Miriana and the “Golden Dawn” | Fantasy Short Story
You sit with Tarric in his tavern. The atmosphere is lively. The fireplace crackles, and humans, elves, and dwarves chat, drink, and laugh.
You’ve been in Elyndor for a while now, and you’ve grown accustomed to Tarric, the locals, and above all, the tavern. Life is good.
Suddenly, something changes. The lively mood shifts into a strange calm. Not threatening.
Just… confusing. As if no one knows how to act.