—¿No te da vergüenza ser tan rara? —¿No te da vergüenza creerte tan común? [Fragmento de un diálogo de mi novela Les Routes, disponible y completa en mi perfil]

La hace pensar, aunque todavía una parte de su subconsciente está en otra parte, ¿qué somos en realidad? Una sonrisa contando una trágica historia, los oídos que la escuchan y editan, los ojos que se deleitan y lloran, y las ansias de hacer algo por que no vuelva a ocurrir. Planea darle una porción de esperanza, y varias de confianza. [Fragmento de mi novela Les Routes, por favor denle una oportunidad, hace años la escribo, actualmente el tercer libro está en pausa porque no tengo lectores]

Entre el ajetreo citadino, se esconden momentos mágicos, aquellos capaces de apaciguar los humores putrefactos nacidos del estrés, para otros el toque final para enmarcar el momento perfecto, petricor se llama y embelesa los sentidos, es el arte de la naturaleza, de mostrar como algo tan común, la lluvia en fusión con la tierra, puede crear un aroma exquisito, quizás un aroma tan ansestral que nos recuerda nuestro pasado olvidado, al igual que nuestro futuro inevitable.

Las cosas buenas cuestan océanos y duran mares. El cielo azul es hermoso, pero hoy se ve hermosamente triste. [Fragmento de mi novela Les Routes, disponible y completo en mi perfil. Por favor denle una oportunidad]

«Quiero que callen a ese perro». Decía la vieja cada vez que Cirilo ladraba sin ninguna razón aparente a la entrada de la casa. Antes era una señora fuerte como roble y dura como piedra, pero desde que su niño murió aquella fuerza se le perdió. «Que callen a ese perro». Era el mejor amigo de su hijo y por eso lo conservaba, ella sabía lo mucho que se amaban. «Que callen a ese perro». Y el perro movía la cola, no entendía como aquella señora no miraba a su hijo que le decía hola.

Todas las mañanas ella desde su jardín lo saludaba. Él como costumbre salía con premura, ignorando su alrededor. En horas del ocaso ella sentada en su porche le daba la bienvenida, pero él con el mismo talante de salida entraba en su casa. Los años pasaron y perduró la misma rutina, hasta que un día, durmiendo en la soledad de su cama, él murió. En la mañana siguiente, sin darse cuenta que andaba muerto siguió en su usanza, y al salir escuchó una dulce voz que lo saludaba desde el vecino jardín.

El cielo negro y sin luna crujío con relámpagos intermitentes. Las dos artesanas se cazaban a la distancia enviándose tempestades y maleficios. Ambas conjuraban con piedras, hojas y ramas a los ejércitos de ancestros y espíritus que surcaban el perímetro en busca de la enemiga. Tres días de intensa tormenta culminaron con un gigante de hojas que alcanzó a una artesana oscura de la tribu Bajra y la convirtió en un cedro marchito listo para morir y fertilizar el valle en nombre de Altera.

Cuenta una vieja leyenda, que en una noche cualquiera, cuando la luna brilla con fuerza y las calles se quedan en silencio, las almas de ciertos seres mágicos recorren las ciudades en busca de sueños. Sueños que recogen y guardan con esmero, para que un día, cuando la persona está preparada para afrontarlos, vuelven a entregárselos para que se hagan realidad. Por ello hay que creer en los sueños, pues tarde o temprano, con paciencia y trabajo, los sueños se hacen realidad.

Burning hands is considered a basic spell for most who practice magic. Elementals who are aligned with fire typically can use this particular spell with ease and can refine it farther with more ease than that of a non elemental. Burning hands at higher levels can get to temperatures that melt swords and iron, should the user be advanced with the spell. The draconian races also have ease with this spell in many cases. Many applications can be found for such a spell.

El Mundo al que vivimos nosotros, siempre no hay amenazas, sino que nos amenazamos a nosotros mismos, pero si te preguntas “¿Que ocurriría, si una amenaza es alterna a nosotros?” pues cierra los ojos y piensa en una menaza no común. Mis Mundos, INconectados, ya serán revelados, y hay una amenaza peor que el anterior. ¡¡Una locura de Amenazas!! Ehh visto, malignos pasando por doquier, nosotros no lo vemos, pero lo sentimos, hay AMENAZAS, pero existen también ESPERANZAS, podemos ser parte de ellos

A pack of Primates come running out from the forest, a Sea-Dweller from both sides approaching the settlement protectors. The Sky Glider with the punctured hole in his chin is spiralling out of control in the background, sending spitfires out, which explode on impact as the creature descends through the air until it crashes into the side of the cave. A Sky Glider is flying past and, seeing his fallen comrades, sends a spitfire towards Birms; as he dodges the spitfire, the ball of flames clips…

Once upon a time On a beautiful spring morn, All the pixies rejoiced When the first unicorn was born. Sparkling from it’s baby horn, Was a drop of morning dew. This was a symbol of love, Proving she was pure and true. A Unicorn’s promise to the world With all it’s heart and zeal To care for the innocent And help their wounds heal.

There always was an age where a witch would discover her magic. The prime age when raised in a family of witches is when they turn sixteen. As that is when the nature of their magic reveals itself. Little do most witches know, is they only age in accordance to how specific events of the moon occur to times of magical use. In instances such as the war of the pink moon, it can cause time to slow for witches, or even speed up the process of aging, depending on the nature of witch.

The whole world always knew of the four major elements that make the world. Earth, Fire, Air and water. Though lost to the knowledge of the normal humans (A.K.A. Eaters) the Fifth element has always existed. The Fifth element being the spirit. One cannot be truly connected to everything without having spirit. The pentagram have five points and that is why we see it used for alot of spells that require circles and sigyls. The world has lost its connection to their spirit. So most magic is lost.

Ganzfeld: —Tell me, Nires, what exactly is a "girl talk"? Nires proudly put her hands on her hips: —You are not to understand. "Girl talk" means talking about things only girls can understand. Ganzfeld: —Ah! So that means we had "boys talk" before, right, Miller? Do you remember that time we talked about mati... Miller cut Ganzfeld off by smacking him on the back of his neck: —Quit yapping and let's move. Weren't you the one saying we were in a hurry? Ganzfeld: —Right...

Privilege? Please, don't be insolent, Lady Lumina. You've committed the kingdom's gravest crime. Unlike other humans, you were a member of the royal family. They were mere strangers, but you, you're a traitor to the crown. Do you not think death is too lenient a punishment for such a crime? If His Majesty is still determined to get you back after all this, you may face a fate worse than death. I believe your friends are luckier than you; unlike you, they might die and be spared from this ordeal.

He had never known the person lying before him. However, upon seeing Nires' sorrow, he too felt it. He wanted to cheer her up, but hesitated to step into the gloomy silence. Nires' expression had plunged him in thoughts. One day, they would all die, but not all of them would be fortunate enough to be buried. As humans, they were passing away without realizing the true value of things. Right now, Nires valued her father more than she ever had in her life; yet he not in flesh, but in swollen soil.

Miller approached and took Nires by the shoulder: —You said you didn't know what's ahead. Let me go first. If there's anything dangerous, I don't want you to be caught up front. Nires replied: —I also said it's not a dangerous place. I'll be fine. Miller took hold of the rope in Nires' hand. He had no intention of forcibly taking it, but Nires knowingly let go of the rope into his hand: —We should be cautions against even the smallest risks. I'll go down. Nires responded: —O...Okay.

Miller and his friends remained silent. They all kept their eyes on the ground. The elf continued: "I hate this aspect of you. You're always looking down. The reason you lost in the war wasn't because you were weak; it was because you didn't look ahead... even you, wolfkin, have become a human. If you intend to protect them like I do, you should teach them to see what led them to search for that path before looking towards the path."

He was always like that, unsettled by details he didn’t know. But he had little to no time to ponder on them now. The reality before his eyes was all that mattered; among all the enemies, the most powerful of the three generals had shown himself at their base. Had they been followed? Had Hepha’s identity been compromised? If so, how? In any case, they had shown their weakness at some point, and now they were about to pay the price.