The wind howled sharply through the sparse tents. Pitched against the side of the mountain for some protection from the cold, the unexpected storm caught the Everfest by surprise. One of its last stops before the seasonal break, the Everfest this far north in Aria managed spectacular views of the mountain at the cost of harsh weather. Nevertheless, the sounds of a lyre could be heart, the bard pushing back the driving cold through quick wit, stout lyrics, and a strong voic

In each vision, it was only death he saw. So'el moved swiftly through the dimly lit streets, his grey cloak fluttering fiercely in the wind behind him like a dark silhouette against the dim light stands that lined the cobblestone path. The evening air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the distant echoes of laughter and shouts from taverns that spilled over with patrons seeking refuge from the chill. His target was close, the shimmering charm around his neck to

Throughout all of existence, the pain is...unbearable. But the Song still calls. Vynsett could always feel the call of the Song echoing in her mind, a haunting yet beautiful melody that seemed to resonate with the core of her being. Since she was a child, the sweet and terrifying stanza of the Song enveloped her, providing a peculiar sense of comfort but also unease. The notes danced through her thoughts, soothing her when she felt overwhelmed, yet they could also suddenly r

The heavy bang of a fist on a steel table shook Levo from his stupor. He had been studying the thermodynamics of the alpha engine for some time, trying to understand the peculiar timings he was seeing from his experiments. The Distinguished Teklovossen was not pleased with the latest results. Hurriedly prancing over wiring strewn about the floor and pushing some old prototypes aside, Levo joined his Master at the table. Adjusting the light overhead with the foot pedals bel

"It always starts with a pulse. Not quite a feeling, but more than intuition. Those who have had the experience liken it to the first beating of a heart. However, the second pulse is what's needed to start the fire. Most people feel the first, then spend the rest of the days never nurturing its touch again. The loss of that feeling, the snuffing out of potential, bring some to despair and others to madness. Entire religions have been birthed and died a fiery death in the

The cold air came like an arrow shot to the chest. The soldiers didn't expect it, just like they didn't expect the first ambush. The unit knew the Savage Lands was ruthless and unforgiving, they also didn't know that it had a cold, cruel sense of humor. The sun had started its rapid descent below the trees, and the warmth of the jungle escaped with it while the humidity, danger, and fear remained. With a groan, one of the soldiers, his damaged chest plate hanging loosely,

"Remember, General," came the solemn but terse voice through the sand-blasted winds, "we do not attack." "Yes, Empress. " General Fang gritted his teeth and nearly hissed the words. Of all the hells-damned Dracai that could have passed the Oath, it had to have been her. The sand was everywhere, damaging the armor he wore proudly through multiple battles. The winds laughed at his armor, finding multiple holes that daggers, swords, or axes would never pierce. How long had it

Lathra scowled menacingly at the bow she held, its sleek form glinting in the dim light of the evening. Nightaim was not just an ordinary weapon; it was a magic-infused tool, imbued with powers that could easily pierce the toughest armor but also had a reputation for unpredictability. The wood, dark as the night sky, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, and the intricate carvings along its limbs whispered of ancient enchantments. This magic-infused bow was notoriously fic

"Can't you sense it deep in your heart, Thea?" Jaspar appeared worn out and beaten. His bones ached, and he couldn't recall the hilt of the Dawnblade being so... relentless. He clutched his shoulder with gritted teeth, gazing at the young prodigy before him. Dorinthea, more than just a warrior, yet not quite more than a princess, held the Revered Blade's handle as though she were protecting it from thieves, rather than... Jaspar struck with astonishing speed, his movements a

"What I want is to stop the suffering," A soft voice whispered to the magus in front of her. Head down in reverence, Cylan could barely comprehend being in front of such a powerful wizard. A snort was her reward. "Spare me, child," came a musical melody that hid disdain behind a small veneer of loveliness, "what you really wish is only to bring suffering unto those of your choosing." A soft rustle forced Cylan to look up, startled. Verdance moved like a leaf in the breeze