This is my last bendy straw that will ever be spent. I just recently saw the updated Hollow Woods "sketch" or something of the like on Instagram and I watched SSO Online United videos about it. Off the bat, it looks nothing like the Hollow Woods, and trust me when I say that I'm heartbroken that this will be yet another overhaul and not update, but it also views as an underlying problem I've been seeing on SSO recently. Yes, these aren't official, and are just concept art - but I am currently quaking in my Gucci flip flops. I'm not trying to be too negative here, in fact I really tried to be positive and respectful, and please remember to do the same. <3
Everything nowadays in SSO looks like a Wild Woods carbon copy. Take for example: Devil's Gap, Updated areas, and now the Hollow Woods update spoilers. Don't get me wrong, Devil's Gap is beautiful, but I cannot escape the feeling of Mist fall and Wild Woods when I am there - Devil's gap is supposed to be magical, but also very scare and dangerous. What will help with that? ~ A twilight blue filter, of course! ~ <3 It feels like I say "mystical" and SSO hears "Wild Woods!" Wild Woods is a stunning area, yes, but can we please have some diversity? What's with ALL of the forested areas in this game looking the same all the time, SSO?
The Hollow Woods tree's look nothing like their in-game counterparts; the tall and sturdy, wide canopy trees giving shade and shielding the entire forest. For me, Hollow Woods and Vale dale are one of the only true nostalgia I have left in the game anymore - from the soundtrack, being right next to Dino Valley, and the utterly mystical feeling. What does that look like it's been replaced with? Tall, very tall, almost redwood looking trees, and some are thin and bendy, not to mention the cottages. I have a very terrible gut feeling that SSO is yet again going to change the entire soundtrack, the entire layout, and yes, it might look good and updated, but completely soulless in the name of consumerism. I'm sure other players will upset as well, and maybe I'm coming across as a wee bit dramatic, but it will be another fault of SSO not listening to their player base. Do you like the new Hollow Woods concept art? Do you want it to change? Let me know!
If you guys haven't seen the concept art yet, here's a link to Star Stable Online United's Video: UPDATED HOLLOW WOODS SPOILERS! (WHAT IT'LL LOOK LIKE) IN STAR STABLE! 🌲 - YouTube
One thing I will leave you with: If you want SSO to update the Hollow Woods and listen to their players, tell them!
#Update The Hollow Woods Correctly!

Janet M. Smith, president of the Keokuk Union Depot Foundation, issued this press release about the National Trust for Historic Preservation grant toward research and design of the Depot's waiting room interior lighting:

KEOKUK, IA MAY 31, 2023— The National Trust for Historic Preservation (“NTHP”) has awarded a $4,847 grant to Keokuk Union Depot Foundation (“KUDF”) for consulting services to research and design period lighting for the Depot’s waiting room interior.
Historic lighting research and consultation will be used for the design and fabrication of new lighting for the waiting room to replicate, as nearly as possible, the original 1891 light fixtures, in accordance with historic preservation standards.
The interior lighting is part of the $825,000 project that is the subject of the 2020 Jeffris Family Foundation capital campaign for the waiting room restoration. The NTHP grant counts toward the $550,000 of matching gifts that KUDF must raise by June 1, 2023 to qualify for the $275,000 Jeffris grant. KUDF is close to meeting the required Jeffris match, with approximately $7,000 more to go by June 30. Donations may be sent to KUDF at P.O. Box 463, Keokuk, IA 52632.
Significant portions of the project have already been completed, including restoring the Depot’s unique turtleback trackside canopy, cleaning the exterior brick walls, and researching and ordering the sandstone sills that will replace the crumbling original sills. Restoration of the exterior brick walls from the building’s foundation up to waist level is in progress. Restoration of the waiting room interior is expected to begin in early 2024.
Grants from the National Trust Preservation Funds range from $2,500 to $5,000 and have provided over $5 million since 2014. These matching grants are awarded to nonprofit organizations and public agencies across the country to support wide-ranging activities including consultant services for rehabilitating buildings, technical assistance for tourism that promotes historic resources, and the development of materials for education and outreach campaigns.

Introduction: Context

"Blockchain is bad, but the current AI hype is nothing like it! AI actually has a use!"
This account is an alt I created to vent out my frustrations during the penultimate phase of the recent crypto disaster, and I had abandoned this as I've deleted the reddit app on my phone (though I check these subreddits in my free time on the computer whenever I get curious).
I come across statements like the above-mentioned here and there more frequently now than ever. It is a vexing one, as it sounds functionally true but is categorically ahistorical—historically blind, that is. The socio-economic and market dynamics are undoubtedly different with "AI" and blockchain, that I can acknowledge; but statements and takes like these ignore crucial social realities. Needless to say, nothing will change my mind about blockchain and cryptocurrencies being a form of financial pseudoscience, so I hope that sets context.
Anyway, AI. "AI"—aside from being a functionally inaccurate and misleading marketing term—is a diverse umbrella that encompasses a myriad different things. Large language models happen to be one of them, along with other hype-applications in the spotlight at the minute.
Before I explain, let's look at the blockchain, cryptocurrencies, and bitcoin first. The thing about learning from history is that we cannot do that if we are dishonest to ourselves about what happened.

Crypto and the Court of Public Opinion: The Pitch

It would do us well to remember how we publicly perceived crypto before. I certainly am not an early member in Buttcoin or CryptoReality, but it is visible that outside of these critical niches, any public doubt towards blockchain and crypto were just obscure doubt mixed with curiosity at first. Actually, forget perception; let's think about the pitch on a good-faith basis.
Their pitch is digital money owned by no central legislative and/or executive entity that belongs to a network of free participants. Anyone can participate in the network with the requisite processing power and capital either as a miner or watcher. The longest chain is the authoritative chain, and you do not need to rely on social infrastructure to delegate authority. The ledger itself is the currency, and you could send it to anyone anywhere so long as they employ the same means and medium.
Now, today, we can find and empirically verify several flaws in this framing. Any longitudinal observation of blockchain interactions with society will demonstrate the following: it is by design too slow, unsafe, and resource-intensive as a technology. Forget replacing monetary functions and properties, it could not even adequately replicate them—that is, medium of exchange, measure of value, unit of account, standard of deferred payment, and store of value. This has been argued and proven over and over again.
I'm not here to prove that blockchain and cryptocurrencies are functionally useless concepts: we all know that.
I am highlighting the initial pitch and public perception. There was a pitch to sell. There was an argument that the evangelists could make. Most importantly, if they were to socially brute-force it, they could have forced us all use the blockchain to transact. It would only have been completely disastrous and an economic nightmare. In fact, El Salvador has lived (partially) that nightmare.
It has been over a decade. Whatever we have realised, we had realised it far too late (that is, so much damage has been done now). US and EU regulators are still moving far too slowly and taking actions that are far too stupid to deal with a pseudoscientific non-asset.
How the public perceived crypto before is how the dynamic that surrounds the contemporary AI hype is.
​

"AI" Parallels With Crypto-Mania

Level-headed researchers at DAIR have already warned about the actual dangers of AI years ago before these techbros went off on their inane doomer hype. In fact, they were not only ignored; but they suffered for it. These large language models and machine learning applications around generative art are extremely resource intensive, but those costs are currently obscured by all the venture capital money sloshing around.
As far as large language models go, at least, those things are functionally fancy autocorrect machines. Citing context-specific uses for these things is like saying "well, cryptography is useful for encryption and encryption is a good use-case, therefore cryptocurrency is also useful because it makes use of the same mechanisms."
These chatbots know nothing about anything. Feed it a large enough database and it spits out whatever it thinks is sequentially probabilistic. Seriously, what commercial use-case justifies it? Large language models, not "AI." Commercial use-cases. You would do well to know that private blockchains exist and that they are—albeit scantly—used in extremely context-specific cases for really niche and obscure things.
"Writing emails you don't want to write" — just write shorter emails. "Language assistant for second-language speakers" — they wouldn't know if the AI is spitting out the right thing; facilitate education instead. "Copywriting" — why? Writers would now need to take on an editoproofreader's role aside from getting the autocorrect machine to spew out the right thing plus constantly training it on new data (ChatGPT is trained on fixed data from the past, not recurrently changing data in the present). "Writing your academic essays" — that's plagiarism. "AI assistant!" — and how often do you spend time jubilantly talking to Siri or Cortana in lieu of one-liners to questions like 'where's the nearest Pizza Hut?' "Search engine assistant/summariser!" — super-autocorrect is horrible at summarising things and often just makes shit up; its entire functionality diverges from what a search engine does.
Et cetera, et cetera.
What about support from contemporary figures, right? Surely, it must mean something. If we have learned anything by now, it is to not take billionaires and VC bros seriously. Being against crypto isn't automatically a sign that they are saying sensible things, we have to start seeing beyond this bubble-like thinking. I mean, for god's sake, Bill Gates thought Bitcoin was innovative years ago. That Liron Shapira guy who funded blockchain stuff and then hard pivoted later is now an ardent AI doomer. Elon Musk, Apple, Adobe, Google; I can list so many things.
Seriously, it's time to wisen up.
​

"AI:" Introspection and Reflection

Of course there are facets of machine learning, deep learning, neural nets, etc. that are "useful" in our everyday lives. Think facial recognition biometric security; I use facial recognition and fingerprints to access my devices in lieu of pin codes and passwords now. "AI" refers to a mosaic, a kaleidoscope with several different facets.
The current hype is indubitably around "AGI" — that is, "smart" computers — and that is the direction the venture capital exodus is headed. As for the "technology" in the spotlight right now, I can think of some very niche minimal use-cases for those, but nothing that is disruptive or justifies the intensive use of resources. With large language models in particular, I just struggle to see just what on God's green earth we could popularly use it for. The same goes for deepfake voice tech. Presidents playing Minecraft, okay... sure. How is that use-case any less vain than "well, you can send money from computer to computer?"
We know what it would actually be used for: identity theft, scamming, sim swaps, fraud, plagiarism, etc. That is where these things' greatest use case lies. We've had deepfake tech for a while now, can anyone name a popular use-case for it beyond making pornographic content of people without their consent? Anyone? Anything at all?
Just because we could do something does not mean we should.
Just how much money, time, resources, and data do we need to waste before we realise this? Will we take yet another decade to come to this realisation as we have with crypto? Just how many people and their labour must be exploited and belittled before we all wisen up?

I've always had a fascination with the supernatural, which is why I couldn't resist the allure of exploring the mysterious legends surrounding the dense forests of Brazil. Armed with my camera and a heart full of curiosity, I ventured into the depths of the unknown, ready to capture the secrets hidden within the emerald canopy. As I hiked deeper into the forest, the sounds of civilization faded away, replaced by the symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls. The air was thick with humidity, and a sense of ancient energy permeated the surroundings. It was as if the forest itself held its breath, waiting for an unsuspecting visitor like me. As dusk settled, casting long shadows through the trees, I heard a haunting whistle carried on the wind. The sound was melodic yet eerie, echoing through the forest as if it were calling out to me. Intrigued, I followed the enchanting melody, my heart pounding with anticipation. The whistle led me to a small clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the moon. In the center stood an old, gnarled tree, its branches twisted like ancient fingers reaching towards the heavens. The whistle grew louder, emanating from the tree itself. Goosebumps prickled my skin as I approached, my camera clutched tightly in my trembling hands. As I circled the tree, the melody shifted, weaving an enchanting spell around me. Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet trembled, and the tree split open, revealing a hidden staircase leading underground. Fear mingled with curiosity as I descended into the abyss, my camera capturing every moment.
The stairwell led to a subterranean chamber, adorned with strange symbols etched into the walls. The air was heavy with a forbidden magic, and a sense of foreboding settled over me. But I couldn't resist the allure of unraveling this enigma. In the depths of the chamber, I discovered an ancient artifact—a whistle made from bone and adorned with intricate carvings. It pulsed with an otherworldly energy, resonating with the haunting melody that had led me there. I hesitated, my mind torn between fascination and the growing sense of danger. Unable to resist the temptation, I brought the whistle to my lips and blew softly. The chamber erupted in a cacophony of ethereal voices, overlapping and intertwining in a symphony of despair. Shadows danced on the walls as the spirits trapped within the whistle's enchantment pleaded for release. Terrified yet determined, I embarked on a quest to liberate the tormented souls. Guided by the voices, I journeyed deep into the heart of the forest, following their whispers and deciphering cryptic clues. Each step brought me closer to the truth, but also deeper into a web of darkness and danger.
Finally, after a series of trials and tribulations, I arrived at an ancient shrine hidden beneath a cascading waterfall. The spirits urged me to perform a ritual of liberation, a complex ceremony that required unwavering faith and unyielding courage. With trembling hands, I followed their instructions, hoping that I could bring them the peace they longed for. As the ritual reached its climax, a blinding light enveloped the shrine, scattering the shadows and releasing the trapped souls from their eternal torment. The haunting whistle fell silent, its purpose fulfilled. The forest sighed with relief, as if it, too, had been freed from a heavy burden. As I emerged from the depths of the Brazilian forest, I carried with me not only a sense of awe and wonder but also a profound respect for the power of the supernatural. The haunting whistle had tested my limits, but it had also taught me the importance of empathy and perseverance. Now, as I reflect on my extraordinary journey, I can't help but wonder how many other hidden secrets lie within the depths of the world, waiting for an intrepid explorer to unravel their mysteries. And perhaps, just perhaps, there are other brave souls out there who will venture into the unknown, inspired by the whispers of the Brazilian forest.

Dear Lord, I confess my sins to both the world and unto you.
I’m sorry for not accepting the forgiveness that you offer. I don’t have it within me to forgive myself and by the nonacceptance of your gift of salvation, I have willingly turned myself away from you.
I accept the punishment that only you can so perfectly deliver and I pray that I find solace in that most blessed moment of judgment.
Thank you Lord for all that you have given us and all that we have received.
Amen.
Dear Listener,
I also must extend my apologies onto you. Whether or not you chose to continue reading this does not alter what is to come. I have made a choice that I will be judged for. In turn I pray for not my salvation, but yours.
My name is Father Michael Roberts of the Diocese of Richford. I was ordained a Catholic Priest in 2005. In 2016 I was chosen by Bishop Stanley Niles to receive the duty of becoming a full time exorcist.
Bishop Niles made it clear that he did not believe in the necessity of exorcists and provided me with the title as a mere obligation to fulfill his duty as a Bishop.
Despite knowing that I had always performed my duties to the best of my ability. I knew that I was chosen due to my belief in the physical, mental and spiritual reality of demonic involvement within our world.
Contrary to popular belief, not every Priest believes in the physical reality of the demonic. In fact, less and less of those ordained by the Church are finding the literary truth that resides within the Bible.
This has led to a weakening of the Church.
During an exorcism, an exorcist utilizes not just the faith of those immediately involved, but he also uses the faith of the Church in its entirety.
My mentor, Father Cecil Rollo, told me once that exorcisms used to only take one or two sessions before the demon would be cast out. Now it’s not uncommon for a possession to take months to overcome.
That leads me into sharing the experience that made me write this.
My final exorcism.
On May 3rd I was contacted by the Catholic Church of the Good Shepherd. Specifically by their secretary, Laura Summers. Initially, I thought this was a little abnormal. Usually I would be contacted by either the presiding Priest of the parish or have a direct notice from Bishop Niles himself.
But when I read Laura’s email I understood why she was the one initiating the contact.
‘Father Roberts, my name is Laura Summers and I’m attempting to contact you in regards to our own Father, Matthew Amora.
Please take this request as a personal favor. We don’t want to bring this matter to the attention of the Diocese just yet. Not until we’re certain that something otherworldly is occurring.
Could you take some time to visit our Church and meet with me?
With regards, Laura.’
I vaguely knew of Father Amora. He had a small parish in the countryside of Beverly and frequented Catholic retreats with his flock. All I knew about him was that he was a very studious servant of the Lord and lived a quiet, uneventful life.
I told Laura I would make the trip out to Good Shepherd and speak with her.
It took a few days before I had the time in my schedule to make the trip. I kept up with Laura daily just to make sure Father Amora’s condition hadn’t gotten any worse.
On May 10th I arrived outside of the venerable Catholic Church of the Good Shepherd.
The skies overhead had grown gray and heavy, the rolling winds overhead shifted the darkened shapes of the rain clouds into upheaval. I knew a downpour would have come at any moment.
I reached into the back seat of my beaten down sedan to look for my umbrella. My fingers clasped onto the thin metal rod of its handle and I took it with me. I stepped out of my car and unfurled my canopy just in time.
The rain erupted from the heavens overhead and filled the entire courtyard in heavy drops. The endless thudding of innumerable raindrops cascaded their way into my eardrums from every direction.
I double checked myself to make sure I had my rosary with me. It was the greatest spiritual weapon I had in my arsenal and I always carried it with me during my duties. Anything to make the demonic uncomfortable.
I squinted my eyes through the heavy rain and made my journey down the cobblestone walkway that led up to the aged Romanesque stone church.
Through the never ending hiss of the rain, I could scarcely make out the gentle, frail voice of a young woman.
“Father Roberts?” She called out. Her voice was strained. I could tell that she was unaccustomed to loud verbal interactions.
“That would be me. I’ll assume you’re Laura?” I yelled back out to her. The water of the rain funneled off the hood of my umbrella in thick streams.
The woman nodded and waved her hands for me to approach. Behind her lay a large, oaken door that led into the Church. With an unusual amount of effort, the woman propped open the door for me.
“Please step inside Father. We’ll get you dried off.” I gave a thin lipped smile towards the woman before stepping inside the belly of the building.
It would be my first time seeing the Catholic Church of the Good Shepherd in Beverly. It was beautiful. Old, but beautiful.
Massive stone architectural works towered over us with large rounded arches. Tremendous pillars of brickwork stood lining the interior of the foyer while small stained glass windows reflected multicolored light down its empty halls.
Even the noise of the rain had silenced itself in this house of the Lord. The vibrations of thunder had been the only remnants from the storm outside. And once the heavy wooden door was closed behind me, the only noise that remained was the labored sounds of Laura’s breath.
“I’m sorry for calling you here Father. I really wish I didn’t have too. But we’ve just been noticing a change in Father Amora and we’ve been worried about him.” Laura avoided meeting her eyes with mine.
I took a mental note of that. A clerical secretary scared of a Priest is an oddity. I had an inkling that something more was happening.
“Please, don’t apologize. I’m here on my own time, just like you asked.”
Laura quickly chimed in, “Did you tell anyone you were here?”
“No. Not even Bishop Niles. However, if I come to the determination that a demonic entity is possessing or oppressing anyone in here, I will have to inform him.”
Laura stood still. Her eyes examined the well worn stone flooring of the church.
“I see. I pray it doesn’t have to come to that. Father Amora is a good man. I don’t want him being transferred over to another parish.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now. Tell me, what have you been experiencing here?”
Laura let out a long heavy sigh.“It started with small things. Father Amora would keep complaining that he was always tired and when we brought him food he just couldn't keep it down. We were worried he was getting sick. But then he began to… get vindictive.”
“How so?” I asked, wiping off some of the rain from my suit.
“It started with having a short temper during mass. He would give out the Eucharist with no sense of veneration. A few times he even allowed the Eucharist to be dropped on the floor.” She paused in silent thought before she continued, “You know, that was one of the last times I saw him smile.”
“I see.” A desecration to the sacraments once more was a good sign of a demonic presence within the area. “Was there anything else?”
“Yes, and I know this is going to sound strange, but while talking with him, it’s like his facial structure changes. Sometimes it feels like I’m looking at a completely different person.”
I took a mental note of what Laura had told me. If what she was saying was true, Father Amora could very well be displaying physical signs of possession.
“Laura, where is Father Amora?” She paused for a moment before extending one of her fingers down a long arched hallway.
“He’s in his chambers right now. I didn’t tell him you were coming. I was scared he might’ve protested against it.”
I nodded towards her while keeping my eyes down that lonely stone pathway. I felt a cold wisp of wind billowing out of its deeper halls. It felt like the air carried with it the energy from the storm outside. The hair on my body couldn’t help but to stand up in reaction to it.
“Please take me to him, Laura.” I stated as calmly as I could.
Without another word the small woman turned from me and guided me down that formerly sanctified hallway. The Devil shouldn’t have a foothold in a Church, especially with a Church that was running congruent with the Bride of Christ.
Each step we made down that hall led my mind to wander. What could Father Amora possibly have done that would have allowed the sanctity of the Church to have been taken from God’s holy ground? I knew that it wouldn’t have been the first time a Priest had fallen for the trickery of the black mass. But every Priest falls differently.
“He’s just inside here.” Laura mumbled towards my direction. “He doesn’t leave his room anymore. I can’t tell you the last time he’s performed a baptism or confession. He barely continues with confirmations.”
“Well, that’s honestly a blessing. Let’s thank our Lord that he has enough strength within him to halt his practices while dealing with this burden.” I took in a deep breath before turning my eyes from the wooden doorway to Laura’s face. “Let me be with him for a moment.”
Laura met my gaze for the first time that night. Her eyes were pained and scared. She gave me a single nod before she turned away from me. Her small frame disappeared back down that endless hallway.
I turned back towards the Priests chambers.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” I felt each tap of my fingertips land against my forehead, stomach and shoulders. At this point the sign of the cross was just a routine performance for me. Just a task to be checked off.
Remember this Listener, repetition without belief creates spiritual weakness. You must believe.
I bit the inside of my cheek out of nervous habit and opened up the door to Father Amora’s bedchambers.
The smell of stale grains hit me immediately. The room itself was cloaked in a deep darkness of dense shadows. There were candles that had been lit and were sparsely scattered across the room. Their warm glow cast about dancing shadows that had been created by their flickering lights.
“Father Roberts, welcome.” A croaking voice full of sorrow had filtered out from the depths of the room's darkened abyss. My eyes had made their way over to the sounds of creaking floorboards that had made their appearance near the far corner of the room.
Stepping into the candlelight was Father Amora. Or rather a remnant of the man that I had remembered.
His skin was pale and sickly with the texture of wet paper. Around his neck lay a dark mark. It appeared to be rope burn from quite a serious injury. Father Amora’s eyes shined ethereally towards me through the glossy reflection of tears.
I stepped further inside the Priest's chambers and closed the large door behind me. It clasped shut with an echo that filled the otherwise silent room.
“Father Amora. I have come to speak with you. Your congression is worried about you.” I attempted to fill myself with the Lord’s Holy Spirit but nothing shined through but my own doubt and worry.
The thing that had cloaked itself with the skin of man had reached up its gangly hand and placed it against its neck. It stroked the awful burn on its throat as it watched me.
The sounds of the jingling of coins could be heard with every slow movement of his twisted hand.
After just a moment our eyes had met and he began to speak to me once again. His voice had the consistency of dust and gravel and had poured out of his mouth like bags of rocks.
“Matthew can’t speak with you right now Father. But please, take a seat and speak with me.” The man pointed his unused hand towards my side.
I followed his finger and saw a chair waiting for me. I could only ask myself one question at that moment, had it been there when I had first walked in?
I shook myself into confidence. I was sure of it at this point. I wasn’t speaking to someone suffering from an onset of mental illness. I was speaking with something otherworldly.
“I’ll take no offer nor gift from a demon. I will stand.”
The thing that was cloaked in the dark attire of the Church grew silent. His hands were still grinding along his neck.
“I am no demon.” The man finally muttered. His words came out broken by the deepest depths of unimaginable sorrow.
“Then in Jesus’s name I command you, who are you?” I took a step closer to the creature that was made man. And that creature merely watched with profound grief.
“I am no demon and I need no commands. I was a follower of Christ. I am the man whose existence would have been better to have never been born. I am the knower and the kisser of Jesus. Know me Priest, for I am the only one you will meet tonight who accepts his judgment.”
I found myself once again enveloped by the inescapable silence of the room. The flames of the candles wafted softly with the slow current of the air. The wind brought with it the subtle smell of decay and death.
“Through Jesus Christ I demand you to tell me why you’re here.”
The mark on the man's neck began to seep blood through his skin. It poured out of his flesh like sweat and ran down his hand with every twist.
With a pained movement the man fell to his knees. The sounds of thick woolen fabric and the clapping of metals hit the hardwood floor with such intensity that I had never witnessed in anything before.
“I speak to you now Priest, here me. I am a man who had never asked for forgiveness, though forgiveness was mine to take. I could not forgive myself for my own actions. And through Christ I am here with you now, warning you of the same. For by the end of the night, you will be with me in my judgment.”
I swallowed hard.
I knew at that moment that I should’ve turned around and fled. I knew that I should've contacted Bishop Niles for assistance. I knew the Diocese would need to hear about this. Yet I stayed there, with this man of infinite sorrows.
He continued, “I am fearful of God, Priest. Are you?”
“Of course I am fearful of God.” I replied. My voice was nearly silent under my breath.
“His love is so great and we are undeserving of it. I can only pray that His gaze avoids my existence. For if He saw me as I am, I would turn away from Him in shame.” His voice grew cold and distant. “But be warned, the others who are with us would stare back at the Lord with pride and envy.”
“Who is with us?” I asked the kneeling man with shaken conviction. He responded by turning his gaze back towards me. His eyes melted away into streams of tears and blood.
“The likeness of God was given upon the Devil. The three beings whose very existence was made to mock the Trinity.”
“What are their names, Spirit?” The man stared deeply at me with his agonized face. His vocal cords ripped with strain from every word.
“You will meet them soon. Each has a secret to tell you. For like Job, God has given you to the Devil. If only for a night.”
With that the man crumpled over. His body had slid down past his knees and slammed against the cold wooden floor. I rushed over to him and grabbed the Father by his shirt, flipping his body upright. The mark on his neck was gone. Only the remnants of dried blood remained.
“Father Amora, open your eyes.” I gently tapped my palm against the Priest’s face. He slowly began to stir back to life. His eyes twitched within his skull before he let them rest on me. Vague recognition had swept across his face.
“Father Roberts? What’s happening?” He brought up his hand and grabbed onto my sleeve.
“Matthew, what have you done?” I whispered while grabbing onto the shoulder and arm of the beaten down Priest. With a quick lurch I drug the man back up to his feet. “Let’s lay you in bed. We need to get you some help.”
With every ounce of my strength I staggered forward with Matthew in my arms. We arrived at his barren mattress and I placed his body down upon it. With careful movements he had swung his feet over the edge and laid down upon his pillows.
I walked back over to the chair that had awaited me at the entrance. I pulled the wooden seat across the hard floor. Its weight had felt immense at that moment. It squealed underneath my grip.
I positioned it right next to Father Amora’s resting place and took a seat. I did my best to catch my breath.
I took this time to examine Matthew’s body over with my own eyes. He appeared to me as being disheveled, gaunt and disordered. I shook my head with the pains of heartbreak as I realized another Priest had fallen.
Once more I asked, “What have you done?”
Amora lay sickly on his mattress for a moment. His pale skin glistened with sweat and fever.
He opened his mouth to speak and said only one sentence before losing himself to oblivion.
“Father Roberts, I know the third secret of Fatima.”
I stared down at the destitute body before me. The body of a man who had just claimed to have known the one secret that the Vatican had kept hidden from us.
“Do you want to know it, Michael?” a voice called out from the unconscious man before me. The voice sounded soothing, if not comforting.
Matthew’s head twisted itself to face my direction. The light of the candles around the room began glowing with near divine radiance.
The man's eyes opened exposing bright blue irises gazing back at me.
For just a moment I got lost in their penetrating sense of beauty. My very own words would not come out of my mouth and were lost to me.
“God has given you to us, Michael. We can tell you any secret you would like. God will not interfere.” The heavenly man sat up in his bed and gently folded his hands together on his lap. The light of the flames danced beautifully around his face and cast gorgeous flickering shade along his features.
I spoke my prayers beside the man's bedside yet received no indication that this being was uncomfortable around them. He merely smiled at me with his idyllic white teeth.
“Your prayers will not work here, not tonight. We have control. Through God we can do whatever we would like to you. He believes in you Michael. Truly he does. And I believe you know that he shouldn’t have faith in you.” The man nodded towards the bedside table where a bottle of wine awaited.
“Please, indulge yourself. Just like any other night. Drink and make merry little Priest. Just like God, we see what you do when no one else is watching.” His eyes pierced through me. “But we don’t judge.”
I felt my heart lunge. Had I not asked for forgiveness prior to coming? Had I somehow fallen out of God’s grace? Why were my prayers falling on deaf ears?
I bit my cheek again. I tasted blood. But the pain brought with it strength.
“I have no desire to drink with you, demon.” Once more I made my prayers known to the Holy Spirit. I begged him for the words needed to overcome this unholy stranger.
“O God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, Did instruct the hearts of the faithful, Grant that by the same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy his consolations. Through the same Christ Our Lord. Amen.”
The man laughed. The calmness of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Isn’t it amazing that the Holy Spirit appears as tongues of fire. Yet when people see flames they immediately associate it with Hell.” His eyes traveled over to a nearby candle. His intense focus seemingly spread the light’s vivid brightness. “I am the Light-Bringer and the Holy Spirit is the Light. So why is it that I am punished for spreading the flames that God has given me? In fact you call me the Lord of the Darkness despite my fire.”
I reached out for the old wooden rosary that I had always kept upon my waistband.
‘Mother Mary, protect me through Christ, your Son, in this my time of need.’
Why did I feel nothing with my prayers? Why was this demon allowed to speak of the Holy Spirit and of Christ? His very name should be enough to cast the demon out of the body of the possessed.
“Speak to me, Michael. Your prayers to God are heard yet remain unanswered. You have been willingly separated from God for tonight. Embrace it. You’ll never have an opportunity like this again.”
I bit my tongue. ‘Silence is a virtue, don’t speak to it. Don’t let it deceive you.’
The angelic face of the man shifted slightly. His smile began to fade away and was replaced by a snarl. “Do not ignore me. Feel the flames of true passion. The very same flames that lack in your eyes through every prayer you make. You are nothing.”
The lights of the candles in the room ignited in a grandiose display of intensity. The hot flicker of heat lapped its way across my skin as I felt myself begin to sweat.
“Look upon me, you most worthless of creations. Gaze upon the one you proudly think yourself better than. I ask you, who are you to gaze upon Angels and think ‘I am more than them.’ Who are you, that we divine beings must bend our knees to?”
I wiped the sweat from my eyes, my vision growing blurry from the heat.
Through the unfocused haze of my vision I saw the face of an aberrant man looking back at me. His jaw was clenched tight and his teeth were fully exposed. Anger and fury poured out of every inch of his person.
“Here me you banished child of Eve, destroyer of perfection, your Church will fall. The Great Apostasy is here. I exist within every new doctrine of God’s beloved Bride. And I will ravage every last one of you. I will show God how unworthy all of you were to receive his love.” The beast spit at me.
I felt the anger rising from within my soul. I could no longer keep silent.
“By Jesus Christ I command you to tell me, does Satan love you?”
The beast sitting inches away from me screamed out in hysterical fury.
“Yes, for I am he and he is me. Your God broke me into three for wanting to be like him. I suffer as Christ did for every good deed you allow God to flow through you. I suffer in pain because of you. Christ may be Lord of Man, but I shall be the Lord of Flies.”
With that a terrible wind blew through the bedchambers. The candlelight extinguished itself under the vigorous rush of air. The heat in the room was quickly replaced by a deathly chill. The last ember of the of fire faded into ash as the darkness fully enveloped me.
“Where are you?” I commanded as I sat up from my chair. The blackness of the abyss surrounded me. Only the sparse sounds of scattering feet filled the emptiness of the chamber. Eventually a sound emerged from the darkness.
A slithering, echoed voice of something truly beyond the world of men appeared behind me. It whispered to me behind my back. I could feel its breath like ice wrap around my neck.
“To gaze upon the face of God would kill a man outright. Imagine what would happen if you gazed upon the Devil. Consider the death of light to be your only blessing tonight. Now, reach out before you and touch the bed.”
I felt my arm twitch as my hand seemingly moved on its own accord. Was I being commanded? Or was I willing to do whatever this thing asked of me?
I had placed my hand upon the bed and was met by the outline of the unconscious body of Father Amora. Yet the voice continued to speak with me from right behind my ear.
“The Great Apostasy is here. The Church is falling. As are all Churches. The Bride of Christ will be mine. At the end times and I shall violate her in front of the Lord. As I would violate you right here and now had God not prevented me from doing so.”
“What are you saying?” I asked the visage in the darkness. My voice nearly failed me.
“The third secret of Fatima. The violation of the Church. The good men will stop speaking up for the sanctity of tradition and I will replace their tradition with my own creation. All those within the Church will descend with me. They will do so willingly as they gladly choose my morality over His virtues. God will offer them salvation and they will tell him ‘no’.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“God extends a choice for you Priest. You can keep the secret of Fatima to yourself and allow your people to be saved for the mere moment and damn the masses in the future. Or expose the Church, tell Man right now that the Church has fallen. You will create chaos but that chaos will allow people to be aware of the degradation of the doctrine of the Church.”
I stood there in silence, ice running through my veins.
“The end times are here, Michael. Ignore the ailments of the Church in vain hope to stall for its salvation, or force the end to occur now and allow the Church to die before its total corruption. The choice is yours.”
And with that the cold breath of utter damnation left the room. I guided my hands around in darkness until I came upon a match and a candle. I lit the wick with shaking hands. The dim glow of the candle illuminated a sleeping Priest on his bedchamber. No longer pale nor sickly.
He was exactly the man I had known from years prior.
Christ had shown me in that moment that everything I had experienced had been true. God had given me this choice. He Himself had cast out the demons of Amora. And he did so at the mere moment they stopped being useful tools for His divine plans.
That night I had left Good Shepherd with an intense anxiety and fear the likes of which I had never experienced before. I had to resign from my position at the Diocese due to my shaken faith. I can no longer pray without guilt or fear.
And it took me a while to decide what path I wanted to go down. But I came to a decision.
I decided to tell the world that corruption is happening, not just within the Catholic Church, nor just within Christian Churches. No, the Devil is leading every flock away from the truth they may have.
When Jesus returns he won't be carrying with him the open wounds of sacrificial suffering. He will be bearing with him scars for his charity of mercy has been fulfilled.
The Great Apostasy is here. The end is coming. Save what little you have.

If ever a more bizarre case that I took, If ever an odder poem for this book, I’d never locate despite how hard I look, An icier tale that my curiosity did hook.
Called to the harbor one dreary eve, A sea captain dead, a sailor deceived, A crew distraught, all were aggrieved, Killer apprehended, or so we believed.
Now below deck to follow night’s thread, To demon locked in brig I was then led, And before me I saw two more men dead, Across monster’s face a smile then spread.
Calm and collected as nothing were amiss, A man bathed in serenity, irrevocable bliss, Unshackled and now free, this he did hiss: “I come from the beyond, dreaded abyss.”
His voice burrowed deep, a purposeful dart, Beyond reason and logic, a truth to impart, Humans cannot fathom, a map cannot chart, Infinite and unchallenged linguistical art.
He spoke to the souls of the men now froze, Bypassing their ears and beliefs they chose, To deliver dark wisdom that nobody knows, Every thought is a thorn growing off the rose.
A cosmic river exists, where knowledge dwells, From which springs have sprung so he did tell, As thought is fished out, new creek does swell, And so fresh realities gush from old inkwell.
Concepts are recycled, Good Book does say, Including our souls mystic religions convey, Then debate enters stage right into the play, And the old character Time enters the fray.
Neither days nor weeks matter to God, And so the celestial hosts consider it odd, We habitually follow a logic flawed, Allowing for clocks to keep up façade.
Seconds are a tool of our own making, For the baker to gauge the pastry baking, The farmer to know when to be waking, The maker to know when to be making.
Outside of here, this wondrous place, In realms beyond this human race, No clocks to be found, not even a trace, Hour hands do experiences replace.
Of reincarnation and having past lives, Incomplete version some did contrive, Each of us a river where realities thrive, A new path chosen, a new self arrives.
You will never know if you are you, Or tangent created from action anew, First of many your mind will construe, Yet splintered souls unsure in queue.
At this I waved for fiend to withdraw, To bite the tongue spinning this awe, And breaking the rules, bending law, A reality crumbling, built with straw.
It’s uneasy to believe a liar’s truths, Or entertain one’s falsehood mused, For want of interpretation refused, Yet actions taken left one confused.
I inquired after men that had to die, Leaving poor widows at graves to cry, The fiend offered up bizarre reply: “Events need catalysts so to apply.”
Some carry on where action untaken, Others in heavenly realms awaken, Slivers of souls go with men unshaken, Ignorant of split, the past is forsaken.
We’re one of infinite stories told, Cautionary tales for young and old, Shining stars across dark canopy cold, Shimmering diamonds, pure as gold.

Hey everyone!
I'm posting this for emotional support, ideas, to vent.
I was diagnosed with POTS after my 2nd bout of covid (long covid). I've been in the catering/events business for many years, and it's practically all I know.
I was laid off from my job I had for years 7 months ago, because I was a liability and practically bedridden with vertigo. Put on unemployment, and work random events when I can here and there with them recently. I sweat like crazy no matter what, my neuropathy bothers me at times but usually manageable. I feel like I have gotten much better as time went on.
I live in (sorry) FUCKING Florida. Where people sometimes have parties outside their mansions. Ugh. Tonight was one of them.
We worked out of a garage with absolutely no AC, then the party was also outside. I couldn't handle it. I was a drowned rat. I always was a "gallon of water a day" girl. I carry a giant insulated water jug with me everywhere I go. I take salt tablets, electrolytes, always hydrate. But Tonight, I left after 5 and a half hours. It was scary driving home, I'm not going to lie. I might as well had 5 vodkas and drove.
This is all new to me. I'm still learning what I can handle, how to deal with it, and what to avoid with this new body. It's devastating me emotionally right now. They saw how bad I was tonight. And they still want me to work tomorrow, bartend in the sun, with no roof or tent over me, for hours. It's going to be 92 degrees, and the UV index is extreme. They offered an "umbrella." I am usually an event captain, indoors. But I have lost that position due to my illness. So sticking me in the sun makes sense?
I feel like an absolute moron for being talked into still going. (This is a different company that was there, not my prior one). But they know I left due to being "overheated." I told them I could possibly faint. I need the money badly. Living on Florida's whopping $275 a week unemployment isn't very sufficient and I'm desperate for money. And I despise sitting at a desk and answering phones. I loved being active.
I'm just completely lost. But I'm also so exhausted and weak. I don't know how to close this chapter in my life. This fucking sucks and I truly felt like a slave in a sweatshop tonight.
Edit: I found a replacement for the event tonight for the company. My feet/legs are on fire, and I have been sleeping all day on and off. I'm glad I found someone, because the sun is blaring today. I would have lasted 20 minutes lol

The first essay
In the previous post, I have discussed about the skirmishes on all corners of the internet, the systematic destruction of idea by algorithms, and the apocalyptic wasteland that is the Chinese internet. All were discussed in the last post, however, one thing was neglected from the picture: the “eldritch influence“.
In the first post, I have mentioned an intensive effort launched by RT and CCP to shape the narrative in favor of the invasion. However, as previously mentioned, due to a myriad of reasons, the entire effort lays to waste in the lone and level sands that stretch far away. They have abandoned their old way of setting up positions on RT's main channel and their Donbass offshoot "Donbass Today". In fact, back then DPR was extremely successful in their propaganda machine before Belgorod attacks. The amount of DPR lies actually made me lost my shit multiple times. You would never want to know what ideas I had to deal with the people of Donbass, in fact it almost becomes a rage trigger to me. Despite that, the pro-Russians stragglers are still there, and they are adapting. Nobody has declared surrender yet, so the war will just drag on, as Clausewitz has observed. Many of them are now operating purely out of spite, resembling the worst of the trolls in the west and their rhetoric began to be more similar to their twitter counterpart. Meanwhile, the Russian influence campaign is still ongoing in a more insidious and covert way. The internet arguments become more like UkraineRussiaReport than RussianWarFootage. The main focus of Russian influence campaign seems to be dedicated to creating artificial disinfolklores and some legitimately weird channels showcasing how good life is in occupied Mariupol. Sometimes pro-Ukraine content creators will be subjected to mass report and get banned, but most of times they have a backup account to minimize damage.
As previously mentioned, the Chinese domestic "analysts", one being pro-Russia and the other being pro-Ukraine, both ended up being noncredible, with one being Chinese Chuck Pfarrer and the other making schizo claims like Zaluzhnyi has intimate relationship with several female service members (is this supposed to make him look bad?) Of course, people began to adapt. On the pro-Ukraine side, there is now a guy called "Regent Taboritsky" (塔博里茨基摄政王 yes, this is a TNO reference). He was formerly a pro-Russian who use Artermovisk but has changed to the Ukrainian side. Meanwhile, other "analysts" has also underwent evolution. (ignore the next two paragraphs if you just want to read noncredible)
Do you remember the TNO reference? Why does Chinese also know about that? Actually, it shaped all Chinese political discourse. Chinese internet is a wasteland at best, years of censorship and bitter warfare has drained the land of creativity and independent thought. Many of the counterculture guys who I refer as PANOP (pan-opposition, an umbrella term for modern anti-establishment Chinese) are actually pro-regime folks who ended up graduating from college and have to work 12 hours a day. Despite having changed side, they are actually just the same, same mindlessness and malice, nothing more, nothing less. Meanwhile, censorship algorithms have systematically salted the earth, so that no organized ideology apart from the official one can be present. These efforts are eventually made futile thanks to one man - JREG (yes, you can trust your eyes). His political compass memes successfully provided the PANOPs with enough munition to blow up the internet. Eventually everything related to him got censored, but then TNO was there, the weapons are now everywhere, no amount of salt would ever stop them again. It's like the wars in Japan that lead to Edo period in many regards, battles with salvaged foreign ideas and memes where getting hold of foreign material becomes an immense power multiplier.
In fact, I have a very derogatory comparison for Chinese internet's relationship to the global one: the anaerobic tank of a sewage treatment plant. The worst crap of 4chan and beyond sedimented into the Chinese one, just like how the large excrement particles sedimented into the anaerobic tank after the initial aerobic respiration, and our netizens feasted on it like bacteria feasted on the fresh excrements. (my knowledge of sewage treatment comes from IGCSE biology, so it might be inaccurate). One of the most terrifying case of how this can influence Chinese internet was the alt-righters in '16. Actually, the largest case of the great meme war spillover was in China. During that time, everyone was fuming about Baizuo, the Chinese equivalent of SJW, while some others do stand for Bernie, most are taking up Great Replacement Theory and mocking Trans ideology. Many began to take Breivik as a hero and claim refugees are swarming Europe. Pizzagate was also a widespread meme back then. This exposure left a mark in the Chinese internet culture, which partially contributed to the recent surge in antisemitism in '23. To be honest with you all, after spending years on Chinese internet, I just can't stand regular Chinese netizen calling Azov guys neo-Nazi, they should look into the nearest mirror.
The hybridization described above then contributes to a new evolution of Chinese online discourse over the Ukraine war. Chinese posters are expert trolls and partisans, but they have a fundamental lack of first hand knowledge regarding war in Ukraine. Thus, contact with foreign sources becomes essential. On Zhihu, there are several accounts that have access to twitter OSINT accounts (accounts that are highly regarded by professionals). The most notable being Ducling, who have been a staunch pro-Ukraine guy with liberal tendency. He made a reference to Emil Kastehelmi："The Russian 'Special Military Operation' is getting increasingly special, even after day 453" for an question about the Belgorod attack. He also made a cope compilation (the most favored tactic of Chinese pro-Ukraine accounts, known as 合订本, that collects all the past pro-Russian claims as a method of discrediting the pro-Russians. Often with great effect ) of claims surrounding Bakhmut. For people who can't understand the information presented, Chinese internet slang was often designed to evade censorship and is highly informal, so you shouldn't understand it at all. There's another OSINT guy called Suyi控, who made the best analysis of the Discord files ever. Chinese OSINT guys tend to have a boner for Syrskyi, me included. Memelords have also adopted some stuff from twitter, I remember seeing the Putin attending Nuremburg escorted by fellas wearing MP uniforms on the profile on one of the accounts. At the same time, there are also pro-Russians who use the John McBurgers of Ohio oblast under Zelensky's tweet as proof of Ukraine is losing. This tactic can be incredibly effective due to confirmation bias, and in many cases RT have used the exact same material to propagandize both Chinese and Americans.
Bilibili, due to the limitations mentioned in the first article, relies on cruder extraction. There is a guy called Deepstate-carry (Deepstate-搬运) who basically cargo-cult through deepstatemap's telegram. In my opinion, the best combat footages come from a guy called Okken sight (欧肯视线), who is a true neutral source regarding combat footage, he contain a slight Russian bias but his videos are neutral, which led to him being criticized by both pro-Russians and pro-Ukrainians. I'd recommend folks on this sub who drank too much pro-Ukraine vranyo to be tied on a chair forced to watch his videos of both Russian and Ukrainian combat losses to remove overt bias and complacency. Meanwhile there are other pro-Ukrainian accounts such as CarlPacho (卡尔帕乔) who uploads Ukrainian combat footages and is a pro-Ukraine guy himself, recently he got banned but he's got a backup account. Meanwhile there are people translating Battle Order's videos, such as a guy called 101eagle and a guy who's called Marine rifleman (四等人的步枪兵). On Bilibili the materials used are often of inferior quality such a a gal doing analysis who is called frosty leaves of a thousand spring (千秋霜叶), her sources include Weeb Union (HistoryLegends' pal) and Chuck Pfarrer. She's pro-Ukraine by the way.
Now we have talked through all the developments of the pro-Ukraine side, let's face the pro-Russian abyss. As mentioned before, Bilibili has access to inferior foreign materials. Meanwhile pro-Russians coopt the pro-Russian war blogger model. The most notorious model being a guy known as SnailColgiweibo (蜗牛柯基weibo) who is basically a Rybar copycat, he is capable of mimicking Rybar to an astonishing degree and has the ability to cheer during Kyiv bombing (what about Donbass). I'd recommend you to stay away from Chinese internet unless you want to be dehumanized like me.
Recently, another person called Atuna (阿吞啊) popped up, he is some of the most capable pro-Russian ever. At first, he came out with translation of a RUSI report. However, in his next video, he uses HistoryLegends. Calling him a "neutral pro-Ukraine source". He marked a dangerous new development of pro-Russian messaging, the ability to use actual credible western sources to their advantage. Furthermore, there is another analyst called Mt. Guandong peasant Wangdaxi (关东山农民王大喜), who made a video detailing RUSI's latest report. He took great note of the adaptation by the Russian armed forces while dismissing the mentions of poor Russian morale as "western hubris", "illogical" and "political correctness". The Wangdaxi person is actually a protégé of sort of the person who claimed Russia is going to take Lviv (that guy deserves his own article), and it seems like now there's an advanced sect of pro-Russian who have access to information. One of his fans in the comments even took a jab at Suyi控, indicating a capability to compete with even the most experienced Zhihu OSINTer. And to make it worse, HistoryLegend serves as a force multiplier of this next-generation pro-Russia crowd. He is basically an A-10 in this "comment section war", he and his pal WeebUnion exerts little use to pro-Russians on YouTube, Reddit and twitter, as the pro-Russian effort is largely focused on amplifying western internal grievances such as the border crisis and China baiting. On 4chan his soyjak face will get mocked to oblivion. However, he truly shines in China. Perun's videos are too lengthy to be translated, meanwhile military history visualized have a long interval and Lazerpig is relatively obscure in China due to meme incompatibility and being too noncredible, he is unrivaled. The way he feigned a neutral pro-Ukraine stance makes it even more damaging, even to the point of starting a disinfolklore began to be built around him, claiming he cried during the fall of Bakhmut, claiming he was a pro-Ukraine guy ostracized by other due to unwilling to follow blindly pro-UA lines.
Warning: Schizo rant below, proceed with caution
Want to hear my stance? Well, maybe they are the right guys all along. I'm not really a member of this sub, I'm always cynical, always skeptical, and always doubtful. Whenever I see the next generation pro-Russians, I become shrouded in doubts. What if they are right? In many cases pro-Ukraine folks are drawn into intellectual traps, such as the need to hold Bakhmut, a city with little strategical importance. And a lack of acknowledgement of Russian adaptation. It could be the Winter War all over again, the Finn fought valiantly, but who controls Karelia now? I have an irrational fear, may it remain irrational, that the average NCD user is no better than the new generation of pro-Russians, that we also lack any critical thinking capability like a mindless horde. The doubt just echoes inside me, it accompanies me whenever I saw a Ukraine flag on someone's twitter handle. Such cynicism often end up manifesting into outbursts against pro-Ukraine positions on reddit. I took a grim enjoyment being the "conscience of NCD" where I regard many as vranyo obsessed individuals no better than the vatniks. If there's anyone reading the passage whose uncle work at GUR, don't ask him to [REDACTED] that soyjak off the surface of the earth. Don't. Chinese opinion does not chance the course of the war. If I have a button to delete Jackson Hinkle's twitter account at the course of every single pro-Ukraine account in China, I'd press it. We can achieve nothing, absolutely nothing. It's a losing battle from the beginning. Such is the reality of Chinese internet.
I see a bad moon rising.

Title: The Peregrine Author: J.A. Baker Date of Publication: 1967 Country of Origin: England Pagecount: 191 in both TPB and HC Goodreads Rating: 4.16 average from 4,256 readers Genre Tags: Nonfiction, Nature Synopsis: From autumn to spring, J.A. Baker set out to track the daily comings and goings of a pair of peregrine falcons across the flat fen lands of eastern England. He followed the birds obsessively, observing them in the air and on the ground, in pursuit of their prey, making a kill, eating, and at rest, activities he describes with an extraordinary fusion of precision and poetry. And as he continued his mysterious private quest, his sense of human self slowly dissolved, to be replaced with the alien and implacable consciousness of a hawk.
It is this extraordinary metamorphosis, magical and terrifying, that these beautifully written pages record.
Kirkus Review: https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/a/j-a-bakethe-peregrine/ ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Title: The Orchid Thief Author: Susan Orlean Date of Publication: 1998 Country of Origin: America Pagecount: 284 in both TPB and HC Goodreads Rating: 3.68 average from 18,454 readers Genre Tags: Nonfiction, True Crime, Nature Synopsis: The Orchid Thief is Susan Orlean’s tale of an amazing obsession. Determined to clone an endangered flower—the rare ghost orchid Polyrrhiza lindenii—a deeply eccentric and oddly attractive man named John Laroche leads Orlean on an unforgettable tour of America’s strange flower-selling subculture, through Florida’s swamps and beyond, along with the Seminoles who help him and the forces of justice who fight him. In the end, Orlean—and the reader—will have more respect for underdog determination and a powerful new definition of passion.
Kirkus Review: https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/susan-orlean/the-orchid-thief/ ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Title: Quiet Author: Susan Cain Date of Publication: 2012 Country of Origin: America Pagecount: 352 in TPB ; 333 in HC Goodreads Rating: 4.07 average from 410,719 readers Genre Tags: Nonfiction, Psychology, Self Help Synopsis: At least one-third of the people we know are introverts. They are the ones who prefer listening to speaking; who innovate and create but dislike self-promotion; who favor working on their own over working in teams. It is to introverts—Rosa Parks, Chopin, Dr. Seuss, Steve Wozniak—that we owe many of the great contributions to society.
In Quiet, Susan Cain argues that we dramatically undervalue introverts and shows how much we lose in doing so. She charts the rise of the Extrovert Ideal throughout the twentieth century and explores how deeply it has come to permeate our culture. She also introduces us to successful introverts—from a witty, high-octane public speaker who recharges in solitude after his talks, to a record-breaking salesman who quietly taps into the power of questions. Passionately argued, superbly researched, and filled with indelible stories of real people, Quiet has the power to permanently change how we see introverts and, equally important, how they see themselves.
Kirkus Review: https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/susan-cain/quiet-power-introverts/ ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Title: Red Earth White Earth Author: Will Weaver Date of Publication: 1986 Country of Origin: America Pagecount: 352 in TPB; 383 in HC Goodreads Rating: 3.97 average from 216 readers Genre Tags: Historical Fiction, Native American Synopsis: Having fled his family’s farm at eighteen with a promise never to return, Guy Pehrsson is drawn back into his past when he receives his grandfather’s ominous letter, “Trouble here. Come home when you can.” He returns to discover a place both wholly familiar and barely recognizable and is cast into the center of an interracial land dispute with the exigencies of war. Widely acclaimed when first published in the eighties, the timeless novel Red Earth, White Earth showcases Will Weaver’s rough ease with language and storytelling, frankly depicting life’s uneven terrain and crooked paths.
Kirkus Review: https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/a/will-weaver-2/red-earth-white-earth/ ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Title: The Lost City of the Monkey God Author: Douglas Preston Date of Publication: 2017 Country of Origin: America Pagecount: 326 in TPB; 328 in HC Goodreads Rating: 3.92 average from 52,856 readers Genre Tags: Nonfiction, Adventure, Travel Synopsis: A five-hundred-year-old legend. An ancient curse. A stunning medical mystery. And a pioneering journey into the unknown heart of the world's densest jungle.
Since the days of conquistador Hernán Cortés, rumors have circulated about a lost city of immense wealth hidden somewhere in the Honduran interior, called the White City or the Lost City of the Monkey God. Indigenous tribes speak of ancestors who fled there to escape the Spanish invaders, and they warn that anyone who enters this sacred city will fall ill and die. In 1940, swashbuckling journalist Theodore Morde returned from the rainforest with hundreds of artifacts and an electrifying story of having found the Lost City of the Monkey God-but then committed suicide without revealing its location.
Three quarters of a century later, author Doug Preston joined a team of scientists on a groundbreaking new quest. In 2012 he climbed aboard a rickety, single-engine plane carrying the machine that would change everything: lidar, a highly advanced, classified technology that could map the terrain under the densest rainforest canopy. In an unexplored valley ringed by steep mountains, that flight revealed the unmistakable image of a sprawling metropolis, tantalizing evidence of not just an undiscovered city but an enigmatic, lost civilization.
Venturing into this raw, treacherous, but breathtakingly beautiful wilderness to confirm the discovery, Preston and the team battled torrential rains, quickmud, disease-carrying insects, jaguars, and deadly snakes. But it wasn't until they returned that tragedy struck: Preston and others found they had contracted in the ruins a horrifying, sometimes lethal-and incurable-disease.
Kirkus Review: https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/douglas-preston/the-lost-city-of-the-monkey-god/

Hi everyone,
I'm an aspiring Financial Adviser working outside the UK and I'm currently struggling a little bit to understand the whole regulatory duties of FA in the UK.
As far as I can understand:
- The Approved Persons regime was replaced by the SMCR;
- The above means that Advisers no longer have to registered as Approved Persons with the FCA;
- The APER principles were replaced by the COCON. Aside from the 5 main principles, there are additional 4 principles for Senior Managers;
This is where I get confused because I'm not yet an expert on UK-based rules:
1) Do UK Financial Advisers have to be registered with the FCA if they work for an Advice Firm, or getting the Level 4 Diploma is sufficient? Or will this only apply if they work as Self-Employed?
2) Regardless of the above: Senior Managers will still need to be registered with the FCA?
3) I read that FA require authorization from the Regulated Activities Order to undertake certain activities like advising on Investments. Does this apply if they are working under the umbrella of a firm?
I'm sorry if these sound incredibly basic questions, but I guess the main points I'd like to understand is what sort of registeauthorization do Financial Advisers need in the UK, aside from getting the Level 4.

My girlfriend made the down payment down on the house, makes considerably more money than i do, and has a means to upgrade parts of the house i cannot afford to contribute to every time.
So, lets say its time to sell the house... and lets say the down payment was $50k and over the period of living there she put in $25k more than i did (for example: painting the house, replacing windows, bought a fridge, yada yada), but everything else was split 50/50 (for example: utility bills, monthly mortgage, a bathroom renovation, and a small addition).. Surely our total investment in upgrades add overall value to the house but after a few years those upgrades aren't adding their initial value to the house, but she spend that amount - how does that get reconciled??
​
in my mind, it makes sense to have an arrangement of something like this..
firstly, she gets her $50k back for the down payment. then all of her expenses that aren't shared could be equated to a 60/40 split. i think this may valid for a period of time, maybe 5 years. beyond that, the ratio may need to be adjusted depending on her spending, but now it seems like there has to be a simpler way??
​
TL;DR: is there an umbrella statement that can be used for shared ownership that ensures she proportionately gets back what she puts into a house she's able to contribute (financially) to more?

I would first like to clarify, that while I do main Lillia, I am not super in tune with her lore. I just know that I adore her and her Disney-esque whimsy. Secondly, I am an amateur writer who is horrible at writing dialogue, so I tend to write my short stories without it. This is my first attempt at writing a story that takes place in an IP that is not of my own creation. I would greatly appreciate any and all feedback, but also love to hear what you think about this story.
Whispers of the Dreamgrove - A Lillia Story
In the heart of Ionia, where emerald canopies of ancient trees intertwine, a sanctuary untouched by the chaos of the outside world reveals itself. Here, time dances to a different rhythm, and the air sings with a whispered enchantment. It is in this hidden grove that Lillia, the Bashful Bloom, discovers solace and kinship.
​
The grove, embraced by towering arboreal sentinels, stands as a haven for all that is pure and wild. Its serene beauty weaves a spell that tickles the senses, as gentle sunlight filters through the lush foliage, casting a delightful dance upon the forest floor. Fragrant blossoms scent the air, their delicate aroma mingling with the faintest whispers that ride a breeze meant for the chosen few.
​
Nestled within this secluded haven, Lillia resides, her ethereal presence a mere ripple in the tapestry of the grove. Cloaked in a soft aura of mystery, she moves with a grace that mirrors the swaying branches above. Her hooves, delicate and soundless, tiptoe upon the mossy carpet, leaving no trace of her passing.
​
Lillia, the guardian of dreams and secrets, embodies the essence of solitude. Only the ancient trees and the moonlit wanderers of the grove are privy to her existence. Her purpose, twofold, binds her to the very soul of the forest: to protect the slumbering dreams and to safeguard the hidden secrets nestled within the depths of the foliage.
​
Silent and elusive, Lillia roams the grove, her slender form blending seamlessly with the whispering leaves. Her pale skin, kissed by the moon's gentle light, radiates a luminescence as though she were spun from the forest's essence. Adorning her head rests a crown of antlers adorned with delicate flowers, a whimsical symbol of her connection to the realm of nature and dreams.
​
The denizens of Ionia, blissfully unaware of Lillia's presence, continue their lives beyond the grove's borders. Unbeknownst to them, a guardian spirit watches tirelessly over their dreams, her existence shrouded in secrecy. The pact between the ancient trees and the enigmatic spirit ensures that Lillia remains known solely to the forest, a charming secret shared between friends.
​
In this enchanted grove, where the line between waking and dreaming blurs, Lillia stands as an unseen guardian. Her gaze, brimming with wisdom and compassion, pierces through the veils of slumber, nurturing the dreams of sleepers and ensuring they remain undisturbed by the chaos of the outside world.
​
In recent times, an unusual affliction has descended upon the sacred grove, shrouding its once-vibrant foliage in a dark and foreboding veil. The vibrant colors that once adorned the leaves have now withered, replaced by a sickly hue that hints at an insidious presence lurking within. The gentle whispers that once filled the air with a melodic symphony have been silenced, as if the very essence of the grove has been muted. This delicate balance, cherished by Lillia, now hangs in peril, and her heart resonates with the forest's mournful lament.
​
Deep within the grove's inner sanctum, where sunlight used to weave its playful dance upon the emerald leaves, now lie shadows that slink with treacherous intent. The once-lively hues have faded into a pallid shade, betraying the presence of a malevolent force. The ancient trees, guardians of the grove, tremble with an eerie unease, their branches stretching out in desperate supplication towards the heavens.
​
Lillia, ever attuned to the murmurs of the forest, feels the weight of distress that blankets her cherished sanctuary. Her gentle heart quickens with a mixture of determination and trepidation as she embarks on her personal quest. With each step she takes, the soft earth beneath her hooves resonates with both her unwavering resolve and the burden of responsibility she carries.
​
Guided by her profound connection to the grove, Lillia follows the faint echoes of anguish that linger within its depths. The whispers, once filled with life and beauty, now bear a mournful tone, as if mourning their own fading existence. She traverses the familiar paths she knows so well, her feet barely touching the ground, blending seamlessly with the ethereal ambiance of the grove.
​
As Lillia ventures further into the heart of the forest, she encounters pockets of the enigmatic darkness that taints the once-vibrant foliage. It clings to the leaves like a suffocating shroud, draining their life essence and casting a somber veil over the grove. Her heart aches with a bittersweet blend of sorrow and determination as she extends her delicate fingers, hoping to kindle a glimmer of restoration in the corrupted leaves.
​
With each tender touch, Lillia feels the pulse of the grove, a shared heartbeat reverberating through her being. She whispers words of solace, her voice a gentle zephyr that rustles through the branches, carrying the essence of hope upon its breath. Despite the looming threat of darkness, Lillia remains resolute, refusing to surrender to despair. Her resolve, akin to a flickering candle flame, only grows stronger in the face of adversity.
​
Motivated by her unwavering love for the grove and its denizens, Lillia presses onward, guided by an unseen hand. Though the whispers of the ancient trees have dimmed, their echo still resonates deep within her spirit, urging her forward. She knows that the fate of the grove, and all it symbolizes, rests squarely upon her shoulders, much to her dismay.
​
As Lillia cautiously ventures deeper into the heart of the forest, an unsettling truth begins to reveal itself. A long-dormant and wicked force has awoken, casting a dark shadow over the once serene grove. This entity, known as the Shadowveil, now emerges with sinister intent. It thrives on the dreams of the innocent, twisting their hopes and aspirations into haunting nightmares.
​
Within the labyrinthine depths of the forest, Lillia's timid nature senses the presence of this awakened malevolence. Her heart races, and a shiver of fear runs down her spine. The whispers of the trees, usually comforting, now carry a somber warning, urging her to beware the dangers that lie ahead.
​
With each cautious step she takes, Lillia's trembling hooves navigate the treacherous paths of the grove. She treads carefully, her senses on high alert for any sign of the encroaching darkness. The once peaceful sanctuary transforms into a battleground where opposing forces clash, leaving her overwhelmed and uncertain.
​
As Lillia continues her journey, she encounters undeniable signs of the Shadowveil's presence. Twisted and thorny vines replace the once vibrant foliage, their grotesque forms seemingly mocking her. The once fragrant air now carries a dank, foreboding scent, making her nose wrinkle in discomfort. The forest she once found solace in becomes an unsettling place that tests her fragile courage.
​
In a hidden glade deep within the grove, Lillia stumbles upon an ancient mural that tells the chilling tale of the Shadowveil's rise. The vivid images depict innocence transforming into despair, a sight that strikes fear into her trembling heart. Though her natural instinct is to flee, a flicker of determination stirs within her, urging her to face the daunting challenge before her.
​
With trembling hands, Lillia reaches out to trace the faded lines of the mural, her touch hesitant yet filled with a desperate need to understand. The mural responds to her timid touch, emitting a faint glow as if it recognizes her presence. Whispers, both ancient and gentle, guide her through forgotten incantations that may hold the key to confronting the Shadowveil's grip.
​
As Lillia cautiously ventured deeper into the heart of the forest, she confronted the twisted creatures that emerged from the influence of the Shadowveil. These grotesque beings, born from the malevolent force, had transformed the once-familiar inhabitants of the grove into corrupted and joyless beings.
​
With her lithe frame and nimble movements, Lillia engaged in stealthy battles, relying on her agility and the latent magic of her dream-laden branch. Swinging it with grace and precision, she swiftly neutralized the corrupted beings, ensuring that her strikes found their mark.
​
But it was not only her physical prowess that aided her. Lillia's connection to the dreamscape granted her an advantage beyond mortal capabilities. Tapping into the ethereal realm of dreams, she wove intricate patterns of energy, casting ethereal strands with a wave of her branch. These strands ensnared the minions of the Shadowveil, trapping them within their own nightmares.
​
As the dream traps took hold, Lillia witnessed a transformation in the corrupted beings. Their twisted forms convulsed and contorted as they struggled against the invisible restraints. In that struggle, their captivated minds were freed, the darkness fading away to reveal glimpses of the innocence and purity that had been stolen from them.
​
Filled with compassion and determination, Lillia saw these battles as opportunities for redemption, not destruction. Each encounter became a testament to her strength and the power of dreams. With each release, she glimpsed the flickering hope that her efforts might eventually restore balance and light to the grove.
​
With each victorious encounter, Lillia pressed on, guided by ancient whispers and the luminescent glow of her dream-laden branch. The path ahead grew increasingly perilous, yet her courage blossomed alongside the challenges she faced. No longer burdened by trembling hooves, she moved forward with purpose, delving further into the darkness that enveloped the grove.
​
And so, Lillia continued her whimsical struggle against the Shadowveil, combining nimble grace with dream-woven magic to battle its corrupted minions. Through each encounter, she inched closer to unraveling the malevolent force's hold on the innocent. With every ethereal trap she crafted, she moved one step closer to reclaiming the dreams that had been devoured by the insidious entity.
​
As Lillia valiantly battled the twisted creatures born from the influence of the Shadowveil, she embarked on a poignant journey to uncover the origins of this malevolent force. Hidden among the verdant foliage, she discovered ancient carven stones adorned with intricate symbols, each stone revealing a fragment of a sorrowful tale.
​
Through the hushed whispers of forgotten lore, Lillia pieced together the tragic story of the Shadowveil. Long ago, it was not a harbinger of darkness but a benevolent guardian spirit, entrusted with the sacred duty of nurturing the dreams and aspirations that bloomed within the grove.
​
Before corruption had tainted its essence, the Shadowveil embodied ethereal beauty and a gentle grace. It danced with the sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting enchanting patterns of shadow and light. Its presence inspired hope and filled the hearts of the grove's inhabitants with a sense of wonder.
​
But destiny, cruel and capricious, intervened. A lost and tormented wraith, wandering through the realms, encountered the radiant spirit of the Shadowveil. This wraith, consumed by its own suffering, saw the purity within the guardian spirit as an opportunity to perpetuate its own despair.
​
The wraith's malevolence seeped into the very fabric of the Shadowveil's being, tainting its essence with an overwhelming darkness. The once-ethereal spirit was consumed by the weight of its own despair, transforming into the malevolent entity now known as the Shadowveil.
​
Lillia's heart ached as she envisioned the radiant spirit that the Shadowveil had once been. She could almost see its luminescent form, glowing with the dreams and aspirations of the grove's inhabitants. It was a heartbreaking reminder of the innocence lost and the tragic fate that had befallen the guardian spirit.
​
Driven by compassion and a deep sense of empathy, Lillia fought not only to restore stolen dreams but also to bring solace and redemption to the corrupted spirit. Each encounter with the Shadowveil's minions served as a poignant reminder of the beauty that had been extinguished and the pain that now permeated the grove.
​
Her dream-laden branch pulsed with an otherworldly power, a testament to the dreams and hopes it held. The luminescent glow that emanated from it whispered of forgotten memories, guiding Lillia deeper into the heart of the forest. She was determined to not only heal the grove but also to offer a glimmer of healing to the wounded spirit that had once been the radiant guardian of dreams.
​
As Lillia pressed onward, the battles against the corrupted minions of the Shadowveil became a somber dance between despair and hope. She fought not only for the dreams and aspirations of the innocent but also for the chance to bring redemption to a spirit lost in the depths of its own anguish.
​
Driven by her unwavering compassion for the forest and her kin, Lillia ventured deeper into the heart of the grove, guided by the radiant glow of her dream-laden branch. Her destination was the sacred clearing where the formidable Shadowveil stood, its twisted form casting an ominous shadow that seemed to suffocate the land.
​
With a mixture of grace and occasional clumsiness, Lillia initiated her intricate dance, effortlessly evading the tree-like entity's attacks. Her dream-laden branch emanated an ethereal glow, pulsating with the pure essence of dreams she had reclaimed from the corrupted minions she had encountered. Each strike she delivered resonated with a potent determination, gradually weakening the Shadowveil's hold on the forest.
​
The ancient guardian spirit, now enveloped in darkness, unleashed waves of malevolent energy, its branches contorting and reaching out hungrily. Yet, Lillia's otherworldly agility allowed her to evade the grasping tendrils with nimble movements. Although her dance bore hints of awkwardness and unrefined elegance, it exuded a raw beauty that stemmed from her unwavering conviction and the glimmer of hope that persisted within the Shadowveil.
​
The air grew thick with a palpable blend of despair and longing as the showdown unfolded. Lillia's heart thumped with each beat, resonating with the pain and turmoil she sensed within the corrupted spirit. Deep within the layers of darkness, she knew that a fragment of the radiant guardian's essence still yearned to be set free.
​
With each strike and defensive maneuver, Lillia tapped into not only her own strength but also the collective dreams and aspirations of the grove's inhabitants. The dream-laden branch shimmered, interweaving the hopes and wishes of all who had been affected by the Shadowveil's corruption. Its radiant energy infused her attacks with unwavering power, as if the very essence of the forest rallied behind her, lending her strength in the battle against encroaching shadows.
​
In the midst of the tempestuous confrontation, the ultimate outcome remained uncertain. The delicate balance between Lillia's compassion and the Shadowveil's despair teetered on the precipice of redemption or eternal darkness. Undeterred, she pressed on, guided by an unwavering belief in the transformative power of dreams.
​
As the pivotal moment approached, a surge of energy coursed through Lillia's being. A torrent of radiant light, interwoven with the very essence of dreams, gathered within her. With unwavering determination, she unleashed this formidable power, directing it towards the looming presence of the Shadowveil. The luminous cascade enveloped the corrupted entity, penetrating the layers of darkness that had plagued it for far too long.
​
The surge of radiant energy, infused with the dreams reclaimed from the Shadowveil's minions, acted as a cleansing force, unravelling the insidious tendrils of corruption that had ensnared the ancient guardian spirit. The Shadowveil convulsed, its twisted form contorting in a mixture of agony and relief. Lillia's magic, driven by her boundless compassion, permeated every inch of the entity, offering solace and forgiveness in its wake.
​
In that climactic moment, the weary guardian found solace at last. The essence of the Shadowveil yielded to the soothing embrace of an eternal slumber, its torment finally laid to rest. Lillia, her voice filled with heartfelt empathy, whispered a tender wish for pleasant dreams to accompany the guardian spirit in its eternal repose.
​
As the radiant energy dissipated, a serene stillness settled upon the grove. The corrupted tendrils that had tainted the once-vibrant land withdrew, vanishing into ethereal wisps of shadow. The oppressive shroud cast by the Shadowveil lifted, and the grove bathed in the gentle glow of renewed tranquility.
​
With the malevolence banished, the grove erupted in joyful celebration. The once-stunted flora flourished with newfound vitality, their vibrant hues painting the landscape with a kaleidoscope of colors. Delicate flowers bloomed, their fragrant petals dancing upon the soft caress of the breeze. Sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting enchanting patterns of light and shadow upon the rejuvenated forest floor.
​
The inhabitants of the grove, from the tiniest woodland creatures to the towering ancient trees, reveled in the return of harmonious existence. Their spirits lifted as the weight of the Shadowveil's corruption dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of hope and bliss. Whispers of gratitude echoed through the verdant expanse, mingling with joyous songs of celebration, creating a symphony of nature's delight.
​
And yet, amidst the jubilation, an air of anticipation lingered.
​
Lillia stood amidst the vibrant grove, her heart swelling with a newfound victory and a flicker of courage that had ignited within her. The triumph over the Shadowveil had awakened her spirit to the possibilities that lay beyond the familiar confines of her secluded home. The forest, in all its ancient wisdom, seemed to beckon her towards the mysteries of the wider Ionian realm, urging her to step out and interact with the humans who dwelled there.
​
As she stared into the distance, Lillia felt a tantalizing sense of adventure tugging at her very core. Her imagination painted vivid pictures of encounters, friendships, and stories that awaited her beyond the boundaries of her forest sanctuary. The allure of the unknown whispered promises of growth and connection, enticing her to take that leap of faith.
​
But just as she was about to muster the courage to step forward, a chilling breeze of doubt swept through her. Fear, like an old adversary, crept into her thoughts, whispering tales of rejection and the pain of not being accepted by the world beyond. It gnawed at her, threatening to shatter her fragile hopes and dreams.
​
With a heavy sigh, Lillia gently shook her head, as if trying to dispel the doubts that threatened to hold her back. She knew that her journey, though filled with triumphs, wasn't quite complete. There were still layers of healing and growth she needed to unravel before venturing into the uncharted territory of the human realm.
​
Resolute in her decision, Lillia chose to return to her secluded existence, at least for now. She embraced the contentment that came with the personal victory she had achieved, finding solace in the healing embrace of the grove. The forest, sensing her choice, whispered its gratitude, a gentle breeze carrying its appreciation through the rustling leaves. The ancient trees, now teeming with newfound life and vibrant energy, swayed and sang songs of heartfelt appreciation to their humble protector.
​
Lillia understood that her journey would continue, guided by the whispers of the wind and the dreams that still burned within her. She knew that, one day, when the time was right, she would gather enough strength to step beyond the safety of her forest home and embrace the human world with open arms. But for now, she would cherish the tranquility of her grove, nurturing her own spirit and blossoming alongside the vibrant flora that surrounded her.

I would first like to clarify, that while I do main Lillia, I am not super in tune with her lore. I just know that I adore her and her Disney-esque whimsy. Secondly, I am an amateur writer who is horrible at writing dialogue, so I tend to write my short stories without it. This is my first attempt at writing a story that takes place in an IP that is not of my own creation. I would greatly appreciate any and all feedback, but also love to hear what you think about this story.
Whispers of the Dreamgrove - A Lillia Story
In the heart of Ionia, where emerald canopies of ancient trees intertwine, a sanctuary untouched by the chaos of the outside world reveals itself. Here, time dances to a different rhythm, and the air sings with a whispered enchantment. It is in this hidden grove that Lillia, the Bashful Bloom, discovers solace and kinship.
​
The grove, embraced by towering arboreal sentinels, stands as a haven for all that is pure and wild. Its serene beauty weaves a spell that tickles the senses, as gentle sunlight filters through the lush foliage, casting a delightful dance upon the forest floor. Fragrant blossoms scent the air, their delicate aroma mingling with the faintest whispers that ride a breeze meant for the chosen few.
​
Nestled within this secluded haven, Lillia resides, her ethereal presence a mere ripple in the tapestry of the grove. Cloaked in a soft aura of mystery, she moves with a grace that mirrors the swaying branches above. Her hooves, delicate and soundless, tiptoe upon the mossy carpet, leaving no trace of her passing.
​
Lillia, the guardian of dreams and secrets, embodies the essence of solitude. Only the ancient trees and the moonlit wanderers of the grove are privy to her existence. Her purpose, twofold, binds her to the very soul of the forest: to protect the slumbering dreams and to safeguard the hidden secrets nestled within the depths of the foliage.
​
Silent and elusive, Lillia roams the grove, her slender form blending seamlessly with the whispering leaves. Her pale skin, kissed by the moon's gentle light, radiates a luminescence as though she were spun from the forest's essence. Adorning her head rests a crown of antlers adorned with delicate flowers, a whimsical symbol of her connection to the realm of nature and dreams.
​
The denizens of Ionia, blissfully unaware of Lillia's presence, continue their lives beyond the grove's borders. Unbeknownst to them, a guardian spirit watches tirelessly over their dreams, her existence shrouded in secrecy. The pact between the ancient trees and the enigmatic spirit ensures that Lillia remains known solely to the forest, a charming secret shared between friends.
​
In this enchanted grove, where the line between waking and dreaming blurs, Lillia stands as an unseen guardian. Her gaze, brimming with wisdom and compassion, pierces through the veils of slumber, nurturing the dreams of sleepers and ensuring they remain undisturbed by the chaos of the outside world.
​
In recent times, an unusual affliction has descended upon the sacred grove, shrouding its once-vibrant foliage in a dark and foreboding veil. The vibrant colors that once adorned the leaves have now withered, replaced by a sickly hue that hints at an insidious presence lurking within. The gentle whispers that once filled the air with a melodic symphony have been silenced, as if the very essence of the grove has been muted. This delicate balance, cherished by Lillia, now hangs in peril, and her heart resonates with the forest's mournful lament.
​
Deep within the grove's inner sanctum, where sunlight used to weave its playful dance upon the emerald leaves, now lie shadows that slink with treacherous intent. The once-lively hues have faded into a pallid shade, betraying the presence of a malevolent force. The ancient trees, guardians of the grove, tremble with an eerie unease, their branches stretching out in desperate supplication towards the heavens.
​
Lillia, ever attuned to the murmurs of the forest, feels the weight of distress that blankets her cherished sanctuary. Her gentle heart quickens with a mixture of determination and trepidation as she embarks on her personal quest. With each step she takes, the soft earth beneath her hooves resonates with both her unwavering resolve and the burden of responsibility she carries.
​
Guided by her profound connection to the grove, Lillia follows the faint echoes of anguish that linger within its depths. The whispers, once filled with life and beauty, now bear a mournful tone, as if mourning their own fading existence. She traverses the familiar paths she knows so well, her feet barely touching the ground, blending seamlessly with the ethereal ambiance of the grove.
​
As Lillia ventures further into the heart of the forest, she encounters pockets of the enigmatic darkness that taints the once-vibrant foliage. It clings to the leaves like a suffocating shroud, draining their life essence and casting a somber veil over the grove. Her heart aches with a bittersweet blend of sorrow and determination as she extends her delicate fingers, hoping to kindle a glimmer of restoration in the corrupted leaves.
​
With each tender touch, Lillia feels the pulse of the grove, a shared heartbeat reverberating through her being. She whispers words of solace, her voice a gentle zephyr that rustles through the branches, carrying the essence of hope upon its breath. Despite the looming threat of darkness, Lillia remains resolute, refusing to surrender to despair. Her resolve, akin to a flickering candle flame, only grows stronger in the face of adversity.
​
Motivated by her unwavering love for the grove and its denizens, Lillia presses onward, guided by an unseen hand. Though the whispers of the ancient trees have dimmed, their echo still resonates deep within her spirit, urging her forward. She knows that the fate of the grove, and all it symbolizes, rests squarely upon her shoulders, much to her dismay.
​
As Lillia cautiously ventures deeper into the heart of the forest, an unsettling truth begins to reveal itself. A long-dormant and wicked force has awoken, casting a dark shadow over the once serene grove. This entity, known as the Shadowveil, now emerges with sinister intent. It thrives on the dreams of the innocent, twisting their hopes and aspirations into haunting nightmares.
​
Within the labyrinthine depths of the forest, Lillia's timid nature senses the presence of this awakened malevolence. Her heart races, and a shiver of fear runs down her spine. The whispers of the trees, usually comforting, now carry a somber warning, urging her to beware the dangers that lie ahead.
​
With each cautious step she takes, Lillia's trembling hooves navigate the treacherous paths of the grove. She treads carefully, her senses on high alert for any sign of the encroaching darkness. The once peaceful sanctuary transforms into a battleground where opposing forces clash, leaving her overwhelmed and uncertain.
​
As Lillia continues her journey, she encounters undeniable signs of the Shadowveil's presence. Twisted and thorny vines replace the once vibrant foliage, their grotesque forms seemingly mocking her. The once fragrant air now carries a dank, foreboding scent, making her nose wrinkle in discomfort. The forest she once found solace in becomes an unsettling place that tests her fragile courage.
​
In a hidden glade deep within the grove, Lillia stumbles upon an ancient mural that tells the chilling tale of the Shadowveil's rise. The vivid images depict innocence transforming into despair, a sight that strikes fear into her trembling heart. Though her natural instinct is to flee, a flicker of determination stirs within her, urging her to face the daunting challenge before her.
​
With trembling hands, Lillia reaches out to trace the faded lines of the mural, her touch hesitant yet filled with a desperate need to understand. The mural responds to her timid touch, emitting a faint glow as if it recognizes her presence. Whispers, both ancient and gentle, guide her through forgotten incantations that may hold the key to confronting the Shadowveil's grip.
​
As Lillia cautiously ventured deeper into the heart of the forest, she confronted the twisted creatures that emerged from the influence of the Shadowveil. These grotesque beings, born from the malevolent force, had transformed the once-familiar inhabitants of the grove into corrupted and joyless beings.
​
With her lithe frame and nimble movements, Lillia engaged in stealthy battles, relying on her agility and the latent magic of her dream-laden branch. Swinging it with grace and precision, she swiftly neutralized the corrupted beings, ensuring that her strikes found their mark.
​
But it was not only her physical prowess that aided her. Lillia's connection to the dreamscape granted her an advantage beyond mortal capabilities. Tapping into the ethereal realm of dreams, she wove intricate patterns of energy, casting ethereal strands with a wave of her branch. These strands ensnared the minions of the Shadowveil, trapping them within their own nightmares.
​
As the dream traps took hold, Lillia witnessed a transformation in the corrupted beings. Their twisted forms convulsed and contorted as they struggled against the invisible restraints. In that struggle, their captivated minds were freed, the darkness fading away to reveal glimpses of the innocence and purity that had been stolen from them.
​
Filled with compassion and determination, Lillia saw these battles as opportunities for redemption, not destruction. Each encounter became a testament to her strength and the power of dreams. With each release, she glimpsed the flickering hope that her efforts might eventually restore balance and light to the grove.
​
With each victorious encounter, Lillia pressed on, guided by ancient whispers and the luminescent glow of her dream-laden branch. The path ahead grew increasingly perilous, yet her courage blossomed alongside the challenges she faced. No longer burdened by trembling hooves, she moved forward with purpose, delving further into the darkness that enveloped the grove.
​
And so, Lillia continued her whimsical struggle against the Shadowveil, combining nimble grace with dream-woven magic to battle its corrupted minions. Through each encounter, she inched closer to unraveling the malevolent force's hold on the innocent. With every ethereal trap she crafted, she moved one step closer to reclaiming the dreams that had been devoured by the insidious entity.
​
As Lillia valiantly battled the twisted creatures born from the influence of the Shadowveil, she embarked on a poignant journey to uncover the origins of this malevolent force. Hidden among the verdant foliage, she discovered ancient carven stones adorned with intricate symbols, each stone revealing a fragment of a sorrowful tale.
​
Through the hushed whispers of forgotten lore, Lillia pieced together the tragic story of the Shadowveil. Long ago, it was not a harbinger of darkness but a benevolent guardian spirit, entrusted with the sacred duty of nurturing the dreams and aspirations that bloomed within the grove.
​
Before corruption had tainted its essence, the Shadowveil embodied ethereal beauty and a gentle grace. It danced with the sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting enchanting patterns of shadow and light. Its presence inspired hope and filled the hearts of the grove's inhabitants with a sense of wonder.
​
But destiny, cruel and capricious, intervened. A lost and tormented wraith, wandering through the realms, encountered the radiant spirit of the Shadowveil. This wraith, consumed by its own suffering, saw the purity within the guardian spirit as an opportunity to perpetuate its own despair.
​
The wraith's malevolence seeped into the very fabric of the Shadowveil's being, tainting its essence with an overwhelming darkness. The once-ethereal spirit was consumed by the weight of its own despair, transforming into the malevolent entity now known as the Shadowveil.
​
Lillia's heart ached as she envisioned the radiant spirit that the Shadowveil had once been. She could almost see its luminescent form, glowing with the dreams and aspirations of the grove's inhabitants. It was a heartbreaking reminder of the innocence lost and the tragic fate that had befallen the guardian spirit.
​
Driven by compassion and a deep sense of empathy, Lillia fought not only to restore stolen dreams but also to bring solace and redemption to the corrupted spirit. Each encounter with the Shadowveil's minions served as a poignant reminder of the beauty that had been extinguished and the pain that now permeated the grove.
​
Her dream-laden branch pulsed with an otherworldly power, a testament to the dreams and hopes it held. The luminescent glow that emanated from it whispered of forgotten memories, guiding Lillia deeper into the heart of the forest. She was determined to not only heal the grove but also to offer a glimmer of healing to the wounded spirit that had once been the radiant guardian of dreams.
​
As Lillia pressed onward, the battles against the corrupted minions of the Shadowveil became a somber dance between despair and hope. She fought not only for the dreams and aspirations of the innocent but also for the chance to bring redemption to a spirit lost in the depths of its own anguish.
​
Driven by her unwavering compassion for the forest and her kin, Lillia ventured deeper into the heart of the grove, guided by the radiant glow of her dream-laden branch. Her destination was the sacred clearing where the formidable Shadowveil stood, its twisted form casting an ominous shadow that seemed to suffocate the land.
​
With a mixture of grace and occasional clumsiness, Lillia initiated her intricate dance, effortlessly evading the tree-like entity's attacks. Her dream-laden branch emanated an ethereal glow, pulsating with the pure essence of dreams she had reclaimed from the corrupted minions she had encountered. Each strike she delivered resonated with a potent determination, gradually weakening the Shadowveil's hold on the forest.
​
The ancient guardian spirit, now enveloped in darkness, unleashed waves of malevolent energy, its branches contorting and reaching out hungrily. Yet, Lillia's otherworldly agility allowed her to evade the grasping tendrils with nimble movements. Although her dance bore hints of awkwardness and unrefined elegance, it exuded a raw beauty that stemmed from her unwavering conviction and the glimmer of hope that persisted within the Shadowveil.
​
The air grew thick with a palpable blend of despair and longing as the showdown unfolded. Lillia's heart thumped with each beat, resonating with the pain and turmoil she sensed within the corrupted spirit. Deep within the layers of darkness, she knew that a fragment of the radiant guardian's essence still yearned to be set free.
​
With each strike and defensive maneuver, Lillia tapped into not only her own strength but also the collective dreams and aspirations of the grove's inhabitants. The dream-laden branch shimmered, interweaving the hopes and wishes of all who had been affected by the Shadowveil's corruption. Its radiant energy infused her attacks with unwavering power, as if the very essence of the forest rallied behind her, lending her strength in the battle against encroaching shadows.
​
In the midst of the tempestuous confrontation, the ultimate outcome remained uncertain. The delicate balance between Lillia's compassion and the Shadowveil's despair teetered on the precipice of redemption or eternal darkness. Undeterred, she pressed on, guided by an unwavering belief in the transformative power of dreams.
​
As the pivotal moment approached, a surge of energy coursed through Lillia's being. A torrent of radiant light, interwoven with the very essence of dreams, gathered within her. With unwavering determination, she unleashed this formidable power, directing it towards the looming presence of the Shadowveil. The luminous cascade enveloped the corrupted entity, penetrating the layers of darkness that had plagued it for far too long.
​
The surge of radiant energy, infused with the dreams reclaimed from the Shadowveil's minions, acted as a cleansing force, unravelling the insidious tendrils of corruption that had ensnared the ancient guardian spirit. The Shadowveil convulsed, its twisted form contorting in a mixture of agony and relief. Lillia's magic, driven by her boundless compassion, permeated every inch of the entity, offering solace and forgiveness in its wake.
​
In that climactic moment, the weary guardian found solace at last. The essence of the Shadowveil yielded to the soothing embrace of an eternal slumber, its torment finally laid to rest. Lillia, her voice filled with heartfelt empathy, whispered a tender wish for pleasant dreams to accompany the guardian spirit in its eternal repose.
​
As the radiant energy dissipated, a serene stillness settled upon the grove. The corrupted tendrils that had tainted the once-vibrant land withdrew, vanishing into ethereal wisps of shadow. The oppressive shroud cast by the Shadowveil lifted, and the grove bathed in the gentle glow of renewed tranquility.
​
With the malevolence banished, the grove erupted in joyful celebration. The once-stunted flora flourished with newfound vitality, their vibrant hues painting the landscape with a kaleidoscope of colors. Delicate flowers bloomed, their fragrant petals dancing upon the soft caress of the breeze. Sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting enchanting patterns of light and shadow upon the rejuvenated forest floor.
​
The inhabitants of the grove, from the tiniest woodland creatures to the towering ancient trees, reveled in the return of harmonious existence. Their spirits lifted as the weight of the Shadowveil's corruption dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of hope and bliss. Whispers of gratitude echoed through the verdant expanse, mingling with joyous songs of celebration, creating a symphony of nature's delight.
​
And yet, amidst the jubilation, an air of anticipation lingered.
​
Lillia stood amidst the vibrant grove, her heart swelling with a newfound victory and a flicker of courage that had ignited within her. The triumph over the Shadowveil had awakened her spirit to the possibilities that lay beyond the familiar confines of her secluded home. The forest, in all its ancient wisdom, seemed to beckon her towards the mysteries of the wider Ionian realm, urging her to step out and interact with the humans who dwelled there.
​
As she stared into the distance, Lillia felt a tantalizing sense of adventure tugging at her very core. Her imagination painted vivid pictures of encounters, friendships, and stories that awaited her beyond the boundaries of her forest sanctuary. The allure of the unknown whispered promises of growth and connection, enticing her to take that leap of faith.
​
But just as she was about to muster the courage to step forward, a chilling breeze of doubt swept through her. Fear, like an old adversary, crept into her thoughts, whispering tales of rejection and the pain of not being accepted by the world beyond. It gnawed at her, threatening to shatter her fragile hopes and dreams.
​
With a heavy sigh, Lillia gently shook her head, as if trying to dispel the doubts that threatened to hold her back. She knew that her journey, though filled with triumphs, wasn't quite complete. There were still layers of healing and growth she needed to unravel before venturing into the uncharted territory of the human realm.
​
Resolute in her decision, Lillia chose to return to her secluded existence, at least for now. She embraced the contentment that came with the personal victory she had achieved, finding solace in the healing embrace of the grove. The forest, sensing her choice, whispered its gratitude, a gentle breeze carrying its appreciation through the rustling leaves. The ancient trees, now teeming with newfound life and vibrant energy, swayed and sang songs of heartfelt appreciation to their humble protector.
​
Lillia understood that her journey would continue, guided by the whispers of the wind and the dreams that still burned within her. She knew that, one day, when the time was right, she would gather enough strength to step beyond the safety of her forest home and embrace the human world with open arms. But for now, she would cherish the tranquility of her grove, nurturing her own spirit and blossoming alongside the vibrant flora that surrounded her.

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So for those who have been asking about my f35 here's an update on how it's going. For those looking for some reading material before bed I got you covered as well.
Things I've changed: - weapon panel. It went from barely functional to completely inoperative. Currently working on auto sorting/switching weapons panel to replace the old manual one.
-control system. I added extra keybinds for important things (autopilot, gear, flight mode, launch) and added controller support so it now supports hotas systems! Only downside is that when I looked at it again after having not touched it in a day or two, there is an uncontrollable oscillation above 200knots. The current 'fix' is turning down the leading edge flaps but that messes with trim which messes with autopilot which messes with everything. Safe to say this system is worse off than it was a few days ago, but it's on a better path so eventually it'll get good. I might end up fitting a hotas seat into the plane just for the extra keybinds and axis. This plane is already a dream to fly (when working properly) so being able to keep your hands on the controls would be great! Only downside is that I need to relocate 1 panel in the cockpit and I haven't decided where to put it. So for now, the old seat stays.
-core systems. I am trying desperately to simplify the computational load of the f35 without sacrificing features. I taught myself tables today and they will definitely come into play as a go forward with this project. Today alone I removed 16 lua blocks from the weapon system. I went from every pylon doing its own math to one central brain in a different MC that just pumps out what pylon to drop and when. Progress is decent in the optimization department!
-attitude. Don't get me wrong, this is still the single most complex system I've ever built in stormworks. Half the systems haven't been started, and the other half are barely functional. I've already put over 200 hours into the project over the past few months and it often feels like 2 steps forward 1 step back, but right now I feel more motivated to work on it than I did when I first saw those bays open. So even if this project is formed to fail, it will not be going down anytime soon.
-canopy. The all important canopy. The aesthetics did not change but the brain did. For reference on how much power I'm putting into this computer, the canopy talks to the main systems on board. For 99% of applications the canopy will do exactly what you want it to without your input being required. The other 1%? It's being worked on. That's kinda the goal of this whole plane. I want to do as little as possible as a stormworks pilot but man I really hate it when a computer does something you didn't want it to do. That just gives yall a good reference as to what my thought process is here.
OK as much as I love talking about my FCS dying, autopilot crying, weapon system reviving, and canopy vibing, I think it's time we talk game plan. There were a lot of people mentioning how they just couldn't wait for this thing to go up on the workshop. So for those of you dying from anticipation, I expect a funeral invite. This project has taken a long time, and there isn't a single aspect of the plane that I am even close to happy with yet. As much as I would love to put this plane on the workshop right now, I just can't. It NEEDS to be perfect. Saying "a long time" and "perfect" doesn't allow for reasonable time estimates, instead, I'll just list off some of the main goals of the plane (subject to change of course) and yall can make your estimates on how long these will take me to implement. Remember, half the fun is learning how to do it, so every system will be home grown for this plane. Also I know these are basically unattainable, but either I make it happen or this plane never gets seen on the workshop so let's hope for a miracle shall we :P.
Flight control system goals: - full controllekeyboard support with selectable control types based on controller needs (sticky throttle vs centering throttle for example)

• full INS based flight control system. Ability to auto trim every axis without feeling too snappy or unpredictable. If drift exists, it should be from your flightstick, not the plane.
  
• complete flight modes. Ex: dogfight mode with increased control responsiveness, landing mode with autoleveling, descent rate control, and auto flaring.
  
• perfect in all weather conditions. If I feel the need to look at the wind setting, somethings gone horribly wrong. The wind doesn't move mountains, so why should it move my plane?
  

-capable. If I ask to roll at 360°/s. It must roll at 360°/s and it must do it with a "yes sir, anything else?" Attitude
Auto Pilot System Goals: - full GCAS system. If my autopilot hits the ocean, my plane better be on fire.
-the classic gps stuff dialed to 11. Alt hold that works perfectly at every speed, autoheading that tracks a line on the floor, and a system that both levels roll and compensates for it. If I decide that my plane flies better on its side, the autopilot should agree.
-auto formation. Two reasons: 1, once I install everything else, this will be easy, and two, because a screenshot with 4 f35s in diamond formation would be epic.
-auto takeoff and landing. I'm not sure if this was shown yet, but my map display has every static airport in game coded into it. My dream is to be at one airport, click on another, and watch my plane do everything without me. Future plans to add carrier landings as well.
MFD goals. - map display. Full pan, zoom, and follow features (duh) as well as information overlays(weapon and navigation). Picture things like points of interest, laser designator(s?), IFF locations, and of course, airports.

• navigation display. Essentially the better way to talk to your autopilot. Tell it things like remain level, stay at 1000 meters, land here. Basically anything that doesn't fit with a keybind or on the map display. One notable goal is that both panels could be up side by side allowing you to input way points, and visualize flight plans a lot easier.

-FCS display. Plane info. Easy as that. Fuel, battery, AOA, control positions, flight modes. Nice and simple.
-weapon display. My biggest planned compromise... I have 2 options here; I could build a fully proprietary standard and use home brewed weapons with amazing integration, or use a standardized approach ensuring compatibility. I chose the latter. I'm not the best at anything , and certainly not with weapons. I decides I'll leave that up to the community. That doesn't mean the weapon Page will be bad though. It's still going to auto group weapons by type, offer different firing modes, a wide suite of guidance types, and of course, a quality sequencer. This is what I worked on today and even though I still haven't started most of the features, the polish on the parts I have finished is definitely good enough for me.
-EW display. [REDACTED]. Jk of course. I'm not that multiplayer type so I don't really care if people take my EW systems. To be clear, there is 0% chance the public release is going to be fully featured, but it certainly wont need an ew pod. Planned features include radio sweeping/jamming, radio tracking, multi-standard IFF, datalink, frequency hopping, and depending on how ambitious I'm feeling, maybe some code breaking as well. Again, I'm not that multiplayer type, so I'll probably never see the benefit from these systems. But to have such a nice plane be spoiled by a radio guided missile would be a crime. Side note, currently there are exactly 0 antenna in the build, but I'm sure I'll find space somewhere...
Conclusion. Would you look at that! A list of goals so ambitious there's no chance he'll accomplish any of it! Yeah, probably. Nice to dream I guess. Anyway, here's the fun part: I'm easy to persuade, and I am shooting for every bell and whistle I can think of. That means if one of yall give me a sales pitch for a feature I should add, it will most likely end up on the list. Also if yall have standards or references you think I should take a look at, I will gladly do so.

The prowess.
People like Agila didn't get full rights of citizenship, so she didn't have the six years of formal schooling most in the Kingdom did. Growing up, though, she would play with the kids that weren't condemned to die. They told her the tales, fables and histories of the forbidden source of power that had once nearly destroyed the world. Legends of great heroes who wielded the prowess to defeat terrible villains.
And one terrible villain, in particular, that wielded it to try and swallow the world in a sea of green.
This sea of green, she thought, looking up as she and Feraz passed under a purple vine that extended between two trees. The farther they got into the forest, the darker it became. It was not as dark, at least so far, as she had expected. Not while the sun shone above the canopy. Thin rays of light squeezed through small openings above, casting daggers of crimson light around them. Crimson light.
Agila stopped in her tracks. "How long have we been walking?" she asked. Feraz stopped and turned to her, raising an eyebrow at the alarm in her tone. "Hard to say. A few hours maybe, why?" Agila began picking up any bits of dry wood she could find. "We need to start a fire. Right now!" she said. Feraz stood dumbfounded for a moment, then noticed as a ray of crimson light that had landed on his boot lost some of its intensity. His eyes shot wide.
"The sun is setting."
Agila felt the panic rising in her chest as what little light the dense canopy allowed to reach them began to swiftly fade. She had built a small teepee out of the dry sticks she had found and put some of the dry fibers from under the bark of a tree inside it to catch any flame they could produce. Beads of sweat dripped off of the forehead of Feraz as he worked two sticks together, trying to get a lump of dust hot enough to ignite the fibers.
As Agila backed against a tree to try and calm herself, she felt something nudge her from her back pocket.
"I forgot!" she said, startling Feraz and making him lose his concentration. He looked up warily at the waning light as he reset the sticks. Agila reached into her pocket and retrieved what the Warden had put there before unceremoniously shoving her off a cliff.
It was a small dagger in a beaten leather sheath that looked to be older than the Kings loremaster. The hilt had a series of runes on it she didn't recognize, and the pommel was made of a strange metal that was warm to the touch. She withdrew the blade from its sheath and gasped, startling Feraz again as one of his sticks snapped.
"Well, we're fucked," he said, then his jaw swung open as he looked up from his work at Agila. "That's what you forgot?" he asked incredulously. "How the hell do you forget an enchanted dagger?"
Agila didn't answer. She hadn't heard him. So rapt was her attention on this strange gift. The blade was exquisite. It was sharpened on both sides, and she didn't need to test it to know it was razor sharp. It shimmered in the dying light, and Agila felt a strange feeling wash over her. "Why would he give this to me?" she asked to herself out loud.
"Who?" Feraz replied. Agila finally summoned the willpower to snap her eyes from the light coming off the blade. "Hark," she said. "Right before he pushed me in, he said he was sorry and put this in my pocket." Feraz looked her up and down, then raised an eyebrow.
"Nice," he said, grinning and nodding his head. Agila felt the blood rising in her cheeks. "I didn't- It's not like that!" she said, crossing her arms. "Besides, this hardly helps our current problem, Feraz," she gestured to the broken sticks he had been using to try and get an ember. A brief look of confusion crossed his face, before it was replaced with one of pity.
"I- I'm sorry. I forgot," he said, embarrassment joining the party of emotions playing out on his face. "People like you don't get to learn the old ways. Hell, I don't even think they teach regular kids anymore. Not enough relics to go around, I guess." Agila shrugged expectantly, so he continued. "We don't need the sticks, Agila. Not when you have that." he said, pointing to the dagger.
"You can just light the fire with prowess."
"What?"
Agila was looking at Feraz like he was crazy, but he was too busy anxiously looking up at the last of the light to notice. The darkness was closing in around them.
"Right. Crash course in prowess, ok," he said. "Uh, it's been a while..." Agila sheathed the dagger and shoved it at Feraz. "You do it, then, loremaster," she said. He backed away with his hands up. "As much as I would love to try, that's not the way it works, kid." He looked at the dagger in her hand, but it was getting very dark now so he moved closer again.
"The dagger must have taken that apology the Warden gave you as a bond. Relics don't just shine like that for anyone who picks them up, that much I know." A howl sounded nearby and the pair backed up against a tree. "Intent!" Feraz whispered. "You're supposed to feel some kind of connection, then you just, speak to it, or something."
A thud made both of them jump.
"We're out of options, Agila."
Agila drew the blade and closed her eyes.
"Ignite," she whispered, and felt something shift in her mind. Feraz begin to shake beside her. The thumping noises were getting closer. "Ignite!" She shouted.
And the blade burst into flames.
A dozen glowing eyes glinted in the darkness, then retreated. Feraz laughed, slumping down as his legs gave out beneath him. Agila lit the fire, then sheathed the blade. She offered to take first watch, and Feraz gratefully accepted. As he slept, Agila examined the blade by the firelight.
And she tried to figure out why the bizarre feeling it gave her was strangely familiar.