Frost clings to the roots of ancient trees, and the air tastes of rain long fallen. Paths wind through forests that shift when unlooked at, and rivers murmur in tongues older than the stones they pass. In this land, magic does not announce itself — it waits, patient as winter, until the moment it chooses to rise. Those who travel here will find beauty and peril braided together, and the choices they make will echo far beyond the sound of their own footsteps.
The Scrollkeepers Archive
Chapter 12: Family Reunion
The ravines below twisted in shadow, their depths swallowing sound and warmth alike. Above, the ridge offered no shelter, only exposure to the growing wrath of the storm. The wind bit without mercy, carrying the taste of rain and the promise of thunder. Lightning flickered behind the clouds, turning their edges a dull violet, whilst the company pressed onwards, heads bowed against the gale.
Chapter 3: Lisera
In the shadow-lace nebula of Tiorial, where the stars gathered like watchful eyes and the winds whispered secrets of origin, the planet of Tioria spun into being. Far from MirMarnia, and yet kin to its realms, Tioria was born of a yew seedling, a fragment of ancient wisdom, curling deep into herself, longing for genesis.
Chapter 2: Root Guardian
Deep beneath the woodland's ancient lattice, where the thickest roots of oak and pine intertwined in darkness older than memory, the Root Guardians dwelled. They moved as slowly as the world's own heartbeat, their mossy shells shimmering with the dew of ages, their eyes deep and gentle as peat. Legends said they had watched over MirMarnia since the first beings pressed their palms to this soil, even before the first stories were spoken into the wind.