Category: Scenes
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A Shift in the Steeps
The Morna argued the sky while the fire smoked low. Shelda stood among the Vythans, listening to their words roll and fold like weather over stone. Then one Morna spoke—measured, certain, his voice cutting clean through the haze. She watched him a while, thinking the mountain wasn’t the only thing shifting.
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The Story of Kallhor: The Journey’s Knot
The Braids were half-fabled, half-hidden. Few entered; fewer returned with the truth of what they’d seen. Old Foss went looking for them anyway, carrying the Black Blade and the Quiet Book, seeking Primavelda to cut the binding on his kin.
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Night Flowers
A story of subtle magic, repair, and return. Primavelda and Florivane slip through the folds of the Braids to untangle what has grown wrong — not in people or walls, but in water, root, and pattern. It starts with the path. Not a made path — just the way the ground opens if you step…
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The Ghost-Stone
A Quiet Trade The fire was low, and the air in the Toad and Lantern smelled of damp reed thatch and long-boiled roots. No one paid much mind to Lowen — they were always alone, usually busy with something in their hands: a bottle, a file, a twist of wire. Tonight it was nothing. Just…
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Beneath Oliedna’s Elders
The East Field The fire was down to its gossiping embers in the The Toad and Lantern and its patrons were blurring a little at the edges, the conversation dizzy. Lowen had sat an hour in the kind of silence that happens only in noise—content, thoughtless, letting the tide of talk rise and fold around them.…
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The Ascendant March
Notable battles: The Battle of Ink and Ash, located at Eredran Fields An Evergild campaign to “unify” the realm under their truth — widely remembered (and taught) as a righteous, heroic effort to bring order and stability to a world unravelled by chaos. In truth, it was a carefully orchestrated purge of dissident thought and inconvenient…
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A Glance, a Trade, a Beginning
The ducks wove like thread through the market at Kiln Green, trailing laughter behind them as children shrieked and scattered, chasing one another with willow sticks wound in red and yellow cloth. One duck hopped up onto the stool beside Lowen’s stall, peering at the cloth lining their display basket as if it too might…
