A tale full of magic, dragons, riddles, and a mysterious stranger
You stroll through the streets of Elyndor’s capital: Thalorien.
The sun glimmers on the white towers, and the sweet scent of pastries and spices floats through the air. Magic is so strong here that your skin tingles ever so slightly.
You keep walking, soaking in the indescribable atmosphere. All around, life bustles in vibrant colors—there’s always something to discover: elves tending plants with their nature-bound magic, dwarves with heavy, purposeful steps and ancient knowledge of stone and mountains, constructing new homes, and humans, nimble and curious, weaving magic into their everyday lives as effortlessly as breathing.
The city pulses like a living organism, where magic and life are inseparably entwined.
Many passersby stop and stare at you, as if waiting for you to speak first. You follow this silent invitation, asking merchants, travelers, and townsfolk about their lives. They speak of ancient forests, mysterious mountains, sparkling seas—and of dragons that watch over Elyndor.
Eventually, your path leads you deeper into the city. You lose yourself in the atmosphere, in your thoughts. The flow of people carries you onward, as if guiding you. Or is it something else?
Soon you find yourself in a small side street, in front of an unassuming tavern. Yet golden light spills through the windows. A bell announces your arrival, and immediately you are enveloped by the aura of stories told for centuries. The door creaks softly as it closes behind you, and the warm glow of the hearth welcomes you.
The clinking of glasses mixes with quiet conversations. In the corner, among old shelves and mystical artifacts, someone sits. His gaze is attentive, his posture calm—but you instantly sense that he is important to you. He nods, as if he has been waiting for this very moment.
“Welcome to my tavern, Thalen. I’m Tarric. And I’m going to tell you the story of Elyndor. So sit down, and listen closely. This is no ordinary story…”
Tarric begins at the beginning:
Centuries ago, magic entered the world. The peoples were still young. Elves, connected to nature but inexperienced, cautiously explored their powers. Dwarves had just completed their capital, Thorgar, and were venturing through the Gravenor Mountains. Each race lived separately at first; only a small part of Elyndor had been discovered.
The mother of all dragons, Elyndra, sensed the power of this land. She chose it as the place to raise her children. Each dragon was given a region to protect and guide the young peoples. Thus, dragons, dwarves, and elves grew together. They learned from one another, and harmony was born.
Over time, more dragons were born, and Elyndra entrusted them with the realm before she vanished.
Then came humans. They sought their place and quickly learned to use magic in their daily lives. Unlike the elves, who wielded magic reverently in harmony with nature, humans saw it as a tool for growth. They founded villages, cities, and eventually their capital, Calvoran.
But their zeal was too great, their progress too reckless. They forced the dragons into action—and Calvoran fell.
After that, the elves took the reins of the realm. Over eight centuries ago, they founded Thalorien, together with the dragons. From then on, dragons were no longer merely guardians but advisors, shaping the fate of Elyndor directly.
And they still do. To this day, the guardian dragons watch over the land.
Tarric leans back in his chair and looks at you.
“The elves do their job. The dragons, too—well, most of the time. Sure, there’s trouble, but where isn’t there? Without it, life would be boring. All in all, it’s a land you can live in. Or survive in—depends on how clever you are.”
His gaze studies you, and you feel he’s holding back a grin.
“Hm… you still look like one foot is stuck in your dreams.”
He gestures to the wall.
“See that map? Rivers, mountains, cities—drawn neatly. Almost all of it, anyway. For most, just ink on parchment. For others… it’s a treasure chest. And some locks only open for those who know which story holds the key.”
A wink flashes across his face.
“Go ahead, explore. Follow the paths, see what lies beyond. Maybe you’ll stumble upon a dragon—or, if your luck’s really bad, a dwarf in a foul mood.”
He laughs heartily, yet his eyes glimmer with knowing.
Then he leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially:
“And who knows… perhaps we’ll meet again. I travel often—collecting stories, meeting people, picking up secrets… just for fun, of course.”
He straightens, the grin remaining, as if he said nothing important at all.
“But remember this, Thalen: Elyndor isn’t a map. It’s a test. And that there?”
He casually points to the map on the wall.
“Not just parchment. Call it a key. Put it in the lock… and then the real journey begins.”
You feel that this is more than a mere hint. It’s an unspoken quest: Discover Elyndor.
The gates are open. Step in — Elyndor awaits. And many more fantasy short stories
For those who wish to heed Elyndor’s call beyond the screen:
The map is available in my shop: English version soon available
This was a fantasy short story from Elyndor.
Thalorien may only be the beginning, but Elyndor’s secrets are waiting to be uncovered. This fantasy short story is just the first step on your journey. Follow me, gain exclusive insights into a magical world of dragons, elves, dwarves, and magic—and don’t miss any further adventures!
I, Raven Morrigan Hawke, create Elyndor, a world full of hidden paths, whispering forests, and ancient secrets. Every illustration and story draws you deeper—toward brave adventurers, glowing crystals, and places where light and shadow dance together. Join me on the journey through this poetic fantasy world and discover what waits behind every hill, every tree, and every artifact.