Book 1: The Viridian Dream

The sound of footsteps moving through leaves and underbrush felt far too loud, like the uncomfortable whispers of gossipers upon entering the room. Each crack of a twig was an accusation, and each rustle of grass comparable to judgmental eyes from corners of the forest.

Archmagus Avelore Amantius had seen a great many things in his one hundred and eighty seven years of life, and he could confidently say he was done with all of it. Every damn species had problems, and those problems had snowballed into bigger problems, and now the problems wouldn’t leave him alone.

The western border of Bascor had been a battlefront for longer than Nova’s eighteen years alive. The towns that once lined this edge of the country were now either military outposts or abandoned ruins, and nothing in between.

Every night, Rowan Spicer had the same dream. He stood in swirling darkness, like thick, black smoke that obscured his vision. Vague, distant shapes broke through the undulating void, hinting at a world beyond what he could see. Despite that, he couldn’t escape the darkness around him.

Ladisdale was nothing impressive, in Rowan’s opinion, but he admittedly only knew of ‘impressive’ through old books that he read in the local library. ‘Impressive’ was the capital city of Orbcrest, spilling over one of the tallest hills of the region with its numerous spires and sprawling colonnades.

“Rowan, up here. I see some reeds.” At the sound of his grandfather’s voice, Rowan looked up from where he was crouched by a rotting stump, inspecting the bits of lichen and fungus growing on it. Or rather, half-inspecting, half lost in thought.

Rowan didn’t stop until they were some distance away from the square, on one of the quieter streets that had mostly abandoned homes. The buildings belonged primarily to people who hadn’t survived the food shortages of the Great Wither or to soldiers who died at war.

Nova the Tempest was confused. Until now, the human settlements she visited in this southern Bascor had not given her anything meaningful. They all held the same stale Viridian magic, active by technicality, but barely moving, and with no indicator of a source. No one had explanations as to why the hills were more alive…

The moment the sirens rang in the distance, Sorrel felt like she had just fallen deep into an icy river. She looked up from her mortar and pestle, staring at the wall that blocked her vision of the road leading into town, her face contorting into one of horror. 

The rest of the day, Rowan barely talked to his family, staying largely out of the house. He didn’t want to talk to them, not yet. Everything felt too raw, too painful, and too confusing. He wasn’t cursed.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?”  Rowan’s voice broke through the quiet of the morning as he rounded the bend that put his house out of view. The only sounds were the distant running of water from the brook, the soft clinks of the potions he carried, and the occasional groans of withered trees in the…

“Lovers’ quarrel?” Rowan yelped at Cengor’s voice, whirling around to see him standing in the doorway of his office, arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. Rowan stared at him, heart pounding from being spooked. Cengor’s words caught up to him a moment later, and he felt his face burn. “W-what?!”

Sometimes when Sorrel found herself on the road going into town, she would stop and stare at the world as it was and remember how it used to be. These were the hills where she grew up. Grasses used to sprawl across their crowns, with carpets of heather and clusters of shrubs.

Nova set her jaw as she twisted, her sword a whistling blade of wind as she cut through a lunging corpse. Black blood splattered in an arc as the two halves came apart, falling to the ground. She turned, walking away as frost sprawled out from her feet, covering the area and coating the thrashing…

“And of course, it snowed! I swear the weather hates old men like me!” Grandpa Zebb complained as he stared out the open front door, glaring at the thin layer of white dusting the ground. A moment later, he shut the door, scowling. “No wonder my knee’s been killing me!”

It wasn’t until they reached the edge of Ladisdale’s farmlands that Rowan’s feet touched the ground again. Nova came to a stop, surveyed their surroundings, and then carefully let him down. They were just outside of the view of any farmers, using the hilly terrain to their advantage as they stayed out of sight.

“You can’t go out there, did you not see the undead?!” Sorrel bit back a scream of frustration as she pulled against the acolytes holding her back. She had been in the Athenaeum’s lecture hall when the explosion went off, so loud it nearly made her drop the vial she was holding.

Sorrel stared up at the tree that held her son prisoner, clutching her wounded arm against her chest. Major Baldry stood beside her, concern etched onto his features. The roots closest to the tree had slowed to a crawl, no longer the danger they were earlier. Sorrel hoped that meant things were almost over, but she…

They moved carefully down the ruined roads of Ladisdale, slowed down by the presence of overgrowth and debris. Silas led the way, followed by Rowan’s mother, then Nova carrying Rowan.  Rowan watched as Silas cleared away saplings and bushes with his sword, each swing flashing in golden light and leaving behind a faint whiff of…

Surprisingly, Giselle did not attack the moment Nova passed through her fog. Instead, she tossed away the body leaning against her, now dried out and mummified like the human who had betrayed Rowan. Nova’s eyes fell to the yellowish clothes, recognizing them as belonging to the woman they helped out of the building.

“Papa!” Rowan jerked at his mother’s voice, opening his eyes to find himself staring at the mostly familiar sight of his house. Moss now crawled up the stone foundation and little shoots of green stuck up in the empty garden that hugged the steps.

The Viridian Dream returned one last time. He stood in the swirling darkness, hearing the hushed whispers heckle him from all directions. They told him they would come for him again, that he would never know peace. They would find him, and they would drown him.