The Box of Stories and White Summer

By Patrick Bowron

In this prelude to The Chronicles of the Ball of Light, we find a Rider in search of ancient memory. But, his quest soon finds him swept up in a cosmic dance that has spread across eons. He finds a truth more than he ever sought. Through romance, war, and travels to other worlds, the Rider will discover something even greater. His destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patrick Bowron
• Release date: Jul 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463814659

Patrick Bowron

About the AuthorPatrick lives in Brownsburg, Indiana with his wife, Sarah, and is a stay-at-home Dad to their daughter, Irene. Before this he had an array of time-passing vocations, including high school history teacher, banker, laser engineer, hearing aid technician, car wash supervisor, and library assistant. Pat received his Bachelor’s degree in History from IUPUI in Indianapolis. His hobbies include living and breathing Notre Dame Football, Star Wars, reading Tolkien and other fantasy authors, researching ancient astronaut theories, and the Indianapolis 500. He enjoys spending his time outdoors with his family, including grilling, hiking, kayaking, and captaining his father-in-law’s pontoon boat.Other books by this author available now:Tales of the Mountain KingBook One of the Chronicles of the Ball of Light - The Story of Faded StarsElm: The Tale of the Tree of SleepThe Adventures of Koril Icebane: The Relic of the TombThe Shimmering KnightA Drunk Dwarf Inn ChristmasComing Soon:Book Two of the Chronicles of the Ball of Light - Upon the Bridge of Falling FrostBook Three of the Chronicles of the Ball of Light - LaevindalPrologue to the Chronicles of the Ball of Light- The Box of Stories

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The Box of Stories and White Summer:

Prelude to the Chronicles of the Ball of Light

Patrick Bowron

The Box of Stories and White Summer: Prelude to the Chronicles of the Ball of Light

Published by Patrick Bowron

Distributed by Smashwords

Copyright 2019 Patrick Bowron

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The Harp

Light was dim from the summer’s evening rain. The rider rode his horse through a forest cloaked in a warm rising mist. The leaves overhead were green and dripped heavy drops that fell to the waiting ground. The dark browns of arched limbs passed by.

The ride through the forest came to an end. The world stretched out into the beyond. It was soft and warm and lit by a clouded, golden light. Hills rolled and curved, leading to rises and clefts, making a maze of the world beyond. The great distance guarded the edge of the world with the soft outline of rising mountains.

The rider moved from the shadow of the forest. The open sky was high above. A foot to flank and the horse sped forward to where will and mystery loom and meet. Giant boulders passed by. They were rocks of majesty, foundation to some ancient world. The rider dwelled not on such thoughts, but kept moving forward, going upwards and downwards through the curves of the world.

Day faded into night. High above, the world’s breath blew away the blanket of rain clouds revealing the unbridled sea of glowing gems above. The rider stopped, and camped under the numerous wonders. Blue and white distant orbs twinkled as the cover of sleep tucked the rider in.

Morning dawned wet with dew. Twilight slipped away to sleep. The world beat with the sounds of life. The two moons faded in their glowing.

The journey resumed, pushing hard across the plain; hooves thundered and echoed. A rush of wind rose up out of the west. It was a caressing touch to the rising heat of the sun. The looming mountains grew taller.

Another day swept by, like all of those that had come before. Day turned to night and night turned to day. It was the way of that summer journey. A journey across the long reaches of the world to discover the answer that was sought.

The mountains were tall monoliths now. Their summits were foreboding spears tipped with frost. The grass of the plains gave way to cragged brown and silver rock. It twisted as it arose blocking passage to the beyond.

The rider looked to the map discovered by mere chance long ago. It was an ancient parchment that disclosed ancient secrets. Here the path was revealed, a small sliver through the wall at the end of the world.

The rider moved on with horse hooves clapping. Winding up a narrow path, the hidden passage was found. Pushing through, the granite walls extended seemingly ever upward. Tight and condensed the passage lasted long miles.

The long miles waned as weariness took hold. But, light soon shed off the darkness. There in the strong beams of the sun lay the temple long sought. It stood draped in vines of green, with many colors of the wild flowers that grew in that long abandoned place.

It was a silent citadel. Grand beams of stone stood tall, lining the way to the entrance within. The rider approached slowly through patches of grass under shade of the circling mountains and the few trees that stood in the hidden grove.

The rider dismounted his horse as he came close to the edge of stone. There he patted his companion on his head and kissed him. The horse was left to wander the grove of the temple. The rider moved forth under the roof held aloft by columns constructed in many long ages before.

Silence grew with eerie dimensions with each footfall nearer to the entrance that could let within a giant. The rider entered the temple and went forth down a long corridor. Light faded from the world outside and a torch was lit to show the way.

Soon, the path ended to a staircase that went deep under the world. The rider went forth to air that cooled and became chilled with the scent of ancient mildew. No living creature was seen as he came at last to the Chamber of the Harp.

As the rider entered, sconces that lined the walls lit themselves in flickering blue flames. The rider extinguished his own torch and moved forward to what awaited