#reverse writing

The air shimmered with the last echoes of battle, a fragile stillness settling over the crumbled ruins of the ancient lighthouse. Its once-proud structure, striped in weathered red and white, now leaned precariously against the cliffside, its beacon extinguished save for a faint, dying glow that flickered like a heartbeat at the top. The sea below churned restlessly, its waves whispering secrets in a language lost to time, their foam catching the fractured moonlight that pierced through the tattered clouds. Amid this desolation stood Elara, her silver sword trembling in her grip, its blade etched with runes that pulsed faintly, as if reluctant to fade. The dragon lay at her feet, a colossal form of violet scales and sinew, its chest still, its eyes, once blazing with fury, now dulled to a glassy sheen. Ash drifted from its disintegrating body, carried away by the salty breeze, leaving behind an eerie silence broken only by the distant cry of a gull.

Elara’s breath came in shallow gasps, her armour dented and streaked with soot and blood, some hers, some not. Her blonde hair, usually bound tightly, hung loose and tangled, strands clinging to her sweat-streaked face. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, catching the moonlight as it fell, a stark contrast to the hardened warrior she had become. In her left hand, she clutched a glowing orb, its light pulsing weakly, like a star on the verge of collapse. The orb’s surface swirled with colours, gold, violet, and an unsettling black, and it hummed with a power that made her fingers ache. She didn’t know what it was, not fully, but she knew it had been the key to this victory, a victory that felt hollow, incomplete. The dragon’s death had ended the battle, but it had not answered the questions that gnawed at her soul.

She turned her gaze to the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a jagged line. There, flickering like a mirage, was a portal, a swirling vortex of light and shadow, its edges crackling with energy. It had appeared the moment the dragon’s final breath escaped, as if summoned by its defeat. The portal pulsed in time with the orb, hinting at a connection she couldn’t yet grasp. Was it a gateway to safety? A trap? Or perhaps a door to the past, to the moments that had led her here? Her heart thudded painfully as she considered stepping through, but her legs refused to move. Not yet.

On the cliff above, a llama stood motionless, its brown coat ruffled by the wind. Its eyes, large and unnaturally wise, seemed to bore into her, holding a knowledge she couldn’t decipher. It had been there throughout the fight, an odd spectator to the chaos, its presence both comforting and unsettling. Once, during a lull in the battle, she thought she’d heard it speak, a low, melodic hum that carried her name, but the sound had vanished as quickly as it came. Now, it watched her with an intensity that made her skin prickle, as if it knew something she didn’t. Perhaps it had seen the beginning of this tale, the roots of the conflict she now stood at the end of.

Elara sank to one knee, the weight of the orb and the sword pulling at her exhausted frame. The ruins around her told a story of their own, toppled stones carved with ancient symbols, a shattered telescope that had once mapped the stars, and a cracked mirror reflecting her weary face. The lighthouse had been more than a beacon; it had been a guardian, a keeper of secrets tied to the dragon and the orb. She remembered the legends her grandmother had whispered by the fire, tales of a beast bound to the light, a warrior chosen by fate, and a relic that could rewrite time. Had she fulfilled that prophecy, or had she shattered it?

The dragon’s tail twitched once, a final spasm, and Elara flinched. She had fought it for hours, her sword clashing against its claws, her shouts drowned by its roars. The battle had been a blur of pain and determination, each strike fuelled by a memory she couldn’t quite place, a face, a voice, a promise. The orb had fallen into her hands mid-fight, dropped from the dragon’s grasp as she landed a critical blow. Its power had surged through her, guiding her blade to the dragon’s heart, but it had come at a cost. Her left arm burned where the orb’s light had touched her, the skin now marked with a spiralling scar that glowed faintly. She wondered if the dragon had wielded it first, if it had been its master or its prisoner.

A soft rustle drew her attention back to the portal. The air around it thickened, and for a moment, she saw shadows within, figures moving, a flash of armour, a burst of flame. Her breath caught. Was it an illusion, or a glimpse of what had been? The llama let out a low hum, and the sound resonated in her chest, urging her forward. But forward to where? The end was here, the dragon defeated, the lighthouse silent. Yet the portal suggested there was more, more to undo, more to understand.

Elara rose slowly, her sword dragging against the stone as she steadied herself. The orb’s hum grew louder, vibrating in her palm, and she felt a pull towards the portal, as if it were calling her back. She thought of the village she’d left behind, the friends who had believed in her, the enemies who had doubted her. Had they survived this night? Had her actions saved them, or doomed them? The tear on her cheek dried as a resolve hardened within her. She would step through, not to escape, but to seek the truth. The llama’s eyes followed her as she approached the vortex, its gaze a silent witness to her choice.

At the portal’s edge, she paused, the orb’s light reflecting in her eyes. The ruins behind her crumbled further, a stone rolling into the sea with a splash. The dragon’s ash scattered completely, leaving no trace of the beast that had terrorised the coast. The lighthouse’s beam flickered one last time, then went dark. Elara took a deep breath, the salty air filling her lungs, and stepped into the light. The world dissolved around her, and with it, the weight of her victory. Whatever came next, it would begin with this end.

The llama remained on the cliff, its hum fading into the night. The sea continued its endless whisper, and the portal closed behind her, leaving only the ruins and the memory of a battle won and a story yet to be told.

Or neither?