Sun 24th Aug 2025 04:07

Session 1 - Day 2 - Morning, Misty, Tomb Threshold

by Elysiaera Calistrae

The dawn was soft today—mist curling through the trees like breath, the sky pale and patient. I woke with the scent of moss in my nose and a chill on my cheeks. Breakfast was simple: an apple, a wedge of cheddar, and silence. I think I needed the quiet.
 
The door waited, unmoved by time or weather. Its runes shimmered faintly in the morning light—symbols I half-recognized from Branna Wren’s old texts, or maybe one of Elder Maelin’s chapel tomes. Neglect. Nature. That’s what they whispered.
 
I sat with that for a while. Neglect nature… and you get rot.
 
So I walked the hills, gathering what the forest had forgotten: brittle leaves, worm-eaten bark, damp twigs soft with decay. I pressed them together, shaping the rot into a crude sphere—ugly, honest. It fit the alcove like it had been waiting.
 
The door groaned, then sank into the earth with a sound like thunder muffled by centuries. Behind it, a stairway descended into shadow.
 
I lit Emberlash in my palm. The flame danced, eager. My rapier felt steady at my side.
 
I’m going in.
—E