Novels

The Countess Sarisa Di Mattia stepped through the opened door, and her heart sank. It was the same every time. She hated her drawing room. The rest of the Di Mattia Mansion was dreary — utilitarian at best — and infused with the staid airs and atmosphere she had grown up with her entire life. But the drawing room…

Alone, out of all the rooms in her father’s mansion, the drawing room had potential.

The fireplace was deep and made of grounstone — the fired mixture of resin, ground silt, and gravel. It felt heavy, squatting in the wall and spewing comfortable heat into the room like a demon. The walls were seasoned wood planks, with the distinctive smell of the forest in high-summer. She presumed some mold or fungus had settled into the planks back when the mansion was built, and now gave the room its distinctive smell. The walls themselves were covered with bookcases as tall as the room itself.

The bookcases…Sarisa grit her teeth as she walked to the closest lounge. The bookcases were abysmal. Only one had any reasonable number of books, and it was only after an evening of re-binding that the books’ contents — if not their covers — held anything of value.

Her eyes danced over the small collection of books. That was one joy she found in the room; she had met a great many lords, ladies, and dignitaries in this room since her father’s death, and none of them knew that the simple boring books that littered the room held heretical contents.

The Kit are a thin avian race. Four-armed and therefore four-winged, their leathery lizard-like faces are sprinkled with feathers of varying shades of effervescent green, blue, and red. Skin is leathery and light.

The Kit are sometimes called the ‘underclass’ of the Myriad Worlds. While many presume this is due to a natural genetic failing on the part of the Kit, it is instead due to a great number of misunderstandings and ignorance of the civilized worlds, especially during the first contact with the Kit.

The Kit are a tribal species, living in small groups of no more than fifty. Impressively nomadic, they have little use for large tools, instead creating harnesses and belts to hold what they carry. Claimed ‘spots’ may have makeshift ovens or standing utilities, but such things are luxuries and generally ignored or overlooked by the average Kit.

According to accepted historical record, the ThestleBreak Shore was first discovered by Duchen Yungus, the Bringer of Silk, on his journey to the north. Primary sources place the Duchen on the southwest corner of the shore, traveling north from the Dabadui river. Little remains regarding this discovery, and it is possible little concern was given to this aquanautical marvel. The traveling sages likely were not given time to explore the Shore, as sources claim the Duchen was in a hurry to reach Envik Klain, and continue his campaign against the Marauder King of Red.

Local lore, of course, places the discovery of the ThestleBreak Shore with the colonization of the continent by primitive travelers washed ashore, yet protected by the Shore itself. There is no evidence of this method of colonization, and little concern may be given to this theory.

At long last, the Six Bells rang Eve’nbell. The Ever Palace, once as vibrant and active as any anthill, was still and silent. Behind countless wooden doors, the populous of the Ever Palace ate their nighttime meals, finished their journal entries, and bid their fellows goodnight. The day was done, and all were at rest.

All, that is, save the Resolute Lady Tania Maar, Raugraf of the Sixth Region, Knight-Domina of the Twenty-Ninth Infantry Band of Resolution, Knight of the Arrow, and tenth Heir to House Maar.

Tania Maar was filled with anticipation. Tonight, all her plans, her efforts, her accolades and duties came to fruition. Tonight, she would receive her due. Tonight, she was summoned by the Ever Lord himself.

She had no concern over defying the Eve’nbell curfew. To worry would be a sin against the divine command of her Ever Lord. Instead, her attention was focused entirely on how to present herself; the letter summoned her in the name of the Ever Lord, but made no mention of who she was summoned as. Was she summoned as the tenth Heir to House Maar? As a Raugraf? As a Knight-Domina of the Imperial Honor?

The Forest of Rainbow Regrets is a often overlooked Traveler’s destination. While any reputable tourist guide will reference the Halls of Flaya, the Tower Gardens of Ketchiil, or the Crystal Keep of Werrfulk; the Resplendent Foliage is a land of equal beauty, peacefulness, and cultural richness.

Rather than besmirch other guidebooks for this lapse in judgement, I will instead encourage any readers who wish to travel partake of the Forest of Rainbow Regrets before other Travelers discover the region and it becomes too crowded.

The Forest of Rainbow Regrets is found adjacent a rural region of small towns and hamlets on the eastern edge of Swittershak province on the world of Jorjin. Bright and verdant, the region was named by King Nutarid during the last years of his Expeditionary Crusade.

Also known as The Machine Oasis and The White Valley, Kynvynryn is one of the most technologically advanced lands across the Myriad Worlds. If you wish to see the wonders that the scientific and alchemical arts can create, there is no better location to visit.

If you have never visited Kynvynryn before, the first and most important place to stop on your journey simply must be Goldenhein City. The most cosmopolitan location in the region, you will find the City to be filled with people from all across the Velvet, from all walks of life.

Here too will you find the wide variety of unique peoples of Kynvynryn; the proud Thinking Children as they clop through the streets, arm in arm; the vibrant and raucous Merchants of Quartz Plaza, who will call out to you in their own mathematical codes; the street-performing students of the Halls of Progressive Numbers, where three can be four can be five; musicians that fill the air with jigs, reels, waltzes, and scientifically precise wombols, played on lightning-powered prototypes of their own making; walking-chefs that pull their kitchens behind them, ready and willing to craft a full-course meal for anyone on the streets who cares to pay…truly Goldenhein City is a marvel of the age.

How long had it been?

Days? Years? What was time to the dead? There was no now, only then. The dead had no future, only a past full of pain and best forgotten.

Then, a point of light. He woke. The cold grip of life closed over his heart as the aches and pains of the burning air settled over him.

“Master Yebidesh, can you open your eyes?”

The voice was soft and gentle, a sharp needle in his ears through the rushing sound of blood and screams. He tried to open his eyes, stopping when the effort drained him. Nearby, the sounds of a medical monitor beeped at him, faint…too faint. He couldn’t fall asleep while he was holding a soldier’s heart in his hands. He needed to know what his patient was feeling. He reached out to adjust the monitor’s volume.

“Don’t try to move, just rest.”

To discuss the Myriad Worlds is too to discuss the Aeolam. While as a people they are far from the most populous, the Aeolam are more directly connected to the Worlds of the Velvet than any other folk.

As such, any discussion of the Aeolam as a people must include a frank discussion of the land in which they live, as the Aeolam possess an incredibly morphous physiology. Highly sensitive by nature, Aeolam are directly influenced by the climate, geology, and biosphere of their environment through a system as yet not understood by scholars. The process is gradual, but easily observable, taking less than a week for an Aeolam to completely restructure their behavior and biology, in accordance with the Aeolam’s “Resonance.” Resonance, which is a clumsy translation of the original Aeolam term ‘Waanii,’ is the natural influence an environment has on individual and collective Aeolam.

The Gilbrim are a diverse and adaptive species of beings who have achieved a level of ubiquity among the Myriad Worlds. Humanoid in shape and stature, Gilbrim vary widely in size, far more so than compared to the other people of the Myriad Worlds. Heights range from the average person’s hips to a head above the average person’s head, width from rail-thin to balloon bulbousness.

Skin-tone is often a shade of green, though darker yellows and blues have been found in disparate communities. Noses tend to be long and thin, as do ears. Hair is thin and whispy, sometimes absent. Facial hair exists on both male and female Gilbrim, though females never get hair on the front of their chins or jaws, only on the bottom of their chins and neck. Hair colors range from black to light brown to dark blue, never red or blonde.

Sen turned the corner, when a sudden sound made him stop in his tracks.

“Hey!” the call was from deep in the bunker. “Hey, is anyone here?”

Reinforcements!

Sen tried to run, but could only shamble forward like a broken toy. He wanted to shout and cry for help. He wanted to scream and bring his fellow soldiers running to his side. Safety! Warmth! Life!

No!

His legs wouldn’t listen, so with a surge of desperation, Sen pulled his body aside, crashing into the wall to stop his shambling run. They were dreams he shouted at his spasming body. Illusions. Hallucinations of a past or future that never happened.

The voice called from nearby, “my name is Captain Bellon of the Hyan Heavy Infantry, Third Echelon. We won’t hurt you.”