stepped forward to observe the blade itself.
The blade resembled glass, yet it held a captivating quality, an enchanting blend of blue and red hues that seemed to swirl like mist within the very structure of the blade, akin to a mesmerizing night sky.
Driven by impulse, Blake reached forward and firmly grasped the sword. It felt impossibly light, as if he were holding a delicate feather rather than a weapon.
Once again, the voice echoed in his ear, its tone resolute. “The Crystal Sword. A magic blade forged by the Istal.”
“The Istal…” Blake whispered. His voice filled with wonder. “They’re actually real?”
“Yes,” said the voice.
The void around Blake began to dissolve into nothingness, and the empty ground beneath his feet began to rumble.
“We’ve run out of time. This realm is fading,” the voice conveyed. “Use the blade to save yourself. You must not succumb to death. Find me, Blake. I have more to reveal to you.”
“How can I find you? You haven't told me who you are or where to look for you,” Blake said. The void disintegrated, and the dwindling flames extinguished.
“You will find me. It is only a matter of time…” The voice spoke its final words, and Blake felt himself leave the emptiness of the void.
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