I have a story to tell. Some will say it’s a very vivid tale from a very strange author. Others will tell you that I should be locked up, that things like this just aren’t true. But they are.
The story I want to tell you really happened. How do I know? Well, I was there. The dragon king, Envir gave me permission to come back from his world and told me to tell the story so that others, people like the ones in the story will know there is hope.
I will tell you my name is K. S. Carol. I’m not…not really. But for the purpose of this book that’s who I’ll be. I’m a teller of tales and the scribe of my world. Not this one, but one that defies all that you have known.
Aurora was having a bad day. Actually she was having a bad life. Her mother had just died and she inherited a tapestry, a knife and a box. But she didn’t want them. She wanted her well ordered life to go on well ordered. But the Lady Elizabeth and Envir decided that things would be better if she came to them. So when she was trying to decide what to do with these new gifts she fell into the beautiful tapestry.
Her life as she’d known it was gone. The world in which she found herself in was rich in magic, creatures she’d never heard of and a few she thought only to be myth. Aurora was their only hope and she thought that with her…
Well, it would be very unfair of me to tell you the whole of her story before I’ve begun the tale now wouldn’t it?
Aurora and her band of merry men have their work cut out for them this time. A self-proclaimed frozen king. Supplies running low and she can’t contact the one person who can help her. Envir, the dragon king is cut off from her more so than before. There seems to be no hope this time... or is there?
Aurora Kirkpatrick had fallen into a tapestry. And after several months of thinking she was dead she now came to realize that she was indeed the Champion, the only one that could save the world that was created for the magical people of this world. And try not to murder her king while she was at it. She went to him for help with the broken castle.
The South Village sounded like the ideal sort of place to be. Nine shops lined each side of the main street, a large pond stood by in a forest so dense that the sun rarely shown through.
But it wasn’t.