This is all I’ve got for Whisk Me Away so far:
Prologue
At the speed of a waterfall crashing and tumbling into the sparkling lake below it, an unusual mist had covered the mystical land of Orreana, from the tall, azure-tinted mountains covered in a fairy dusting of snow of the east, to the deep forest of dark, shady evergreens to the west. It weaved its way expertly through the shadows, as if it had done it a thousand times, then dove into the crashing waves of the southern side’s beach. Laughed with the gulls it did, although few were awake, for it was the dead of night. Swirling in the stars, dancing in the beams of the moon, and finally creeping its way into the very heart of the large island.
A cave stood there. It was one of those dark, dull, stone caves, like the type in fictional cavemen stories that have nothing interesting in them except for whomever lived there. In fact, it was one of those, but let us not go there now. Mysteries are one of the best features in life, and I wish not to spoil the mysteries of Orreana for you. Not yet. Soon, but not now. Not until our little heroine comes into the picture.
The mist, which somehow glowed a pale lavender tint in the never-ending blackness of the cave, was twisting about, revealing dim crystal formations on the wall. The deeper into the cave the mist went, the more perplex the smooth, shimmery designs became, until suddenly, they were no more. In their places were what appeared to be drawings, but what looked more like scarlet-colored chicken scratches. Some were older, with faded at parts and crackles. Some not-so-old, with clear lines. Some new, with fresh marks. Some even looked wet, as if it had only just been applied onto the smooth, dark stone wall.
“Ah.” said a voice, “I was wondering when you’d come.”
The mist then did a funny thing. It started to spin. It whirled into a tornado, expanding in height until it was about the size of a young girl. There, it swirled more breifly, creating what appeared to be an eight-year-old girl out of the mist, but by the look in her eyes, she was much, much older.
“I’m terribly sorry.” the figure said, kneeling down and looking at her scarred and scraped purple knees, “I have failed you.”
“No, no, no, no, no.” the loud, echoey voice said, with a sprinkling of humor. “Cassandra, my dear, you can never fail me. Not in a million years.”
“Which is how long I’ve been trapped in this place!” the girl spoke, a twinge of anger in her tone. “Master, I beg of you to allow me to switch positions and become something else. Dragonkeeping is my dream, but in reality, me combined with it is a nightmare. I try to help all the heroes and heroines, but I cannot! I help them, but what I help them with is making the wrong choices!” the girl, who had shoulder-length, straight hair (though the color was uninterpretable, seeing as she was made of the mist) and dozens of freckles, began to sob, but quickly hid her face so her master would not see the pain she was facing at each breath. “It’s all over,” her muffled voice croaked, “I can’t do it again. Not after all the failures. Especially the last. The last was the worst.”
A deep chuckle surrounded the small girl. “Cassandra, I know what you fear is not the failure itself. It’s the pain that comes with the whole adventure, seeing how the heroes act, watching how they treat their gifts.” Cassandra looked up to the ceiling, where a small crack was emitting the voice of truth. “How-how did you-” she stuttered
Rainbow of Words 