Wisdom in Shadow, Chapter 15

Preface: Greetings, all! This is the fifteenth and last chapter of the tale that began with “Wisdom in Shadow – Chapter 1,” comes immediately after “Wisdom in Shadow, Chapter 14,”and is the third story is a series that began with “What You Don’t Know,” also located on this site, although it features a mostly-different cast of characters.

As always, my standard disclaimer: The monster girls featured in this tale, and many elements of the setting, are based off of the works of Kenkou Cross, and as such this work is intended to be a tribute to his creativity. The characters, however, are my own. Pray neither sue nor steal; I have very little to take, but I love that which is mine.

Wisdom in Shadow

Chapter 15 – Regenesis

     When Simon opened his eyes, he was somewhere else.

     The heavens above were considerably brighter than they had been in Videre, and for a moment this made Simon feel dizzy, as though he had just lost hours of time.  He didn’t spend much time considering this, however, as the sound of construction drew his gaze.  From his immediate glance at his surroundings, he – and all of his friends, including the Kramers and the armor-clad John and Ceann, with George slung over her shoulder– stood at the front door of a tall stone tower at the top of a small hill.  Spread out below them was a confusing mixture of flamescarred ruins and new construction.  All around, people were moving: clearing brush, disassembling moss-covered stonework, hammering nails into new building frames, carrying lumber back and forth.  Carts rumbled roughly past, tearing up the grass that had been growing on the roads, battling back nature’s process of reclamation.  Squatting among the ruins and the building frames were dozens and dozens of tents, temporary homes that spoke more of refugees than native inhabitants, but the voices that Simon could hear told him that these people were more hopeful than defeated, more excited than fearful.

     The ‘people’ spread throughout the town-under-construction were certainly a more diverse group than Simon was accustomed to.  Women with the lower bodies of horses pulled carts laden with lumber.  A hulking green woman carried a sack of stones over one broad shoulder effortlessly.  Ladies with vibrantly-plumed wings called instructions down to men who were digging the foundations of new buildings.  Half-sized girls with short horns and brilliantly-colored hair distributed lunch boxes to the workers, human and monster alike, who greeted them with wide smiles and teasing remarks.  Everywhere Simon looked, he saw humans and monsters working in unity, and that brought a grin to his face.        

     “We’re home.” John Foster looked over the hubbub with obvious pride before turning to Simon and the others. “Welcome to New Haven.”

     “I’ve never heard of this place,” Simon admitted, and behind him Charles Kramer rumbled his own agreement.  He glanced around for any sort of familiar landmark, but the terrain was entirely new to him.  Judging from the sun’s position, to the west loomed imposing mountains, including a white-capped few that towered over their peers.  The nascent township was being built alongside a wide, slow-moving river, and across that venerable stream Simon could see a floodplain that had likely once been fertile farmland, and perhaps would take up that profession once more during the next planting season.  Beyond that expanse stood a thick wall of forests, and even further rose rolling hills covered in trees – and above that all was a golden shimmer in the sky, a pale yellow radiance like electric fog. “I-is that…?”

     “The Great Veil,” John supplied, staring up at the gleaming barrier in the heavens with a smile more tinged with bitterness than Simon’s wide-mouthed gape. “Paul’s last gift to humanity.”

     As Simon stared up at that spectacle with nigh-religious amazement, the other members of the party were focused on other things.  In particular, Gina’s face turned up as she sniffed the air, and she swiveled in place to look down at the milling crowds on the paths below.  Even among that varied throng, the woman dressed in attire from the Far East stood out, but Gina’s interest was less on the kunoichi than on the person she was accompanying: a girl a few years younger than Gina, with blue hair streaked with blond, even on the lupine ears jutting skyward. The girl’s limbs ended in blue-furred paws that stood out against the peach-colored dress she wore, a frilly gown worthy of a noblewoman.  Gina started as her eyes locked on that girl, and the kobold darted down the hill towards her with unrestrained eagerness. “Lyra!” she howled as she ran.

     Simon whirled towards Gina, his jaw dropped for a whole new reason, and beside him Sarah smirked at his shock.  He watched as Gina embraced the girl, mindless of the woman standing beside her with blades at the ready.  The kobold and the werewolf were slow to let go of each other, murmuring into each other’s ears as Gina picked up Lyra and whirled her around in a hug, both of them wearing smiles that excused the tears trickling down their cheeks.

     “She can talk?” Simon asked, his voice cracking.

     “Of course she can talk,” Sarah replied sardonically. “You didn’t know?”

     “I mean- I thought she could, but…” Simon’s bemused stammering only pleased the lich more. “Wait, is it because she didn’t trust me at first, or does she just not speak often? Why-?”

     Sarah’s attention was diverted elsewhere as she watched John take the unconscious form of George from his partner, staggering under the younger man’s weight as he fought to keep the nerveless body from falling to the ground. “I’ll see our friend here to the… guest room downstairs,” he explained to Ceann, giving her a long glance. “He’ll be safe there until he comes around.” His eyes flicked to Simon, who was still watching Gina and Lyra down below. “I’m sure we’ll have a long talk later to figure out what we need to do with him.”

     John glanced to the side at the Kramers as he started to carry George into the tower. “Oh, and you are welcome to stay here, as well.  I believe Simon said you were an innkeeper?”

     Charles nodded, but his hand brushed against his bald pate in embarrassment. “Aye, though I can’t say I’m much of one without an inn, and I don’t see us returning to Videre any time soon.” Beside him, his daughter squeezed his arm in sympathy.

     “Well, you may be in luck,” John reassured them, motioning to the crowds below with a sweep of his free arm. “All these people are also running from the Orders, and while the town they came from had a few inns, most of the people who ran them took their luck to the west instead.  We’ve already started construction on a large inn of our own – we’re hosting a lot of craftswomen from further east to help build the town, and we need a place for them to stay – but we don’t have anyone experienced in running one.  If you’re interested, we can work out a deal on how to divvy out the profits later, at least until you’ve paid off the construction and land.”

     Charles stared at the other man with wide eyes. “I… I can’t impose on you like that-”

     “You’d be doing us a favor, honestly.  And you’ll have your hands full with your guests, I’m sure.” Staggering a bit under George’s weight, John nodded again to the overwhelmed innkeeper. “We’ll work out the details later, but we would be glad to have you both.” With that, Charles and Mary shared hopeful glances as John watched with a rare genuine smile, before lugging George into the tower, the monster hunter’s boots dragging against the ground.

     The other members of the group were distracted by Gina’s return as she guided the werewolf up towards the tower, the kunoichi trailing dutifully behind.  She wore a brilliant smile as she looked towards Simon, and she pointed him out as she came. “This is Simon!  He’s our husband!”

     Simon’s eyes opened wide, but he grinned despite the surprise. “’Husband?’”

     Sarah’s jaw dropped as she realized Gina had also been pointing to her, and her cheeks darkened. “’Our?’” She subtly glanced over to Simon, but he caught the movement, and looked to her with a broad grin that, despite herself, she returned.

     Simon stepped forward to introduce himself to Lyra, and Sarah joined him.  Before their conversation could begin in earnest, however, they were interrupted by the last member of their party, who looked from the kunoichi to the werewolf with widening eyes and paling cheeks. “Forgive me,” Ceann interjected, “but the last I had heard, you were still staying in the east at the manor.  When did you arrive in New Haven?  And…” The teal-haired woman choked slightly on the next words. “Did you come alone?”

     Lyra Wulfe smiled brightly at the statuesque woman. “I just arrived an hour or two ago, actually.  That is why I wanted to see the town for myself before we settled into our rooms in the tower, and Kama here agreed to go with me.  I hope you don’t mind us moving into the tower; Mistress Mephis said that we would be staying there for a while.”

     “Shit!” All the others stared in shock at the blunt profanity from the typically-graceful knight.  Ceann had gone utterly white-faced, and she whirled and sprinted for the door to the tower.  Even as the door slammed open, the watching group could hear her shouting into the depths of the tower. “John!”

     Confused, the group exchanged curious glances, but none of them had any answer for her mysterious behavior.  That curiosity quickly fell away as they returned to their earlier discussion, Lyra getting bombarded with the story of their arrival in bits and pieces from Gina and Sarah, with Simon offering a few details here and there.  Lyra also turned to Mary and Charles with glee, hugging Mary enthusiastically, and the bespectacled innkeep’s daughter embraced her just as eagerly.  Everyone had their own story to tell, and they all tried to do it simultaneously, laughing and listening with wide smiles and open hearts, relief and joy radiating from each of them.

     Simon stood in the bright light of day with his arm over the shoulders of the two girls that had changed – saved – his life, smiling in contentment as he looked over a place that just might, if he was lucky, be the home he had always wanted.  Whether or not they stayed in New Haven, however, Simon knew he had finally found what he had been searching for: a reason to face the next day, and every one after it, with hope and excitement.  With his friends, with Gina and Sarah, he would be fine wherever life took him from there.  His arm tightened around both girls, and they pressed against him with shared smiles.

     Simon looked one more time to the Great Veil in the heavens, and a deep sense of peace settled over him.  There had been many sacrifices to reach this point, and the future would have its own battles, but for now what mattered was the people around him.  He bowed his head in gratitude, to Paul and Athena and everything that had led him to this moment, and he faced the future with a smile on his face.




     John climbed the stairs of the old tower, yawning as he ascended.  He had just deposited the sleeping Purifier in the cells in the tower’s basement, where he could stay until they figured out what to do with him.  He regretted that the man hadn’t been left behind in Videre when they had all been sent here, but he wasn’t about to appear ungrateful, especially when the Fallen God had come decidedly close to crumpling him into a ball and throwing him away like refuse.  His body still ached from that, especially his left arm, which had not reacted well to her presence, but a nice rest would see to that soreness.

    As he entered the next level of the tower, he noticed that Roger Miralis was sitting in his usual place at a nearby table, studying some of his texts on Demon Realm foliage and herbs.  At his side lounged the alchemist’s orc mate, who greeted him with a nod. “Welcome back, boss,” Priscilla offered, bringing the alchemist’s attention out of the tome that had engrossed him.

     “Oh, Mr. Foster!  Your guest is waiting for you in your chambers upstairs, though Ceann has already gone in there,” the dark-haired alchemist explained.

     John froze in place. “Guest?”

     Roger nodded guilelessly. “Yeah, the lady in the white dress-”

     “Oh gods.” John covered his face with a hand. “And you said Ceann went that way?”

     Roger barely had time to nod before John took off for the stairs leading towards his bedchamber without a word, taking the steps two and three at the time.  Roger watched him for just a moment before shrugging and turning back to his studies, Priscilla leaning against him contentedly, playing with his hair as he researched new plants for his concoctions.

     At the top of the stairs, John burst into his room.  He was instantly relieved to see that the two women in his chambers were at opposite ends of the room, though that wasn’t enough for him to lower his guard.  Ceann, in particular, stood stiffly near the door, her arms crossed before her chest.  Her sword was sheathed, but her eyes held edge enough to remedy that as she glared at the other woman in the room, her teeth grinding behind lips set in a tight line.

     The other woman sat calmly in a seat beside John’s bed, her hands folded demurely in her lap.  She was dressed entirely in white, not a single inch of skin bared to the room’s dim light.  Her face was covered behind a veil hanging from her wide-brimmed hat.  Her clothing was decadently embellished, with platinum buckles and fine embroidery and lace hanging from the sleeves, suggesting her to be a lady worthy of any noble court across the land.  Even her voice, as she turned to regard John, was refined and elegant, though far from lacking in passion: “Oh, John, my darling, it is so good to see you!” Gloved hands lifted to raise her veil as she stood from her seat. “It has been too long since you left the manor; I simply had to come see you and check on your progress.  Everyone has been missing you, the maids in particular.” Her voice was warm and thrilling as the veil was tucked back, revealing the pale skin it had hidden, the crimson lips, the blood-red eyes wide and hungry for his face.  Her face was soft only in comparison with the sharp angles of her sisters’ visages, though the white wings spreading from her lower back and the spade-tipped tail were just like theirs. “I was so disappointed that you were gone when I arrived, but fortune was with me after all!”

     John forced a smile onto his face as the lilim drew nearer to him. “Lady Mephistopheles, I’m glad to see you arrived safely.  Really, you didn’t have to come all this way-”

     “Oh, please!” She came even closer, resting one of her hands on his breastplate. “You know you can always call me Meffie, like you did when I was younger.  Please don’t be so formal, darling,” she implored, her red eyes seizing his, “And I wanted to come.  It has been nearly a year since that crazy old man took you and… her, and I have been anxious ever since!  I had to see for myself that you were safe, especially when you didn’t respond to my letters.”

     John hoped that, in his absence, she hadn’t gone through his chest of drawers; that was where he had hidden the unopened, perfume-drenched stack of her missives. “Listen, Mephis- Meffie, we’re fine.  Ceann and I have just been looking into the Orders for the past bit-”

     “Oh, I know that,” the white-winged succubus interrupted, glancing disdainfully over to the dullahan beside the door. “Your tin-clad pet has been much more diligent in sending reports of your activities, along with your requests for building materials.” She turned back to John, her smile reemerging like the sun peeking around stormclouds. “I must say, this town is quite the wonder!  We had discussed a project like this, but to see it actually realized is so exciting!  And the next ones will be even easier, since we won’t have to do so much building.  We’ll just have to take the towns back from the Orders.” As she said the last, she turned to the side and stepped over to a side table, which was covered in a stack of papers John didn’t recognize.

     The haughty confidence in her voice made John chuckle. “That should be easy enough, right?”

     Mephis turned back to him with a sharp smile of her own. “Actually, I have a few ideas regarding that right here.” She glanced between the other two, who were listening intently. “It seems that the Orders are up to something big in this region, and it is in our best interest to put an end to it.  Unfortunately, considering Kama’s reports on their numbers in this area, I doubt we three will be able to handle this on our own.” Her eyes danced with mischief as she held the papers out towards John. “But don’t worry, I have plans for that as well.”

     John grinned as he accepted the sheaths of paper from the lilim, Ceann stepping up to his side. “Well, then.  Let’s get to work, shall we?” He glanced at the writing on the cap at one end of the scroll: On the Nature of Incubi.    

     And so the trio put their heads together, plotting to change the whole world a little at a time.




     The battle was over now.  Even the dead had been buried, at least the humans, and those who had once been human.  Still, more than a day after the fighting had ended, the piercing odor of blood and charred flesh hung in the air, a choking miasma that warded off any who would draw near to the ground where men and women had fought and died.  This land would be slow to forget the carnage that had occurred there, even after grass began to grow on the dozens of graves dug in grim formation. 

     In the heavens above, the sky was beginning to show the first signs of daylight, the earliest creeping glow from the east.  It didn’t seem right that such brilliance would emerge from that direction, would rise from the mountains that shielded the lands of the Demon King from sight.  The armies of mankind had sought to cross those mountains, to take the fight to the monsters and their master, but all of their plans, all of their hopes, had been smashed in a single battle.  Now, the survivors milled about in a daze, gripped by fear and confusion, even as their leaders fought the same emotions in their hearts and tried to inspire their soldiers with empty words.

     Even the seven heroes that had led that battle were gripped by the same despair.  They had been the ones to muster the armies of the various nations in one great push towards the Demon King’s castle, hoping to end this eternal war in a single campaign.  If they had managed to force the monsters’ dark lord to emerge, then perhaps they could have challenged him, forced him to a final conflict that could have saved the world.

     He had indeed emerged, and with only a token force of defenders, but things had not gone as they had planned.  Instead, he had unleashed a new corrupt magic: a dark, vile mist that had spread among the human defenders, seeping into their ranks with startling swiftness.  Then the changes had begun, as the soldiers had all cried out in terror and anguish, their bodies shifting and warping into new forms.  In an instant, the glorious army of humanity had found itself outnumbered, as their fellow soldiers turned and mindlessly tore into their former allies, twisted into the shapes of monsters by the Demon King’s evil magic.

     Even the heroes themselves had nearly fallen.  They had been surrounded by their former comrades, barely managing to preserve their own lives, as the mists had billowed towards them.  If it hadn’t been for the strong winds conjured by one of them, the entire force would have been damned to serve the Demon King’s armies.  They had narrowly escaped, but not without a price, and each of the seven young men had worn the marks of that knowledge on their faces as they had staggered to their beds the night before this one, exhausted beyond comprehension.

     This night, however, slumber had been far more elusive for each of them.  After the burials, they all warred with their own doubts and fears, conscious of what this battle had cost them, and those pains had pursued them that evening into their fitful sleep.  Some dreamed about the faces of the men and women that had marched into battle with them, only to be twisted into hateful caricatures by the Demon King’s spell.  Other heroes dreamed of the plans they had made to end the war in one valorous charge, now vanquished by heartless reality and replaced by empty-minded uncertainty.

     Paul Bernard, however, did not dream, because he could not sleep at all.  He had spent the whole night lost in thought, in unanswered prayers and haunted meditation.  He had been too conscious of what would happen if he tried to sleep, knew too well how the talons of regret would find him the second he relaxed.  It was cowardice that kept him from his bed, he knew, but it had been pointless after all; his despair had chased him wherever he had gone, even here, to a hill overlooking the battleground far from the tents and smoldering campfires where those who could rest fought to keep their minds quiet.

     “Mind the company?”

     Paul started at the familiar voice, and he glanced over to see the young man standing nearby.  Even in the shadows of twilight, the silhouette was easily recognizable, with the floppy hat and zigzagging staff, so Paul nodded tersely to John Foster, who plopped down onto the ground a short distance away.  Even now that they weren’t alone, silence gripped the two young men for minutes that stretched long like the red streaks in the heavens above.  They both stared down at the shadowed battlefield below, still scarred and scorched, and the memories they found there left them too sore to speak.

     “We would have died without you, you know,” Paul murmured finally, glancing over at his comrade. “Thank you.”

     For once, the warlock didn’t wear his easy smile, instead bitterly chuckling. “Yeah, well, if I had been faster, then maybe I wouldn’t have had to kill so many of our own people.” Both men remembered the moment when John had released a firestorm onto the forces of the monsters, including those that had formerly been human.  That had turned the tides enough for them to survive the battle, even if the Demon King had abandoned the field before they could challenge him, leaving them with ashes and remorse.

     “That wasn’t your fault, John.  You can’t blame yourself for that.” John glanced at Paul, surprised at the resolute insistence in the priest’s voice.  He looked towards Paul for a long moment, and Paul returned the gaze, hoping his expression could convey his belief better than his words.  For not the first time, Paul regretted that he and John weren’t exactly close; the warlock spent most of his time with Adam, their swordsman and unofficial leader, while Paul tended to keep more to the company of Theodric and Christophe.  Secretly, Paul had always envied John for his magic; while he didn’t question the will of his goddess, his ability to heal the wounded paled in his mind to the power to keep people from being hurt in the first place. 

     “I just wish I knew how to end this stupid war, so we could just go home.  All of us.  It’s been two and a half years, and we’re hardly any closer to being the great ‘heroes’ everyone thinks we are going to be.” John sighed, resting his staff back against his shoulder. “But I can’t even think of a way to stop him from using that same spell the next time, so how can I dream about winning?”

     “So your barrier spell won’t work?” Paul asked, his heart sinking.          

     The warlock shook his head mournfully. “I… I’m not that powerful.  None of us are.  Even channeling that much power would be enough to destroy the person casting the spell, and while trying to cast it as a ritual with multiple people might succeed, it would still require an incredible power source.  Divine magic might be better, but all of our priests are exhausted from healing the wounded, and I don’t think the magic would work if it was being powered by multiple gods – if they even agreed to do it.  Basically, casting that spell is too much for one person, and too complicated for many.” His shadowed form seemed to shrink into itself as he curled forward. “I’ll keep trying, but…”

     Paul nodded faintly, but his mind struggled to accept what he was hearing.  He remembered what the Demon King’s magic had done, and he shuddered to think about it being used on the cities further to the west.  John had realized the spell fed off of the demonic mana that flowed from the east, and his plan had been to try to stop that flow from spreading so the transformative magic couldn’t be used elsewhere.  Still, if he had failed, then they would have to find another way.  The alternative was too much to consider.  A cold chill settled into Paul as he reconsidered John’s words, and a different alternative posed itself to him.  He had heard legends of a hero of a previous age who had cast a barrier to hold the monsters back, though it had cost him his life.  With the help of his goddess, perhaps…    

     A new silence descended onto the two men as they lost themselves in their own thoughts.  Minutes later, whispered words broke the quiet.  “Hey… do you believe in reincarnation?”

     John’s head turned to face the priest at the soft sound of his voice. “I’ve heard the priests of Hel talking about it, but… I don’t know.  I try not to think about it, honestly.  Why do you ask?”

     A delicate smile spread on Paul’s lips. “I just think, sometimes… about what it would be like to live a life that isn’t wrapped up in all of this.  To not have to carry all this weight, to be normal and get married and worry about the weather instead of monsters.” He glanced self-consciously over at the other boy. “Do you ever think about that?”

     John laughed, a sign of his usual humor returning.  He shook his head, glancing in the direction of the camp where the other Heroes were sleeping. “I think we all do.  It’s not like any of us have ever even had a girlfriend- well, Christophe, but…” Both men winced at that, since they knew their friend still struggled with the death of his lover.  That was one more tragedy of their journey, one more price they had paid to get to this point, for what little that was worth. “I know Adam would have been fine being a farmer, and I still would have studied magic, even if I didn’t have to use it like…” He motioned towards the seared earth below.

     “I don’t regret being a chosen hero,” Paul clarified. “I know it’s for a good purpose, and that we could make the world better.  I just…” He sighed, leaned back on his palms and looking up at the sky. “I just wonder what it would be like, living a new life, without having to worry about destiny and responsibility and war, all of this.”

     The boy beside him chuckled at that, but his own expression was just as wistful as he, too, turned to the sky, staring at the fading stars past the drooping brim of his wizard’s hat. “So,” he opened after a pause, “if you did reincarnate, what would you want out of your new life?”

     Paul thought about it for minute before responding. “You know, I think I would like to study magic, like you,” he admitted, his eyes still heavenward, missing the other boy’s shocked glance. “Something quiet, but a way I could still make the world a better place.  And I would want a girlfriend, of course.  I’d like to live somewhere a bit flatter, so I wouldn’t have to climb up and down a mountain constantly.”  He hesitated, his brow furrowed as he thought harder, but his expression eased into a broad smile. “And I would want a dog.  A big, fluffy one.”

     John laughed out loud, climbing to his feet. “I like it,” he reassured the blonde-haired priest. “Who knows?  Maybe you can have all of that still, once this war is over.” The shadows of pre-dawn hid the frailty of Paul’s smile at that sentiment. “When we go back after we kill the Demon King, we are going to be rich and famous, you know?  You can buy yourself a library, and you will have girls chasing you everywhere you go!  And then you can get as big of a dog as you want.” His good-natured teasing made the priest laugh.  Smiling down at him, John pointed his staff towards the camp where the other heroes were resting. “I’m going to go check on the others.  The last I saw, Alex and Percy were arguing over what we should do next.  I should make sure those two haven’t woken the brat up with their bickering.”

     Paul nodded up to him. “Go ahead, I’m going to stay out here a while.” His hand strayed to his pocket, where he kept his journal.  He had just enough light to write a few thoughts down, he knew, before… before he tried what he had in mind.

     “Hey… are you alright?” John asked, glancing back to his friend. “You sound a little down.  More than before, even.”

     Paul shook his head, and the morning glow didn’t betray the moisture on his cheeks. “I’m fine.  You go ahead, I’m just going to sit here and think a bit.”

     “Alright.” John turned back, but glanced one final time at the other young man. “We’ll figure something out, don’t worry.  Everything will work out in the end.  Our destiny is to stop the Demon King, remember?”

     “I remember.” Paul nodded towards the camp. “You’d better make sure they don’t get into trouble.  We need all of them to be at their best, if we’re going to win this.” Chuckling, John nodded, bidding him farewell once more, and Paul watched him go.  He waited until he could see the warlock’s silhouette against the campfire before he opened his journal and began to scribble a few words down, the thoughts and feelings coursing through him, and his acceptance of it all.

     When that was done, he lowered the journal to the grass, but changed his mind and took off his black cloak, a gift from Father Barolo when he had left the little chapel on the mountain.  He carefully wrapped the journal in that cloak and placed it down where he had been sitting, where John would look for him later.  With that accomplished, he glanced down at his hand, at the owl sigil he had been given by his goddess as a sign of her blessing. “Give me the strength to accept this,” he mumbled, his voice thick.  He could see a hill nearby that loomed over the battlefield, where he would have a clear view of the eastern skies, where he could see the sun break over the mountains, where even the gods would be able to hear his voice.  Steeling himself, Paul started to walk towards that hill, staring his destiny in the face as he ascended, certain that he finally understood his place and purpose.  When he stood upon that hill, he turned to the east and smiled. 

     The young Priest died at dawn.  However, that was really only the beginning of his story.

The End

 Continued in “Heroes – Chapter 1”


Author’s Note: And so it is done.  Here I put to rest the second and last story I came up with the day I decided to start writing for the MGEverse once again.  Many days have passed since then, and in the meantime I have come up with many stories more.  Soon, I hope, I will begin writing the next – but now I need to work on planning. 

    As is my habit, I will briefly foreshadow the next story in my series.  This one will be a different sort of experiment, as I strive to deal with three protagonists and their own love stories, but the fact that they are all familiar faces should help a great deal.  Of course, I will also be showing what the Orders (and some other old enemies) have been up to in the meantime, and finally reveal some of their true intentions.  Behold:


As the monsters and humans of New Haven settle into their new home, they find that old enemies have chased them east.  Meanwhile, a former monster hunter is asked to chase off a dangerous threat, but how can he stand up to a dragon alone?  Features many returning monster girls, as well as several new ones!

     With that said, it is time for me to rest, to think and plot and plan.  My work never ends, and before you know it I will return with the next story to come.  But, for now, thank you for coming this far with me.  I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey so far, and feel free to let me know what you think.  Thank you all, once again, and always.

     And now, for that I have earned: a solid, peaceful sleep…

~Wynn Pendragon

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3 thoughts on “Wisdom in Shadow, Chapter 15

  1. I hope you are still alive, i really like the world you have built, and i want to know if the mapmaker will ever make it back to his spider-wife.

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