What happens when an isolated, introverted, fantasy writer gets yanked into a world with video game, life-or-death rules?

Meet Wren Woods — she’ll have to learn to survive in this LitRPG progression fantasy adventure — where the only path she was given to follow is the one path that helped destroy an ancient civilization.

🏹The Idoramin Chronicles Completed Series & Idoramin Companion Novellas

Stubborn farm-girl, Cali Flynn might be the key to saving an entire realm. But first, she’ll lose everything and learn she was never who she thought she was.

A coming-of-age, epic fantasy series where found family, slow-burn romance, and unexpected allies are all that stand between survival and the end of the world.

Hey friend,

Forged in Ruin — Book One of the Runewright Chronicles — is officially out in the world today.

This one’s a bit of a departure from The Idoramin Chroncicles or the Veilwalker’s Lodge stories, so I wanted to give you the heads-up: this is LitRPG. Real skill progression, real failure states, a class the world chose for her instead of the one she wanted — and a reason she never got a say in it. If you love watching a character claw competence out of a system stacked against them, this is going to scratch that itch.

If LitRPG isn’t your usual flavor, no worries at all — the Lodge stories aren’t going anywhere, and there’s more of that world coming. —(A LOT more!)— But if you’re even a little curious what happens when I build an actual game system into a fantasy world instead of just gesturing at magic... this one’s for you.

You can grab it here, wherever you like to read:

https://books2read.com/Runewright-1

Thank you for being here for this one. Every book starts a little terrifying to release, and having you in my corner makes it less so.

Onward,

Morigan

Hello again, friends —

It’s been a little quiet in your inbox lately, and I’ve missed you. Thank you for still being here. 💜

The quiet had a reason. I’ve been building something — a whole world, actually — and today I finally get to pull back the curtain, and you’re the first to see it.

Meet Forged in Ruin — Runewright Chronicles, Book One.

Isn’t she something? A world that fell a long time ago, swallowed by forest and mist and time… rune-light waking in the ruins… two moons watching over what’s left… and something red and hungry stirring on the far horizon. That’s the world I’ve been quietly forging for you.

It’s a LitRPG Progression Fantasy Adventure — real rune-magic, real progression, a broken world worth fighting for, and a companion I think you’re going to love. If you’ve been waiting for somewhere new to fall into, somewhere to level up alongside a character who starts with nothing and builds toward everything — this is the one.

Here’s what you need to know:

📖 Preorders are open now — and releases July 29th — and it’ll land on your reader of choice on release day. 🛒 Available wide — wherever you love to read, no matter which store you shop.

Thank you for being here through the quiet stretch — it means more than I can say to reappear and find you still in the reading chair beside me. There’s more coming very soon, and I can’t wait to share what else is stirring.

Until then — go reserve your copy, and I’ll see you at the Lodge. 🔥

With runes and more words coming soon,

Morigan 🌙

“Good morning, Rowan, Jorah,” Bethal called out as they rode up to the house. “I didn’t expect to see you this early today!”

“Yes, ma’am. We finished up our morning work so we could come check in on Cali. And you. And make sure you hadn’t had any boar sightings,” Jorah said, blushing.

“No boar sightings. But we do have a lot of sausage and some fresh biscuits still on the table. Come on in and help yourselves!”

Cali and Chase came into the kitchen, joining the group. “Mum, you really do make the best jams, and gravy of course!” Cali laughed.

“Do you think your dad and Bodric will bring back that boar today?” Jorah asked.

“Maybe, I would love to have another boar hide to work! I’d make straps to sell to everyone!” Cali said, excited at the idea of having an even larger boar hide.

They sat and talked until Bethal ran them out of the kitchen so she could start prepping for lunch. “Why don’t you go work on your quiver. And you can keep an eye out for your dad.”

The three of them went to the barn to see if the leather had dried and was ready.

“Jorah told me how good you are at this, Cali. He was right, you really are. Do you take requests?” Rowan asked.

“For you all? Sure, of course, I do! What are you thinking?”

“I’d love to have a decent sheath for my sword. I don’t carry it often, Jorah or me either one, but with the increase in animal attacks, I think we should. And it would be nice to have a decent belt sheath for it,” Rowan said.

“Are they short swords, or long?”

“I have a longsword. Jorah now, he’s fancy,” Rowan joked, “he has a longsword and a short sword.”

“Really, Jorah? Do you use them both?” Cali asked, surprised.

Jorah turned red at the attention. “Yes, I’ve been practicing. But we don’t use them much, mostly just bows for hunting, you know.”

Rowan laughed at his brother. “Ah, he’s being modest, Cali, he’s really good. He’ll be a much better swordsman than me soon.”

“I’d love to make you new sheaths. I’ve not made those before, so no promises!” Cali laughed.

“I know they’ll be great, everything you’ve made so far has been!” Jorah said, still blushing.

Cali started cutting the remaining hide into pieces she would need for sword sheaths, while they sat around talking about the possibility of having the next big boar gathering at the lake. Or at least part of it at the lake, then the feast at the Flynn farm.

It was mid-afternoon when they heard what sounded like horses coming up the road. They walked out of the barn and toward the house as Bethal walked out from the kitchen.

“That’s old man Jossin’s wagon,” Rowan said. “You’re dad’s driving.”

They were watching, wondering if they had a big boar on the back of the wagon.

“Wait. That’s Bodric’s horse. Where’s Bodric?” Cali asked, a knot forming in her stomach.

“Oh no,” Bethal said, running out to meet the wagon. Cali, Rowan, and Jorah followed close behind.

They reached the wagon, all breathing a sigh of relief to see Bodric in the back. Injured, and in pain, but alive.

“What happened?” Bethal asked.

As Erwin came down from the wagon Bethal grabbed him looking him over to make sure he wasn’t hurt then wrapped her arms around him tightly.

Jorah and Rowan helped Bodric down from the wagon gently. He was shaky, Rowan put Bodric’s good arm over his shoulder and helped steady him.

“Come on,” Rowan said, “Let’s get you into the house.”

They all went into the house and got Bodric relaxed and comfortable on the couch as Erwin told them the story. The farmhand broke in, “I’ve never seen anyone shoot a bow that fast, or pick up a grown man so readily. Erwin was incredible, Bethal. We would’ve been wolf food if he hadn’t been there.”

Bethal shared a long look with Erwin, thankful that her husband had been there, but even more that he was safe.

“Cali girl, I made your dad bring you back the pelt. It’s a silver wolf, real large. Would make a nice cloak.” Bodric smiled at Cali.

“Yes, it’s on the back of the wagon if you want to get it to the barn, honey,” Erwin said. “Jorah, maybe you can help? I’m sure she’ll want to get it on the rack.”

“Yes, sir, I’d be happy to help! Come on Cali, let’s check out this giant wolf hide!” Jorah said.

Erwin ran his hand over his tired face. “The boar is still out there. We’ll not go after it right now, but we will have to hunt it down soon. Until then, everyone stays in pairs, stays armed, and doesn’t stray far from the farms. Rowan, you make sure to spread that word over on your farm, okay?”

“Yes, sir. I will let Father and everyone know. I’ll go get Jorah and we’ll head back now to spread the word,” Rowan replied.

“Thanks, Rowan. And thanks to you and Jorah for coming over and checking on things.” Erwin smiled.

Bethal brought a blanket in and covered Bodric’s legs. “You are going to rest, and you’re staying here until we get you fixed up.”

“I know better than to argue with ya, Bethal.” Bodric smiled. “Now before you go getting your hackles all raised, this was animals, plain and simple. Something has them riled to be sure, but it’s likely nothing more than a new alpha in the area somewhere.”

Bethal didn’t look convinced.

“Honey, he’s right. I know you’re worried. I’d say it’s this larger boar. From what we saw it looks to be a real monster of a beast,” Erwin said. “We’ll track it down and have another gathering soon, but first we could all use some rest.”

After the initial rush of visitors checking in on Bodric, life settled down into its normal routine over the next several weeks.

Bodric healed well under Bethal’s care and her “smelly, magic” salve, as Bodric called it. Cali had been working on a pattern to make the silver wolf hide into a cloak. And there had been no more sightings of the massive boar, or any other animal attacks.

Erwin and Bodric gathered several farmhands and set off to begin tracking the boar. They started in the area where they first saw evidence of it along the road. Each time they went to scout for the boar, they took a different path from that starting point. On their third outing, they found it’s trail.

“There!” Bodric pointed.

They had gone a fair distance into the forest where the underbrush had grown dense. It was clear the large beast had been through recently. Small branches were bent and broken, the underbrush trampled down, and hoof prints were noticeable in the soft dirt.

“Okay men, here is where we start. We stick together and watch our flanks. A beast this big can’t sneak up on us, but we may stumble over him.” Erwin spoke confidently to the men. “Bodric, how’s the arm?”

“Good as new if not a little more decorated.” Bodric smiled showing off the jagged red scar above his bracer. With that, they headed deeper into the woods, following the trail left by the boar.

The path was easy to see if not quite so easy to follow, and the men had stopped to take a breather when they heard the rustling nearby. They slowly inched toward the sound, taking care not to make any sudden moves or noise. It was gloomy under the thick cover of trees, but they could see the massive shape ahead of them.

Each man took a spot behind a tree in case the boar charged, and as they were preparing to aim, the wind shifted and the beast caught their scent. Turning to face them, the men could now see the boar clearly.

Over half as tall as Erwin, it’s tusks could easily skewer a man clean through. It sniffed the air, pawing, then let out an awful bellowing screech before charging toward them.

“Now!” Shouted Erwin.

The men all shot at the creature then drew to shoot again. It still rushed forward, even with arrows sticking from its shoulders.

“Aim for the neck with me now! Shoot!” Erwin commanded.

The men all aimed for the neck as the boar screeched and lumbered closer. Erwin got off two more arrows and finally, the boar stopped and fell onto its side. They slowly approached and Erwin stabbed his dagger into the boar’s heart to finish it off.

“By the Mother, I’ve never seen a monster that size,” Tom, one of the farmhands said.

“Nor I,” Erwin replied. “In all my years, I’ve not seen one that big.”

Bodric laughed, “aye, he’ll make a fine roast! And Cali will be thrilled with this hide. Why she’ll be rich with all the straps she can make from this monster!”

Bodric prodded the beast with his boot. “Why don’t you two head back out and prep the wagon, we’ll gut this thing and start dragging it back out.”

Erwin, Bodric, and the two remaining hands cleaned the boar. It was much too large to carry on a spit between them, so they made a makeshift sled, pulling the boar behind them back out of the forest.

It took a much longer time getting back to the road with their haul, but they had enough daylight left to wrestle it onto the wagon and start making their way back home.

As the sound of horses approached, Bethal stepped out of the kitchen. “Hi, boys!” she waved at Rowan and Jorah. “Good to see you!”

“Hi, ma’am. Any word on the boar hunt?” Rowan asked as they dismounted.

“No, nothing yet. But I don’t think they’ll come back empty handed!” Bethal replied. “Cali is out in the barn, and if you get hungry, there’s plenty of food.”

“Thanks! Cali told us to come over today, so we’ll go say hi.” Jorah smiled. Rowan smiled, rolling his eyes and followed his brother toward the barn.

Cali was just walking out from the barn when she saw them walk up. “Jorah! Rowan! Glad you stopped by. Come on in the barn, I have something to show you!”

They walked into the barn, and she handed each of them a box. “Go on then, take a look!” she said.

Opening the boxes, they saw the gleaming leather sheafs. A longsword sheaf for Rowan, and one long and one short sword sheaf for Jorah. In addition, she had made each of them a belt that matched.

“This is amazing, Cali,” Rowan exclaimed. “You really are incredible at this!”

“Cali, thank you! These are, I don’t know, they are beautiful!” Jorah smiled as he ran his hand across the oiled leather.

“Aww, come on guys, these are just my first try, I’m sure I could do better once I have more practice,” Cali said. She was trying not to blush but was secretly thrilled that they seemed to love them.

“So when Da and everyone gets back with this big boar, we will need to plan the party. I still think we should get everyone together and go to the lake first. What do you think?”

“Rowan and I were talking about that too, we could get everyone, make a whole day of it, it would be a lot of fun. Have you talked to your mom about it, Cali?” Jorah asked.

“No, but I’m getting hungry, so let’s go talk to her about it now,” She said as they started walking from the barn.

“Well, sweetie, I think that is a great idea,” Bethal said after hearing Cali’s plan for having a big get-together at the lake for the next gathering. “But we should probably see if your dad and Bodric bring back a boar first.” She laughed.

They sat around the kitchen table eating and making plans for having a huge get together at the lake before the actual gathering and feast.

Cali wondered if she would be able to get more orders for plow straps, or maybe some other items. If the boar really was as big as they said, she would have a lot of hide to work with.

As the sun started sinking lower and the evening light came in through the kitchen windows, they heard the horses and wagon coming up the road. Excited to have her husband back, Bethal tossed down the potatoes she was peeling and headed out the door, the others close behind her.

Bethal gasped. “Well, I’ve never…” she trailed off.

Even with a bit of distance, they could see the hulking shape of the boar in the back of the wagon. Cali grabbed Jorah’s arm in excitement, jumping up and down, then took off running to meet them.

“Da, Bodric, how did you ever get that thing on the wagon?” Cali asked.

“Cali girl!” Bodric smiled. “Oh, this beastie, he put up a good fight, but we wrestled him up on there. You ready to get rich making straps for people?” Bodric winked as he hopped down.

Erwin pulled the wagon closer to the barn so they could unload the boar. Jorah and Rowan pitched in and helped, but even with all of them, it was still not easy. Cali was so excited she was beside herself, she ran into the barn to grab her skinning knife.

“Okay, guys. Let’s start spreading the word tomorrow that we’re having another gathering!” Erwin exclaimed, clapping his hand on Bodric’s shoulder in celebration.

“Beth, honey, are you ready for another feast?” Erwin winked at his wife.

“Absolutely! I’ll have some of the ladies come over and help too, we’ll make this one even bigger than last time. And Cali and the boys had a great idea to have a party at the lake before the feast.” Bethal smiled at them.

Cali and Chase headed to the small barn right after breakfast. “Come on, Chase, we are going to finish your collar today!”

Chase happily bounced at her feet. She had oiled the collar yesterday and only needed to finish the sizing holes and fastening the buckle. As she was clamping the buckle onto the leather, Bodric walked up.

“Hey, Cali girl! I brought you a little something before we head off to find our next boar to roast!” Bodric smiled. He handed Cali a small leather pouch with a drawstring.

Excited she opened the pouch and poured the contents into her hand. A shiny tooth, encased in silver on the large end hanging from a thin rawhide string, and a smaller tooth with the same silver, but with no string, just a silver ring.

“One for you, one for your foxy!” Bodric smiled. “Here, let me put that on his collar for ya!”

Cali slipped the necklace around her neck, adjusting the rawhide sting to the right length. Then put Chase’s new collar around his neck.

“Oh, Bodric, I love it! And Chase does too, look!” Chase bounced around in the grass.

“Well, you and wee beastie there helped with the first boar, it was only right that you had a trophy from it!” Bodric replied.

Cali, Chase, Bethal and several farmhands were in the yard near the back garden to see Erwin, Bodric, and the others off on their trip. Bethal had packed plenty of food, dry clothes, ointments, and about anything else she could think of. She was nervous about their trip, but she knew Erwin was right to take the extra time to stop by the other farms.

“Cali, honey, you stay near the house and help out your mother while we’re gone,” Erwin said.

“Sure, Da, I will! If you find another boar, can you bring me the hide?” Cali asked, excited at the prospect.

They all laughed, Cali caught the leatherworker bug ever since selling the plow straps to Jenkins and wanted to try her hand at making more things.

“I sure will, Cali, don’t you worry!” her dad laughed. And with a long look at his wife, they turned and headed up the road toward the east fields.

Before mid-morning, the group reached the spot where Cali had the encounter with the other boar. Dismounting, they looked around next to the road. There was no sign on the road of a large animal.

“She never saw the beast, but I believe we’re looking for another boar, boys. Let’s head into the brush a piece and see what we can find. Stay within eyeshot of each other.” Erwin said.

They spread out and headed into the undergrowth. The brush and thickets in this part of the woods were dense and heavy and made moving around difficult, but it would also make finding evidence of a large boar easy.

“Aye, fellas, come over this way, and step light,” Bodric yelled.

They all met where Bodric was standing. Broken branches and twigs, leaves strewn about, and an obvious path back deeper into the forest. Kneeling down, Bodric ran his hand over the ground, finding prints from what could be a boar, and looking up at Erwin.

“If this path and print are any sign, this boar is bigger than the first.” Erwin rubbed his face, looking around at the thick, shadowed woods around them. “Let’s set up a few traps, and head on up to the Jenkins farm. We’ll stop by here on our way back.”

As they were riding up to Jenkins’ house, Jorah came quickly around the corner of the house and scanned the group. There was a flicker of disappointment on his face that Bodric couldn’t help but smile at.

Jenkins came out on his porch. “Hello, Erwin! What brings you out on this beautiful day?”

“Hi, Jenkins, we are heading around to all the farms to see if anyone’s having any more animals go missing. Have you had any problems here?” Erwin asked as he looked around at the farm.

“No, can’t say as I have. It’s been quiet. Do we have another wild animal around?”

“We believe so, Jenkins. Cali ran into something on her way back from here yesterday on the road and —”

Jorah looked shocked and angry. “Is she okay, sir, it didn’t hurt her right?”

Bodric coughed to keep from chuckling. Erwin smiled. “No, lad, she’s perfectly fine, just had a little scare is all.”

Jenkins gave his son a stern look. “No, Erwin, I appreciate you stopping by, but we haven’t had any animals go missing. I know old man Jossin said he was missing some sheep, but that’s all I’ve heard.”

“Good, good. Jorah, you and Rowan stick close to the house here and make sure you all keep your weapons handy. If we’re right, this boar looks larger than the first,” Erwin said.

“Yes sir, we will, I’ll make sure to tell Rowan as soon as he’s back. We’ll watch for it,” Jorah replied. “Do you want me to ride over to your farm to check on things since you are heading further out?”

“That would be fine, Jorah. But if you do, make sure to take Rowan or a hand with you. No traveling on the road alone until we take this one down.” Erwin smiled.

Rowan may have no interest in his daughter, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Jorah certainly did. He was a good boy, strong, tall, he looked young, but he was a capable lad.

As they turned to go, Erwin said, “Thanks, Jenkins, keep a sharp eye out and we’ll let you know what we find.”

The news was the same at both the Calbert farm and Nomarr’s farm. Neither had any missing or dead animals, although Nomarr’s farm had more broken fences than usual. Erwin warned them of the large boar that was roaming, and to keep the girls close to the farm and the hands armed when out in the fields.

They camped over at Nomarr’s, heading out to the farthest farm, old man Jossin’s, the next day. He had the best vineyards and sampled his own wines a bit more often than proper, but he was a good, honest farmer. Making steady time they reached Jossin’s farm with plenty of day left.

Tired and dusty from the ride, Erwin and the group dismounted as Jossin stepped out of his barn.

“Oye there! Erwin Flynn, Bodric, it’s good to see you, boys! What brings you all the way out here?” Jossin said, walking towards the group. He motioned for a farmhand to come take the horses.

“Jossin, it’s good to see you! We think we have another boar roaming around, and got word that you’ve had some missing sheep again?” Erwin said, shaking Jossin’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, come on inside, all of you, my hands will water your horses. Let’s go inside where it’s cooler and we’ll get you some drink from my latest barrel!” Jossin motioned for them to come in the house.

“I’m glad you came, Erwin. Yes, I’ve had some animals go missing again. But one that didn’t get dragged off I found dead in the fields. But I tell you, I don’t think this was any boar. It wasn’t gored.” Jossin shook his head.

“Oh? What then, a bear?” Bodric asked.

“Oh no, no, I don’t think it was a bear either. I think we have some wolves running around. There weren’t no claw marks, no goring, but plenty of ripping bites. I haven’t found the others yet. I’m a bit too old to go hunting wolves, and I won’t send my son out there alone.”

Erwin rubbed his chin. “No, that’s good, no one needs to be out in the woods alone till we get these animal attacks dealt with. Point us to where you think they are, we’ll go check it out before it gets dark.”

“Jorah, you are seriously going to make me ride over to Cali’s with you?” Rowan complained.

“Erwin is going to be gone until tomorrow sometime. They are there by themselves. And there’s a large boar roaming around. We are going to the Flynn farm.” Jorah wasn’t taking any excuses.

“Brother, you know they have a small village of farmhands, right? I doubt they need our protection.” He punched Jorah’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go check on your sweet girl.”

Jorah’s face turned red as he punched Rowan back. “We’ll be back soon, Father. We’re going to ride over to the Flynn farm,” Jorah called out.

They rode fast, not wanting to stay long. As they galloped up to the house, Bethal came out to greet them.

“Hi, boys! What can I do for you? Everything okay over at the farm?” Bethal asked.

“Yes, ma’am. We knew Erwin and the others would be gone to the other farms, so we wanted to ride over and check in on you,” Rowan replied.

Bethal tried to hide her smile. “That’s kind of you, come on in and take a rest. I’ve got some snacks.”

Jorah and Rowan came in and sat at the kitchen table as Bethal set out a basket of fresh biscuits and different flavors of jam she had been making.

“Is Cali around, ma’am?” Jorah asked. “I know Erwin was telling everyone to stay close to their houses until this boar is caught.”

“Oh, she’s out in the small barn with Chase, working. You say that Erwin said it was a boar?” Bethal asked, looking at the boys.

“Yes. They stopped by yesterday.” Rowan answered.

“Jorah, why don’t you go see about Cali, and tell her to come on back in the house as soon as she’s finished up, would you?” Bethal asked.

Jorah jumped up and headed out of the kitchen in a flash. Both Bethal and Rowan smiled.

“Rowan, I know what your father thinks about Cali… and you. But I have to ask, what do you think?” Bethal looked at Rowan pointedly.

“Ma’am?” Rowan was caught off guard by her direct question. “Cali is a great girl, don’t take me wrong...”

“But?” Bethal prompted him to go on.

“But, she is like a younger sister to me. Please don’t be mad. She is wonderful, and she would make some farmer a perfect wife, better than perfect!” Rowan stammered. “But, well, it’s… it’s not me who is crazy about her.”

Bethal smiled. “That’s what I thought too, Rowan. Thank you for confirming it for me. So, now tell me what my husband said about this boar.”

“Cali?” Jorah called out when he reached the barn. There was no answer. “Cali!” He called a little louder.

Cali stepped out from the corner of the barn, surprised to see Jorah.

“Jorah? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi, Cali. I was… well, your dad stopped by and told us about the boar, and that he would be gone until tomorrow, so I, Rowan and I, we came over to check in on you. And your mom.” Jorah answered. “Oh, and your mom said to come in the house if you are done.”

“I’m about finished, come look if you want,” Cali said, turning to go into the barn.

She had cut several large pieces of the boar hide and soaked them. Now they were formed around a thick branch to form the shape of the quiver she was making.

“Cali, you are really good at this. Are you going to start selling the things you make?”

“I think so, Jorah. It’s a lot of fun, and the coins I made from your father made me want to do more!” Cali laughed.

“Hey, what’s that?” Jorah pointed at her necklace.

“Oh, this is one of the boar’s teeth! Look, Chase has a matching one. Bodric made them for us, do you like it?”

“I do, it’s great! Oh, we better get inside before your mom worries.”

Cali turned off the lanterns, leaving them in an almost darkened barn as they headed back to the house.

“Cali, there you are. Rowan was telling me about what your dad found with the boar.” Bethal smiled at them.

“Cali, you and your mom be careful and keep an eye out. Jorah, we need to get back home before it starts getting dark.” Rowan said.

Jorah looked at Cali, “We can ride back over in the morning to check in on you again.”

Rowan glanced sideways at Bethal trying to hide his smile. “That’s a good idea, Jorah. Would that be okay with you, ma’am?” he asked Bethal.

“Why, yes, Rowan, I’d appreciate that very much since Erwin won’t be home until late tomorrow at the soonest. Thank you, boys,” Bethal said.

Erwin and the men rode into the fields with Jossin to the area where he found the dead sheep. “Here’s the place.” Jossin pointed to the repaired fence. “From what Tad and I could tell, they came from the area toward the foot of the mountains.”

“Okay, Jossin. We’ll go in a piece and see what we can find. You and Tad stay here with the horses and wait for us,” Erwin said as he and his men dismounted and headed to the tree line.

It was clear from the smaller area of broken branches and the path disturbed in the underbrush that Jossin was correct and it was likely a wolf. Erwin nodded to Bodric and they set off with their farmhands to see what they could discover.

“Spread out, but not far, keep each other within a few paces distance. We don’t know what we might run into out here.” Erwin told the men softly as they headed into the woods.

A hundred or so paces in, they heard it. A low howl that seemed to come from ahead of them closer to the mountain. The men came back together and decided to go in two pairs to get the wolf from two different angles.

As Bodric and Erwin were the most experienced fighters, they each took one farmhand and headed further in. They quietly closed in on the area, shocked to discover it was not one wolf, but two.

Erwin silently motioned to Bodric for them to take the smaller of the two wolves, while he took out the larger wolf. The wolves caught their scent and started pacing anxiously, and in the second before they could strike, both wolves lunged, running full speed at Bodric.

Bodric and the farmhand took down the smaller wolf as it ran at them, and although Erwin and his man shot the larger wolf twice, it was still going for Bodric. It happened fast. Erwin heard Bodric’s scream as he loosed two more arrows at the wolf fast as lightning.

Running fast, he dropped to his knees beside Bodric. The wolf tore a massive gash in his arm.

“He was a fast monster, eh?” Bodric laughed weakly.

“Hang on Bodric, we’ve got you, that wolf won’t get anyone else. Hang on.” Erwin said calmly as Bodric fell into unconsciousness.

Erwin pulled off his shirt, ripping it in half, tightly wrapping one half around Bodric’s arm.

“You, go back quick as you can and grab my horse, bring it here. Go!” Erwin shouted. “And you, keep your bow ready in case there are others.”

He took the other piece of shirt and tied it tightly around Bodric’s upper arm, slowing the flow of blood coming from the gaping wound. “Come on, Bodric, we’ve got you. Come on.” But Bodric was still unconscious.

The man arrived back with Erwin’s horse, and to the surprise of the men, Erwin lifted Bodric and put him on the horse with ease. He climbed on the horse behind Bodric and let out a yell, spurring the horse into a full run. The farmhands followed, jumped on their horses, and along with Jossin and his son, Tad, followed Erwin back to Jossin’s house.

They put Bodric on the long kitchen table. Jossin brought pillows and blankets to keep him warm. Tad started a fire in the cookstove and placed a large pot of water on the fire to boil.

“Jossin, do you have anything we can rip up and use?” Erwin asked.

“Of course, I’ll get them.” Jossin hurried into the other room.

“Tad, go to my saddlebag. There’s a large jar of green ointment.” Tad ran out the door to Erwin’s horse.

Jossin came back in with a sheet he was already ripping into strips and putting half of them into the boiling pot of water. And then got a large bottle of dark liquor from the cabinet.

Erwin nodded at Jossin. Tad returned with the ointment.

“I need all of you to take a spot and hold him down. He’s unconscious, but he may not be here in a second.” Erwin uncorked the liquor with his teeth, and unwrapped Bodric’s arm, fresh blood started oozing from the wound. He loosened the other piece tied around his upper arm, then poured the liquor over the wound. A shriek like a banshee’s cry brought Bodric back to consciousness, but only for a moment.

“Here. My knife, heat it in the fire.” Erwin handed his knife to Tad as he kept the pressure on the cleaned wound. There was a lot of blood on the floor, on Bodric, on Erwin.

“One more time, hold him down.” Erwin took the heated knife and gently laid it flat along the edges of the jagged cut. Thankfully for him, Bodric remained unconscious as the skin sizzled under the heat of the blade. The blood flow stopped. Erwin had managed to cauterize it successfully.

Jossin took strips of the sheet out of the boiling water, letting them cool slightly and handing them to Erwin. The first one he poured some of the liquor on and gently cleaned Bodric’s arm and around the wound to see if he had missed any other spots. He then slowly loosened the shirt piece that was tied around his upper arm. Loosening it a little at a time to allow normal blood flow back into his arm, Erwin wanted to make sure the wound wouldn’t start bleeding freely.

He liberally applied the green ointment to one side of another strip and wound it around Bodric’s arm tightly enough to hold the wound closed. Erwin finished cleaning the blood from Bodric, then took a strip rinsed in cold water and applied it to Bodric’s forehead.

Bodric’s eyes fluttered open. Looking around in a bit of a daze he said, “Did you give that hellish beastie a sharp arrow for me?”

Erwin laughed a little. “I sure did, my friend. I sure did.” They got him onto the couch in the other room and helped him lay down. Then made him drink some of the strong liquor.

Erwin went back to the kitchen. “Jossin, thank you. All of you, for your help. I think we got it in time.” Erwin looked tired. From the other room, they heard groaning and headed back in to check on Bodric.

“You okay, Bodric?” Jossin asked as he knelt down next to him.

The liquor had started working on Bodric, but he mumbled. “Get the hides. Erwin. Get hides for Cali.” And then he fell asleep.

They all laughed. “The hides. He’s worried about getting the wolf hides for Cali.” Erwin shook his head at his friend.

“Me and the hands will go back out and bring the wolves in,” Tad said. “You and dad stay here and watch over Bodric.”

Erwin stood and shook Tad’s hand. “Thanks, Tad, truly. Watch yourselves out there, I don’t think there were others, but be safe.”

As Tad and the hands headed back out, Erwin took the bottle of liquor and poured himself and Jossin a large cup.

Erwin stayed by Bodric’s side the entire night, taking short naps in the chair next to him and checking on his arm while his friend slept.

It looked like they had gotten it in time, there was no unusual swelling, redness or heat. But he would wait until Bodric woke in the morning to see if he thought he would be okay to travel back home.

The next morning, the smell of frying sausages and coffee woke Erwin. He immediately checked on Bodric, no fever, pulse felt good and strong. He left him to sleep and walked into the kitchen.

“You did good, Erwin. Bodric looks to be doing fine if a little pale.” Jossin said setting a huge pile of sausages on the table beside of an enormous bowl of scrambled eggs. “You should try to wake him and see if we can get him to eat a bit.” He handed a plate of food to Erwin. He went back to Bodric and pulled his chair close.

After Bodric was sound asleep out the night before, Tad had lifted Bodric into a sitting position while Erwin tied Bodric’s arm in a sling against his chest. The sling was still holding Bodric’s arm securely, but Erwin was careful not to jostle him when he tried to wake him up. Bodric squinted opened his eyes and groaned.

“How do you feel?” Erwin asked.

He groaned again, closing his eyes. “Like I went into a giant wolf’s mouth and came out the other end!”

Erwin couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, the wolf didn’t eat your sense of humor, I see.”

Bodric opened one eye and then promptly shut it again. “By the Mother, did the foul beastie bite my head too? It’s splitting!”

Erwin, trying not to laugh more said, “No, my friend, that would be the liquor we gave you last night for the pain and to help you sleep. Besides, your head is too hard for even a giant wolf!”

Bodric sat up with a little help from Erwin, as the other men came in to check on him. He ate some of the eggs and devoured several sausages. “Did you get the hides for Cali?”

“Yes, don’t worry, we are taking the biggest one, and the smaller one stays here,” Erwin said.

“I want to head home this morning, we still need to check on the boar traps,” Bodric said, feeling stronger now that he’d eaten.

“I don’t know, you may want to give it another day. That was a nasty attack,” Tad said. “What do you think, Erwin, Dad?”

“He’s not fevered, there’s no swelling, and he’s not incoherent, if Erwin thinks he’s strong enough, then I’d say it’s okay,” Jossin replied.

“Jossin, do you think we could use your large wagon? I can put Bodric in the back with the hide, and then I can have one of my hands bring it back over to you.” Erwin asked.

“Nonsense. You take the wagon, I’ll send a couple of my hands along with you to bring it back themselves. Send a couple jars of Bethal’s jams back with them, eh?” Jossin smiled.

“Thanks, Jossin, that sounds great.” Erwin shook his hand and headed out to pack the wagon. They placed the large wolf hide flat on the wagon, Tad added more salt to the hide for the trip. Jossin came out and had Tad load up two barrels of wine and two more of whiskey to take back.

They helped Bodric onto the back, and Jossin gave him a silver flask full of the liquor for the trip. “This wagon rides a bit rough, you’ll need a few nips of that before you get home.” He smiled at Bodric.

“Jossin, thanks again, and you send word if you run into any more animal problems,” Erwin said. And they headed off on the trip back home.

“Mum, I’m going to head over to the Jenkins farm this morning, if that’s okay? I’ve finished those plow straps he wanted and I was going to take them over to him,” Cali said.

“Yes, honey, that’s fine. You’re going to ride over so you can get back by lunch, right?” Bethal asked.

“Yes, Mum. And Chase has gotten very good at following with me when I’m riding, so he can come along.”

“I didn’t expect anything else, Chase is always with you!” her mom laughed. “Just be careful and come back as quick as you can. Oh, and take Jenkins some of this jam that I made.”

Cali packed the jars of jam along with the new straps into the saddlebag of her horse. Her mom had surprised her with a sort of a sling so that she could carry Chase while still having her hands free. He was growing fast, but sometimes still wanted Cali to carry him.

She adjusted her bow on her back and put Chase in the sling so he could ride with her for a bit. They climbed up into the saddle and set off towards Jenkins’ farm. It was a bit of a trip, but on horseback, she shouldn’t be gone past midday. She was anxious to get back, she wanted to start working on her new quiver, and the collar for Chase.

Passing through the east fields, Cali waved at the farmhands. Ahead, the trees grew thick and closed in around the road that led to other parts of Edelaine, including Jenkins’ farm. She urged the horse on to a trot, excited to deliver the straps to Jenkins and get her first pay.

It had taken slightly longer than normal to fully prep the boar’s hide for working since it was thicker than the hides she normally worked with. She was surprised that it wasn’t much more difficult to work than the thinner hides though.

Cali hoped Jenkins would like the new straps. She had cut the straps and embellished the edges with thin rawhide stitches for reinforcement.

It was cooler here on the road under the thick trees, but the day was going to turn hot. Cali wanted to make quick work of this and head back home before it got too humid. She decided once she got back, she would work on Chase’s collar first.

Chase seemed content in his sling and didn’t want to run alongside, he alternated between napping and looking around.

Cresting the top of a hill she could see the small road to Jenkins farm ahead on the right. Unlike Cali’s family farm, you didn’t have to go through fields before getting to his house. She rode up, tying her horse to the post as Jenkins walked around the corner of the house.

“Young Miss Cali!” Jenkins shouted, raising his hand in welcome. “How are you on this beautiful day?”

“Hi, Jenkins! I’m doing great, thanks. Mum sent you over some jam, and I’ve brought your new plow straps.”

“Oh, Cali, you have made my day! I’m not sure which I’m more excited about. Those old straps of mine are about worn through.” Jenkins replied. “Come on in the house, let me get your pay.”

They walked inside when Chase poked his nose out to look around. Cali sat at the kitchen table as Jenkins went to get her pay. He stopped by the back door telling Rowan to go say hello to Cali.

“Father, really, Cali is a bit young, don’t you think? I’ll not be married off yet!” Rowan complained but did as his father asked.

Rowan walked into the kitchen nonchalantly, with Jorah running in excitedly right behind him.

“Hi, Cali. Oh, your mom sent jam?” Rowan asked seeing the jars on the table.

“Cali! It’s great to see you! Hey, when are we all going to head over to the lake?” Jorah asked, his words coming out all in a rush.

“Hi! Yes, that is from Mum’s latest batch, and there’s more where that came from.” Cali smiled. “Hi, Jorah, it’s been so hot, we ought to get everyone to the lake soon before summer is gone.”

“Here you go, young lady. My, that little fox is growing! He’s almost twice as big as when I saw him at the gathering! You’ve got him trained up good?” Jenkins said as he came back in the room.

“Yes, sir. He’s a great friend, smart too,” Cali replied. “Wow, Jenkins, this is more coin than I expected, are you sure?”

“Cali, you did fine work on these straps, you deserve no less. Oh, tell your father that old man Jossin was rambling on the other day about losing some sheep again. It’s probably nothing, but I know he’d want to know.”

“I sure will, Jenkins. I better be heading back, I told Mum I’d try to make it back by lunchtime!”

“Then you better be off, young miss! And tell your mother no one makes jams like her!” Jenkins laughed.

With several shiny silver coins jingling in her small drawstring purse, Cali and Chase pointed the horse back toward their farm and set off.

***

Chase ran alongside Cali on the ride back, jumping at bugs and the occasional leaf. With the sun at its peak and no breeze, it felt stifling even in the shade of the thick trees on the road. She was thrilled at the money she made from Jenkins and couldn’t wait to tell everyone at home.

Suddenly, Chase stopped in the middle of the road with a low growl, looking into the forest. Cali jumped down from her horse thinking he may have hurt a paw and knelt beside him. He was trembling, fixed on whatever it was he sensed in the woods.

“What is it, boy?” Cali looked around at the trees but didn’t see anything.

There were no sounds. Not even the rustling of leaves in the heavy air. Breaking out in a cold sweat she could feel eyes on her, but there were no eyes she could see. She scooped Chase into his sling, brandished her knife and got back on her horse. Something was not right here. Not right at all.

“Who’s there?” Cali demanded. “I know you’re there, come out!” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. A tremble of fear crept across her skin raising the hair on her arms. She needed to get away from there.

Urging the horse to a full run with her heels, she leaned forward to protect Chase and gain speed. Once she entered the east fields she finally slowed and rode on to the house. Bethal saw Cali ride up and met her by the back garden.

“Hi, sweetie, I’m glad you made it back before lunch. Are you okay, you look a bit shaken?” Bethal asked. A farmhand came over and took the horse to the barn.

“Mum, I’ve got some great news, but I have to tell you something else first.”

They walked into the kitchen. Cali sat at the table, Chase hopped down and sat beside her. Bethal poured a cold drink and handed it to her daughter.

“Mum, there was something in the woods about halfway back from Jenkins. I think there’s another boar or something out there. And Jenkins said to tell dad that old man Jossin said he had some sheep go missing.” Cali said in a rush.

Bethal’s eyes widened. “Did you see this animal, Cali?” she asked, then called out the door to the worker to go find Erwin.

“No, Mum. I didn’t see it. Chase sensed it first and was mad and scared. And I could feel it looking at me, I know it was there, I could feel it there, Mum, I could!” Cali said, trying to convince her mother.

“Cali, honey, it’s okay, I believe you. You and Chase are safe and back home. That’s what matters. It’s okay. Here comes your dad, let’s tell him and then you can tell us your good news.” Bethal smiled. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes though.

Cali told the whole story to her dad and Bodric who had come in too. Erwin and Bodric planned to ride over to see old man Jossin the next day and would look along the road to see if they could see any signs of the animal.

“Now, what’s this good news?” Bethal tried to lighten the subject.

“Oh, Mum! You aren’t going to believe this!” Cali jumped up and jingled her drawstring pouch around. Chase bounced around at her feet. Cali proudly poured her coins out onto the table for everyone to see.

“Well, looky at that, Cali girl!” Bodric said. “You’re a gonna be richer than all of us soon!” he laughed.

“That’s good pay for those straps, Cali.” Her dad said. “Did you see Rowan while you were there?”

Bethal lightly smacked Erwin’s shoulder. She knew that Jenkins not-so-secretly hoped that Rowan and Cali would eventually be married. She also knew that Cali had no interest in Rowan, even if he was a handsome older boy.

“Sure did, Da. And Jorah, too. We are going to get everyone and go to the lake soon,” Cali said.

“You know, honey, that Jorah is a good boy, and he’s only a year older than you,” Bethal said slyly.

“Mum!” Cali rolled her eyes and headed to her room. She put her coins away, then headed out to the small barn to work on Chase’s collar.

She had forgotten all about the animal in the woods, and was focused on what she was going to make next, and if she should start making leather items to sell to the other farms.

***

“Erwin, you and Bodric go and check that place out tomorrow. And you let me know what it is.” Bethal said once she knew Cali was out of earshot heading to the barn.

“Beth, dear, it’s just animals. I’m sure of it. Of course, I’ll let you know either —”

“I think we need to sit her down and —” Bethal started.

Erwin held up his hand, interrupting his wife. “No, Beth. No. If we run into any sign this is anything other than just hungry, wild animals, then we’ll talk about that. But right now? No.”

Bethal wasn’t convinced, but she trusted her husband.

“Bethal, I’ve known you all since we’ve been little sprouts, listen to Erwin on this one. You’ve got nothing to worry over. And that’s a heavy burden to put on anyone, you know that best of all,” Bodric said, trying to ease Bethal’s mind.

“I know, and you’re right. I just can’t shake it. I guess I’m just jumping at shadows — or boars — in this case.” Bethal laughed. “No, we won’t tell her, no reason to.”

“It’s been generations since it was needed. Since well before our time. And there’s no need now. Don’t worry yourself.” Erwin stood, giving his wife a kiss on the forehead.

“Bodric, come on, let’s get a couple of the hands to go with us tomorrow, we’ll stop by the other farms too and camp overnight at Jossin’s.”

Bodric laid his hand on Bethal’s shoulder. “Only thing to worry about is all that cooking for another boar roast coming up!” He winked, laughing as they headed out the door.

The tavern was full.

Not just with the stranded travelers—though they were still there, growing increasingly restless despite Thalia’s assurances—but with locals who’d braved the strange forest to reach the Lodge. Word had spread, as word always did in the mountains, that something was happening at the Veilwalker’s Lodge.

Something important.

They came seeking sanctuary. Seeking answers. Seeking the comfort of familiar walls and warm fires in a world that was growing increasingly unfamiliar.

Marra moved between tables with practiced efficiency, serving stew and bread and Harl’s latest brew—a dark ale that tasted of autumn and smoke and something faintly magical. She’d left the bow upstairs, hidden in her room, but she could still feel its weight. Its presence. The knowledge of what it meant.

What she meant.

Warden’s daughter.

Keeper of the Guardian’s weapon.

Protector of something she was only beginning to understand.

“You alright, lass?” Harl asked as she passed the bar.

Marra managed a smile. “Just tired.”

“Liar.” But Harl’s expression was gentle. “But I’ll let it pass. For now.”

Across the room, Belvik sat in his usual corner, tuning his lute with fingers that trembled slightly. He’d been quiet all day—withdrawn in a way that wasn’t like him. The events in the shrine had shaken something loose in him, and Marra could see the fear in his eyes every time someone looked his way.

The Herald.

That’s what they were calling him now.

The one who would call the Guardian home.

It was a lot of weight for a bard who’d just wanted to sing love songs and make people smile.

Thalia caught Marra’s eye from across the room and nodded toward Belvik. Check on him, her expression said.

Marra finished delivering her tray of drinks and made her way to Belvik’s corner, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Belvik looked up, startled. “Hey.”

“You don’t have to perform tonight if you don’t want to. People will understand.”

“Will they?” Belvik’s laugh was bitter. “They came here expecting music. Expecting normalcy. If I don’t sing—”

Read more

It took much longer to return from the west fields with the weight of the large boar. The sun slid behind the mountains and darkness settled in.

Bodric talked about how he was looking forward to the smell of roasting boar. Erwin thought they should invite all the farmhands and their families over and make a gathering of it. Cali was most looking forward to working the hide into a new quiver or belts, or even a coat.

When they finally came into view of the house, Bethal, Cali’s mom, came out to meet them.

“Well, that certainly does explain a lot!” She said, seeing the boar swinging between them as they walked.

“Beth, honey, our daughter has something to show you. I told her she could keep it, but that it was her responsibility,” Erwin said, with a half-smile.

“Cali, what did you drag home now?” Her mom demanded.

“Mum! Look, isn’t he just adorable? He’s sweet as he can be, and he really likes me.”

Rolling her eyes, her mom looked at the little furry bundle as he yawned and stretched in Cali’s arms.

“A fox! Really, Cali?”

“Mum, I couldn’t leave him there, I just couldn’t. That boar got his mother, he was all by himself!”

Bethal knew better than to try to argue with her daughter about it. Cali had a big heart and animals just seemed to love her.

“Okay, honey. But he is yours. You have to train him and take care of him. I won’t have some wild fox running around here stealing food and trying to eat the chickens!” Bethal sighed. “Now, there’s food in the kitchen, you all go in and help yourself, everyone else already ate.”

“We’ll go get this boar handled, and we’ll be in,” Erwin said as they turned toward the small barn.

Bodric and Cali made quick work of the boar. Pleased with the hide, they put it on the rack. She saved the coarse, quill-like hair to see if one of the farmhands knew how to make brushes. Her dad and Bodric hung and salted the beast, and decided tomorrow morning they’d invite everyone for the roast.

Famished and tired, they headed to the house to eat and rest. They sat at the table, talking about how the others would be happy to know the culprit behind their livestock deaths was no more.

Bodric said he and some hands would ride to the neighboring farms the following morning and invite them to the feast, and spread the good news.

Cali took an extra blanket and made a small bed on the floor beside her own for the baby fox. He’d had a big day, and although he whimpered a bit, he seemed to adjust well enough.

As Cali lay in bed, she looked down at the little fox. “We’ll have to find a good name for you. What do you think? We’ll give it a few days and see what name fits.” She scratched his ears and drifted toward sleep.

Cali woke as the light came in through her window. The little fox had climbed on her bed and curled up against her during the night. The first smells of breakfast came floating in, and her little fox woke up sniffing too.

“Come on, little fella, let’s go see what Mum’s cooked up for breakfast.”

“Good morning! I see our new family member is still doing good,” Cali’s dad said as she came into the large kitchen.

“Morning, Da, Mum. He’s doing great. I am going to give it a couple days to see what name suits him. He seems to like it here!”

“Of course he does, honey,” Cali’s mom said. “You’ve always had a way with animals.” She smiled as she put a plate of eggs and sausages down in front of Cali.

“Bodric has already headed out to the other farms to spread the word about the boar,” Erwin said. “You stay around the house today and help your mother to get things ready for the gathering.”

“Sure, Da. I was going to start training the little fella, and I wanted to work on that hide,” Cali said.

Smiling, Erwin shook his head at his daughter and her new fox. He stood, giving Bethal a quick kiss, and headed out the kitchen door. Cali thought it was sweet how her parents wore matching pendants.

I’ll have to remember to ask her Mum about them sometime, she thought to herself.

“Mum, do you need me to do anything now?” Cali asked.

“Not much, honey. But if you could bring me some fresh carrots and onions from the back garden, that would help,” Bethal replied.

Cali and the little fox headed out the kitchen door to the small garden next to the kitchen. Grabbing a basket, she headed to the carrots first. The little fox jumped and tried to play with the carrots as Cali shook the dirt off. He scampered and hopped around the garden, chasing bugs and butterflies as she worked.

Cali let out a low whistle to see if the fox would respond, but he kept right on playing in the garden. She stood, walking to the row with onions, and as soon as the little fox saw her walking, he ran over to follow her. She let out the low whistle again. He looked up at her with his head cocked to the side.

“Good boy! When I whistle, that means you come to me. But don’t worry, we’ll work on it.” Cali smiled.

She took the vegetables back to her mother. “Anything else I can do, Mum?”

“No, mostly it’s just cooking to do. Why don’t you go check your hide, and train up your little friend there.”

Cali grabbed an apple and headed out toward the small barn. Even in the dark, she had done a good job cleaning and racking the hide. In the clear morning light, the boar looked even larger than when they carried it home last night. She was thankful she hadn’t gotten any closer to it when she rescued the baby fox.

Examining the hide closer, it was very thick. It was a good strong hide, and Cali was anxious to work with it. She was already imagining a new quiver, belts, and…

“A collar!” Cali said. Scratching the little fox behind the ears, she said, “I’ll make you a collar, oh, and maybe some armor to protect you from any future boars!” she laughed.

Cali and the little fox spent the rest of the morning playing in the field near the fire pit. The fox was a quick learner and seemed to pick up on Cali’s instructions well. They shared the apple and headed back to the kitchen to see if her mom needed any help.

“Ah, perfect timing, Cali! Can you bring me that basket of potatoes by the door, please?” Her mom said.

As Cali carried the basket of potatoes, one fell and rolled across the floor. The little fox instantly gave chase, tackling the potato and playing with it with happy little barks.

Bethal laughed. “Well, he seems to be making himself right at home, eh? Any luck starting to train him?”

“He’s doing great, Mum. Watch!” Cali let out a low whistle. The little fox looked up from his potato, looking at Cali. She gave another whistle and he hopped up and ran over to her. “Good boy! And good job chasing down that potato!” Cali laughed, scratching him behind his ears.

“That’s it!” Cali said. “I’ll call you Chase. What do you think, little fella?” The little fox rolled over looking up happily at Cali. “What do you think, Mum?”

“Well, he does seem to like to chase things. And he seems to like it. Chase it is! Welcome to the family, little Chase,” her mom replied as she began cleaning potatoes.

Several of the wives gathered to help with the cooking the next morning. They expected the gathering to be bigger than the last. The weather was perfect, the heat of the day had eased, and farmhands and neighbors from nearby farms started arriving mid-afternoon. They marveled at the size of the boar and complimented Cali on a fine hide.

Jenkins from the closest farm asked if she had enough hide left if she would make him a new set of straps for his plow. Cali was excited, this would be her first real paying job in leatherworking.

Everyone helped themselves to the delicious boar and food, and sat around the fire pit late into the evening talking and comparing farm stories. The young ones ran around the field playing and having fun with Chase. The sense of relief over the boar was obvious with all the farmers.

Cali and Chase sat a bit away from the fire pit with friends from the neighboring farms. The Jenkins boys, Rowan and Jorah, Sarah from the Calbert farm, and Flora and her two young twin sisters from the Nomarr farm. They all loved hearing the story of how Cali rescued Chase.

“I would’ve shot that boar right between his big eyes if I’d been there with you, Cali!” Jorah boasted.

Rowan, his older brother, punched him in the shoulder and shook his head.

“Right, Jorah, and when the arrow bounced off its skull and he charged you down?” Rowan asked, laughing.

They all laughed and joked about how they would have taken down the boar, and saved the fox at the same time. Then started making plans to go to the lake soon.

As the night wore on, their friends began to leave, heading back to their own homes. With congratulations and pats on the back to Bodric and Erwin, they left, fading into the darkness until only Bodric and her parents remained around the fire.

Chase climbed up on Cali’s lap and fell asleep. “Mum, Da, I’m going to turn in.”

“Goodnight, honey.” They called back as Cali carried Chase into the house.

She didn’t bother putting Chase on his blanket, instead curling up in her bed with him next to her. Hearing her parents and Bodric outside talking, she soon drifted away into a deep sleep.

“Are you sure this boar was what attacked the animals, Erwin?” Bethal asked.

They were still sitting around the fire with Bodric as the others had all left. Bethal fiddled with her pendant, staring into the flames.

“Fairly certain. It seems the likely culprit. It had blood on its muzzle. And an animal that size would explain how many of the livestock had been killed or gone missing.” Erwin replied.

“Aw, don’t you worry now, Bethal,” Bodric said. “That old boar was trouble. And if there are any others, we’ll find them and roast them up too!”

Bethal laughed. “True. And I’m sure we’d get no complaints from everyone if we had another boar roast! Still, just seems odd that a boar that size would have just suddenly turned up.”

Erwin eyed his wife. “Beth, it’s just a boar. And at worst, maybe two boars. If there is another we’ll get it. But don’t worry yourself about it. There’s nothing to show that it’s anything more than just that, they probably just came down from the mountains.”

“You’re right, Erwin. You both are right. I’m just tired I think.” Bethal replied.

Bodric laughed, “I would say you should be given how much food you put together today! I’ll be heading home, myself. Day will be here before we know it.”

Erwin took Bethal’s hand and stood up. “We’re calling it a night, too. We’ll see you in the morning, Bodric. No hurry though, get some rest.”

Bodric raised his hand in a wave as he left, as Bethal and Erwin headed into the house.

The Lodge hummed.

Not audibly—at least, not in any way normal ears could hear. But everyone felt it. A vibration in the floorboards. A resonance in the walls. The sense that the building itself was awake and paying attention in a way it hadn’t been before.

Thalia felt it most strongly in the early morning hours, when she made her rounds and found doors that hadn’t existed the night before. Hallways that turned at new angles. Windows that looked out onto views that weren’t quite right—forests that were too green, skies that held too many moons.

The Lodge was remembering.

Remembering what it had been built for.

Remembering what was coming.

She stood in the main room, watching the hearth fire burn in colors that shifted between amber and blue-gold, and tried to decide if she should be terrified or reassured.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Thalia turned to find Marra standing behind her, the Guardian’s bow still slung across her back. The barmaid looked different now. Older, somehow. Not in years, but in weight. Like she’d picked up a burden she’d been avoiding her whole life and was finally learning to carry it.

“Beautiful?” Thalia echoed. “The Lodge is rearranging itself and you think it’s beautiful?”

“I think it’s alive.” Marra moved to stand beside her, both of them watching the fire. “And I think it’s been waiting for this. For whoever’s coming.”

“The Veil Breaker.”

Marra nodded. “My mother used to tell me stories. About places that existed between worlds. Sanctuaries for those who didn’t quite fit anywhere else. I thought they were just stories.”

“They weren’t.”

“No.” Marra’s hand moved unconsciously to touch the bow. “They weren’t.”

The fire flared suddenly—bright blue-gold—and both women stepped back.

And in the flames, just for a moment, they saw something.

A figure.

Flowing hair. Fierce eyes. Battle-worn and beautiful and burning.

Read more

Hi friend,

I want to tell you something—not as a sales pitch, but as an honest invitation from one storyteller to someone who loves stories.

For the past few months, I’ve been quietly building something new.

Not a launch. Not a marketing funnel. Not another “content strategy.”

A home.

It lives on my website on Substack, and I call it The Lodgefire Circle. (the same place my newsletters like this one come from!)

This is where my stories are being written first—released as living, breathing worlds before they ever become books, before they land on Amazon, before they appear anywhere else in the world.

If you’ve ever wished you could:

✨ Read a story as it’s being created
✨ Step inside a world before it’s “finished”
✨ Sit by the fire with the author while the tale is still unfolding, steam rising from your mug, wondering what happens next

…this is that space.

And I’m giving you a chance to try it for no cost first.

Claim Your 7-Day Free Trial

What this actually costs after the trial (no surprises)

The paid circle is $5/month—literally less than a latte or a fast-food combo.

No contracts. No obligations. Cancel anytime.

I never want anyone to feel surprised or pressured — and I don’t know about you, but I really dislike those “free trials” that are so pricey they feel like a bait-and-switch trick at the end. Transparency and kindness matter to me, so I’m laying it all out clearly.

Why this lives on Substack

I chose Substack very intentionally.

No algorithms deciding who sees my work.
No gatekeepers between me and you.
No waiting months for royalty payments while wondering if anyone’s actually reading.

Just me, my stories, and the readers who want to be close to the work.

The free posts let you peek inside—taste the world, meet a character, feel the magic.

But the paid circle is where the story actually lives and grows.

What you get as a paid member

This isn’t about “bonus content” or “extras.”

It’s about access and closeness:

📖 Early access to every chapter of my serialized stories
📖 Serial tales that won’t be published anywhere else until they’re complete
📖 Reading ahead of the rest of the world—sometimes weeks or months ahead
📖 Directly supporting the work so it can exist sustainably (and so I can keep writing without compromise)
📖 Occasional live fireside chats directly with me for behind the scenes tidbits, Q&A’s, and maybe even the chance to help shape the worlds

Right now, I’m deep in Tales from the Veilwalker’s Lodge—a cozy fantasy mystery where a sentient magical inn sits at the convergence of multiple worlds, and something ancient is waking up beneath the floorboards.

The Lodge crew is waiting.
The hearth is warm.
And the story is unfolding right now.

Come try it—no pressure

If you’re curious but unsure, I’ve opened a 7-day free trial so you can step inside, read a few chapters, and see if this space feels right for you.

If it does—wonderful. I’d be honored to have you.

If it doesn’t—you can walk away and remain a free subscriber only. No hard feelings. Truly.

I just want you to know the door is open. The fire is lit. And there’s a chair waiting, if you’d like to claim it.

Claim Your 7-Day Free Trial

With warmth and stories,

P.S. — If $5/month feels like a stretch right now, I totally understand. The free posts will always be here, and you’re always welcome at the edge of the fire. But if you’ve been thinking about supporting the work and getting closer to the stories… now’s a good time. ❤️

“Cali! Cal!” Her mom yelled. “Get your nose out of that book and get down here. You’ll need some lunch before heading off to the west field.”

Cali sighed. “Yes, Mum, on my way,” Cali yelled back.

Placing the braided ribbon in the book, she stood, stretching as the warm summer breeze rustled the tree leaves overhead. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to find out if the battle turned for the heroes.

Walking down the hill she could smell fresh-baked bread and something else… the faint whiff of cinnamon. Her belly growled pushing her annoyance out of her mind as she hurried to the back kitchen door.

The table was almost full, with some of the farmhands standing around eating before heading back out for the afternoon’s work. Cali was heading to the west fields today with her father and some workers to check the fences and animals. They had lost some livestock over the last month and needed to check the traps they’d set out.

Cali grabbed a bowl of her mom’s famous sausage and wild rice, and added gravy over the top, sitting down to eat.

“Callera Flynn, why on earth do you cover up your food with gravy like that?” her mom laughed.

But of course, her mom reveled in the fact that everyone from family to farmhands loved her cooking. And even though she poked fun at Cali for putting gravy on everything, there always seemed to be fresh gravy made.

“Hey Cali girl, what’re you reading on today?” Bodric asked.

Bodric was a dear friend of their family, and had been on the farm since before Cali was born. He helped teach her to ride and shoot and loved to hear her talk about the stories she was always reading.

“Oh, you know, Bodric, still the same one as last time. I can’t seem to find enough time to finish,” Cali replied, smiling sweetly as her mom narrowed her eyes, grinning.

“Bodric, you know her, she fills her head with those fae-tales, of far-off lands and battles between good and evil. Silly stuff,” her mom laughed again.

“Yes, Mum, and I was just getting to the battle when you called for me,” Cali complained.

Her mom rolled her eyes, laughing and turned back to the stove.

They ate and brought their plates over to the large sink before heading out to the fields for work. Cali, Bodric, and her dad, Erwin, gathered supplies and headed out to the west fields.

Cali brought her large skinning knife and the short bow that Bodric hand-carved for her. They were hoping to catch what had attacked their animals, thinking it was maybe a wolf or a small bear. Cali, who was quickly turning into the best skinner and leatherworker of the lot, hoped to skin the beast.

It took some time, but they made it to the west fields. The animals were all accounted for, so they split up to check the fences. Nothing out of the ordinary, only normal needed fence repairs.

As Cali turned the last bend of her section of the fence she heard a quiet mewling coming from the woods. It sounded like a baby animal, a kitten perhaps.

Always careful, she readied her bow and stepped toward the tree line. The sound was close, and she searched the area to see if there were any large animals about. She saw a large fox laying near a tree, killed by the same animal that was terrorizing their flock it seemed. The silence under the heavy canopy of trees made the cries seem louder.

Keeping her arrow nocked and ready she continued to look around and found the source of the crying.

A baby fox!

Making sure there were no other animals around, she turned back to the baby fox. The dead fox must have been its mother. Putting her bow on her back, she took out her knife and knelt near the baby fox.

It was tiny, with a reddish-brown coat and some white around its muzzle. It had a large bushy tail, and its ears seemed twice as large as its head. Cali knew she couldn’t leave it here to the same fate of its mom.

She pulled an apple out of her knapsack and cut off a small piece with her knife. She sat near the fox and held the slice of apple close to it. The baby fox was still crying, but after a bit, its hunger ruled out and it inched toward Cali.

Sitting very still, she kept the apple slice in her hand and let the fox come to her. It grabbed the apple slice and backed away, eating quickly. Moving slowly, she cut another small piece of the apple and laid her hand on the ground again. The baby was quicker to come take the apple slice this time and didn’t move so far away.

Cali was getting ready to cut another piece of the apple when she heard something moving in the underbrush nearby. Something definitely bigger than a fox. A shiver ran up her spine as her hair stood on end. She quickly grabbed the baby fox, and with the knife in hand backed slowly out of the tree line and to the fence. Whatever the animal was, it didn’t follow her, but she could feel it was near.

As she reached the fence, Bodric and her dad were walking in her direction. Seeing her backing up brandishing her knife they ran to her side, then went into the trees after the larger animal.

She knew her dad and Bodric would be fine, they were both experienced hunters. The fox had started mewling again. She held him close while she pulled her other apple from her knapsack. She took a small bite of the apple and put it in her hand for the fox to eat.

Sometime later her dad and Bodric came out of the trees carrying between them what looked to be a large boar. Not an animal you would want to run into without a weapon. The large protruding tusks were longer than Cali’s hand, and it still had blood on its muzzle from its latest kill.

“Hey looky at this beastie, Cali girl!” Bodric said with a huge grin. “We’ll have to roast this one up!”

The thought of roasting a boar over the pit near the back garden made Cali’s mouth water. She hadn’t realized how long they had been gone to the west fields, but the sun had started sinking behind the trees.

“I have a beastie of my own! Da, Bodric, come look,” Cali said.

The baby fox had decided it trusted Cali enough after stuffing itself full of apple, and it fell asleep curled in the crook of her arm.

“Cali. Sweetie, you know how much work that little guy will be, right?” her dad asked.

“Yes, Da. But I won’t leave him out here to fend for himself, he’s too little,” Cali said, ready to argue her side.

“Okay, but he’s yours, and yours alone.”

And with that, they turned to head home with a fresh boar and a new baby fox in tow.

Morning came with frost on the windows despite it being too early in the season for it.

Thalia noticed first—she always did—standing in the main room and watching ice crystals form delicate patterns on the glass. Not natural frost. Not weather-frost.

Veil-frost.

The kind that appeared when reality was forgetting how to be real.

Behind her, the Lodge was already stirring with anxious energy. The stranded travelers were growing more restless by the hour. Gareth lay in Harl’s study, drifting in and out of fevered sleep, muttering about things no one wanted to hear. And the crew—her crew—looked exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with lack of sleep.

They looked haunted.

Thalia turned from the window to find Astrae descending the stairs, his pale hair catching the morning light. He looked worse than usual—if that was possible—with dark circles under his ice-blue eyes and frost clinging to his clothes despite being indoors.

“You feel it too,” Thalia said. Not a question.

Astrae nodded, moving to stand beside her. “It’s getting worse. Faster than I expected.” He placed a hand against the frosted window, and the ice patterns shifted, reorganizing themselves into symbols. Runes. Guardian-era script.

Thalia’s jaw tightened. “What do they say?”

“Warning. Boundary. Threshold.” Astrae’s expression was grim. “The Veil is trying to communicate. Trying to tell us where it’s thinnest.”

“Can you track it?”

“I can try.” He pulled his hand away, and the runes faded back into random frost. “But Thalia—when we find the tear, if we find it—we need to be prepared for what that means.”

“Which is?”

“That we’ll be standing at the edge of two worlds. And things on both sides will know we’re there.” Astrae met her gaze. “The creatures will come. And they won’t just circle this time.”

Footsteps on the stairs made them both turn.

Marra descended, and Thalia’s breath caught.

Read more

From the desk of Morigan Shaw — January 8, 2026

Hello, wanderers and wayfarers,

Pull up a chair. The fire’s warm, the ale is fresh, and there are stories waiting to be told.

It’s hard to believe we’re already a month into this new chapter—Morigan’s Substack home feels like it’s been here far longer than it has. Maybe that’s the Lodge’s doing. It has a way of making people feel like they’ve always belonged, doesn’t it?

📖 What’s Been Happening at the Lodge

If you’ve been following along with the Tales from the Veilwalker’s Lodge serial, you know things have been... eventful.

Since our last newsletter, four new episodes have arrived:

• Episode 2: The Stranger at the Threshold

• Episode 3: The Rune That Shouldn’t Exist

• Episode 4: The Thing in the Trees

• Episode 5: The Missing Hunter

The Veil is thinning. Shadows without faces are slipping through tears in reality. A mysterious stranger with winter in his veins has appeared at the door. And something ancient—something that’s been sleeping for far too long—is beginning to stir.

Marra’s knives are sharp. Harl’s brewing something stronger than usual. Belvik’s tattoos are glowing when they absolutely shouldn’t be. And Ashwhisker? Well. The cat knows more than he’s letting on.

If you haven’t jumped into the cozy-dark mystery yet, now’s the perfect time. Previews of each episode are free for everyone—come see what all the fuss (and the glowing hearth fire) is about. And if you’re already hooked? Well, paid subscribers get access to the full story as it unfolds and before the rest of the world, plus all the Lore & Lost Pages extras, Tavern Tales, and behind-the-scenes magic.

Read the Latest Episode →

🍎✨ Special Holiday Tale: The Longest Night at the Lodge

Over the holidays, Thalia shared something special with us: The Longest Night at the Lodge—a cozy Tavern Tale about how the Lodge celebrates the winter solstice (their version of Yule/Christmas).

It’s warm. It’s magical. It’s full of found-family feelings and also includes a real recipe I make in my own kitchen: Spiced Apple Butter Bread.

Because what’s fantasy worldbuilding without delicious food, am I right?

Read The Longest Night →

🌟 Something NEW for EVERYONE: The Idoramin Chronicles Returns!

Alright, friends. This is the big announcement.

Starting this Sunday, January 12th, I’m bringing back one of my most beloved series in a brand-new way: The Idoramin Chronicles as a serial podcast/audiobook experience.

That’s right—I’ll be reading the entire series aloud, releasing two episodes per week, and making it available to ALL subscribers, free and paid alike.

If you’re new here and wondering what the Idoramin Chronicles even is, here’s the quick version:

She was just a farm girl with a stubborn streak. Now she might be the key to saving an entire realm.

When seventeen-year-old Cali Flynn stumbles upon a wounded fox pup in the woods, it sets off a chain of events that shatters everything she’s ever known. Her quiet life turns to ash as a monstrous threat stalks the land—but Cali carries more than grief in her veins. She carries a legacy.

With her newfound companion by her side, Cali is thrust into a prophecy woven in shadow and flame. To survive, she’ll have to master ancient skills, confront truths long hidden, and rise beyond the simple life she once knew—before darkness devours it all.

This series was a bestseller. Readers fell in love with Cali, with Chase (the fox who is SO much more than a fox), with the magic, the battles, the heartbreak, and the hope. It’s epic fantasy with a fierce heroine, slow-burn secrets, and a world that refuses to let you go.

And now? You get to experience it in a whole new way—through my voice, chapter by chapter, delivered straight to your inbox (and ears).

First episode drops Sunday, January 12th.

Mark your calendars. Tell your friends. Invite your book club. This is going to be special.

🔥 How You Can Help

If you’re loving what’s happening here—the Lodge, the lore, the stories, the community we’re building—here’s how you can help it grow:

1. Share this newsletter with someone who loves cozy fantasy, epic tales, or just really good storytelling. Growth means more stories, more magic, more reasons to keep the hearth fires burning bright.

2. Mark your calendar for Sunday—and when the first Idoramin episode drops, share that too. The more readers who discover this world, the more we all get to play in it together.

3. If you’ve been thinking about upgrading to a paid subscription, now’s a great time. Your support directly fuels new stories, exclusive content, and keeps this little corner of the internet weird and wonderful. Plus, you get access to the full Veilwalker’s Lodge season as it unfolds, bonus lore, Tavern Tales, and all the behind-the-scenes goodness.

Subscribe now

🍺 One More Thing...

Harl wanted me to remind you that the Lodge door is always open. Whether you’re here for the cozy fantasy vibes, the epic adventures, or just a warm place to rest between worlds—you belong here.

The fire’s waiting. The stories are just getting started.

See you Sunday,

Storyteller, World-Builder, Keeper of Too Many Fictional Characters

P.S. — Ashwhisker says hello. (He also knocked over my mug while I was writing this. Typical.)

📬 Not subscribed yet? Free stories, magic, and mystery delivered straight to your inbox.

Dawn came reluctantly, as if the sun itself was uncertain about rising over a Lodge under siege.

Marra stood at the kitchen window, watching grey light seep into the forest, and tried not to think about the scratching sounds that had persisted through most of the night. The creatures—whatever they were—had tested every door, every window, every possible entrance to the Lodge with methodical patience.

And then, sometime around the deepest part of night, they’d simply... stopped.

The silence that followed was somehow worse.

Behind her, the kitchen was a disaster of organized chaos. She’d been making breakfast for the stranded travelers—seven of them, caught at the Lodge when the creatures appeared—plus the usual crew. Feeding people kept her hands busy. Kept her mind from spiraling into the thousand questions she didn’t have answers for.

Kept her from thinking about the bow.

“You’ve been up all night.”

Marra didn’t turn. She recognized Harl’s gravelly voice, could hear the concern beneath the gruffness.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Seemed more useful to bake bread.”

“Aye, well. Fear makes for good kneading.” Harl moved to stand beside her, both of them staring out at the forest. “They’re gone. For now.”

“For now,” Marra echoed. “Why did they leave?”

“The Lodge wards held. They realized they couldn’t get in, so they retreated.” Harl’s hand moved unconsciously to his rune-burn scar. “But they’ll be back. Things like that don’t give up easy.”

Marra’s fingers tightened on the windowsill. “Harl. Last night. In the forest. I saw—”

She stopped. How did you explain visions? How did you put into words the bone-deep certainty that you were connected to something ancient and terrible and sacred all at once?

“The bow,” Harl said quietly.

Marra’s breath caught. “How did you—”

Read more

The Lodge felt different after the faceless thing.

Not physically—the walls were still the same warm wood, the hearth still crackled with its usual amber flame, the floors still creaked in their familiar patterns. But there was a weight to the air now, a thickness that made breathing feel like work and turned every shadow into a potential threat.

Marra felt it most acutely in the hour before dawn, when she should have been sleeping but instead found herself standing in the eastern hallway, staring at the wall where the door had been.

The door to the room with the bow.

Except there was no door anymore.

Just smooth wood paneling, unmarred and innocent, like the room had never existed at all.

Marra ran her fingers along the wall, searching for seams, for the telltale warmth she’d felt before. Nothing. The wood was cool and solid under her touch, and the hook where the key had hung was gone too.

“Looking for something?”

Marra spun, knife half-drawn before she registered Harl’s voice. The old dwarf stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, expression unreadable in the dim pre-dawn light.

“I—” Marra stopped. What could she say? I found a secret room last night with a magical bow that showed me visions of my dead mother? “Couldn’t sleep.”

Harl’s gaze moved from her to the wall and back again. “The Lodge does that sometimes. Shows you things when it thinks you’re ready. Hides them when you’re not.”

Marra’s throat tightened. “And if I’m never ready?”

“Then it’ll wait.” Harl moved closer, his footsteps soft despite his bulk. “But in my experience, the Lodge doesn’t show you something unless you need to see it. Question is—what are you going to do about it?”

Read more

The Echo That Walks

Most who see one don’t live long enough to describe it.

Those who do can only manage fragments:

“A shape that wasn’t there until it was.”

“Like smoke given purpose.”

“It looked at me. I don’t know how—it had no face—but it looked at me, and I felt seen in a way I never want to feel again.”

The Faceless Echo is not a creature in any traditional sense.

It is a remnant. A scar. A piece of something that died when the Veil sealed wrong—caught between worlds, neither fully here nor fully gone.

Scholars (the few who study such things and survive) call them Veil Echoes or Residual Entities.

Harl calls them “mistakes the universe refuses to clean up.”

Skivvit calls them “ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING WHY DOES IT NOT HAVE A FACE.”

Physical Description (If “physical” is even the right word)

Height: Varies. Most reports suggest human-height or slightly taller, but the proportions are wrong. Too long in the limbs. Too smooth in movement.

Form: Draped in tattered robes or fabric that seems to be part of its body rather than worn. The material shifts between solid cloth and wisps of shadow depending on the light—or perhaps depending on how much reality it’s currently borrowing.

Face: None.

Where a head should be, there is only smooth, featureless darkness. Not a mask. Not a void. Just... absence. The kind of emptiness that suggests something was there once and has been carefully, deliberately erased.

Movement: Gliding. Floating. Sometimes it seems to step—other times it simply is in a new location, as though the space between strides doesn’t concern it.

Voice: Like wind through abandoned halls. Whispers that form words you understand even though the language is wrong. When it speaks, the air grows colder and sounds seem to muffle, as though reality itself is struggling to process what’s being said.

Abilities & Nature

The Weight of Attention

When a Faceless Echo looks at you—and you will know when it does, even without eyes to meet—you feel it in your bones. A pressure. A recognition. As though it’s reading not just your face but your history. Your secrets. The shape of your soul.

Survivors describe:

✨ “My chest went cold. Like someone had reached inside and touched my heart.”
✨ “It knew me. Knew things I’d forgotten. Knew things I’d never told anyone.”
✨ “I couldn’t move. Not because I was afraid—though I was—but because it felt like moving would be... rude. Like interrupting something sacred and terrible.”

Intangibility

Arrows pass through.
Blades find no purchase.
Even magic—most magic—slides off like water on glass.

Faceless Echoes exist partially in this reality. They can touch us, but we struggle to touch them. They step through walls, through doors, through the spaces between heartbeats.

The only things that seem to affect them:

• Guardian-era magic (which no longer exists... officially)

• Sounds of extreme harmonic resonance (Belvik’s singing, for instance, though he didn’t know why at the time)

• The Lodge itself (its wards, its will, its deep and ancient protections)

Purpose (Or Lack Thereof)

No one knows what Faceless Echoes want.

They appear near Veil tears. They move through spaces where reality is thin. They speak in riddles or warnings or prophecies—“The cycle ends. the cycle begins.”—but never explanations.

Some scholars believe they are:

• Messengers from something older

• Fragments of people who died during the last Guardian fall

• Warnings made manifest

• Scars in reality trying to heal themselves by communicating

Harl believes they’re grief given form—the Veil’s way of mourning what was lost when the Guardians fell.

Astrae believes they’re dangerous, regardless of intent.

Thalia believes they’re both.

Behavior Patterns

Faceless Echoes do not attack in any conventional sense.

They do not chase.
They do not hunt.
They simply... appear.

And when they do, they:

• Stand. Observe. Tilt their empty faces as though listening to something no one else can hear.

• Speak—sometimes directly, sometimes in fragmented prophecy, sometimes not at all.

• Touch objects (or people) with long, deliberate fingers. These touches leave no mark but are always remembered as significant. Survivors report vivid dreams afterward. Visions. Memories that aren’t theirs.

• Vanish without warning, as though they’ve satisfied some unknowable curiosity.

They seem drawn to:

🌑 Places where the Veil is thin
🌑 People with Guardian-adjacent magic (Belvik’s tattoos, Marra’s lineage, the Lodge itself)
🌑 Moments of transition (dawn, dusk, thresholds, choices)

Encounters & Survival

If you meet a Faceless Echo:

DO:

• Remain still. Sudden movement seems to agitate them.

• Listen. If it speaks, the words often carry meaning—even if that meaning only becomes clear later.

• Breathe. They are terrifying, but panic makes you vulnerable to other, worse things.

DO NOT:

• Try to fight it with conventional weapons. You’ll waste energy and draw its attention.

• Run. They don’t chase... but they follow. Distance means nothing to them.

• Lie. They know. They always know.

MOST IMPORTANT: If it touches you, remember everything. Write it down. Dreams that follow an Echo’s touch are never just dreams.

Whispers & Theories

Old stories claim:

• Faceless Echoes were once Watchers or Guardians who failed their duty and were unmade by the Veil as punishment.

• They appear before great change—not to cause it, but to witness it.

• If you see your own reflection in the space where their face should be, it means you are tied to the next cycle. (No one has confirmed this. No one wants to.)

Belvik swears one whispered a prophecy to him in a dream.
Marra won’t talk about the time one stood outside her window for three hours.
Skivvit tried to scan one with his devices and the devices wept—actual moisture formed on the crystals, and they haven’t worked quite right since.

In the Lodge Ledger – Keeper’s Note

“They do not belong here. But neither do they belong anywhere else. If you see one, do not presume to understand it. Do not presume it is here for you. It is a fragment of a world that ended, searching for a world that has not yet begun. And we—all of us—are caught in between.”

— Harl Brimstone, Lorekeeper & Brewmaster

“If one appears in the Lodge, let it be. The wards will not harm it, and it will not harm you—unless you give it reason. They are not our enemy. They are not our friend. They are simply... remnants. And remnants deserve, at minimum, our respect.”

— Thalia Crestforge, Keeper of the Lodge

“I SAW ONE EAT A RUNE AND I HAVE QUESTIONS.”

— Skivvit Emberflick, Goblin Researcher & Disaster Magnet

[Symbol at bottom of page: A circle with no center, surrounded by faint script that reads: “Where the face was, memory remains.”]

The fire was banked low and golden when the first snow began to fall.

I stood at the Lodge’s front window, watching fat flakes drift past the lamplight, and felt that old familiar tug in my chest—the one that said winter is here, and the world is settling in to rest.

Longest Night.

The darkest evening of the year, when the light burns lowest and the cold presses closest. In the old days—back when I was younger and harder and hadn’t yet learned that a hearth could mean more than just warmth—I spent Longest Night on watch. Scanning horizons. Counting threats. Waiting for dawn like it was a military objective.

But that was before the Lodge chose me.

Before they chose me.

I turned from the window and surveyed the main room. The tables had been pushed back to make space. Evergreen boughs hung from the rafters, tied with strips of red fabric Marra had been hoarding since autumn. Candles—dozens of them—sat waiting to be lit, and the whole place smelled like pine sap, wood smoke, and something sweet baking in the kitchen.

Marra’s Hearthside Apple & Cider Cobble.

Gods, that smell.

If home had a scent, that was it.

Harl Was the First to Arrive

Not that he’d gone far. The old dwarf had been in his brewery since before dawn, muttering about “getting the spice ratios just right“ for his Longest Night ale. He emerged now, carrying a small cask like it was a newborn, beard braids tied with little bells that chimed as he walked.

“Set the mugs out yet?” he asked, not looking at me—his attention fixed on the cask like it might explode if he blinked wrong.

“Waiting on you,” I said.

He grunted, satisfied, and set the cask on the bar with the kind of reverence most people reserved for altars. “This one’s special. Got the mulling spices in perfect balance. Cinnamon, clove, a touch of cardamom, and—” He tapped the side of the cask. “—a secret.”

“Your secrets usually involve something flammable.”

“Aye.” He grinned, wide and wicked. “But this one just warms ye from the inside. The good kind of fire.”

I watched him pour the first mug—dark amber liquid steaming in the cold air—and caught the scent. Rich. Spiced. The kind of thing that made your shoulders drop and your jaw unclench without you realizing it.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” I admitted.

Harl raised the mug in a toast. “To the longest night. And the family we didn’t know we needed.”

I clinked my mug against his.

And meant it.

Marra Appeared Next, Dusted in Flour and Smiling

She had that look—the soft, slightly frazzled glow of someone who’d been wrestling with an oven and won. Her dark chestnut hair was escaping its braid, and there was a smudge of cinnamon on her cheek.

“It’s almost ready,” she announced, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ten more minutes. Maybe fifteen if the Lodge decides the oven should run cold for no reason.”

“The Lodge wouldn’t dare,” I said. “Not on Longest Night.”

Marra laughed—light and warm—and grabbed one of Harl’s mugs without asking. She took a sip, closed her eyes, and sighed. “Gods, Harl. This is perfect.”

“Told ye.”

She leaned against the bar, her gaze drifting to the evergreen boughs, the candles, the space we’d made in the center of the room. “It looks beautiful, Thalia.”

“We all did this,” I said. “You made half those decorations.”

“And Skivvit made the other half explode before we got them right.”

Right on cue, there was a muffled bang from outside, followed by Skivvit’s voice shouting something that might have been “IT’S FINE” or “THAT’S SHINE” or possibly “LANTERN BRINE.”

Marra and I exchanged a look.

“Should we—” she started.

The door burst open, and Skivvit tumbled in, covered in snow and soot, goggles askew, grinning like he’d just discovered fire for the first time.

“I DID IT!” he announced, holding up a small glass orb that glowed with soft, pulsing light. “Rune-charged snow globes! They’ll float and glow and—” He shook it. The light inside swirled like a tiny blizzard. “—they won’t explode!”

“Won’t?” Harl asked skeptically.

“Probably won’t.”

“Skivvit—”

“LOOK, they’re festive!” The goblin held the orb up to the nearest candle, and the light inside flared brilliant blue-white, casting snowflake shadows across the walls.

Even I had to admit—it was beautiful.

“Fine,” I said. “But if one of them explodes during dinner, you’re sleeping in the barn.”

“DEAL!”

He scampered off to place the orbs around the room, and within minutes, the Lodge was filled with soft, swirling light. Like stars had fallen indoors and decided to stay.

Belvik Arrived with His Lute and an Audience

The half-orc bard came through the door with snowflakes caught in his long black hair, his lute slung over one shoulder, and—naturally—three villagers trailing behind him like he was some kind of traveling festival.

“I told them we were having a private celebration,” Belvik said apologetically, though his grin suggested he wasn’t all that sorry. “But they insisted on bringing offerings.”

The villagers shuffled forward, holding:

• A wheel of cheese

• Two bottles of wine

• A basket of honeyed nuts

“For the Lodge,” one of them said shyly. “For Longest Night. You’ve... you’ve been good to us.”

Marra’s expression went soft. She stepped forward and took the basket. “Thank you. Truly. Stay for a drink?”

They did.

And within the hour, the “private” celebration had gained five more guests, all of whom looked at the Lodge with the kind of reverence people reserved for sanctuaries.

Which, I suppose, is what it was.

Belvik tuned his lute and settled near the hearth. His fingers moved across the strings—gentle, exploratory—and then he began to play.

Not a prophecy.

Not one of his dramatic ballads.

Just... a song.

Soft and sweet and aching in the way that only winter songs can be. About snow falling. About warm fires. About the people you hold close when the nights are long.

The room went quiet.

Even Skivvit stopped tinkering.

And for a moment, the Lodge felt like it was holding its breath—listening.

Astrae Appeared Last

Of course he did.

The winter fae never did anything without dramatic timing.

I felt him before I saw him—that familiar drop in temperature, the way frost crept across the window glass in delicate spirals. The door didn’t open so much as allow him entry, and Astrae stepped inside, pale hair dusted with snow, ice-blue eyes scanning the room like he was calculating threats.

“You’re late,” I said.

“I was ensuring the perimeter was secure.” His gaze flicked to the villagers, to Belvik’s lute, to Skivvit’s glowing orbs. “You’re aware you’ve invited half the valley inside.”

“It’s Longest Night,” Marra said, appearing beside me with a mug of Harl’s spiced ale. She held it out to Astrae. “Even brooding winter fae are required to celebrate.”

Astrae stared at the mug like it might bite him.

Then—very slowly—he took it.

“I don’t celebrate,” he said.

“You’re here,” I pointed out.

His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “I was... summoned.”

“By?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at the fire. At the evergreens. At the floating snow globes casting their gentle light.

And then—without warning, without announcement—he raised one hand.

The air shimmered.

And ice began to form.

Not dangerous ice. Not the killing kind.

But delicate, crystalline structures that grew from the rafters like frozen vines. Icicles that caught the candlelight and threw it back in prisms of blue and silver and gold. Frost flowers blooming along the window frames. A chandelier of ice forming above the center of the room, intricate and beautiful and impossibly fragile.

No one spoke.

Skivvit’s mouth fell open.

Belvik’s fingers stilled on his lute strings.

And Marra whispered, “Astrae...”

The winter fae lowered his hand, his expression carefully neutral. “It’s... traditional. In the Winterbound Court. For Longest Night.”

“It’s beautiful,” Marra said.

Astrae’s gaze flicked to her. Then away. “It will melt by morning.”

“That’s what makes it perfect,” I said quietly.

He didn’t respond. Just took a sip of his ale and moved to stand near the fire—close enough to feel its warmth but far enough that he could pretend he wasn’t part of the gathering.

Except he was.

We all knew it.

The Feast

Marra’s Hearthside Apple & Cider Cobble came out of the oven just as full dark settled outside.

The smell hit first—apples and cinnamon and brown sugar and something warm and indefinable that made every person in the room turn toward the kitchen like they’d been summoned by something primal.

Marra carried it out on a wide wooden platter, the top golden and bubbling, cinnamon-sugar crust glistening, and set it in the center of the table we’d arranged near the hearth.

“Careful,” she warned. “It’s hot.”

No one cared.

Harl served it up with the kind of precision he usually reserved for his brews—making sure everyone got an equal portion, extra apples for Belvik, extra crust for Skivvit.

I took my bowl and stood back, watching.

Watching Belvik close his eyes and hum with pleasure after his first bite.

Watching Skivvit try to eat too fast and burn his tongue, then do it again anyway.

Watching Harl nod approvingly and mutter, “Aye, that’s the one.”

Watching Marra smile—soft and proud and happy—as people praised her cooking.

And watching Astrae—standing apart, bowl in hand—take a bite and go very, very still.

“Adequate?” Marra asked, grinning.

Astrae’s jaw worked. Then: “...It’s acceptable.”

Which, coming from him, was the highest praise imaginable.

Ashwhisker’s Contribution

The cat, naturally, had been watching all of this from his favorite spot near the hearth.

He’d ignored the decorations.

Ignored the singing.

Ignored the ice sculptures.

But when Marra set aside a small bowl of the cobble—”Because I know you want some, you dramatic furball”—Ashwhisker rose, stretched with exaggerated slowness, and padded over.

He sniffed the bowl.

Considered it. Took a nibble.

Then very deliberately knocked it off the table.

Marra gasped. “Ashwhisker!”

The cat sat down, tail curled around his paws, and stared at her with those luminous moon-silver eyes.

And then—I swear on every god that’s ever mattered—he purred.

Deep and resonant and far too loud for a creature his size.

The room went silent.

“Did he just...” Belvik started.

“He approved,” Harl translated, grinning. “That’s Ashwhisker’s way of sayin’ it’s the best damn thing he’s ever tasted.”

Marra looked like she might cry.

Ashwhisker, of course, acted like nothing had happened and went back to grooming his paw.

The Longest Night

Later—after the food was gone and the ale had warmed everyone from the inside out—we gathered around the fire.

Belvik played. Soft, gentle songs that made the shadows dance.

Skivvit tinkered with his snow globes, making them pulse in time with the music.

Harl told stories—old ones, about winters long past and Longest Nights that had been colder, darker, lonelier.

Marra sat beside me, her shoulder warm against mine, and whispered, “Thank you. For this.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said.

“You made this place,” she said simply. “You made it home.”

I looked around the room.

At the misfits and wanderers and strange, wonderful souls who’d found their way here.

At the laughter and the light and the warmth we’d built together.

And I thought—not for the first time—that the Lodge hadn’t just chosen me.

It had chosen all of us.

“The longest night,” I said quietly, raising my mug.

Everyone turned.

“The darkest evening,” Harl continued, raising his.

“When the light burns lowest,” Marra added.

“And the cold presses closest,” Astrae said—surprising everyone.

Belvik grinned. “But we burn brighter together.”

“TO THE LONGEST NIGHT!” Skivvit shouted, and his snow globes flared brilliant.

We drank.

We laughed.

And outside, in the quiet winter dark, the Lodge glowed like a star fallen to earth.

—As told by Thalia Crestforge, Mistress of the Veilwalker’s Lodge

“Some nights are longer than others. But none are dark when you’re home.”

🍎 MARRA’S HEARTHSIDE APPLE & CIDER COBBLE 🍎

(The Recipe That Makes Even Winter Fae Admit It’s “Acceptable”)

Ingredients:

• 1 cup brown sugar

• 4-5 large apples, peeled and sliced (or 2 cans apple pie filling)

• 1-2 tubes refrigerated cinnamon rolls, torn into pieces

• 2 teaspoons cinnamon

• 4 tablespoons butter, cut into small pats

• 1/4 - 1/2 cup apple cider

Instructions:

1. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a 9x13 baking dish.

2. Spread brown sugar evenly across the bottom of the dish.

3. Layer sliced apples (or apple pie filling) over the brown sugar.

4. Tear cinnamon rolls into bite-sized pieces and scatter over the apples (like monkey bread!).

5. Sprinkle cinnamon generously over the top.

6. Dot with butter pats.

7. Drizzle apple cider over everything—this is the secret! — It soaks into the cinnamon rolls as they bake.

8. Cover with foil (helps keep the cinnamon rolls softer) for all but the last 10-15 minutes.

9. Bake for 35-40 minutes, until golden and bubbling.

10. Let cool for 5-10 minutes (if you can wait that long).

11. Serve warm. Optionally with vanilla ice cream or fresh cream.

“It smells like home should smell.” — Marra Stoneshine

Skivvit’s workshop looked like a rune had exploded inside it.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

Papers covered every available surface—tacked to walls, spread across workbenches, hanging from the ceiling on bits of string like a deranged mobile. Each one bore Skivvit’s frantic attempts to recreate the symbols he’d seen on the metal scrap before Ashwhisker had decided it made a good snack.

The goblin himself was perched on a stool that was far too tall for him, his tongue poking out in concentration as he scratched another variation onto parchment with a piece of charcoal that was more stub than stick.

“No, no, that’s not right either,” he muttered, crossing out the symbol with aggressive strokes. “The curve was sharper. Or was it rounder? No, definitely sharper. Unless—”

He grabbed a different piece of paper—one of seventeen “definitely accurate” sketches he’d made in the three seconds between seeing the rune and watching it disappear down a cat’s throat—and compared them.

They were all different.

Spectacularly different.

“Okay,” Skivvit said to the empty workshop, because talking to himself helped him think. “Okay. So. The first line was definitely... curved? Angular? Curvi-gular?”

He drew another attempt.

This one looked vaguely like a drunk chicken had walked across the page.

“Perfect,” Skivvit declared, and pinned it to the wall with the others.

His Emberfreckles were glowing—not brightly, but enough to cast a faint golden shimmer across his workbench. They always did that when he was excited or stressed or caffeinated, and right now he was thoroughly all three. He’d been up since before dawn, fueled by determination and the remains of yesterday’s honey cakes, trying to solve what was rapidly becoming the most fascinating puzzle of his entire life.

A Guardian-era rune.

On a ward marker.

That had spoken.

And then been eaten by a cat.

It was, objectively, the best thing that had ever happened to him.

The door to his workshop creaked open, and Marra’s voice drifted in. “Skivvit? You alive in here?”

“Extremely alive!” Skivvit didn’t look up from his current sketch. “I’m having a breakthrough! Multiple breakthroughs! So many breakthroughs I might actually be broken through!”

Read more

The Lumenhart

Most travelers who glimpse one swear they’ve seen a deer made of moonlight.

They are wrong, of course.

The Lumenhart is older than deer.
Older than the Veil itself, some say.

It stands roughly the size of a stag, but its body is long and willowy, moving with an almost liquid grace. Its fur is a soft charcoal gray, patterned with faint, shifting glyphs that resemble runes only when you stare too long — and then look away, wondering if you imagined them.

But its antlers are what give the creature its name.

Slender, crystalline, and branching like winter frost, the antlers glow faintly at the tips — a bioluminescent gold that brightens when the forest grows darker. Lodgers have described the glow as:

✨ “Lanterns drifting at the edge of sight.”
✨ “A constellation walking on four legs.”
✨ “What hope looks like when it grows a spine and starts running.”

No one has ever gotten close enough to touch one.
That is where its second gift comes in.

The Flicker-Step

A Lumenhart never truly runs.

It phases, slipping through pockets of space like light refracting across water.

One moment, it is several yards ahead.
Then — in the blink between inhale and exhale —
it shimmers, scatters like falling sparks,
and reforms ten feet forward as if it simply chose to ignore the laws of distance.

Travelers call this teleportation.

Scholars call it spatial-folding.

Skivvit calls it “HEY—HOW DO I GET THAT TO HAPPEN TO MY SHOES?!”

Whatever the name, the Flicker-Step makes the creature impossible to chase and nearly impossible to track. Only one sign reveals where a Lumenhart has passed:

🌟 tiny drifting motes of gold light
that fade after a few seconds, as though reluctant to let go.

Temperament & Behavior

Despite their spectral appearance, Lumenharts are gentle, cautious beings.

They never attack, but they raise their glowing antlers when sensing danger — not as a threat, but as a warning beacon to other creatures in the forest.

When a traveler is truly lost, in danger, or having one of those nights where the Veil feels too heavy…

Some say a Lumenhart will appear on the path ahead,
pause long enough to be seen,
and then Flicker-Step away —
guiding the traveler in the right direction.

Not rescuing.
Not interfering.
Just… illuminating.

Whispers & Myth

Old stories claim:

• When a Lumenhart bows its head, a wish may come true — but only if the wish is selfless.

• Children born under their glow are said to be Veil-touched, able to sense lies, magic, and danger before others.

• A Lumenhart’s shed antler (rare, nearly impossible to find) can be forged into a lantern that never goes out.

Astrae insists these myths are “romanticized nonsense.”
Harl says he once followed a Lumenhart during a blizzard and it saved him from freezing.
Skivvit wants to ride one.
Thalia has threatened him if he ever tries.

In the Lodge Ledger – Keeper’s Note

“If you see one, be still. Not because it will harm you—but because it is a sacred privilege to be noticed by the forest itself.”
—Thalia Crestborne, Keeper of the Lodge