Border Patrol

At this point, Kalora wasn't sure who she wanted to strangle. But she was sure she wanted to strangle somebody, and that was what really mattered. Normally, there was at least a buffer period of a week or so before any sort of monster attack, be it here or in some other city on the Border. But lately, Border cities had been suffering attacks every day, sometimes multiple times a day!

The group of monster hunters had been run ragged over the past week, and hadn't actually been at their apartment since the week had begun. They'd finally been able to return home today, and as Kalora settled into bed, she planned to just rest up and try to forget that the week had happened...

And then her phone began ringing, the familiar melody of “Communicate Typically” filling the room and only barely drowning out the girl's exasperated, pillow-muffled scream of rage. She still answered it, of course. It'd just be rude not to.

“What? It's literally 1 AM, what's up?” She asked.

“A plane's waiting for you at the airport. Official Hunting Association business. Don't bother bringing any equipment, you'll be supplied.” The voice said. And with that, it hung up.

Kalora let out a sigh, checking the number and seeing it was indeed a Hunting Association number. Not a prank, then... She clambered out of bed and got into her actual clothes, then pounded on Moras' and Fernix's doors to wake them up.

Actually, judging from the drawing tablet clutched in his hand and his state of perfect dress when he opened the door, she hadn't actually woken up Moras. “God damnit, are you kidding me?” He asked, slapping a hand against his face. “I have the opportunity to work on commissions for the first time in who knows how long, and we've got work again?!?”

“Work's work.” Kalora replied, giving a semi-dramatic shrug and going to check on Fernix. The fire elemental was visibly peeved, and judging from the low amount of heat he was giving off he still needed to wake up a little.

“M'kay, le's go, time t'work, right?” He said, barely comprehensible. He headed for the door out of the apartment, briefly checking the clock on the wall to make sure it was still obscenely early and he wasn't just hallucinating.

In the car, Moras, ever the eternal night owl, drove while the other two napped. Moras, somehow, was the most annoyed out of everyone. He'd been falling behind on art for the longest time now, and considering it was one of those rare things that made him really happy, losing out on another opportunity to work on it was torture.

The car rode through the mostly empty streets, the occasional passerby on the streets still not enough to dissuade the thoughts that it truly was an ungodly hour. Perhaps, if it weren't for that thought, they'd have noticed the figures that seemed to recur as they drove, a young woman accompanied by another, sterner-looking woman.

But he didn't, and perhaps if he had, the two of them watching the car with interest, as if considering some course of action involving the car's passengers, the events that were to follow may have gone differently... But, hindsight is 20/20.

When they arrived at the airport, there was indeed a plane waiting for them, along with a man clad in a suit and carrying a duffle bag. He nodded to the drowsy Monster Hunters as they approached, and handed the bag off to Moras.

“Good to see you. You're being sent to the Border to assist an investigation team. They believe there may be a breach in the wall, and they need you on hand in case things get violent. Understood?”

The three of them nodded, and Moras saluted. “Of course. We'll do our best.”

The man nodded. “The equipment we've provided is usually intended for Big Gamers, but you'll be right on the Border. You can never be too careful.” With that, he saluted the three hunters, and entered a nearby car which drove off into the night.

The plane ride was nice enough, they supposed. They'd been provided bottles of water, and the seats were comfortable. When they arrived at the Border, the first thing they noticed was how large it was. A huge wall spanned the area unofficially declared the “Border” between The Normal World and The Wild Place, several turrets manned by technicians.

Before they could do much more than gawk, though, they were immediately shuttled to a nearby outpost, apparently to meet the investigators they'd be protecting.

“Now, they're a bit eccentric...” the guard escorting them said, frowning. “But they're some of the best around, so... don't hold it against 'em, okay?” He said, opening the outpost door. Inside was a single table and counter, a coffee machine plugged into a small generator. Seated at the table were two women who'd seem remarkably familiar to Moras if he'd been paying attention.

One of the women was clad in a blouse and short skirt that didn't quite seem like typical “Monster Investigator” garb... and a rabbit-ear headband that definitely wasn't typical. She waved to the Monster Hunters as they entered. “Oh, gosh, hi! New people!” She said, standing up from the table and approaching the three of them, eyes bright and... were her headband's ears twitching?

“Please, forgive her.” The other woman said, rubbing her temples. “You're probably very tired, and she's... Well, she's enthusiastic.” She said, smiling slightly regardless. She wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt depicting a stylized mushroom labelled “Portabellohead”, along with a baseball cap.

Moras nodded. “Yeah, no, I understand. Being a night owl's fun.” He replied, smiling back at the behatted woman.

Kalora pointed to the coffee machine, a couple of clean mugs sitting beside it. “Hey, the coffee's just for everyone, right?” Rather than wait for a reply, she immediately went and poured herself some.

Fernix, on the other hand, sat down in the vacated seat at the table. “So, what's the deal? They said you guys think there's a breach in the Border?”

The woman with the headband nodded. “Yeah, that's what we think. We actually wouldn't be involved otherwise! We're kinda... specialists, yknow?”

Kalora quirked an eyebrow at that statement, though she continued drinking the coffee rather than making any sort of snide comment.

“I see. Well, mind telling us why they need a specialist for something like this?” Fernix replied, leaning back in his seat.

The hatted woman sighed. “Yeah, I figured someone would ask. Basically, the thing about The Wild Place is that it's chaotic, right? What most people keep forgetting is that it's also shown itself to be intelligent. It's almost guaranteed that it's going to hide the breach, so that it can keep pushing Monsters into OUR world.”

The skirt-wearing woman continued. “And so that's where we come in! We can figure out how it's hiding the breach, and get people to fix the wall when we find it out!”

Fernix nodded. “Uh-huh. Well, if we're gonna be working together, we should probably know your names, right?”

The woman in the headband extended a hand to Fernix. “Name's Kylie! Just Kylie. Not a fan of last names.”

The other woman shrugged. “Marcie. Just call me Investigator, though.”

Fernix remained quiet, but nodded. Kalora downed her second cup of coffee.

But Moras... Moras had an odd feeling about these two... But he couldn't put his finger on it. Ah well, it probably wasn't anything huge. I mean, seriously. It's not like the two women were gods incognito or anything, right?

No, that'd just be silly...

Crown Of Thorns: Reboot Intro

Artifacts. Just the very word brings to mind ancient devices of great power, weapons and armor capable of turning the tide of a battle, items with the strength to bring the world to its knees in the right hands. The Normal World and The Wild Place, being places of great magical power, have many artifacts. Some are known to all who dabble in such things, while others are lost to history, unknown to all but the most ardent of scholars.

One such artifact, or perhaps one should say artifacts, is the Crown of Thorns. Technically speaking, despite the singular name of the Artifact, there are several dozen crowns in the world at any given moment. Each Crown is superficially the same, a plain wooden circlet that fits comfortably around the head of any wearer who bothers to put it on.

However, when placed on the head of one who knows of its true nature, a Crown of Thorns pierces the wearer's very mind with razor sharp splinters of magical energy. Though briefly painful, this ritual is unique in that it taps into the very soul and potential of the wearer, bestowing upon them a Gift of Thorns, giving even greater strength and potential to its wearer.

The effects of a Crown vary from wearer to wearer. One with an affinity for Alchemy may unlock the knowledge of the Philosopher's Stone, while a warrior's strength and endurance will increase tenfold. Regardless of who activates its potential, a Crown of Thorns is an extremely potent artifact. Those who know of it are rare, and those who have found one are even rarer. Often, possessing a Crown of Thorns paints a target on the back of its wearer, those with a lust for power pursuing the wearer to steal their Crown.

Thus far, the only real Crown of Thorns sighting in recent memory is the unfortunate case of one Dr. Orsalth. A human surgeon, the good Doctor acquired her Crown of Thorns through means that, so far, have only been speculated over. However, the Crown provided her with literal supernatural prowess in surgery, and with it she saved many more lives than she could have otherwise.

Eventually, though, the hospital she worked at was overrun by a literal horde of Monsters. Casualties numbered in the triple digits, including the doctor herself, and by the time the bloodbath was over the Crown had disappeared entirely. It is almost certain that the Monsters claimed the Crown for themselves, but it is unknown for what purposes. Speculation reigns that, perhaps, Monsters themselves are capable of using a Crown, but so far it remains just speculation.

In secret, those who suggest the idea shudder at the thought of it becoming reality. With the vast powers that some Monsters wield, it is believed that bestowing a Crown upon them would only add to their strength, and perhaps make them on par with deities in sheer power. The incident, however, is far in the past, and for now, most are convinced that the Monsters never did figure out how to use the Crown.

For now, dark forces stir just below the surface, waiting for their moment to rise up and strike. The Crown, still thought lost, shall resurface again. And when the one who claimed the Crown rises, both worlds may prove unready for what is about to unfold. For in the end, all beings, great and small, recognize true power...

IMPENDING REBOOT

Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Before it’s even over, I intend to reboot the Crown of Thorns saga completely! I’m not exactly upset with my writing, but I feel like it’s not really the best it could be. So, I feel a rewrite is in order. I’ll try to make things more or less the same, but I will ALSO try to make things more coherent, getting things from Point A to Point B in the most straightforward, scenic way possible.

Look forward to it, people!

Hide And Seek

Mark was smiling at this turn of events... well, okay, more often than not he was smiling all the damn time but this time he was smiling for a good reason. He had two of the Gods right where he wanted them, and a lead on where “Elaine” had gone off to. Or at least, he certainly hoped so. It had been ages since he'd seen the Devil, and he was hoping to figure out just where the hell she'd disappeared to.

Of course, he was more than a little peeved that The Head Juror wouldn't just resurrect herself and cut it out with this stupid “Oh no I'm dead” farce so that he could maybe get this show on the goddamn road, but he supposed he couldn't have it all. His smile strained a bit at the edges, and underneath his shades one eye twitched slightly. Ah well.

Turning to the three bound mortals, his view went from person to person. They had interacted with Elaine recently, he knew it. He just had to pick their brains a bit... uh, hopefully metaphorically, of course... and get the knowledge he was looking for. Thankfully, he had a guy for that sort of thing.

Kalora was rather perturbed by how... well, chipper their new assailant seemed to be. She was used to Monsters being either all business, or focused on their one purpose to some insane degree. The sheer personable behavior of “Mark” was a little disconcerting, especially when he killed a god holy shit how the hell did he do that?!?

Mark gave them all a once over, then turned to one of his bandmates. “Yo, SS! Get over here, we need to know what they know about Elaine!” He said, clapping his hands together and gesturing to the three of them. He nodded, lowering his trumpet and seemingly disappearing in a flash of light...

Where the trumpeter once stood was what seemed to be a figure in an ornate white-and-gold robe, several pairs of wings emerging from their back. A hood covered the figure's face, and despite the robe not appearing too large, no feet or hands were visible from the figure. The figure glided forward softly, not making a sound, and raised an empty sleeve to the three of them. As they passed over Fernix and Moras, they only nodded silently.

When he turned to Kalora, he recoiled in pain as the Magician spat a blob of acid directly into their face, revealing features that could only be described as lapine outlined in neon-green liquid. The figure let out a high-pitched cry of pain and began attempting to wipe away the burning fluid, while Mark's face turned red with anger and he moved forward, his mace at the ready.

“What the hell was that about?!? Do you have some kind of death wish, kid?!?” He turned to “SS”, and with a wave of his hand their face was free of acid. Kalora could feel the invisible face frowning at her, even as Moras and Fernix nodded in appreciation. The figure leaned in to Mark and whispered something, and the energetic Devil nodded.

“My goodness, ladies and gentlemen!” He began, turning back to the crowd with a flourish. “It seems that Miss Kalora, one of our special guests, has some famous ancestry going on!” He began, grinning. “A bit of famous ancestry that could get us Devils a little bit of recognition!”

He turned back to the Monster Hunters, his grin still wide. “Of course, now's not the time for that. Maybe later, of course, but for now we've got something else entirely on our minds.” He conjured a chair from seemingly nowhere, then sat down, one leg crossed over the other and his back ramrod straight.

“Like I said, we're looking for one of our wayward lambs, metaphorically speaking. Nice girl, good with her hands. She calls herself Elaine, and apparently you've been running a couple odd-jobs for her. Looking for some weird circlet things that you don't know what the fuck about, am I right?”

He waited for a moment, as if expecting them to do anything other than glare or maybe shout an obscenity. When he only got a set of three glares, he smiled serenely and continued. “Aaaanyways, point is, those things are something called the Crowns of Thorns. Basically, ancient magical accessories meant to boost the power of whoever wears the things. A bit of long, boring history that I don't particularly care to go into. Point is, the Divine Craftswoman made them ages ago, and apparently they found their way to our world and Elaine's looking for them.”

He leaned forward in his chair, face suddenly going serious. “If she were to find them all, this would be a bad thing. A very bad thing, I'm dead fucking serious.”

With that particular warning, he leaned back and his jaunty attitude returned. “Anyways, point is, we need you to find Elaine, and let her know that her dear, dear friends are looking for her. Just a hint, don't try fighting her yourselves. It'll just end in tears and blood.”

He seemed thoroughly convinced that the people he'd just violently assaulted would be totally willing to help him with this sort of thing, and Fernix was the first one to voice his discomfort with the idea.

“And why exactly should we help you guys?” He asked, frowning. “You did just attack us, yknow?”

Mark let out a laugh and stood up from his chair. “Simple, of course! To put it bluntly, this is the first time in centuries we've seen hide or hair of Elaine. We'd do anything to have our dear sister back with us, yknow?”

Once again, he moved forward too fast for anyone to see, and suddenly one of his mace's spikes was inches from Fernix's face. The elemental had to cross his eyes to see it properly.

“Yup, we'd do anything. Like steal the memories of the unhelpful idiots who saw her last and then kill their gibbering shells. I mean, it'd be filthy business, of course, but nobody said show business was all galas and encores.”

Fernix nodded slowly at the blatant threat, and Mark patted him on his head, somehow not getting ignited on the magical flames. “Good kid. You're a smart one.” He stood up and walked to the edge of the stage, staring out at the still stupified crowd. “So, here's the deal. We're letting you guys go. Don't ask how, the answer is weird magic bullshit.” He said, waggling his fingers slightly. “Point is, you're gonna be back home, and us and the gods are gonna be far, far away. But we're gonna be watching you guys.” He turned to the Monster Hunters, raising his mace. “So you better not try screwing us, or you're in for a world of pain.”

He lowered the weapon. “Point is, Elaine's probably gonna track you guys down again, okay? And when she does, let her know that The Fool is looking for her. She'll know what that means.” He smiled, and suddenly his mace was a microphone again. “Alright, that's all. You guys are gonna do great, I can feel it. Knock 'em dead out there, okay? Now... wake up.”

The Monster Hunters all woke up at once, springing up in their beds in synchronized form. The clock and calender indicated that it was the morning of Court's Renewal, and all they remembered of last night was a good time at the fair and a surprisingly good concert... and something to tell Elaine.

All three of them felt a chill, and none of them were entirely sure why...

Atychiphobia, Or, Fear Of Failure

“Pardon me, my child, I could have sssworn for a moment that our “limelight”, asss you ssso delicately put it, hasss been ssstolen by a group of rejectsss...” Babel said, narrowing his eyes and baring his fangs at the young woman standing before him.

“Keep your annotation on, Babel, this is just a temporary setback.” The Maiden replied, holding up her hands in a shrug and tilting her head. “I mean, how were we supposed to know they'd get mixed up with the Devils? Those idiots barely ever get out of the Kingdom, and now all of a sudden they're holding concerts? There are just some things you can't plan for, yknow?”

Babel's eyes narrowed further, only a slit's worth of his eyes peeking from his paper (and anatomically improbably) eyelids. “That isss becaussse you are a fool, my child. There are a remarkable number of things you can plan for, asss long asss you have the foresssight to think of them...” He coiled further around the oversized pile of books he used as an impromptu “throne”. “But in thisss inssstance, it hasss failed me... I am dissspleasssed...” He seemed ponderous, the tip of his tail moving to press against his chin.

“We all have our off days, pal...” The Maiden replied, giving another shrug and flopping onto one of the few chairs Babel actually had within the library. “Like I said, the Devils don't usually have the gumption to do things without being forced into it. They're content to just eff around doing whatever comes to mind. Especially since they rejected Her Thoughtfulness's rightful rule...” She sighed.

“Of courssse. Thisss isss unprecedented...” Babel replied, snaking his way across the carpeted floors of the library and beginning to ascend one of the shelves. “Perhapsss I can find sssome record that may asssissst usss...” He began, several large tomes flying from the shelf and opening to assorted pages.

The Maiden shifted in the chair, sitting so that she was draped across both arms of the plush armchair. “I don't know how much that'll help us, 'bel.” She said, sighing. “Apparently the Crone's checking on them right now, just to see how things turn out. Says it's not looking too good, they caught two of the gods off guard.”

Babel gave a snort of disdain. “It'sss ssstartlingly easssy to catch a god off guard, my child. It isss, in fact, sssimple enough that mortalsss do it time and time again. Mossst ssstoriesss of mortalss acquiring divine boonsss ssstem from a trick played upon the godsss.”

The Maiden chuckled. “Yeah, I know. For all their holier-than-thou playing around they sure are gullible. No wonder they got themselves wrecked by the Devils, huh?”

Babel let out a sigh akin to the rustling of pages. “Yesss, child, it isss no wonder. Of courssse, it isss ssstill a problem that the Devilsss have done what they've done. For all their power, they do not think their actionsss through, and drawing the wrath of the godsss onto Monsssterkind will mossst likely prove... unfortunate.”

The Maiden frowned. “You're right. I suppose we're going to have to do something about that, aren't we? Yknow, so that The Prosecution or someone even worse doesn't come and blow us all straight to hell?”

Babel nodded once, and began making his way back towards The Maiden. “Of courssse. However, I believe we should wait for the Crone'sss go-ahead before making any sssort of move. Hassste in a delicate situation such asss thisss could prove quite... unfortunate...”

The Maiden was not eager to figure out what Babel meant by “unfortunate”, to say the least. “Of course. I trust my sis on this one.”

Babel coiled again around his throne, several thick, ancient tomes floating around his head like magical ornaments of some sort. “Of courssse you do, child. Now then, pleassse, leave me to my ssstudiesss. I shall call upon you when you are required... but then, you're quite usssed to that, aren't you?” He finished, a smug look upon his serpentine face. “Run along. Let the grown-upsss get the real work done. My library isss a rather poor place for sssomeone of your... statuesque figure.”

The Maiden's jaw dropped at that obvious jab at her, and if she could she probably would have started burning Babel's entire library to the ground. But violence against a senior member of the Queen's Court, even if she was the Queen's Handmaiden, would probably end with her sorry ass back as a Thought... or worse.

Instead, fuming, she got to her feet and left the library, Babel's mocking laughter following her. As the massive doors closed, the magic allowing her to communicate with Babel faded, and she was once again in The Normal World. The Mother looked up at her as she re-entered their reality, an eyebrow raised.

“Well? Did it go well?” She asked, closing the book she was reading.

The Maiden sighed and headed for the kitchen. “Babel's a prick.” She replied, grabbing a can of some Mortal energy drink that tasted like carbonated piss but kept her going for hours. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

The Mother sighed, placing her book on the coffee table and standing. “He's just... a bit socially stunted, dear. Please, don't take it personally?”

The Maiden chugged about half the can down before bothering to reply. “Sis, I know you raised him, but don't lie to me. Babel's a sadistic jerk who would probably get off from making others miserable if he were capable of getting off.”

The Mother cringed, but after a few seconds nodded. “...alright, fine, you're right. But he's just doing what's best for us all... I'll talk to him, alright? Give him a reminder that The Kingdom doesn't revolve around him?”

The Maiden closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the fridge, before turning and hugging her matronly sister. “Thanks, sis. You're the best.”

The Mother hugged back, smiling. “It's no problem, Maiden. What are sisters for?”

The Maiden sighed. “An awful lot, really.”

As the two sisters shared a moment of affection, The Crone, currently locked away in her room, continued watching the Devils, Mortals, and Gods interact. And so far, things seemed to be going even more south...

TO BE CONTINUED.

Showstopper

It was the night before Court's Renewal. The sun was setting, and the buzz of excitement from the people in the street was palpable. For not only was it the night before what many considered to be the biggest holiday of the year, but the city that the three monster hunters lived in had a tradition. Every year, on the night of Court's Renewal, a carnival was held!

It was, understandably, a great cause for celebration. Who didn't love Carnivals, especially ones the night before major holidays? And normally, while excitement was high, it never focused enough on one specific thing to actually bring a Monster into existence. After all, rules were rules, weren't they?

Unfortunately, there were a few Monsters that didn't play by the rules... And often, the ones who don't play by the rules are the most dangerous ones...

“So I suppose what you're saying is that bringing my pistol is a bad idea?” Moras asked, scowling as Fernix frowned in disapproval at the Chimera's hip holster.

“Yes, Mor, it's a bad idea. This is a time for fun and companionship, not paranoia. I'm not gonna make you leave it here, but I'd strongly advise you to...”

“Alright, thanks, knew I could count on you...” He checked the clip with some disdain. “Besides, these aren't bullets. They're chunks of Mentacite. It'll only hurt Monsters.”

Fernix's frown deepened. “I don't care. I still don't think it's in the spirit of things.”

Before either of them could continue the argument, they both received a sharp slap to the back of the head from Kalora. “Both of you guys, stop arguing. We're gonna be stuck in traffic if we don't get going.”

Moras rubbed his now-sore head. “Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll go start the car...”

The Head Juror still wasn't entirely sure why she was here. All she knew was that The Defense insisted on going to this mortal “Carnival” every year, and so far she had refused to budge in the issue. So now, here she was, disguised as a human and with her true ears hidden underneath a baseball cap.

Everything smelled like grease and sugar, it was too loud, and the lights were blinding. She had no idea what her girlfriend saw in this accursed place, but the fact that she could see The Defense actually happy was reason enough to show up.

Granted, when she'd bumped into a teenager and gotten some sticky, bright blue frozen beverage toppled onto her, she had had to resist the urge to smite their ass right then and there.

“Lighten up, baby!” The Defense (under her mortal alias of “Kylie”) said, holding some sort of sugar fluff in one hand and a book of tickets in the other. “This is the one time of the year we can really loosen up!”

The Head Juror had no intentions of “loosening up”, no matter how ridiculously adorable The Defense was right now and no matter what time of year it was. She could be going over so many cases right now, but instead she'd had to trust her assistant with the mountain of paperwork and pray that when she got back her entire office wasn't upside down.

Besides, she reflected, taking another sniff of the carnival's scent of greasy food and body odor... she had a bad feeling about this place. The sooner they were out of that damnable fairground, the better...

Kalora's prediction had turned out to be correct, and the roads were full to bursting with traffic. And so, perhaps in an attempt to avoid withdrawal or something, the radio was on to the local news channel.

“...unexpectedly, the traditional midnight fireworks show has been replaced with a concert from a, quote “unnamed local band”, which according to the carnival organizers will “more than make up for the broken tradition.”

Fernix poked his head in between the two front seats, frowning. “Aw, what?”

“...though controversial, shall be upheld. The band is apparently relatively unknown, though all involved with the decision have vouched for the band's quality. Time will tell whether the decision will prove to be good or bad.”

“Well, crap.” Fernix said, leaning back into the seat. “They got rid of the best part!”

“If that's the worst thing that happens to us tonight, Fern...” Moras said, staring at the traffic ahead of them. “It's going to be a pretty good night.”

The Head Juror stumbled off yet another one of the mortal's infernal contraptions, a “roller coaster”, her head spinning and her gut lurching. The Defense was beside her, laughing like a maniac and adjusting her “headband” (really just a way to pass off her rabbit ears as an outfit decision).

“Ooooooh my god we have to ride that again!” She said, already turning to get back in line.

“NO! I... I mean, no, the line's too long.” The Head Juror replied, holding back her nausea and praying to whichever of her friends was listening that she wouldn't have to taste that awful mortal food in reverse. “Aw, you're no fun, Marcie...” The Defense said, using The Head Juror's mortal cover name and frowning. “I could just get on myself! You could wait and hold the prizes!” She said, indicating the large stuffed bear and several smaller plush toys currently held in her arms.

The Head Juror sighed before accepting the abundance of fabric and fluff and sitting down on a nearby bench by herself, while The Defense got back in line, practically shaking with excitement. After a while of this, she noticed someone sit down beside her.

He had a pair of headphones on, and some bouncy, poppy tune blared through them loud enough for her to hear, probably louder than anyone really should listen to music on headphones. He was dressed in bright, flashy colors, his t-shirt displaying the logo for a band called “12 Angry Men”. His skin was pale, and his hair blonde, almost blinding in contrast with The Head Juror's dark skin and black hair. His eyes were, at least for now, hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, an odd decision at 11:30 PM.

“Lovely night tonight, ain't it?” He said, smiling over at her. “I've always loved gatherings like this. You really feel the joy and excitement in the air.” His voice was bright and peppy, and even though he was apparently relaxing he sounded like he was having the time of his life

“Yes, I suppose so...” The Head Juror said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the man. This was strange for her, as often it was her making others uncomfortable with her presence.

He turned to her, flashing her a smile. His teeth were bright and clean, and she could have sworn they actually sparkled slightly in the bright lights of the carnival. “Name's Mark. What's yours?” He said, not extending a hand due to The Head Juror's currently full arms.

“Marcie.” She said, frowning. “Uh, you are aware I'm... taken, right?”

He frowned, as if thinking, and then laughed. “What? No! That's not what this is about at all! Oh man...” He stood up, raising his sunglasses slightly and wiping a tear from one closed eye. “No, no, I'm just saying hello! You seemed a bit down, and I make it a habit to brighten people's days!”

The Head Juror's frown deepened. “Thanks, but I don't need that. I'm just waiting for someone.”

He nodded, and looked up at the night sky, as if in contemplation. “Of course, I gotcha. Well, just figured I'd say hi. You have a great night, okay?” He aimed two finger-guns at her, though from the look on his face he realized how cheesy the gesture looked, and then disappeared into the crowd of the carnival.

The Head Juror let out a sigh. She didn't like that man. She did not like him one bit.

On the opposite side of the carnival, the three Monster Hunters were currently engaged in completely cleaning house at the assorted game booths. Sure, it was probably a bit dishonest to, say, play the shooting gallery when one was fully aware of how to adjust for a deliberately broken sight, but with how outright rigged the games often were, they felt they were only returning the favor. “Alright!” Kalora said, currently holding onto the group's assorted prizes. “Let's grab some food, and then we'll ride some rides and see that concert!”

Fernix grumbled something that vaguely sounded like “Waste of time”, but he was pretty soundly ignored.

After a quick meal of atrociously unhealthy junk food, the three made their way to the stage where the concert would be held. As it was getting late, and the rides and games were beginning to close, a crowd was steadily forming. A crowd that, unbeknownst to just about everyone, contained both The Head Juror and The Defense.

As the crowd got into place and more or less settled in for the show, the lights went dark, a single spotlight shining onto the center of the stage. With a sudden flash of light akin to a camera bulb, a man appeared in the spotlight!

A man who was very familiar to The Head Juror.

A man who was grinning right at her, despite how impossible it should have been for him to see her in the dark, crowded area.

“Aaaaaaaaalright!!!” Mark said, holding a microphone up and pointing to the crowd. “Welcome to the show, ladies and gentlemen! The name's Mark, and I'm the singer for Twelve Angry Men!!!” With a flourishing gesture the the curtain behind him, it rose to reveal a band of 4 other people standing behind it, seemingly poised with just about any instrument one would need for a performance, and a few that were probably just for fun.

“I know, I know, there's not twelve of us. But it's a reference to... eh, forget it, nobody here would know it.” He said. With another gesture to the band, they began playing, some jaunty chiptune that indicated to all who heard it that a show was about to begin!

“Noooooow then, ladies and gentlemen!!!” He continued, his hips moving to the beat of the song. “Tonight, we're being visited by five very special individuals! They may not know it, but they're the guests of honor at this little shindig! They know who they are, and we'd like 'em to come up on stage for us! Let's hear some shouts for Kalora, Moras, Fernix, Marcie and Kylie!” He said, the last name almost being drowned out by the cheers of the crowd, and even though it was incredibly likely there were multiple people with at least one of those names in the crowd, the Monster Hunters, The Head Juror and The Defense were ushered onto the stage, almost moved like a gravitational pull through the pushing of the crowd.

As The Head Juror passed through the crowd, she suddenly noticed how glazed over the eyes of the mortals looked. Something was extremely wrong here.

However, placing trust in herself and The Defense, she allowed them to be coaxed to the stage, pushed up on the hands of dozens of eager mortals.

“Aaaaalright!” Mark continued, pointing out to the crowd. “Let's hear it for these five lovely people! If it weren't for them, we wouldn't be here tonight!”

Another deafening cheer filled the air, conveniently drowning out the protests of the five people who were brought onto the stage.

“Thaaaaat's right...” Mark continued, practically dancing in place with his movements. “Because I've got someone I need to find in this city! But there's no way I'll be able to find 'em without these fine individuals!” He said, sweeping his arm towards them.

The Head Juror was sure that now was the time to end this. She raised her arm, intending to outright stop the heart of whoever dared to control these mortals and use her for their dirty work...

But found that her powers were, somehow, failing her.

“Aw, princess...” Mark said, turning towards her and raising his sunglasses, revealing two emerald eyes. “You didn't think I'd just let you rain all over my parade, did you?” As if to add on to the sheer insult of his statement, he gave her a wink. Another cheer filled the air.

“I mean, I wouldn't be a very good performer if my shows could just get nipped in the bud by one individual, huh?” He continued, looking out to the crowd. “Am I right?”

Laughter emanated from the crowd, though by now even the Monster Hunters seemed to realize it was completely mindless. Moras was already reaching for his gun.

“Yessss, ladies and gentlemen, I'm here for one very specific purpose, one that these mind-controlled rubes won't remember tomorrow and one that only you can help me with.” His hips were moving to the rhythm of the song, which continued to play even in the face of this tense situation.

Before he could begin, though, he suffered a twofold assault from both The Head Juror's fists and Moras' gun, suffering both a rather nasty punch to the face and a gutful of Mentacite bullets.

Both of his assailants were reasonably disconcerted when, rather than flopping to the ground and bleeding out, he used his backward momentum to do a backflip and got back on his feet, though his sunglasses were now rather cracked. “Aaaalright! You guys've got claws! Let's give 'em another hand!” He said, gesturing to the two attackers. The crowd applauded wildly, a few whistles likewise filling the air.

“Of course, Mentacite was a nice thought, my reptilian friend. But I'm not the kinda Monster that can be taken out with some glorified mind bullets.” Before anyone could react, Mark was right beside Moras, ruffled where hair would be if he had any, and then was right back where he'd been.

“Now then, I'm gonna give the Gods another shot here. And by the way, Monster Hunters, the two lovely ladies here are in fact, Gods. Now then...” He waves his hand, and suddenly the three Monster Hunters were bound in what seemed to be unnaturally strong magnetic tape.

He turned to face the two Gods, his arms spread wide. “Alright, time for a show! I'll let you lovely ladies do whatever you damn well please for... let's say, the next 30 seconds. After that, I get serious.”

As if his words had opened a floodgate of pain, he was pierced with what seemed to be dozens of arrows formed of pure white flames, with enough impact to send him skidding across the entire stage. He stepped forward with an unsteady foot, before collapsing to the ground. The Defense lowered the two crossbows that had suddenly appeared in her hand. “Well, that's that.”

And then Mark started laughing. He continued laughing as he got to his feet. He continued laughing even as the arrows slid out of him and hit the ground, fading into wisps of incense-scented smoke. He even continued laughing as he dropped his mic.

Or at least, it looked like he dropped his mic, until the handle extended into his hand and the head expanded and grew spikes. Where a microphone had been was now a rather wicked-looking mace.

“Alright, 30 seconds are up. Like I said, time to get serious.” And then he dashed forward faster than anyone could follow and swung his mace directly at The Defense's head.

The Monster Hunters looked away, and there was a sickening crack of blunt metal on bone, followed by the wet thump one would expect from a crushed skull hitting concrete. There was silence, and then the most sickening sound of all filled the air. The crowd began to cheer.

When they dared to look, they saw that instead of The Defense being dead, it was The Head Juror, who had leaped in the way to defend her love. She was practically unrecognizable based on the damage done to her, and she was undeniably, unmistakably dead.

Mark stared down at this, and then laughed. “Oh, such a fucking drama queen. Cmon, nobody's buying it for a second.” He gave the corpse a sharp kick, sending it flopping over. As she continued to lie there, he put a hand to his chin.

“Alright, well, guess she thinks I'm some kinda goddamn idiot. Yo, security! Tie her up!” He said, pointing down at the corpse and giving it another kick.

The Defense seemed near catatonic at what was in front of her, her face slightly spattered with the blood of her lover. “Oh my god...” She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

Mark, ever the scumbag, put a consoling arm around her shoulders, pressing a spike of the mace under her chin in some demented “chin up” gesture. “Aw, relax, bunny! I'm sure she'll be fine! Whenever she decides to stop acting, she'll be up and spewing obscenities at me before you know it!” And then, carefully aiming the head of his mace to avoid hitting her with the spikes, he cracked her on the head hard enough to knock her out.

“Alright, get this one too.” He said, staring down at her unconscious... or at least, the Monster Hunters hoped she was just unconscious... form.

He turned to the group of Monster Hunters as two security guards stepped forward and began binding the two Gods with an odd golden rope.

“Okay, so, time for a bit of an exposition dump...” he began, gesturing for the band to stop playing. Somehow, the music continued, though. “Listen carefully, my mortal friends. My name ain't really Mark, though I'm sure you've figured that out by now... I don't really have a name at all, actually.”

Moras frowned. “No name? Really? But you're a Monster!”

Mark chuckled, waggling a finger. “Nope, kid, that's wrong. Well, technically wrong. I'm actually something called a Devil. They're sorta... super Monsters, you know? I'm actually a devil that Miss Head Juror, the lovely lady currently being held down by my friend over there, should be pretty intimately acquainted with.” He said, glancing back at her still-dead form and frowning. “Geeze, really keeping up the facade, huh?”

Mark shook his head, tsk-ing in apparent disappointment. “Oh, my dear, dear Juror, if only you'd take me more seriously...” As if to make this whole moment even more absurd, the jaunty background music added in what seemed to be a few trumpets. He gave a theatric sigh and went on. “Look, the point is, Devils aren't like regular Monsters. We're spawned under very specific conditions.” He grinned evilly, and suddenly he didn't have the perfect teeth of his mortal guise. Instead, in his mouth were fangs, though they were still the shining white he had before.

“You see, the reason we Devils are so powerful, is that we're spawned from the very Fears of the Gods themselves.”

Kalora shook her head. “Shut up! The Gods can't feel fear, that's impossible!”

Mark paused in his pacing, looking to her. “Oh, you poor, naive child. Everyone feels fear. Even Monsters feel fear. What makes the Gods so immune?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he continued his pacing. “Now, Miss Head Juror should be intimately familiar with me, because I am a manifestation of one of her own fears. Not that I'll tell you which one, mind you. No fun in that.” He paused, giving his mace an experimental twirl. “There are actually a lot of Devils here tonight. A few are even in the crowd. But, that's not important.”

He turned to the Monster Hunters and Gods, a menacing grin across his face. “We're here looking for one of our own. I believe you three would know her as Elaine...”

TO BE CONTINUED.

A Little Art to Art

It was the night before the day before Court's Renewal, and Moras couldn't sleep. Of course, this was hardly strange for him, considering his massively out-of-whack sleep schedule, but this was rather unfortunate because he was trying to sleep for once.

With a sigh, he sat up in bed. He'd already spent the past few hours working on commissions and generally doodling, and to put it bluntly the activity held no particular appeal for him at the moment. Which meant it was time for coffee and Filmweb. Again.

And so there he sat in the living room, watching the same damn sitcom he always watched when it was late and he couldn't sleep, sipping coffee that was probably far too hot and letting his mind fade away into the lame jokes and laugh track.

At some point, he wasn't entirely sure when, he became vaguely aware that someone was sitting next to him. A young man with a face that could only be described as cherubic, wearing a white suit and keeping two large, brown-feathered wings tucked behind his back.

“My god, man, you watch this crap?” The man said, smirking at Moras. “I mean, wow. Did the half-star reviews not scare you off or something?”

Moras let out a sigh. “Fuck you, this show is a work of beauty and I will not have you defaming it, strange dream angel.”

The man let out a laugh that sounded more akin to a bird's song than anything. “Oh, pal, you're not dreaming. Though, I suppose it's well within the realm of possibility for a dream to say it's not a dream, isn't it?” He wiped a bit of dust from his shoulder, and then pulled a small sketchpad from within a breast pocket. “You mind if I do some sketching while I talk? Helps me think.”

Moras shrugged, taking another sip of the bitter, hot coffee. “Go on ahead, man. S'not like it matters, I'm asleep.”

The man smiled, and plucked a feather from one of his wings, immediately using it as a quill. “Thanks, pal. So, hey, listen, don't freak out, but I'm not a dream. I'm a genuine divine visitation. Isn't that neat?”

Moras nodded dumbly, eyes still glued to the TV (which at this point only displayed the “Are you still watching?” message). “Neat. Divine visitation. Great. So lemme guess, you're one of the guys that isn't important enough to be in the Court itself but important enough to act as a messenger?”

The man frowned, though he continued his sketching. “Not quite, kid. Anyways, I'm not here to quibble about just who I am. I'm here to deliver a message on behalf of one of my bosses. Don't trust Elaine. She's bad news.”

Moras nodded again. “Thanks, figment of my imagination. I was already pretty aware of that.”

The winged figure's frown deepened, and he let out a groan of frustration. “Perfect. 'Go talk to the artist!' he said, 'You'll get along great!' he said! I should have talked to the Elemental, at least he might've been fun to draw!”

Moras sighed and put his coffee down on the stained-on ring where he usually put his coffee. “Listen, man, you're pretty belligerent for a dream. Can't you just wake me up and we can be done here?”

The man stood up suddenly, jolting the coffee table slightly, and tore the page he'd just been scribbling on from his sketchbook, slamming it down onto the table. “Listen, pal, if Elaine tries to get you to go after something like what you got for her a few days ago again, just burn this. Two of the big guys will show up and you can all have a nice, long chat about the right way to do things.”

He strode to the window, opening it with a rush of warm air into the room. Then, as if this was completely normal to do, he jumped out of it. Moras was briefly concerned that his dream had just gotten fed up with it all until the man swooped upwards, wings flapping to keep him up, though he took a brief pause to turn and give Moras a rather rude gesture.

Moras stared at the disappearing man for a bit, before examining the picture that had been placed on his coffee table. It was beautiful, more beautiful than he could have imagined, the universal symbol of balance drawn with the sort of precision that people would give entire fortunes just to hang in their homes.

The scales of justice, a rabbit's paw in one bowl and a bear's skull in another, the two bowls in perfect balance. Moras realized, staring at the drawing so perfect as to be lifelike, that he truly had received a divine visitation...

And then he woke up. Slumped over on the couch, the television still displaying its message, he sat up and tried to will away the taste that came with sleeping with one's mouth open away. After a bit of this, he heard a door opening, and Kalora poked her head into the room.

“Oh, hey, Mor. Hard time sleeping? Nice drawing, by the way.” She said, before heading into the bathroom for her morning shower.

He wasn't entirely sure how she could possibly mistake such a work of art for one of his creations, and was about to let her know just what a mistake she made before he looked down at the drawing on the table.

Rather than the absolute perfection he'd witnessed before, the scale was rendered in his rounded, outright cartoon-y style, the rabbit's paw now resembling a trinket you'd purchase at a roadside store rather than the realistic one he'd seen. And... was the bear skull winking at him?

He sighed, and picked up the art, prepared to just throw it away... until he saw the message scrawled on the back.

“Nice chat, kid. Remember what I said. We're watching!” -A

Moras' eyes went wide, and he silently folded and pocketed the drawing. He wasn't sure what the hell had happened, but whatever it was, he was absolutely sure it was important.

No sense in pissing off The Celestial Court, after all...

Courtroom Deliberations

(Because of how long it took me to post the next installment in the Crown of Thorns series, have a bit of a side-story!)

—————-

This could not continue. The Prosecution was sure of it. And he was, at this moment, absolutely sure of it due to the fact that his sister, The Defense, was also absolutely sure.

When two celestial beings created to be in diametric opposition to one another were agreeing, then it was remarkably easy to tell that something was probably certain.

The Prosecution closed his eyes, willing himself to stop watching the scene in front of him. “She’s gathering them again.” He said, referring to the woman who, even in her state of near total nudity, had her eyes obscured to their vision.

The Defense nodded her lapine head, her ears folding downwards as she considered the woman with some trepidation. “She is… What’s her plan, do you think?” For all her fierceness when defending those she deemed worthy, the woman they were both watching scared her.

“I have no idea. But I know this goes against The Head Juror’s declarations. And the last thing we need is Miss "I Will Devour The Guilty” discovering that she’s being defied.“

The Defense nodded again, her ears somehow folding even more. Her arms wrapped around her torso, and The Prosecution couldn’t help but notice the twitching of her tail, a sure sign that she was afraid.

"We’ll have to do something about this…” The Defense muttered, waving her hand over the Scrying Bowl to dispel the image. “We can’t just let her gather them all again.”

The Prosecution nodded, a hand coming up to scratch at his ursine chin. “You’re right. We don’t need that kind of catastrophe on our hands again…” He let out a heavy sigh, heading for the door out of the room. “I’ll talk to The Artist. He might have an idea on who we can work with.”

The Defense nodded, biting at her lower lip. “Of course. I’ll talk to the other Jurors, too. I feel like they should know…”

The Prosecution stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “…if you must. But for the love of The Judge, don’t let The Head Juror know. If she finds out she’s been defied, who knows what’ll happen?”

The Defense paused, chewing her lip in apparent deliberation, before silently nodding.

The Prosecution sighed again, and stepped out into the hallway. He had a lot of people he needed to talk to, and if She kept collecting Crowns at the rate she was going… He didn’t have a lot of time to do it.

One Good Turn...

It was a few days before Court's Renewal, and as with mid-summer days that are significant, it was the hottest day of the year so far. And so, the three friends, having nothing to do that day and having some time off for the holiday, did the only thing three bored young adults could do when it was hot and they were looking for excitement.

They went to the beach. The drive wasn't too long, and apparently not a ton of people had had the same idea, as the roads were relatively clear... Until they arrived, and realized that the clear roads were simply because everyone else had gotten the idea sooner. The beach was, simply put, packed.

The three Monster Hunters spent a bit simply looking for a place to set up their towels, and for a moment it looked like they'd just have to head home, until a familiar voice called to the three.

“Yoohoo! You three, there's plenty of room over here!” Kalora turned, and saw the same woman she'd met in the electronics store those two weeks ago. She was clad in a one-piece bathing suit and a large sunhat that, once again, covered the top of her face. She was gesturing to a suspiciously empty spot beside her, just big enough for the three of them.

As Moras and Fernix got to work on setting up the towels and such, Kalora sat beside the woman.

“Hey! It's funny, running into you again...” She said, tilting her head and looking at the woman. “Uh... thanks for that favor, the other day.”

The woman put a hand to her lips and giggled softly. “It's no problem, darling. Better to give than receive, after all...” She was seated in a deep red beach chair, and she crossed one leg over the other and looked out towards the sparkling water.

“No, really, thanks. I have no idea how I could repay you, Miss...”

“Just call me Elaine. It's not my actual name, but it's close enough, and it's much simpler to pronounce...” She smiled in a rather coquettish manner and leaned back a bit in her chair.

“Alright, Elaine. But seriously, I have no idea how I could repay you...”

Elaine looked thoughtful for a bit, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. “Well... I suppose there is something you and your friends could do for me... I've heard you three are amateur Monster Hunters?”

Kalora bristled a bit. “More like professional, but yes...”

Another soft giggle emanated from Elaine, who turned her head towards Kalora. “Professional, of course, my mistake. Well, I happen to have an issue with an unruly old flame of mine who lives on this very beach... She's a Sea Elemental, you see, and she happens to have a piece of property that's very... dear to me.”

Kalora nodded. “And you want us to have a talk with her?”

Elaine leaned back and raised a leg, like she was posing for some magazine shoot that existed only in her head. “Well, not exactly. She has a tendency to get a bit... overeager, bless her heart, and things may get a bit extreme. I'm not saying to get rough with her if you don't have to, but I suppose you may have to, depending on how things go...”

Kalora frowned. “Well, why don't you just call the police?”

Elaine sighed and lowered her leg. “Well, I suppose that this piece of property's a bit of a... sensitive item, darling. Nothing illegal, but if the police got their hands on it, they'd want to claim it as evidence, and then I may never see it again...”

Kalora nodded. “Well, I guess I'll see what I can do. Where does your friend live?”

Elaine smiled, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen from... somewhere. “Well, last I checked, she lives in this building. Just ask for Lisa and I'm sure you'll be pointed in the right direction.”

Kalora took the note and nodded. “You don't mind if my friends and I just enjoy the beach a little first, though, right?”

Elaine gave a slightly mysterious smile. “Of course, darling. I wouldn't expect you to do anything different.”

----------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, after a beach trip that was just a little too boring to give more than a passing mention of, the three Monster Hunters traveled to the apartment building indicated by Elaine.

“You're sure this is on the level?” Moras asked, frowning. “Like, we're not getting this Elaine woman's cocaine stash back or anything, right?”

Kalora shook her head. “No, Moras, this is perfectly fine. I trust her.”

Fernix put a hand to his chin, frowning. “I trust her too. And the weirdest part is, I'm not entirely sure why... But I do. I think we're making a good choice here...”

Moras sighed, parking the car and stepping out. “Well, I hope you guys are right. I'd rather not wind up in trouble with the law because Kalora wanted to repay an ill-defined debt.”

As they stepped into the apartment complex, they were struck with assorted “natural” scents. Crackling flames, freshly-turned dirt, the salty scent of the ocean.

“Oh, wow!” Fernix said, looking excited. “I never knew there was an Elemental Gathering in town!”

Kalora and Moras gave Fernix a look that indicated they had no idea what he was talking about, and he gave a sigh akin to the crackling of a small bonfire.

“Basically, Elementals have this weird tendency to come together. If enough Elementals set up shop somewhere, more and more will start arriving until it's almost entirely them in the area.” He shook his head. “Ugh, I hate spewing exposition.”

Regardless, the three Monster Hunters quickly found the apartment they had been looking for, and knocked on the door. A voice called out almost as soon as they knocked.

“Hold on a second, I'll be right there!” The voice was bright and cheerful, and true to their word, an Elemental opened the door a second or two afterwards. She seemed like a young woman made entirely of greenish sea-water, though below her waist was what looked to be a “tornado” of foamy water. She glanced at the gathered Monster Hunters at her door, and sighed.

“Lemme guess. Elaine sent you?” She said, shaking her head. “Well, come on in. I'm gonna guess she's given you some horror story about how you may have to fight me?”

Fernix frowned, though followed his friends inside. “She might have, yes.”

The elemental shook her head. “Nope, not gonna happen. Honestly? I want that damn thing of hers out of my house. She left it behind when she moved out, and I guess she interpreted me not giving it back as me wanting to keep it...”

The apartment was decently furnished, though the group couldn't help but notice the kiddy pool in front of the television where a chair or couch would usually be. “Let me get it, then you can bring it back to her. Get this damn thing out of my house.”

She disappeared into what was presumably her bedroom, and came out holding what looked to be a circlet of carefully shaped coral. “Take it, I don't like it. Every time I pick it up it starts trying to absorb me!”

Kalora frowned, taking the circlet from the Elemental's hands. “Really?”

Lisa nodded, a scowl on her face. “It does. I can feel my magic getting weaker whenever I pick it up. That thing's some bad mojo.”

Kalora frowned down at the small crown, and stowed it in her backpack. “Alright, uh, thanks...”

“Don't mention it. Just get it out of my apartment. And get yourselves out, while you're at it. Just get it to Elaine and then pretend you never met me.”

Before any of them knew it, they were being buffeted out the door by what seemed to be literal waves of seawater, and when they were out in the hallway the door slammed shut behind them. And so all three of them stood there, soaked, dripping, and vaguely confused.

“Well then... Did Elaine say where we could find her?” Moras said.

“No, I didn't, darling. But I certainly knew where to find you.” Elaine's voice called, the woman turning the corner and coming down the hall towards them. She'd changed into the sort of slinky dress one would wear more to impress than for comfort, and her sunhat, while somewhat smaller, still blocked her eyes.

“Oh, perfect!” Kalora said, grabbing the tiara and handing it to her. “Here you go! We got the thing!”

Elaine gently grasped the circlet and smiled. “Darling, I can't thank you enough. I've been looking for this for ages, and now that you've gotten it back I can put it somewhere safe... Goodness, I hope that girl didn't put it on her head...”

Kalora shook her head. “Nope, didn't seem like it. So, we're even now?”

Elaine considered Kalora's statement, then giggled. “Darling, this was never a question of being even. Simply one good turn deserving another. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to help a foolish old woman find something she'd lost...”

Moras frowned. “Old? You don't look a day over 20!”

“Why, sugar, that's very kind of you, but looks can be deceiving.” Elaine turned on her heel and started back down the hall. “I'll find you three again if I ever need anything done... and I'll be sure to pay, in the future...”

The entire drive home, Fernix remained silent, thinking to himself. He knew Elaine from somewhere. She was just too familiar for him to not know her. But how did he remember her? This was just too strange, and it gnawed away at him.

Some day, he knew, Fernix was going to remember... but not today...

Crown Of Thorns: Life

According to recorded history, the first Crown of Thorns to become known to mortality was the Crown of Life. Resemblind nothing more than a circlet carved from the finest oak, the Crown of Life, while humble, was obviously magic to anyone who looked at it, warm to the touch and pulsing gently with a bright green light.

When placed upon the head of one attuned to Life magic, the crown would pierce its wearers brain with four thorns, then draw out their magic and become a circle of green light the very color of new leaves above their head.

Of course, the problem is, the Crown of Life disappeared long, long ago, during a Monster attack on the capital city of The Normal World. Its wearer, a celebrated surgeon known for her skill in both magic and with tools of medicine, was slain, and the Crown was lost.

Of course, that was the official story. And it was never explained just how the Crown was “lost”. People assumed it simply disappeared, or perhaps was destroyed and then reformed elsewhere. Nobody except the Monster Hunters and government officials on the scene know what really happened to the Crown of Life.

It was stolen by a Monster, a creature of great beauty and strength. It was soon discovered that the Monster that had attacked the hospital, a powerful yet stupid being, had been sort of a “pet” to the mastermind of the attack. It had been a premeditated strike, a brutal murder of an innocent woman for the sake of the Artifact.

Of course, the question on everyone's mind, or at least on the minds of those who knew the Crown's true location, was obvious.

Could a Monster wear the Crown of Life?

----------------------------------

Moras supposed that he should have been expecting this. It was only a few days before Court's Renewal, of course the stores would be packed to bursting with people attempting to purchase last-minute gifts...

That didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Standing in line for the umpteenth time that day, he checked his phone again in an attempt to figure out if he'd ever be able to get home before dark. In his hand was the last copy of some game he'd never heard of, which a particularly belligerent Ice Elemental had nearly started a fist fight over.

Moras hated holiday shopping more than anything, but Kalora wouldn't stop talking about this game, having pretty much followed its development progress since the thing had been first announced. And when she'd heavily, heavily implied she was hoping to get it on Court's Renewal Day, well, Moras had silently added the local video game store to his list of stops for shopping.

Adjusting his baseball hat, Moras squinted up at the sky outside the window. It was beautiful and sunny, though from the wavering heat coming off the sidewalk he was glad that most of his shopping was going to take place indoors that day. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw something flying overhead, something in the shape of a person...

But there hadn't been any particularly strong adoration of people going on recently, and besides that, he'd “killed” Beloved about a month ago. Usually Monsters took longer to reform than that. Probably just a trick of the light.

Eventually, he got to the front of the line, paid for the game and exchanged pointless pleasantries with a cashier who looked like he'd rather be dead, and went on his way. The heat outside was blistering, as was to be expected of mid-summer, and even as a reptile he found it a bit extreme. But Kalora had taken the car to do some shopping of her own, so he was walking.

Staring up at the clear blue sky again, he lowered the brim of his hat to mostly cover his eyes. And once again, he caught a glimpse of something flying above him, circling like a vulture circled a dying creature.

He wondered why his brain had immediately gone to that line of thought. Probably the heat. Shaking his head, he started down the street again, heading for the next store on his route...

--------------------------------

Kalora looked at the tablet on the shelf. Moras had said it was a fine piece of hardware, and she supposed that when you were getting that level of quality, it would definitely cost a pretty penny...

But the prettiness of this penny could probably be measured entirely through clones of Marilyn Monroe. And she wasn't entirely sure she was willing to pay this kind of money for a tablet, even if her friend did do “commissions on the side” or whatever he did to get extra cash.

She sighed, then checked her email again. She'd signed up to get emails from this place for a reason, and that reason was coupons. It was almost Court's Renewal, there had to be something she could use...

Meanwhile, on the other side of the electronics store, a person walked through the door. She wore a sunhat that almost fully obscured her face, and as the cashier watched her walk by, he could have sworn the entire room got colder. Deciding to just blame it on the A/C unit being weird, he promptly got back to his magazine.

The be-hatted woman walked through the store, occasionally stopping to check out some product, though there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to what she examined. First she'd check out televisions, but then she'd carefully examine discount blenders or washing machines. And all the time, she kept the sun-hat down, leaving only her blood-red lips and tanned chin exposed.

Eventually, she stood beside Kalora, taking a good, long look at the same tablet Kalora was currently attempting to find a coupon for. And she spoke, all soft, silky voice and the sort of southern accent that made one sound refined more than anything.

“My goodness, but that is a fine device...” She said, turning her head to glance at Kalora. “Times really have changed... you'd never see anything like that when I was a girl.” Despite her words, the woman didn't look a day over 21.

Kalora looked up from her phone, then nodded at the woman. “Yeah, I know, right? I just wish it didn't cost so much...” She sighed, not having found any deals, and stowed away her phone.

The woman let out a “hmm”, as if deep in contemplation. “Are you buying this for a friend?”

Kalora shook her head. “Well, I'm not buying it. But there's this guy I know who does art as a side-career, and it was gonna be his gift...”

The woman smiled slightly. “Hmm, you say you're purchasing this for a gentleman? Is he a good friend of yours?”

Kalora sighed, beginning to walk away. “Yeah, but I'm gonna have to find him something else, I suppose...”

As Kalora headed down another aisle to find some other gift, the last thing she saw of the woman was her looking very contemplative. About 10 minutes later, as she approached the checkout counter with a few movies Moras had been hoping to see, the cashier stopped her.

“Uh, hey, there was this woman... she wanted me to hold something for you, and she paid in full? And, uh, she included a note with it...”

The cashier reached under the desk, and pulled out the exact tablet she'd been hoping to purchase for Moras, a note taped to the box. Kalora reached out carefully, as if expecting this all to be fake. She took the note, and examined it.

“Consider this a bit of Courtly charity, darling. I have more money than I know what to do with, and no real family to share it with, and I figure that making someone happy during the holidays is well worth the price. Happy Holidays, Kalora.”

Kalora was far too thrilled with this act of kindness to realize that the woman knew her name despite never providing it, and she quickly started home in order to wrap and hide the tablet.

--------------

Fernix was enjoying himself way, way too much right now. Summer was always his favorite time of year, and right now he was just sitting on their balcony, soaking in the sun and generally enjoying himself. He had gotten his shopping done months ago, and so he could afford to just spend time enjoying himself. The radio he had plugged in and set on the table gently played Court's Renewal songs, and before Fernix knew it his eyes were drifting shut.

As he slept, Fernix dreamed. However, rather than his usual dreams, which usually consisted of either odd situations, a large amount of animals, or that cute Tungsten elemental that worked at the coffee shop, this dream was different.

This dream was of Monsters and Magic. He dreamed of a Monster that was beautiful to behold, though unlike the magical glamor of Beloved, this Monster's beauty was entirely natural. She stood before him, her head wreathed in beautiful lights, more colors than he had ever seen in one place, a veritable Aurora Borealis localized around the Monster's head.

She looked down on him, smiling beatifically, and extended a hand to him. “My child... Fear Not... I come not to harm, but to warn... take my hand, for great strife is near...”

Somehow, Fernix knew that this Monster didn't want to hurt him. It didn't want to hurt anyone. She didn't want to hurt anyone. Silently, reverently, he reached for her hand...

And he woke up. He had a very, very bad feeling, deep in his bones. Standing, he turned off the radio and entered the apartment, intent on calling Moras and Kalora and getting them home. But as he entered the living room, he saw something on the coffee table.

Sitting there, glowing slightly, was a single wooden circlet. A note sat beside it, folded impeccably and smelling slightly of freshly-turned earth and roses.

“This will be safer with you, my child. Never let it out of your sight. Wear it if you wish, as you cannot unlock its full potential, and it shall not burn. Some day, you may yet discover the unimaginable powers you have... but not today. Stay safe, my child.

-Mother”

Fernix frowned at the note. He had no mother, or at least not one as most mortals would understand it. He was more confused than anything, though he recognized that the wooden circlet on the table was powerful...

As he picked it up, turning it over in his hands, he wondered at just what he had discovered. He never noticed the figure at the window step off the edge of the balcony and setting into the sky on a wave of cold air...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Crown Of Thorns: Intro

Now, ostensibly, a world that has magic like this one has to have Artifacts. You know full well what I’m talking about, items imbued with enough magical power to make The One Ring look like... well, still The One Ring, I suppose, but there are still some pretty powerful artifacts here!

One particular set of artifacts, though, is well known for making just about every magic user out there salivate wildly at the idea of getting their hands on one. And all things considered, why wouldn’t they? This is some prime, Grade-A stuff we’re talking about!

These artifacts are known collectively as The Crowns Of Thorns... And yes, I suppose it could be considered a little sacrilegious that a magical artifact is called that, if it weren’t for the fact that The Normal World’s religious system revolves around a holy court rather than a single overarching deity...

Yes, yes, I will get around to that, but that’s later. Right now we’re discussing the magical artifacts, and I’d like to finish this particular story before I get into religion of a distant world.

Now, the Crowns of Thorns are based around the Schools of Magic. Each person is born with a strong affinity for one particular School of Magic. Someone may be born with power in Faunamancy, for example, which is the ability to take control of animals.

Or maybe they’re good at Holy Magic, the use of power given by the Court Above for offensive or defensive capabilities. Who knows, there’s a lot of different magic types out there.

The point is, the Crowns are all attuned to one specific School of Magic, and this makes them very powerful in the right hands. Especially because Crowns are sort of a backup magic battery and power amplifier rolled into one halo.

And, yeah, they basically look like cartoon halos. At least, when they’re activated. They also have an inactivated state too, but that’s really nothing to write home about.

What, really? You wanna hear about that? Well, okay, you’re the one who asked for another story, I’m not gonna judge.

You see, Crowns have sort of two states. An “Active” and “Inactive” state. The Inactive state is the default state of a Crown, resembling nothing more than a circle of some material that resizes itself to fit on someone’s head.

And then, when you do put it on your head, it scans your Magical Affinity, and if you’re found worthy, it grows needles to stab you right in the brain.

...what? Don’t look at me like that, it’s the way these things work. I didn’t create the damn things, they just work the way whoever did make them wanted them to work.

Anyways, when placed on a wearer’s head, needles enter the brain and siphon out magical power from its wearer. After it does so, it enters the Active state, floating slightly above their head and glowing a color associated with the magic type it represents.

And after that, the wearer of a Crown can use it to amplify their natural magical powers, and they basically never have to worry about running out of magical energy ever again.

Understandably, these things are pretty heavily sought after, especially considering they stay on a person until they die. Having a Crown is sort of a death sentence combined with a million dollar check. People are gonna be hunting you down, but you also have more magical power than most people know what to do with!

Now, you’re probably wondering just what the Crowns have to do with the story I’ve been telling so far?

Well, you see...

Parturiphobia, Or, Fear Of Childbirth

Babel’s origins are surprisingly humble, for one with the title of The Queen’s Librarian. Is it possible for one to believe that a creature such as The Father of Magic and Academia would have been created as a youth, a state unknown to most Monsters of The Wild Place?

Babel was originally spawned in one of the most humble forms Monsterkind had ever known. A single egg, seemingly formed from carefully, lovingly folded parchment. He had appeared in the middle of The Queen’s gardens, and had been found by her Gardener, the first Monster to be spawned by one other than The Queen.

The Gardener had examined this egg, and seen it as the Monster Spawn it truly was. Carefully, reverently, he brought the egg before The Queen, claiming that he knew the creature within was one soon to be of great power.

And so, the egg was entrusted to The Wetnurse, who at this time was the original Handmaiden. As she stood besides the queen, she held the egg to her bosom, the magic within slowly solidifying into a form that could truly be considered a Monster.

Months and months later, the egg hatched. The parchment shell split like someone tearing a note in half, and Babel took their first look at the world around them.

Babel in his youth resembled nothing more than a serpent’s skeleton, though with two watery, pitch-black eyes and a tongue of stacked slivers of parchment. His hiss was akin to the flipping of pages, and he was an inquisitive sort.

The problem, of course, was the matter of his locomotion. As a skeleton, he lacked the musculature and skin to properly move, and so he spent the first several years of his life being carried by whoever The Queen assigned to the task.

One thing frequently noted by those who took care of Babel was how inquisitive he was. Even though he’d been capable of speaking from his “birth”, he remained quiet unless spoken to, instead quietly taking in any information he could gather.

The spectacular thing about Babel was that, when the young serpent learned something from accompanying the Queen’s workers, he would recall that information whenever it was called upon. The proper gardening tool for a task, the exact way to prepare The Queen’s favorite meal (two cups of Ennui, placed within a crust of the finest Post-Partum Depression, baked within the flames of a Pointless Grudge and served with a side of boiled Childhood Wonder to balance the flavors), or even much more minor things (such as, to The Gardener’s displeasure during a visit from The King, exactly where the servants kept their stash of Mortal Contraband).

And then, when he was seven years of age, he made a single request. Asking in a voice akin to rustling paper and a nervous child, he asked The Queen to allow him a single book, of his choosing.

The Queen, who doted on children far more than her stern image would have suggested, gladly provided Babel his first book, an abridged history of The Wild Place. Whenever he had time to himself, in the small alcove designated his “room”, he would spend time poring over the history book, using the slight amounts of Magic he had developed to turn the pages.

One morning, as the Servants rose and began their daily tasks, The Gardener was surprised to discover what seemed to be an art-piece lying on his dresser, a serpent formed from what seemed to be pages from a history book.

He was more than a bit surprised when the art-piece spoke to him in the voice of Babel, and revealed that this was his new “skin”. His only concern, the young serpent said, was that The Queen would be displeased that he had destroyed one of her books...

The Queen, surprisingly enough, was not displeased by what Babel had done. In fact, she had been rather impressed with the young serpent’s ingenuity and... unique biology. And so she gave Babel more books, wondering if the now ambulatory Serpent would do something, to quote the queen, “interesting.”

Babel, not even waiting to return to his alcove, began tearing the books to pieces with his fangs and slithering over them. The paper scraps began fluttering across the serpent’s form, and soon the foot-long serpent was about the size of a small dog.

Better yet, despite not having read the books he was provided, he remembered every detail of them. The Queen saw these things, and came to realize that she had a rather potent resource at her disposal.

And so, she gave Babel free reign of her Library, which at this time was more akin to an oversized cave system consisting entirely of book stacks. Babel let loose a shriek of glee, disappeared into the roiling pages, and was promptly not seen for several hundred years.

By the time anyone found Babel again, he had grown huge, huger than anyone had thought possible. Though at the time they had no concept of a modern street, the creature was wide enough to take up both lanes of one, as well as the sidewalk. He was several stories tall, and several yards long.

Babel had also become vastly, vastly intelligent, knowing more than just about anyone in the Castle in general information. Of course, more specialized information was beyond him, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

Unrelated, though notable, was the fact that his very presence had warped The Library into a much more organized form, shelves taller than most skyscrapers containing hundreds and hundreds of tomes.

The Queen knew she had made a good decision, and quickly assigned Babel as The Queen’s Librarian, forever taking care of the vast store of knowledge within the Castle...

Though, this had not come without its consequences...

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Queen's Court, Or, The Hecate Sisters

The Queen's Handmaiden stood in Her Place. For years and years and years she had done so, only moving when the Queen commanded it. And so far, the Queen very rarely commanded it. The Queen's Handmaiden shifted slightly in her spot, the hands folded chastely in front of her skirt twitched in a combination of annoyance and nerves. And this uniform was so damn uncomfortable... Half of it was just ribbons, bound tightly around her like some sort of multi-segment corset. No chance to show anything off or express herself... Just wrapped in red silk that could probably be compared to a mummy's funeral wrappings than anything... The Queen moved in her throne. She had much to think about, for her Realm was vast, and her Subjects were many. For The Normal World was part of her Realm too. Or at least, she knew it was. And though the Mortals refused to accept it, they'd see. In time... The Handmaiden held back a sigh, and continued her spot at the Queen's side. Obedient. Trustworthy. The Queen's confidante... And so, so sick of it. --------------- The Queen's Wetnurse sat in her chambers, contemplating her life, and her role in the Kingdom. Her simple, white dress strained at the belly with her advanced pregnancy, but as every Subject was born from Mortal thought, this was simply a bit of symbolism. And Queen knows that Monsters enjoy their symbolism... The Wetnurse let out a sigh, and stood, grunting softly as her swollen ankles and belly caused her to lose her balance slightly. Symbolism was the bread and butter of Monsters. From the lowly Death Slot to Babel, The Queen's Librarian, symbolism was what gave a Monster meaning, a role, a position in the universe to call their own. Making her way to The Queen's Seer, The Wetnurse let out a soft chuckle to herself. Sure, Symbolism was very important... But that didn't mean she had to like it. ------------- The Queen's Seer was currently engaged in a deep bout of meditation. Of course, she often was, when she wasn't staring into the lake of bright, clear water she was situated upon or consulting the constantly-shifting stars. She was, at this moment, searching for one specific Monster. The Queen's Daughter, lost to them all. A traitor to the cause. And yet, the Queen mourned her loss. And so The Seer sat here, trying to locate The Daughter, even though by all means it wasn't likely to bear fruit. The Seer sighed. Working with royalty always proved to have problems... She stood and turned to The Wetnurse before the woman could even cross the bridge to her island, approaching the woman and carefully helping her across the wobbly, uneven logs and sitting her down on a particularly large stone. The two conversed for a time, about portents and the future and Monsters that had come and gone since their last conversation. And in the end, The Seer confided in The Wetnurse. The time had come for them to travel into the world of the Mortals yet again. The Wetnurse tried to hide her excitement, though she proved to be remarkably bad at it, judging from the soft smile crossing the Seer's wizened features. And the two of them stood, and they went to the Queen in her great throne, and The Seer told the Queen of what she had discovered, and of the mission to the Mortal world that was required. And The Queen listened to The Seer, knowing that her judgement was sounder than even her own, and with a wave of her hand, she allowed them passage, and allowed their sister to attend them. And the Handmaiden whooped with joy and went to stand with her sisters, bowing deeply to The Queen and thanking her for her generosity. She didn't mean a word of it, but The Handmaiden knew what happened when one didn't pay The Queen her proper respects... And so, the three sisters set out to the Mortal world, and they were no longer subjects of The Queen's Court. Again, they took on their old forms. The Maiden sighed with relief as the ribbons binding her fell away, a dress of the lightest silk settling onto her flawless skin. The Mother's body, while still plump, was no longer constantly with child, and she could feel her former strength returning, magic flowing through her veins. And yet, The Crone remained unchanged, her eyes still keeping their blindness and her robe of black burlap staying on her body. Perhaps she got a bit more haggard. Or perhaps less. But The Crone found she liked it that way. And so, The Hecate Sisters set out, to find the one they so needed... Of course, if they took a little while doing it, would The Queen really notice?

A Story About Family

In the Normal World, magic is a well established part of reality, so deeply intertwined with the world as they know it that most people wouldn't know what to do if it suddenly up and disappeared one day.

But even in a world so deeply full of magic, there are some forms of magic that barely anybody knows about. Forms of magic that amaze and terrify. Forms of magic that are so dangerous, being capable of using it is generally a sign something has gone terribly wrong in your life.

This magic is known as Wild Magic, the ability to tap directly into the fabric of the Wild Place and bend it to your whims. Wild Magic is an art of freedom, giving anyone who uses it much greater abilities than any standard magic user, but there's a little bit of a catch.

Only a very limited amount of people can use Wild Magic. As powerful as it is, it is also exceedingly rare. Those that can use it are people who have been touched by the Wild Place in their very soul.

These people are called Magicians, and they are the offspring of the “mortal” species, and a Monster.

Now, if you've been paying attention, you'll most likely have noticed that Kalora has been referred to, multiple times, as a Magician. This is not an accident.

Kalora's father, a long time ago, was a Monster Hunter like his daughter is now. He was much more brutal about his tactics than his daughter was, however, destroying Monsters with no mercy and not even attempting to rehabilitate them.

You can imagine his discomfort and dismay when he wound up falling in love with one of the Reformed Monsters he'd never once considered creating...

Her name was Alice, though originally she had gone by The Royal Guard. She had originally been created long, long ago by the assassination of a member of the Normal World's royal family. Of course, these royals were basically a family of figureheads at this point, but some people cared enough to kill them, and many more cared enough to mourn the loss.

Alice, unlike most Monsters, had no destructive urges whatsoever. Upon her spawning, she sought the Royal Family and swore her fealty to them, forevermore. And so it had gone, for years and years, decades and decades, to the point that entire centuries had passed and Alice was the only surviving remnant of a long-gone era.

Kalora's father met Alice when a member of the Royal Family bought a particularly interesting Monster Remnant from the man (a single feather from   Beloved's wing, one of the rarest Monster Remnants it is possible to find), and Alice was the one to make the pickup.

Now, love in first sight is mostly an invention of the media to explain why two characters can become full-on lovers in the space of an hour and a half. It's not really that real.

What is very, very real, however, is physical attraction at first sight. And that is what both individuals felt for each other upon their meeting. For, you see, neither of these two individuals were particularly unattractive.

Alice, for all her Monstrousness, had had the good fortune to be Spawned in a more or less human configuration. Despite the full, completely covering plate armor on every inch of her skin, she had a remarkably beautiful face exposed by her open helmet.

And Kalora's father, well, he fought horrible monsters for a living with nothing but enchanted knives. That tends to build some serious muscles on an individual, to say the least.

And so, because it's considered gauche to just ask someone on a date because you like their face, Kalora's father stuttered something about a wonderful personality and asked Alice out.

They had gotten along rather well, proving to have more or less the same interests with some slight differences. Kalora's father found that even with the fact she was a Monster, she was a charming and witty individual. Despite his distrust of Monsters, he didn't really care too heavily that she was one.

Alice, not knowing that Kalora's father was kind of a bigot, thought he was a sweet, caring man. He always seemed to set aside time for her, and was genuinely interested in how she felt.

Over the course of a few months, the two of them got remarkably close. Their physical attraction to one another (which they discovered wasn't going to actually go anywhere) became more of a single facet of a rich, deep relationship. Even when Kalora's father revealed his former prejudice towards Monsters, she accepted him as a flawed, improving individual.

What neither of them realized, since it was probably the most uncommon way for it to happen, was that Monsters were fully capable of reproducing through strong feelings of love, and absolutely no biological functions.

I doubt I have to say that both of the participants in this relationship were shocked when, during a particularly emotional moment between the two, Alice started spontaneously glowing and a tiny, crying human emerged from her torso like someone activating no-clip in a video game.

And so, now, after only about half a year of dating, the two of them had a child on their hands. It wasn't as if they couldn't support the thing, Alice's job and Kalora's father's job paid rather well. But the shock was definitely there, and they were both worried they weren't quite prepared for parenthood.

Of course, things only went from mediocre to bad when Kalora began performing magic at the young age of 5 years old. They'd been expecting their child to be a Magician, of course, for Magicians as a whole were at this point a well-documented phenomenon.

But having a 5 year old using magical powers that some magic-users would only dream of using was definitely an exercise in frustration. Like the time she turned the couch into a live panther. Or when they took her to the zoo and she summoned a portal to the Elemental Plane of Popcorn to feed the birds.

In the end, though, things were remarkably stable. Even though things hadn't quite gone as the two of them had expected, Monsters were well known to only have one child ever. So at least they wouldn't have to deal with any unexpected bundles of joy.

Things settled down as Kalora got older and got a greater grip on her magic. Kalora's father retired from Monster Hunting with enough money set away to last them all combined with Alice's job, and he was considering finally proposing to Alice and just making it all official.

And then, there was an another assassination attempt on the royal family. Alice, as is to be expected, did an admirable job driving off the invaders. But the problem was, her husband and Kalora had both come to visit her at work that day, and he had died in the attack.

Alice went into an extended mourning for her lost love, though she still took care of her daughter to the best of her ability. However, everyone who knew her claimed she seemed more thoughtful. Like she was carefully considering some arcane course of action that nobody but herself was privy to...

On the day Kalora turned 18, however, Alice left for The Wild Place. She claimed she had a task of utmost importance to complete, and swore that she would return one day.

So far, a year later, Alice hasn't returned yet. Kalora remains hopeful, however. After all, Alice wouldn't break a promise to her own daughter... would she?

A Poster On An Empty Street

The paper of the poster is tattered, only held up by a single piece of tape and blowing slightly in the cold spring wind. A drop of rain from the balcony above occasionally plops onto it, leaving spots and running the ink.

“Feeling down in a big world?

Worried about Monsters?

Don’t want to express your thoughts for fears The Wild Place will listen?

WELL DON’T WORRY! NEW, IT’S THE ETERNITY CLUB!

A social gathering for those worried about Monsters and their own minds, learn how to think freely without monstrous consequences!

Meet like-minded individuals and discover your similarities!

Learn just how weak those repressed thoughts really are!

This Friday, at Midnight!

Free Refreshments!”

Several slips of paper with a phone number and address dangle beneath the paper. Seems people have been tearing them off.

Kalora stares at the poster, then tears off a slip of paper, then continues her walk back home.

Announcing: My Patreon

In news unrelated to stories, I’ve officially started a Patreon for The Wild Place! You can find it at https://www.patreon.com/thewildplace! Nobody’s obligated to donate, but I have a few goals already set up, and I’ll be using as much of the money as I can to improve things!

Thanks in advance!

An Excerpt From “The Beloved Chaos”, Holy Book of the Ones Who See

…and so it was that, even in the roiling madness, the shifting land gave birth to a new life. She was our Queen, and in that madness she saw fit to Create. And though her body was as lifeless as the coldest corpse, The Barren Queen bestowed her Grace onto that land.

She spilled her blood onto the ground of the Chaos, and from each drop rose a new life. It rose not from the warmth of Life, but from the cold purity of the Mind. The first life to rise was a being of Demise, the cold, raw fear of what the mortal races knew as Death.

Though he goes by a new name, given to him by the mortals, in this time he was known as Death Himself, and The Barren Queen took him as her husband. The rest of the beings that rose were claimed as their children.

Even with their origins as the cold thoughts of the Queen, their true spawn-master was the minds of the Mortals. Though this would confuse the lesser minds of many mortals, We are aware that this is the natural state of the Progeny, and their dual states are a sign of their purity.

And though we may never reach the Purity of the Progeny, we can hope that with our Pilgrimage, we may reach a Closeness that the Lesser Mortals know not. And if they were to choose us as mates, then perhaps…

The rest of the book’s pages are scribbled over, to the point of illegibility…