Heiress of Arsieon: The Sword | Short Story Opening
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This story is a stepping stone in a passion project I’ve been developing since 2018. It was originally written as a screenplay - the pilot to a traditionally animated web mini series introducing the world and characters before bigger conflicts are set up in the epilogue for a second arc I've already written out.
But, after years of making revisions and trying to figure out how to build the audience the story would need for me to put the effort into telling it in a visual medium — whether by myself or with a crew that would require thousands of dollars to hire (the latter of which I’ve always preferred), I have finally decided to publish this first arc in prose and see whether it’ll gain a sizable audience who’ll want to see it adapted and continued in animation from here.
You can keep track of the future of this project and all my other creative projects on both this blog and my Youtube channel. Special thanks to Adam Malinauskas, Thomas Salerno, Breana Canup, W.L. Grayson, and all others who proofread and provided suggestions throughout this whole process.
“Again!” headman Loen Kavonim commanded his daughter Aida as she was panting heavily in this brief pause between the clashing of their wooden blades in a backyard surrounded by the island community of Arsieon.
Letting out a disappointed sigh, Aida geared up to swing once more, and the clashing continued. Lying beside their cottage patiently awaiting this match’s end was an orange griffin — a large, four-legged bird of prey who could speak human languages.
The sparring paused yet again as the athletically built Loen feigned a fatal blow to adolecent Aida’s neck, with the wooden blade catching on her long brown hair. After it resumed to her irritation, she accidentally landed a real hit on his forehead! “Oh, dad! I’m so sorry!” the heiress cried.
“It’s fine, Aida,” the headman laughed as he wiped the blood off his brow. “Again!”
They both returned to defensive stances, but Aida began trembling, with her aqua eyes she inherited from her father filling with sorrow. Noticing this, Loen lowered his blade and stated, “Alright. It looks like you need to break for the day.” Aida sighed in relief, and she called her feathered friend’s name: “Flayko!”
“Finally!” the great bird leapt up and exclaimed; Aida felt the same.
VIEW THE WHOLE STORY ON WATTPAD