Entry 81: Trouble at the Briar Ring

by Hayley Thomas

Dear diary,

After the ordeal at Sister Willow’s altar, exhaustion clung to us like a second skin. We slept late, the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that feels almost guilty. By the time we stirred, the morning was already leaning toward noon.

Over breakfast, relief warmed me more than the food. Anna and Lumeria were both alive, both whole—and, to my surprise, both managing to keep out of each other’s way. It was a fragile peace, but a peace nonetheless.

Alistan was the first to break it. He set down his cup with a decisive clink and said, “I’m heading into Keralon. The knights of the Long Table have been clashing with the Briar Ring since we left for the Feywild, and I mean to know why.”

Luke frowned but didn’t argue. “Then I’ll speak with my own order. If there’s truth to this, the Briar Ring deserves to give their side.” His tone carried more steel than usual, though I could tell the words stung him.

By evening, they both returned with tidings that knotted my stomach.

According to the Long Table, the Briar Ring had been buying property along the city walls—territory long held by the lower houses. Worse, they’d uncovered evidence of rituals performed within those buildings. Rituals that, if the knights were to be believed, aligned with the surge of wild growth choking the streets and the plague of rats infesting every shadow.

The Briar Ring hadn’t denied it. Not exactly. But they had twisted the truth into their own shape. Their claim: the rituals weren’t causing the chaos, but containing it. And when the Long Table had interfered, they’d disrupted the balance, causing the spells to falter.

Luke’s expression as he relayed this was tight, as though the words themselves tasted bitter. “They also said the warding stones near the Lorewood were removed under royal command,” he added. “Either because they’d failed, or—” His voice dipped. “—because they were fueling the Feywild instead of holding it back.”

I set down my fork, appetite gone. “And they expect us to believe they’re just following orders.” My voice was colder than I meant it to be, but the phrase scraped against me like rusted iron. “That excuse has been old since the first tyrant sharpened his crown.”

A silence fell around the table, thick and uneasy. None of us had to say it aloud: if the Briar Ring truly believed they were serving the king, then the trouble in Keralon was already far deeper than a feud between orders.

The Long Table had given us an address, their latest suspicion of where the Briar Ring was working their rituals. Once we regrouped, we set off through Keralon’s winding streets until the house rose before us—an old hall, shutters closed tight, ivy choking the stone.

I pressed a hand to the wall, whispered the words, and sent my magic seeping through the cracks. My sensor slid like smoke between the timbers, my sight bleeding into the dim interior.

Inside, druids circled in ritual, their voices low, hands weaving in unison. The floorboards had already burst, and through them rose the beginnings of a massive tree, its roots forcing their way into the very foundations. Not just growth. Summoning. I felt the truth of it gnawing at me—but I needed Luke’s eye to be sure.

Gael slipped away, his shadowed form searching for another way in. The rest of us lingered in the street, trying very hard not to look like intruders loitering at their enemy’s doorstep.

We failed.

Two guards strode toward us, eyes narrowing. Their attention fixed on Luke and Alistan. “You’re not permitted here,” one said flatly. “Not even you, wizard. Only those appointed by Sir Ruras may enter.”

The words struck like a slap. Luke’s jaw clenched, his voice cold. “I am of the Circle. You have no right to bar me.”

The guard did not flinch. “Orders are orders.”

Luke’s patience snapped. A ripple of power surged from his outstretched hand, and both guards crumpled as if their strings had been cut. He stepped past them toward the door, but one staggered upright again, reaching to seize him.

“Enough.” My hand lifted, and Fear unfurled like a shadowed wing. Their eyes went wide; they broke, stumbling back with strangled cries. I had chosen the gentler spell, but the message was clear.

That was when the true enemy revealed himself.

Sir Ruras appeared, his presence as sharp and merciless as the spell he loosed from afar. Inside the hall, the druids’ chanting rose to a fever pitch. The circle ignited, spilling green fire, and from its heart a shape coalesced—a shambling mound, all rot and tendrils, a creature born to crush and consume.

The lie was laid bare. These rituals weren’t containment. They were invitation. Amplification. The Feywild was not being held back—it was being fed into the bones of the city.

Luke summoned forth an earth elemental, stone and soil grinding into a towering protector. The battle crashed around us—magic, steel, roots, and earth colliding until at last the shambling mound collapsed into a heap of splintered rot.

Ruras cursed us, then fled into the twisting streets with his druids at his heels.

The hall fell quiet but for our breathing, ragged and strained. The circle still smoldered at the room’s center, its runes glowing faintly with alien light.

Luke crouched over it, his hand tracing the sigils, his face grim. “You were right,” he murmured. “It’s a channel. A bridge. They mean to drown this place in Feywild magic until it’s unrecognizable.”

The words settled heavy in my chest. What we had seen tonight was not just rebellion or ritual. It was invasion.

Alistan wasted no time. The moment the shambling mound fell, he was already sprinting back toward the Long Table to bear the news and demand aid. The rest of us remained behind, the ritual circle still smoldering faintly in the ruined hall.

Luke crouched at its edge, his fingers hovering over the glowing runes. “We could try to reverse it,” he said at last, his voice low, grim. “But it won’t be quick. And it won’t be easy. We’ll need help.”

I glanced toward the others, then nodded. “Anna. Lumeria. If anyone can bend this circle against itself, it’s them.”

I sent out Fiachna to summon them and before long the two stood with us in the fractured hall, their presence a tide of power unto itself. While we laid the groundwork for undoing the spell, the air prickled with tension. Each second felt stolen, each breath a countdown.

Then Alistan returned. His face said enough even before he spoke.

“The Long Table refuses,” he bit out. “Because the hall belongs to the Briar Ring, they claim they have no jurisdiction. Their hands are tied.”

Luke’s jaw tightened. “Tied—or unwilling?”

Alistan didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

I folded my arms, staring at the circle’s restless glow. “So our only hope is the king. And if the Long Table is already unwelcome at court, what chance do we stand?” The bitterness in my own voice startled me, but the truth burned too sharp to hide. “The king will not come to our aid. Not for this. Not for us.”

Alistan’s silence stretched, heavy. Then he cleared his throat. “I did bring… other news.”

The weight in his tone set my nerves on edge.

“There’s more than wild growth and rats creeping into the city. Goblins have been sighted. Roaming the streets at night, sowing chaos. And worse—” He paused, eyes darkening. “Klaus is gone.”

The name struck like ice.

“The dragon?” Luke asked, disbelief cracking his voice.

Alistan nodded once. “Vanished from the Long Table’s headquarters. No warning. No word. Simply gone.”

A chill crawled through me. The Feywild’s touch was spreading faster than we feared, and now even the ancient guardian of the Long Table had slipped away into shadow.

“I’d wager the Briar Ring’s hand in it,” I murmured, though doubt already gnawed at the words. “But proof…”

The silence that followed was taut, uneasy. The circle glowed between us, its light pulsing like a heartbeat. A reminder: while we argued, the Feywild grew stronger.

We hadn’t even finished laying down the counter-ritual when the air outside the hall shifted. Sir Silias had arrived.

The leader of the Briar Ring cut a commanding figure, flanked by guards in green-and-bronze livery and a looming shield guardian whose footsteps shook the stones. His presence carried the weight of authority, and with it, the sour tang of danger.
Luke and Alistan went out to meet him. My brother spun his tale with practiced ease, explaining how we had stumbled upon a corrupted ritual and had just barely saved the city by setting it right again. His words gleamed with conviction, every sentence polished smooth as glass.

But Sir Silias was no fool. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, lingered on the half-finished circle. “You’ve trespassed,” he said flatly, voice cutting through the hall like steel on stone. “Leave this place at once. The affairs of the Briar Ring are no concern of yours.”

The way he spoke left little doubt: his intentions were not noble. He would wield the Feywild’s power, not resist it.

We didn’t have time to finish what we had begun. And leaving the circle intact was unthinkable. So with grim resolve, we destroyed it instead—carving through its runes, scattering its lines, breaking the fragile web that connected this world to the next. Not a victory, not truly. But a delay. And sometimes, a delay is enough.

We left the hall and made our way back through Keralon’s winding streets. The city was changing—walls bowed under vines, cobbles cracked beneath sprouting roots, doorways framed by blossoms that had never belonged to this soil. It was like walking through a dream that kept shifting toward nightmare.

Irma’s Wish stood where it always had, Feyris’ tavern warm with lamplight. Yet even here, the Feywild had claimed its mark. A tree—broad and tall—rose in the middle of the common room, its branches brushing the rafters, lanterns strung between them like festival lights. Feyris greeted us as though nothing were amiss, laughter rolling easily from his chest.

“It hasn’t done any harm,” he said with a shrug when we pointed to the tree. “Brings in more customers, actually. Folk like the novelty. Only trouble are the pixies now and again—but they drink less than they steal, so it balances out.”

Yet as we spoke, I noticed his eyes flicking toward Luke, his expression tightening. A look of disgust ghosted over his face more than once. Finally, I asked about it.

Feyris flushed, apologetic. “It’s… the smell. You reek of something—acidic.”

Luke frowned, then, with a kind of stubborn pride, drew out the Heart of Acid to show him.

The reaction was immediate. Feyris doubled over, retching, the sharp tang in the air enough to turn my own stomach. When he straightened again, pale and shaken, he muttered, “I can smell them. The elements. They… cling to you.”

Before I could press him, the door banged open. A boy darted inside, breathless, calling for Feyris. “My father—he needs help!”

Feyris wiped his mouth, composed himself, and gave us a quick bow. “Forgive me. I must go.”

“I’ll come with you,” I offered at once.

But to my surprise, he shook his head. “No. This is not your burden.” His tone was polite but firm, leaving no room for argument. Then he was gone, vanishing into the street after the boy, leaving us with the tree’s leaves rustling in the lamplight.

When Feyris returned, Alistan coaxed the truth from him with his usual patience. What spilled out was stranger—and more troubling—than any of us had guessed.

“Ever since the Feywild’s roots began tightening around Keralon,” Feyris admitted, “I’ve changed. I can… smell things. Not scents as you’d know them. The elements. Fire, acid, storm. They cling to people like perfumes.” He gave Luke a pointed look, though his tone was softer now, almost apologetic.

He went on, flexing his fingers as if the very memory itched against his skin. “If I touch plants, they grow. If I touch wounds, they close. Neighbors come to me in secret, and I… help them.” His voice wavered on the last words, carrying both pride and unease.

But what unsettled me most was his dream. He described it simply: a tree, standing in darkness. He reached out, touched it, and it changed beneath his hand—branches folding, bark reshaping—until what remained was a staff, glowing faintly as though alive. And every time, he woke before he could lift it.

The image clung to me, more vivid than a dream had any right to be. What tie did Feyris share with the Feywild? Was he chosen? Or merely caught in its tide?

Outside, night draped its cloak across the city, the streets humming with unseen magic. None of us had the strength to chase answers further. Instead, we let the evening soften into the comfort of old habits—sharing food and stories at Irma’s Wish as we once had, long before shrines and portals and rising wars.

But even as laughter flickered around the table, I felt the weight of Feyris’ words lingering like an echo. Change was coming. And it was already here.

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Entry one: The trials

Entry two: The bramble

Entry 3: Rosebloom

Entry 4: Hearts and Dreams

Entry 5: of ghosts and wolves

Entry 6: Hillfield and Deals with Fae

Entry 7: mysteries and pastries

Entry 8: The scarecrow ruse
6th of Lug, 121 Year of the Tree

Entry 9: A betrayal of satyrs
7th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 10: The fate of twins
8th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 11: Cursed twins
10th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 12: Loss and despair
11th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Hayley's rules to being a Witch

Entry 13: the price of safety
12th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 14: A golden cage and fiery tower
13th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 15: A trial by fire
14th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 16: Keralon
15th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Letter to Luke 1

Letter to Luke 2

Letter to Luke 3

Letter to Luke 4

Letter to Luke 5

Letter to Luke 6

Entry 17: I shall wear midnight
1st of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 18: peace in our time
2nd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 19: Caern Fussil falls
3rd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 20: I see fire
4th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 21: Cultists twarted
10th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 22: Ravensfield
14th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 23: The Hollow Hill Horror
15th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 24: Burn your village
16th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 25: Ravensfield burns
17th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 26: There will be blood!
21st of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 27: A happy reunion
22nd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 28: The embassy ball
23rd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 29: The fate of Robert Talespinner
24th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 30: A royal summons
28th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 31: of Dogville and Geese
29th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 32: A boggle named Pim
30th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 33: A deal broken
1st of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 34: The cost of doing what is right
2nd of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 35: A dish best served cold
9th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

entry 36: Cornu returns?
10th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 37: A letter from Amarra
11th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 38: The case of the (not) missing villagers
14th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 39: A curse broken
15th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 40: Into the Lorewood
18th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 41: Cabin in the Woods
19th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 42: Myrdin and Anaya
20th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 43: Into the Immerglade
21st of Aran, 127 Era of the Tree

Entry 44: A tale as old as time
22nd of Aran, 127 Era of the Tree

Entry 45: The truth
23rd of Aran, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 46: Luke's Ordeal
24th of Aran, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 47: The festival
26th of Aran, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 48: Trouble at the Cathedral
2nd of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 49: Quinn's court
4th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 50: onwards to Latebra Velora
5th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 51: Where is my cow?
6th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 52: Here be dragons
7th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 53: Dragon hoard with a side of scarabs
8th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 54: Leave the basilisks alone
9th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 55: Return to Ravensfield
10th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 56: The needs of the many...
11th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 57: Dreams of Sister Willow
12th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 58: wetlands be wet
13th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 59: Baron Perenolde
14th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 60: Talebra Velora and the lady Morenthene
15th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 61: Cypria
16th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 62: Dragon takes Knight
17th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 63: Return to Talebra Velora
18th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 64: Your presence is “requested”
19th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 65: I stand alone
20th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 66: A day of normalcy
21th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 67: Into the Neverhold
22nd of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 68: The Warg King

Entry 69: Chased by birds

Entry 70: Whitewail

Entry 71: Nimmerhold

Entry 72: The menagerie
29th of Gobu, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 73: To the library!
30th of Gobu, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 74: The people's tournament
First of Mannan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 75: Nimmerhold party
First of Mannan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 76, The return home
Second of Mannan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 77: A week of peace
10th of Mannan

Entry 78: The tomb of the First King
11th of Mannon, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 79: I had a dream
12th of Mannon, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 80: The ritual for Sister Willow
14th of Mannon, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 81: Trouble at the Briar Ring
15th of Mannon, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 82: My day as a crocodile
21st of Mannon, 128 Era of the Tree

The return of the twins (Entry 83)
22nd of Mannon, 128 Era of the Tree

Earth and Sky (Entry 84)
26th of Mannon, 128 Era of the Tree

Wolf's Rest betrayed (entry 85)
30th of Mannon

The end of a chapter (entry 86)
first of Edon, 128 Era of the Tree

On the road (Entry 87)
second of Edon, 128 Era of the Tree

The Red Knight (Entry 88)
7th of Edon, 128 Era of the Tree

Dear uncle… (Entry 89)
8th of Edon, 128 Era of the Tree

Cut the bridge (Entry 90)
10th of Edon, 128 Era of the Tree

Home (Entry 91)
13th of Edon, 128 Era of the Tree

A tale of two shadows (Entry 92)
16th of Edon, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 81: Trouble at the Briar Ring

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