Fantasy Story Building
Every great tale begins with a humble spark. The Roots of Shizina is my exploration of character building, with a focus on Silvordore the Fair—a figure whose journey from modest beginnings to heroic triumph embodies the timeless appeal of transformation.
As I was writing, I stumbled upon a playful idea: what if Silvordore’s story began in a fairy school? A place brimming with glitter, sweetness, and the expectation to be endlessly twee. The contrast between that whimsical environment and the harsher realities Silvordore would later face creates a fascinating tension. It’s in those cracks—between what is expected and what truly unfolds—that characters are forged.
We’ve seen similar themes explored in stories like Wicked, where the clash between prescribed fairy-tale behavior and the messy unpredictability of real life drives the drama. That tension is what makes a character compelling: not perfection, but the struggle against expectation, and the courage to grow beyond it.
Chapter 1
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Silverdore was a child of quiet places. She had never known her parents; whispers said they were lost to the dragon Taragion the Wonderful. Like all dragons, Taragion had named himself, though there was nothing wonderful about him. Silverdore carried a secret dream: to one day slay Taragion and claim his treasure—a hoard so vast it was said to outshine the stars. Indeed, if any creature’s trove grew too large, they could expect an unwelcome visit from Taragion.
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Beneath the canopy of Shizina Forest, where the air hung heavy with moss and the rivers crept slowly in secret paths, Silverdore felt at peace. She was shy, often overlooked, her voice softer than the wind through leaves. Others called her “the Fair” for her pale hair and delicate features, but she thought of herself only as a shadow among brighter souls.
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Time to head home, she thought. With a flutter of airy wings, she darted between branches, weaving in and out of the green. As a tree fairy, her strength flowed from the forest itself; stray too far from the trees and her power would fade. Not that she would ever wander far—not like the river fairies, who dared to journey all the way to the sea. Too much risk.
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She slowed to a standstill outside the entrance to the Lost Fairies’ hall, hoping to slip inside unseen. Encounters with the others always left her uneasy—especially with the branch leaders, whose pitying eyes weighed heavier than stone.
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And then, as if summoned by her dread, Flathifax appeared before her—the branch leader of the hall.
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“Silverdore, there you are, you poor girl.” His words were accompanied by the usual tap on her head, a hand to her cheek, and that pitying look that made her want to scream. But fairies did not scream—or so she was reminded endlessly at fairy school.
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“You missed Facial Expression Class this afternoon, and Branch Fairy Fairbough is not at all pleased. He says you’ve fallen behind the others and are most in need. Now run along and be a good fairy. Keep your wing flutter light, try not to hiccup, look sweet." Silverdore made her escape as quickly as a fairy could while still pretending to look respectable.
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Look out for the next 'Fantasy Story Building Blog'