The world is small up here. Far into the distance over the cascading ridges carved by dense rains over a millennia, the sprawling valley opens in the distance. On the best days, it he visage of a miniature wall hundreds of miles north dots the horizon, blocking the view of the northbound the curve of the world.

You are small up here. We all are. Turning south you stand below the Last Spire. Ominous and bulbous, like an eye stalk of some deep monstrosity looking to scorch the earth from hundreds of feet above. 

You are defense up here. The Mouth is the result of the collapse of the cavernous roof that would later be honed into Ettlemont. A fissure in the earth found on a perfectly smooth table top of land that sits below the Last Spire, but still at the highest point of what is deemed the natural mountain range. Here the guard stalks and waits. Vision in all directions, and solace knowing that anything that would make its way up the mad scramble necessary to get here from the outside would be either too large or require too much power to do quietly. Guard shifts trapse about the cut out keeping eyes both inside and out. Able to rain arrows down on attackers that enter Ettlemond and call out large masses hustling through the pathways and ravines of the mountains.

The scorched orange earth, clay hardened against the all too close sun, stretches down around the top of the mountain before giving way to far more dense and dark stones.

It’s always the colder months spent here in England that make me particularly miss the sweet caress of the Italian sun. Watching flecks of gold and auburn dance upon a bed of sapphire crystals. Surrounded by an enclosure of mountains that look almost too picturesque to really be there. As though they are mere paintings, carefully placed to enhance the beautiful illusion.

There are many things I miss about that place. I miss its unrefined, yet captivating beauty. I miss the romantically historic charm of cobbled streets. I miss the scent of pine and fresh rosemary wafting through the tepid air. But most of all, I miss the break of dawn. Crisp air and dew soaked gardens bring forth the fluorescence of a green spectrum that is later consumed, when the mighty sun reaches its pique and bestows its amber hues across the horizon on those scorching summer days.

Those fleeting moments of coolness, when the morning air offers kisses of soothing sentiments, are the perfect accompaniment to a freshly brewed pot of earl grey tea and an array of delicate pastries and sweet, hand picked peaches. The aromas of bergamot and fresh lemon complimenting the al fresco breakfast setting overlooking the blue - but far from solemn looking - waters that stretch to the edges of the mountain fences. Those blue swatches that look as though they are inviting you to come and bathe the day away, making you feel as careless, calm and as free as the waves themselves.

The outdoor setting for this story is a lush, green forest that stretches outwards for miles on end. The forest is a place of magic, where the intertwining canopies of tall trees form a protective shield around the earth below. The canopy is dense and towering, and from above, it presents a mosaic of light and shadow that illuminates the forest floor below.

A gentle breeze wafts through the trees, rustling the leaves and creating a gentle susurrus that echoes through the forest. The trees themselves are huge, their gnarled roots seemingly unbreakable as they grip the earth beneath them.

As you venture further into the forest, the air changes from sweet smelling to earthy as the foliage becomes increasingly dense. Beams of sunlight stream down through the canopy, illuminating the forest floor with patches of light that dance and shimmer like diamonds.

The animals that call this forest home are few, but each radiates a sense of wonder and power. Deer, rabbits, foxes, and other creatures dart between the trees, their footfalls inaudible amidst the lush underbrush. A chorus of birds sings a song of life and harmony, their melodious chirping adding to the symphony of the forest. Every once in a while, the call of a lone wolf can be heard echoing through the trees, a symbol of the power and wildness that lies just beyond the edge of human understanding.

As the sun sets on this magical forest, the sky becomes a vibrant riot of colors. Shades of pink, orange and reds blend together in a breathtaking display. The last cascading rays of the sun create a dazzling display like fireflies caught in mid-air. Together, they connect the land above and below into a breathtakingly mesmerizing environment. As the light fades, the forest takes on a new dimension of beauty in the silvery light of the moon. The howl of the wolf becomes more enchanting and profound under the night sky, underscoring the depth of the forest's mysteries.

The forest is a utopia, a place where the underworld meets the upper-world, wilderness meets civilization. It is a place of unspeakable beauty and power, a realm where magic and nature are interwoven inextricably. The forest is a reminder of the divinity of nature, an ever-changing masterpiece that offers fleeting glimpses of the intricate dance of life.

Howard stood and looked in open mouthed amazement at the scene before him. The warm sun cast a golden glow over the rolling hills and fields that stretched out before him, painting the landscape in hues of green and gold. The air was heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and wildflowers, while the sound of birds chirping and bees buzzing filled his ears. He was standing in the midst of an outdoor scene that seemed to have been plucked straight from a painting. In the distance, he could see a small farmhouse with a pan-tile roof and white walls, surrounded by a small garden of vibrant blooms. A path of well-worn cobblestones leading from the farmhouse to a nearby pasture, where a herd of cows grazed lazily on the lush green grass. The sound of their contented lowing filled the air.

He took a deep breath, savouring the fresh country air, and followed the path to a nearby grove of trees. As he walked, the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot is all that broke the silence. The trees, tall and broad, provided a welcome respite from the sun's warm rays. In the centre of the grove, he came across a small clearing where a babbling brook ran through, the water sparkling in the sunlight. A wooden bench was beside the stream, and he took a moment to rest and admire the beauty of the scene around him. As he sat he let the cool, clear water flow over his toes. Howard revelled in the peace and tranquility of the moment.

Howard looked up and noticed a small flock of sheep grazing in the meadow just beyond the trees. Their white wool stood out against the green grass, and their soft bleating carried on the gentle breeze. He couldn’t help but smile at the simple, rustic charm of the scene before him.

The sun began to dip towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the grassy fields. Howard took one last deep breath, taking in the scent of wildflowers and the soft sound of the stream, before reluctantly rising from the bench and making his way back down the path towards the farmhouse. As he walked, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over him. This welcome moment in the outdoors had filled him with a sense of awe and reverence for the natural world, and he felt grateful for the opportunity to witness its beauty firsthand. At which moment Charles Pendle stepped out from behind a bush armed with a large sword and looking distinctly unfriendly.

Time square!! Unique It has so many places around d it such as, food, movies, parks!

“Aunt Mattie, could I go out and explore around the house?” Brady had been at Mattie’s for several days now, and he was getting cabin fever. Even his books were not enough to keep his interest when he looked outside at the beautiful forest that was only a few steps away from this cottage. He was itching to go have a look.

“Why sure, Brady. Gosh, I should have mentioned it to you before this. It’s wonderful back in those trees; they’re old growth, been there for decades and decades. Come here to the window.” Brady walked over to where his aunt was standing by the big window over the sink in the kitchen. “You see where I’m pointing? Over by that big pine and the oak next to it?” Brady nodded. “You can’t see it good from here, but there’s a trail that leads into the forest. It’s where I go when I need a dose of real nature. You go on and explore. When you’re hungry, come home.”

“That’s all?”

“Yup. Dinner can wait until you’re back. Just don’t go to far off of the path while you’re on your own. I’ll go with you one of these days soon, and we’ll explore other parts, but I have some work to do today. You go on your own and enjoy it.”

Brady grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door and headed out the back door and across the field to where his aunt had pointed to the trail. It was a gorgeous day, cold but sunny, and Brady took long strides as he walked next to his aunt’s garden and onto the trail. It was well worn and Brady figured his aunt loved wood walking as much as he did. He set off down the path, taking in the tall trees and undergrowth that sprouted all along the path. His aunt was right; these were very old hardwoods stretching up into the sky. Brady had read a book about trees that somebody had left in one of the motels he’d lived in, and he had been fascinated by the research the author had done about the interconnectedness of trees. Brady saw them as real living things that were able to clean the atmosphere of the planet.

As he moved deeper into the woods, he spotted a lot of mushrooms, and made a plan in his head to check out a book on fungi from the library so he could figure out which of them were edible. Of course, his aunt might know, too. She seemed really smart about stuff and had an amazing garden of vegetables and herbs. There were also a lot of varieties of ferns and wildflowers in patches everywhere, and when he walked quietly he could hear the rustle of small creatures.

Brady, who mostly had only read about forests and trees and such, was fascinated. There was so much to learn about all around him. His life had been spent on highways and seedy hotels or sleeping in the van, and this was so new to him. He found a fallen log and sat down on it, looking around him and taking mental notes about what he wanted to learn about. His mind was always seeking out knowledge; he know how weird that was for a kid of only twelve, but it’s somehow the way he just was. He sat for ages, just thinking, and suddenly he was aware that he was cold, his rear end was wet from the moisture of the log, and the sun was setting fast in these short days of fall. He stood up, looked around, and set off on a run back to the house knowing his aunt would already have something hot for him to drink. She was just like that.

He had landed in a good place, he thought, a really good place.

The prison yard didn’t look the same as it used to. Once, it was an isolated place, fenced in and heavily guarded. It was still fenced in, of course, but the guards were no more. They were either dead or long gone, but dead was the more likely option. Jose felt pity for them, as many times as he’d hated them.

The weights were still there, haphazardly pressed against the gates. This area had been undisturbed by the chaos during the first few days. One of the benches was turned over on its side. Jose went over to it and righted it.

“Can’t believe I was here with Evan two weeks ago.”

It was always sunny on Enceladus. The ocean of ice and its glittering ring gave the moon’s surface a luminosity every when it was not facing the sun. The domes of Alpha projected a false blue sky, a curated stream of puffy clouds, night and day cycles to suit the circadian rhythms of the humans. Myrtle preferred the light from the moon’s surface. With a steaming cup of black coffee, Myrtle went out to her porch. She needed to think. Hatchett, her ex husband, her current head of detectives, her future?, was in sleep mode starfished in her bed. Their son was fast asleep too. Myrtle opened her front door to pick through her thoughts while watching the eternal glow of her Enceladus shining through the holographic dawn. The brilliant light surged in. Piercing her front door was a laser pitch axe. Myrtle dropped her cup. The white porcelain shattered. Hatchett ran to her side before the coffee had a chance to drip across. She rested her hand on his gray chest. Myrtle nodded to the door. “A Rutherford Laser Fork GA49, the type used at the Lightbearer Mines. How would this even get into Alpha Colony?The Forty-Niners are banned. Why did your security system not alert us? Why didn’t I hear—“ Myrtle pressed her fingers to his lips. She put her hands on hips. “First this is a message we need to understand.” “And second…” “ You need pants, partner.”

The Children of the Stars are not in the habit of naming places. Names are for people who want them, and though the Children can hear the voices of trees and rocks and earth, no place has ever told them that it wanted a name. So the forest is the forest, or the forest is home. It is thick trees spread across northern Besh, between the mountains and the rest of the continent. Even when the leaves are sparse in winter, it is difficult to see your way through the branches and trunks, which have been free to grow forever, creating a canopy like a ceiling that lets through thin patterns of sunlight. The air is full of birdsong, the chatter of squirrels, and the low snuffling of owlbears. You’ll find creeks full of fish and caves that ogres call their home. Deep in the forest, there’s a place where the trees and shrubs stand even thicker, close enough together to be a wall of foliage. It will open if a Child of the Stars asks it to. Kept safely inside are the little houses of Shiri’s village, simple and natural structures oriented around a fire pit that glows with white starlight.

The small castle’s light-gray walls and their conic brown rooves contrasted with the luxuriant green of the trees and bushes around it. The whole place itself was surrounded by towering mountains of snow-white peaks. Despite being Spring in the Kingdom of Helvetia, the highest mountains would never really lose their snowy hats. The sun shining on the immaculate blankets could hurt the eyes of a common mortal. Only a werewolf would never look at this peace-inspiring landscape during the day. But Luvinus didn’t need to see it during the day to feel the harmony exuding from each leaf, each branch, each flower. He had not been in peace for a very long time, in fact maybe ever since he had been transformed. Inhaling such clean air filled him with joy, especially after spending so long in the warlike Kingdom of Francia.

That was Le Chateau de Gruyères, home of the Skollian Alpha, Nicolaus. Luvinus had not met him yet but from all that harmony, he didn’t take long to realise he’d be before a completely different lineage to his own, the Hatians, who thirsted for nothing but blood and violence. It was a simple castle, reflective perhaps of the little this new lineage worried about riches or worldly luxuries.