Book 1: Lore of the Mistwood

They left the tavern. Fian walked silently beside her. “You know, choices matter…” the the white guardian began, gently placing a paw on his shoulder. “Yeah, that was stupid,” Fian muttered, looking down in shame. “There’s no question about that.” She walked on in silence for a moment. “But that’s not the problem.” Fian looked … Read more

Worthy travelers, I have an interesting train of thought that I would like to share… What if everything were quite different from what you truly imagined? What if the story of Fian and the white wolf, queen of the north, began like this: Fian and the white queen of the north stood face-to-face while his … Read more

He finished the last bite of his breakfast and let his gaze wander thoughtfully around the room. What did this day hold in store for him? As a bard, he often found answers in the strings of his instrument, so eventually, he reached for his lute to play familiar melodies for the next hour. When … Read more

The sun rose over the treetops of the forest and shone its first light through the window of a small cabin deep in the woods. Inside, in bed, Fian stretched under the warm rays and wondered whether he should get up now or simply stay a little longer under the warm covers and enjoy the … Read more

Mornings at the tavern always began with the soft clinking of cast iron and an aroma capable of luring even the deepest sleepers into the common room. Fresh breakfast flatbread was already baking in heavy cast-iron pans atop the stove, while a female fox bustled about, setting out pitchers of hot spiced tea on the … Read more

It was already dark, and the moon looked gently down as Fian began his journey home. To his own surprise, he found plenty to see in the twilight as he strolled along the forest path. What a strange evening… For one thing, everything had taken much longer than he had expected. And somehow—though it felt … Read more

Dear travelers, I truly dislike being the bearer of bad news, but in light of recent revelations: I hope you haven’t missed exactly what Germonde said—or rather, what she *meant*—in “When Sun Is Rising”? No? Then I suggest you retrace your steps a bit and read it carefully once more… and view the other articles … Read more

Fian placed the parchment with the recipe next to the bread he had baked and surveyed the result. Yes, it looked roughly like the kind of thing he knew from the tavern. He checked a cupboard for a basket to carry everything in, lost in thought. True, his paw was still hurting—the pain kept snapping … Read more