Stones I sell, I sell stones
Each with magical powers
A crystal, a geode you may expect
But none of those are ours
Granite here and sandstone too
Unpolished quartz, we have a few
All closely held, all closely worn
Sometimes we see a little scorn
It cannot be a magic stone
When it is found and isn’t grown
They look for jewels, trinkets all
And that is where their logic falls
This quartz was lucky to a man
Who now owns a company in Japan
This granite chunk was precious to
A president, I’ll say not who
Each of them holds within
A power to make witches grin
A power they had and they retain
A power to make all new again
What do we call this magic, then?
It’s called BELIEF, and there all ends.
September 4, 2019
From “I Sell Stones” by Anonymous
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September 3, 2019
From “Of the Laulu Extermination” by Amanda Elton
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Prince Iainen had united the apoc and the symph, as he felt was his birthright. The apoc were to be the warriors, the tip of the spear, with which to bring order and prosperity to the Vale and all the woods beyond. The symph were to bolster their numbers and to work as the logistical tail of this army: as porters, farmers, teamsters. But the next generation of apoc needed living hosts, and Iainen was loathe to sacrifice any of his people for the purpose. He was also dismissive of the use of non-sapient hosts like the onii, feeling it would breed weaker warriors.
Iainen was also afraid of the coming of the 37-year laulu, which was not far off. When they emerged, moulted, and saw what he had wrought in the Vale, he was sure that the junior brood would oppose him by force of arms. And when, just a few years later, the 41-year senior brood arose, they would finish the job–the two cycles were not always synchronized, but at this time, they very nearly were.
The solution that presented itself was as brutal as it was simple. Iainen gathered eggs from the apoc that followed him and inserted them into the young laulu as they slept underground. The empathic powers of the apoc were enough to locate the shallowly buried junior brood, and long bamboo tubes were sufficient to deposit the young. By wiping out the junior brood, and using the troops thus raised to defeat their brothers, who were buried so deep as to be undetectable, Iainen had felled two onii with one stone.
But the plan had to be perfect. If even a single laulu from the junior brood survived, they could attempt to awaken the senior brood early, and that would provide a force sufficient to challenge the new order of the apoc. Iainen himself accompanied his people, seeing to the dirty deed personally.
September 2, 2019
From “Of Prince Iainen” by Amanda Elton
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Prince Iainen was unusual from the first.
His mother Metsaa was the most celebrated tracker in generations and personal huntress to Queen Siipi, the great leader of perhaps the largest symph hive in the Vale. Time and again, Metsaa performed her duties well and was rewarded with the permission to deposit her young in elderly symph males, long past their breeding prime and of no use to the Sisterhood. However, during the long years of her service to the Queen, Metsaa fell in love with Siipi, and found that the queen loved her in return.
Now, despite the close kinship between the symph and the apoc, it was not possible for them to interbreed. Even if it had been, there was no way for the queen and the huntress to concieve, though they yearned for a child as a proof of their love. In the end, Siipi decided to allow Metsaa to lay an egg within her, to be its flesh-mother, with the hope that the child would inherit some of her memories and personalities. This is uncommon but not unheard-of, after all, and Siipi had already taken care with her own succession.
Metsaa protested but eventually broke down. With the strongest and most empathic apoc she could find as the father, Metsaa’s child grew within the queen, killing her softly before emerging as a child. As the lovers had hoped, the boy was an immensely talented empath and had many of his flesh-mother’s traits.
As he grew, Prince Iainen became convinced that the apoc were held back by their individuality, much as the symph were held back by their Sisterhood and long cumbersome life-cycle. He sought to reconcile the two peoples and unite them as one, with the apoc adopting the collective lifestyle of the symph and the symph abandoning their sisterhood in favor of breeding more males and therefore more children.
Alarmed, Metsaa banished her son, and his “flesh-sister” the new queen of the symph hive quietly ordered his death. But within a few years, he had returned with many followers and worked his will upon those that had wronged him, building a militant empire that stood to dominate the Vale for generations to come.
There was only one problem.
September 1, 2019
From “Of the Apoc” by Amanda Elton
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The apoc are a curious people, widely regarded as the best hunters and trackers in the Vale but also completely dependent on the other creatures therein for their young. Like their close cousins the symph, the apoc are capable of flight and have a lingering empathic connection to one another–not enough for any but the most skilled to communicate wordlessly, but enough to sense feelings and to guide behavior. They have always been solitary, though, unlike the social symph, and their numbers include many males in contrast to the Sisterhood.
However, unlike the symph Sisters, whose young grow safely within the confines of their great hives, apoc young must gestate within a living host, and they are inevitably fatal upon their emergence.
In ages past, the apoc traded their skills as hunters, gatherers, trackers, and woodsmen for hosts. It was seen as a great honor for the older denizens of the wood to birth an apoc child, for the natural secretions of the egg and larva deadened the senses over time and led to a death that was painless and gave rise to new life. It was often common for young apoc to be named for their hosts, and to regard and be regarded by the decedent’s family as their own. The natural empathy that apoc had seemed to impart to their young certain characteristics of the individuals in which they grew, and the more gifted apoc sometimes could claim memories from their “flesh-mother” or “flesh-father.”
While poorer apoc could and did raise young in unintelligent creatures like wild onis, it was regarded as a black mark and those children were generally disdained. Some apoc did trade in unwilling flesh-parents, but those cases were regarded with horror and any practitioners regarded as enemies of the apoc people and stamped out.
That is, until the appearance of Prince Iainen.
August 31, 2019
From “A Bright Light on a Dim Tower” by Anonymous
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In my dream, I see a square tower, corbeled and crenelated like the fortresses of old, suspended in the infinite void. It is the only solid amidst a fluid darkness, yet it is somehow still darker than that, as if hewn from blackest obsidian. In the nearest corner, a figure stands upon the parapets. I can see that it is a figure, yet I can see nothing else; they are radiant and made of white light. Nothing stands against the glow, and the tower with its surroundings are all the darker for the painful radiance.
I do not know what it means, but I do know that each night the tower is closer and more distinct, while the figure is brighter and more difficult to perceive.
August 30, 2019
From “The Dead City” by Gracie L. A. Underwood
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The Dead City…who could say they remembered its real name, before it was claimed by howls and snarls and vicious dissonance?
Nothing ever came out, save a rank odor when the winds were just right and the occasional howl of something inarticulate and unknowable (or perhaps just metal on metal). Things occasionally went in–explorers, scavengers, missionaries even–but it was as sure a death sentence as dangling from a makeshift gallows or facing down a firing squad as far as most could figure. People gave the Dead City a wide berth coming and going, with signs warning the unwary away the only part of the old road that saw any maintenance in those latter days.
Yet lights still shone in the night, even though the power had been cut, dried out, or redirected practically forever ago. People with binoculars could see movement from a safe distance, but an inversion layer kept it shimmering and indistinct. Smoke rose from chimneys and stacks as if the city were alive.
And, if anything, it was that illusion of life that filled people with bone-deep dread.
August 29, 2019
From “The Galactic Hyksos” by Tyisha Clasgock
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Survey after survey confirmed the same thing: virtually every planet with a certain environment had been colonized millions of years ago. The environment was Cytherean, hothouse planets similar to Venus, and it seemed to be pure chance that whatever beings had made the colonies had not found their way to Venus herself.
The ruins rapidly degraded in those atmospheres, of course, but they still stood out through their use of perfect circles and curves (never straight lines) and their young age, less than 100 million years old when the average Cytherean planet had a surface three times as old. The surveys rarely found any extraterrestrial life on these worlds, a few quasi-microbial organisms at best. But that was hardly the most curious thing about these corroded outposts.
They had all been destroyed, or abandoned, around the same time, approximately 47 million years ago. The destroyed sites appeared to have been wiped out by kinetic weapons fired from orbit, while the abandoned ones tended to be the most remote, the most distant–cut off and left to wither on the vine, as it were.
Someone, or something, attacked these ancient colonists and caused the disintegration of their civilization within a matter of centuries. These attackers have been dubbed the “Hyksos” by researchers, after the mysterious attackers and invaders of ancient Egypt that vanished suddenly from the historical record not long after they entered it.
Despite the incredible nature of the Cytherean colonists, attention focused primarily on the Hyksos–who they were, why they made war on the Cythereans, and–most importantly–if they might yet return.
August 26, 2019
From “Soul Codices in the Deerton Public Library” by Luis DeSocco
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But for those who have tired of what this mortal coil has to offer, the Deerton Public Library has an exciting and eldritch new donation option available.
“We call it the Soul Codex,” says Director McGee. “It’s a very simple process. By stepping into the dark circle scryed in Library Sub-Basement B1A1 on the night of a blood moon, you will enable the ley lines that crisscross in sacred geometry beneath our building to do the bidding of powers beyond mortal comprehension.”
During the process, which McGee describes as “going quietly to sleep though the agony of a thousand papercuts,” the donor’s complete life and knowledge will be transferred in its entirety into a specially prepared codex. This book, with infinitely many pages accessible with a simple index, will contain the sum total of information accessible—consciously or not!—to the donor.
“Of course, this leaves their existing body a lifeless shuddering husk,” says McGee. “But waste not, want not! We recycle every bit of that husk through a rigorous program of organ donation for cash and anthropodermic bibliopegy.”
The book, now bound in the skin of its former owner—“you could technically call it autoAnthropodermic bibliopegy if you wanted to,” laughs McGee—is then added to the collection, where it helps the cash-strapped library earn additional income. “The human being is a walking mass of secrets, secrets that people will pay dearly for. Whether it’s gossip or blackmail or even something prosaic like a WiFi password, all is contained in the book. The library is happy to let you look at it for a flat per-minute fee.”
The only limitation, so far, is that the Soul Codicies cannot be checked out. “For obvious reasons, they are confined to our rare book room,” says McGee. “We may eventually begin circulating them, but it will require alterations to our late ite policy! Needless to say, your immortal should would be forever forfeit if you failed to bring the book back.”