“My sisters,” Damya said as the group watched the firesprites flit from leaf to leaf among the trees—touching each one with a lit hand.
“What are they doing?” Katja asked.
“They are nourishing the trees,” the firesprite said. “Here in my realm, fire acts a little differently than it does in yours. In the Erde Realm, fire always destroys, but the ashes that come from it are still good for the land. However, in this realm, fire can heal and nurture as well as destroy. At least it heals and nurtures the Pyrekin and the Erdeken wraiths. The Drosskin are, of course, an entirely different matter, which is why the fiery river that is Edgewater causes such harm to them. Come…”
Damya led them across a narrow path of flat, round stones which meandered between the ponds toward the center-most pool.
“Katja, Manasa, I need both of you to join hands and minds, and then look deep into the water,” Damya instructed. “When you can no longer see the bottom of the pool, call out Caleb’s name.”
They did as instructed. At first, all Katja could see was the fine, white sand beneath the clear blue waves. Then a single spark of multi-hued light illuminated the pool’s depths and widened into a round ring that reminded her of the mage rings that she and her packmates had trained inside while they were pupils at the Mage Citadel on the Isle of Summons. Within the depths of the ring, she saw another world—hers—waft into view.
The Erde Realm was dark compared to the Wraith Realm now surrounding her. It was night there and the whole of the Sylvan Continent was blanketed in slumbering shadow. Despite the darkness, she could see the whole continent stretched out from the jagged cliffs around Castle Summersted in Tyglesea to the Suuthe and Ten Fang Marshes in the South to the Este’lyn Forest and Hippopan Plains far to the east of the Nyghe sol Dyvesé Mountains. The height was dizzying and she suddenly felt like she was riding on the dragon Verdagon’s great back as they soared high above the tallest mountains.
“Call to him,” the firesprite reminded her.
Katja shook herself and together she and Manasa spoke in unison. “Caleb, hear us!”
The waters rippled and the females found themselves falling through space and time at a speed that Katja could barely fathom. Their shared vision surged toward a small, white mountain nestled in the valley of much larger mountains near the Reithrgar Pass. As much as it looked like a mountain, the structure was actually a stone fortress that had been crafted by magic and masonry to look like the peaks surrounding it. As she was contemplating this, Katja’s awareness hurtled through the fortress’s roof and she and Manasa found themselves staring at the red-carpeted room where the werecat had first discovered the Ott vre Caerwyn—the youngest of the vampires’ three bloodstone mirrors. It was disconcerting for Katja to view the room while looking out through the mirror. It felt almost as if she and Manasa were trapped inside it.
“Caleb?” She called again as the mirror’s pulsing light lit the room in eerie hues.
The door to the room opened and Katja found herself staring at a dark-gray-skinned being who walked upright on her hind legs like a human, but resembled a scorpion far more than she did any other creature. The werecat wraithwalker cocked her head to one side. “Aria?”
“Katja?” The girtab stared at the mirror in disbelief.
“Aria, we must speak to Caleb immediately.”
“Katja, I can see you, but I cannot hear you. Speak louder!”
“I need to speak with Caleb! It is urgent!”
Arya just shook her head. “I still cannot understand what you are saying! If you can hear me, wait there and let me find Caleb! He will know what to do!”
Katja nodded in relief as the girtab disappeared beyond the lacquered, double doors in search of Daya’lyn’s father. As Katja waited for her to return, the wraithwalker shifted her gaze away from the pool and once more surveyed the strange wood around her. It was then that a strange scent like burning sulfur wafted into her nose. The stench filled her with the deepest loathing, and she growled in spite of herself as crimson shapes clawed at the edges of her vision.
“What’s wrong,” Damya asked. When her gaze followed the werecat’s, Damya’s eyes widened in panic. “They’ve broken through,” she said. “Dear Creator, keep us! The Drosskin have broken through the enchantments! Sisters, to me!”
I hope you enjoyed this week’s entry in the SCRAWLS Diary from my in-progress book Fireforger. We’ll pick up where we left off next week. In the meantime, I welcome your comments on what I’ve shared with you today.
As always, SCRAWLS is designed to be a public journal of my fiction and artwork as I create it. In the way of writing, you’ll see new scenes, rich characters, and, of course, enchanting worlds. In the way of art, you’ll see everything from vivid photography to intriguing drawings. As always, my goal is to bring you both finished work and the rough stuff. After all, showing you some of the behind-the-scenes scaffolding that I use to create my work allows you to truly walk the creative journey with me through all of its ups and downs.
Until we meet again, may we each rewrite our world for the better!
The Seared Cranium Report: An Artist/Writer’s Labored Soliloquy (SCRAWLS) is brought to you from the writing desk of Alycia Christine at Purple Thorn Press and Photography with enchanting fantasy fiction, deep love, and vivid art for all. As always, contact me with any questions or thoughts. Thanks!