So good to be back!
In this exercise I'm trying to expand the breadth of my storytelling from a deeply personal and emotion driven level to a much more grand scale where everything is dialed up to eleven for the conclusion of a trilogy.
So can you picture the scene in your mind and have a good idea of what's going on? Is it clear, logical, and does it flow naturally?
BONUS: what sort of narrator does my writing voice evoke?
All comments and ratings appreciated!
Scene: midnight at full moon, centered deep within a mountain range's hollow, towards the end of a brutal skirmish between two warring states.
The reins dropped from Kala's hands as she fell slack in the saddle.
With a dark explosion of wings, the dragon tore apart the air in a desperate bid to stay aloft...but it was useless; vigor bled from the Lord of the Skies as he petered from his flight, and then finally fell into the battlefield in a crashing plume of dust.
The sudden impact ejected Kala from the saddle--leather stirrups, harness and all--but the unforgiving ground never came, for she remained to forever demise in a spell of vertigo.
A merciful shower of cold dirt then an epileptic tremor seized every muscle, and yet the sore limbs staid her motionless. Kala's eyes plunged into the back of her head; blood ran from her nose.
Upon realizing the fire element had fallen, both legions came to a sudden lull. At first aurora borealis erupted across the sky in a scintillating white-hot gleam, then such unspeakable heat crashed upon the battlefield that sparks flashed across steel siege engines. Wooden ballistae, catapults, cloth, leather, steel armor and flesh and stone ignited like stricken matchsticks.
The protective aura that spared Kala from perishing as she lensed the fury of themount flashed into a visible barrier about her like a deformed oblong, red-hot against the white heat.
Even ablaze the Lord of the Skies crawled toward its ward, cupped a wing over Kala to shield her from the heat as the miasma above coalesced into standing sheets of lighting that quickly collapsed toward a brilliant singularity above the valley.
Scales to slice through rock gave to the oppressive heat like wax to a blowtorch, exposed his skin to flash-dry into kindling as thermal expansion shattered every bone within and transmuted blood to mist.
Then, all at once, the imperious mount took flight from his mortal coils as an evanescent cloud of smoke, borne away into the wind...vaporized.
Heat pressed Kala's decaying shroud, wore into it like an endless sandblast.
She reached at the border between the barrier and the Armageddon that lay beyond, and for a split second finally understood the nature of her borrowed might.
Kala and her predecessors were mere shadows to a measure of omnipotence, manufactured long ago as part of a vengeful ancient legacy that begrudgingly deigned and lent its might to them.
Centered above the valley, the collapsed miasma detonated a slicing pressure wave that cut through the surrounding mountains and shot out boulders across the country in a hellishly incandescent meteor shower, leaving only the brilliant singularity at the center.
Farther out, the thermonuclear explosion's wake erased lakes, villages and cities beyond, set seas aboil to cast searing tidal waves that pounded entire portside cities into oblivion.
Even farther yet, as the blast cast shattered mountains skyward, the planet finally lost command of its gravity.
Splintered sediment, at formidable mass, slowed from alarming speed to tumble freely in a momentary null void, and then reversed trajectory as all under heaven fell back to the maelstrom at the epicenter--disintegrated into flowing streams by immense gravity that ignited into molten rivers, twisting about the nexus of a minor star.
Deep within this engineered cataclysm, enveloped by lightning and a vast typhoon, the shield ill wrought by human hands began to assemble once more from genetic memory.
At first it began at well beneath the atomic level, then to subatomic particles, then atoms, molecules, cells and then complex structures beyond. In seconds, the outline of a skeleton flashed into existence.
Viewed off world, a single mad eye burst forth from the planet-- immense, lidless, shaped by a hurricane as wide as a country with lightning for the blood-shot veins, and the sustained nuclear core as the glowing pupil itself.
As the Angel of Light transitioned into physical form, the remnants of Kala's star plunged toward the ground as the untold energy unleashed surrendered to the will of a being infinitely her greater.
The sphere smashed into a sea of molten rock at blistering pace, sent crashing cascades rising high on either side. Flowing lava cooled in a flash as if horrified--from runny magma ripples to a syrupy sludge that thickened into smoking waves of rock, frozen in motion.
A hand shot out from the white-hot core, pale and bruised as it were at humanity's last stand a hundred-thousand millennia by gone, clothed in blooded silken white robes, with scuffed golden bracelets upon her wrists and ankles.
The blade Tyrfing was still held fast by the warrior in mid-charge, forged from the heart of the dying minor star as a terrific angular wedge, and finally the Gate of Eden melded into reality; first came the brilliant hexagonal centerpiece, and from each face radiated six prisms, all aglow with the liquid-gold energy captured within.
While the lightning and cyclone slowed to a crackling gale, the sphere compressed farther yet as it cooled from blinding white to yellow, then to an orange gleam and then pale yellow before it vanished.
Blood-red eyes flicked open.