Short Story -Riven of a Thousand Voices by Ethan Roberts

The migthy Athamkara could grand wishes for whatever you wanted and all they want in return is a favour. The first thing you might ask yourself is, “What are Athamkara and where do they come from?” My friend, I will answer all of your questions in time but you must listen to me as I am going to tell you a story about one Athamkara in particular.

This Athamkara is the last Athamkara that we know of. The Athamkara’s name is Riven, Riven of a Thousand Voices. Only few fireteams have braved the journey to defeating Riven and have never been seen since, all except for one fireteam.

The Athamkara are wish dragons and Riven’s final wish is to be killed. This fireteam had passed all of the steps to defeating Riven and they killed her. Eons passed and fireteams from thourghout the universe had taken on Riven and defeated her, but you ask, “If Riven’s final wish was to be killed then why does she keep coming back to life?”I will answer this question.

Riven can never die no matter what and her final wish was to be immortal. The fireteams had to venture deep and far into the dreaming city to find and defeat Riven. Many people to this day still have to confront Riven and they are scared of that name. It sends a shiver down some people’s spine just like when they hear the name Oryx or Corta. You may wonder why people did this and sacrificed their lives? They did this because long before Riven was killed, a king named Oryx who was the taken king and the father of Corta stood and had almost wiped out the human race.

More guardians took it upon themselves to defeat Oryx. The vanguard and others thought that Riven might do the same so they needed her killed. After this a long time has passed and it has been peaceful, but we fear that demons are rising on the moon and we are watching just in case, but for now we live in peace and we hope it stays this way for a long, long time.

Poetry

The Speech

My heart starts beating faster,

A flushness takes my face,

Flashes of disaster,

My pulse a rapid pace.

The sweat on my brow thickens,

My tie feels like a noose,

A seconds length is quickened,

My stature is reduced.

Hands filled with tremble,

A blur covers my notes,

No words do I assemble,

A lump within my throat.

So many eyes upon me,

Do they see my anxious state?

Their silence blocks my helpless plea,

They’ve doomed me to my fate.

But as I start to speak,

I feel a blissful calm,

The redness leaves my cheek,

My fate no longer damned.

My words are without flaw,

Closing line I finally reach,

I hear the crowd applaud,

And so I end my speech.

By Aodh Ó Gallchóir

The Weather

Soar, soar, birds are soaring

Clouds, clouds, clouds are roaring

Rain, rain, rain is pouring

Soar, soar, birds still soaring

Clouds, clouds, clouds still roaring,

Does the rain ever stop pouring?

By Hugh O’Mahony