Harmonious_Echos

FAIR WARNING!! THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BOOK 1!! >> >> >> >> Seed of Grebefal The winds were different. Kyirtana Armonia Grebe was sure of it now. He’d been checking the winds for days in the same way, as he did every morning; standing barefoot, clad in only his pants, on the top of the tower, arms outstretched, his hands spread wide. The rushing air pressed against his bare skin, and filtered through his fingers and hair. But his face was still warm, today, even warmer than it had been for the last few days. It shouldn’t be getting warmer; it was already midsummer, and the weather should be getting colder now. Grebefal’s powerful mana-laden winds were cool and pure, and had never stopped circling this tower. They had been like this since before he had even been born. Why were they so odd today? He paused in his mental exercises and frowned, looking around him at the weathered stones and high outer wall of the tower. Today was his sixteenth birthday, which should be a good thing, great even; today he was officially the heir of the Grebefal Duchy, and an adult. And yet, he felt strangely uneasy. The winds were slower, sluggish today, and carried with them an odd new scent—dust, not cool and earthy like the meadow beyond the castle wall, but harsh and hot, and rough with a slight bitterness. Kyir scowled. It's all wrong, he thought. Maybe he would ask his father to do a scan and see, later. There was definitely something odd going on, and whatever it was, Kyir knew his father, Harlan, would find out what it was. Lord Harlan Grebe was the best Air mage in the world, Kyir was certain; no one else could scan as far, or as accurately, or manipulate the winds as completely as he—not even Kyir’s mother, who was a mage too. But she had other talents, after all. She didn’t control the air, but nobody knew the earth as well as she did. Between the two of them, Grebefal had the best possible governors, and Kyir was proud that they were his parents. Still, it would be nice if they were a bit less busy and could give him the time to ask, before the festival…this might be really important. Kyir turned to the trapdoor in the floor and reached for the handle to pull it up, but just then it popped open with a soft thump, and a narrow, dark face peered out. It was Muse; his mother’s maid, a shapeshifter and transport expert. “Kyir? Your Mom needs you for something. I’m to bring you to her.” Kyir groaned. “Aw, couldn’t I just walk? I don’t like transporting. It makes my stomach turn.” Muse shook her head, her long, straight hair swishing around her slanted eyes. “She needs you right now, buddy. In the outer fields to the west. It’s important. Oh, and the guests will be arriving for your celebration soon, so you’ll need to dress too. You know it takes too long to walk everywhere; you should be glad you have me to get you around, you know.” Kyir nodded, resigned. “Yeah yeah…let’s just get this over with.” He pulled on his outdoor tunic, buckled his belt around it, & slid on his boots quickly. Then he reached out his hand to Muse, who hopped nimbly up through the trapdoor, balancing easily on the smooth stones. She grasped his hand in hers, cool and pale. “Ready?” He steeled himself and closed his eyes, to prevent the dizziness from making his stomach turn. “Sure, ok.” For a moment, the winds howled wildly in his ears; then they were gone, replaced by dull sunshine. The smooth wind-worn stones beneath his feet were now rough, tumbled earth. Kyir owned his eyes; they were in the west fields, outside the city walls. He blinked and stared; the ground was hard, dry, and cracked; the clods of earth felt as sharp as cracked stone, and between the clods, something glittered and sparkled up at them, shining in the sunlight. He knelt down and stared, then pinched a little of it in his fingers, lifting it and letting it trickle down back to the ground. Glass sand. What was glass sand doing here?! “Kyir! Over here!” Kyir grinned at the voice, recognizing it instantly. Pasan, his best friend from the village—there she was, waving her long, bare brown arms at him frantically, motioning him over. Beside her stood his mother, who looked grave. Muse followed him as he jogged unsteadily over, stumbling on the large clots of dry, tilled earth. “Pasan? Mom? What’s going on?” Harmony, Kyir’s mother, pointed down at the glittering sand. “Silica sand. Definitely from Ellux—It’s the only place where this type of sand originates on Vacoelus. It’s been blown here somehow, and it’s bad sign. The winds have changed direction.” Pasan was staring at his mother mutely, with her characteristic dumb, awestruck look. Kyir frowned. He wished Pasan wouldn’t idolize her quite SO much—it was embarrassing. He focused instead on the ground, where the glittering sand lay in little pools between the earthen clods. “I saw. What does it mean? I mean…besides the winds changed, like you said. We never had sand here before. Can’t we just get rid of it?” Harmony shook her head. “It’s a mark of the changing the land. Even if we got every grain of sand out of the fields, the wind would simply blow more into the area. It means the borders of the Ellux desert are extending towards us. And even with your father’s powers, we can’t stop an entire desert filled with sand.” Kyir frowned at the glittering dapples on the ground. “So what do we do then? Move the fields further east? After planting everything?! The farming association will throw a fit!” Pasan nodded. “Yeah, especially the Twins. They’ll have a cow if we tell them they have to abandon the Western fields and cut a whole new sector to the east, Lady Harmony.” Harmony smiled diplomatically at Pasan. “Well...can convince them. Still, I hope we won't need to.” Kyir snorted. “And give up on eating fruit or bread for the entire winter season, too, and eat only eggs and salt pork for the snow months, probably. Gross! And unhealthy." He looked more carefully at the clods; there were tiny shoots of grain poking up here and there, but it already looked dry and brittle. "Mom, isn’t there any way to salvage the crop? At least until next planting?” Harmony shook her head. “I'm not sure. We could try building a windblock, to stop the sand from accumulating further; and it would take double or triple the waterings to keep it from drying out, with the additional sand in the ground, but your father could probably manage a few more...maybe. He's been very busy lately. I’m sure you’ve sensed it too, Kyir; The winds aren’t circling the tower anymore. They’re blowing from the west, now, with an odd energy I haven’t sensed before. It's taken a toll on his reserves to keep things running as normal.” Kyir sighed. Why did this have to happen now? On his birthday? Why couldn’t it have happened in, say, three or four days from now, when everything was back to business? This was supposed to be a special day, a day for him to enjoy turning sixteen—and becoming officially a man of Grebefal, an adult according to the laws of the town. Today he would have his first debut as heir, and greet the guests at the head of the festival as the host. Today his father had promised to gift him his memoir, a book of his grandfather’s inventions that Kyir had been longing to read for years. He wanted time to enjoy this—the festival, the legendary book, his day, without worrying about the town, for once. His parents always had to worry about something; the fields, monsters raiding from the northern forests, the merchants and farmers fighting in the association, upkeep of the mana sigils and maintenance of the mineshaft inventions, judging day for citizen's complaints…and he had to worry about lessons, too--riding and sword training, archery and ancient languages, diplomacy and marketing, and everything else. Today was supposed to have been HIS. No lessons, no problems. Or, it had been. He hunched his shoulders a little in agreement. “Yeah. We should ask Dad. He should know.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. This was important, after all. More important than a party. But he couldn’t help feeling a little sad. Pasan nudged him with a thin brown elbow. She seemed to recognize his feelings. “Heeey, it’s ok, Kyir! Sorry this had to happen on your birthday! But your Dad says we don’t master the winds, remember? They answer only to themselves. We just ask them for favors, sometimes.” Harmony nodded at her. “In a way, I suppose. It is poor timing, but we do need to make a plan for these fields, before the sun destroys the crops here. It’s urgent that we save them, since the town depends on the grain planted here. We’ll still celebrate your birthday, Kyir. We might need to move it to sundown, though, instead of noon.” Kyir smiled wryly at their attempts to comfort him. “It’s fine, Mom…this is more important. I’ll be fine. I was going ask Dad about the winds anyway; I noticed it was really odd, this morning.” Muse trailed along behind the three as they walked up the path towards the town gate. She shifted into bird form and fluttered here and there, dropping toxic red bird-berries from trees and chasing away the pigeons that were circling, looking for crumbs. Kyir unconsciously dropped a few steps behind his mother, letting her take the lead as they entered. She smiled and greeted the guards by name, giving polite greetings before hurrying on through. Then she turned to Kyir and Pasan who were walking in lock-step behind her. “Kyir—your father was going to the market today, so we’ll find him there, I expect. Muse?” The Muse-the-bird fluttered down to perch on her hand. “Yes?” “Find my intrepid husband, would you?” Muse cocked her bird-head cheekily. “Of course. Now...Which one was that again?” Kyir and Pasan both struggled to hide their laughter as Harmony swatted the bird into the air. “Cheeky. Just go find Harlan, already!” Muse rose high above the market, then swooped back down. “By the exotics merchants’ stand, on the far north of the square. Looks like he’s moving on towards the baked goods and fresh foods inspections, in a minute.” Harmony nodded and eyed Kyir and Pasan, who was still giggling. “Why don’t you two meet me by the fresh fruit stand, beside the farmer’s association hall? I’ll go with Muse to catch Harlan and bring him there, in the association offices. It’ll be a quieter place for a private conversation.” Kyir nodded and grinned at Pasan. “C’mon, Pas. Let’s go get a pie, and let my mother catch her intrepid husband on her own.” His mother’s face turned red; Pasan looked like she’d burst from suppressed laughter as he grabbed her hand and pulled her away. Kyir didn’t bother suppressing it; his laughter rang out over the market as they weaved in and out of the stalls, headed towards the association building. In a few minutes they’d crossed the square and were nearing the baked goods stalls, where fresh breads, pastries and hand-pies were staked on tables. Kyir waved at the baker, Uther; he was Pasan’s step-brother, a large, strong, square framed man with skin the color of a fresh baked brownie, and a wide, friendly smile. Pasan scooped up a couple of hand-pies and they headed into the farmer’s section. She passed him one—apple-berry, his favorite. “On the house for you today! Happy birthday!” called Uther after them. Pasan paused in the street for a moment, inhaling her pie, which was a meat pie; then she called back. “Thanks for breakfast, bro! They’re good today. Tell Riette I said Hi, ok? See you both at the festival later?” Uther motioned to the tables. “Probably be late. But we’ll be there! Wouldn’t miss it!” Kyir stuffed his face, his mouth full of buttery pie crust and delicious, tangy apple-berry pie filling. He wiped his face and checked his shirt for crumbs, and they turned into the doors of the large, stocky brick building that housed the Farmer’s association, Merchant’s guild, and Miner’s association. Inside the main doors, a long hall split off into an upper and lower level; Miners had the basement, Merchants the ground floor, and Farmers had the second floor offices. They paused at the landing of the second floor; it was quiet here, in spite of the noisy market going on outside. A faint scent of ink and papers, and the soft rustles and clicks of people working on documents, copywriting, making out orders. This was all new in the last five years; Father had funded the building of this association building and basically forced them to share a building together, to bring a halt to the constant disagreements between the three main Grebefal guilds. The guild leaders had separate offices, a room of their own each. The rest was taken up by the under-secretaries, document runners, and file rooms in each floor, with a sitting-room for important guests and a single large hall on the main floor, for all-association meetings. Kyir and Pasan headed into the sitting room to wait. It was plain, but comfortable; two low brown leather couches decorated with furs, a side table and a large bookshelf. Grebefal had outgrown the palace courtrooms; so many new people had come to stay that they’d had to build a new sector of the town, to the east. There had been fights, at first. The other town residents had disagreed with the new, and arguments had broken out over land and jobs. But Father had found a way to compromise with them, and somehow made it look easy—he made everything look easy, Kyir thought. Which was incredible, considering that he was blind, and used Air powers to move...his father was the strongest person he knew, and never backed down from any challenge, even if it meant finding ways of doing things he couldn’t physically do on his own...

Still loving that background!! And yes, I'm hoping to post snippets and scraps of new book here (hopefully without spoiling the 1st book TOO much) and add some cool new characters as well. Like Whittle, who definitely features somewhere while they're in the deep desert... she strikes me as one who might need a story of her own, too. She's pretty cool, in a totally-a-Dune-reference way. First book show is (so far) planned in September, definitely in person, when I'll hopefully have some copies to sell at my local book club fair...willl update later on time/place since I don't have alllllll the details yet. I don't have funds for renting tables at bigger shows Sighed copies absolutely available, orrr you can always buy one online (those will be cheaper) and have me sign it there. And if you wear a crowned squirrel or lizard somewhere on your clothes, I might just recognize you, too. 🤣

OKAAAY!! Keyboard was having a seizure, was starting to seriously consider Sny's computer solution (cussing and pointy sticks) You can find book 1 in paperback or hardback, on Barnes & Noble . com under my name (author search). Oh....and my name is Helena Marfell 😅 Knowing that would probably help, too, huh.

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Hi my friends I'm finally finished with book 1 and now I'm working on book 2....of the Awakening series! This one will center mainly on her son Kyir, I think, and I'd love any ideas on how to flesh out my world, give the dialogue more, uh, realism? and stuff. Thanks again for being such awesome folks and hanging around. Side note for funsies; Kyir's name is loosely based on my own daughter's name, and I use the name Harmony basically everywhere online as my own personal "profile name". Wish I looked like her though! 😂🤣

Strip down and do the hula? I'd bet good money I could get at least a laugh...and laughter is a GREAT icebreaker.

Ew, Windows 11?! Relatable ick there. 10 did NOT need revised or upgraded into a totally unusable form.. I agree. Still, probably best not to abuse with a stick, to be on the safe side! 😂

Hmmm....to make it work, you'd almost have to write the other half as well--the monumental doings and excitement they're passing by would need to be told, too... Otherwise we'd be in the same position as the characters, but as readers. It would be boring and confusing, instead of humorous or ironic?

Hmm.... 15 minutes to live? I think I'd write a long letter to everyone I know, drink a bottle of vodka, and listen to my favorite music. If I knew there was no other way out. I might challenge Death to a cook-off with my life as the stakes, as long as I can choose my own recipe... And then choose to cook 100% home made mac and cheese, using homemade noodles and home aged sharp cheddar cheese... Or agree to come with him after 1 harvest on my parent's farm... They're growing Walnut trees, for wood....

Relatable 🤣 Also my kids all think I'm pretty weird, too. But I guess that's normal? Favorite writing-related self motivational speech lately: "Writing is like taking a 💩. If you try to force it, or go too fast, it flies everywhere, messes everything up and leaves you feeling all wrong." ...facts. I find that's true about most things... but especially writing. My written constipation last YEARS sometimes. Y'all know 🤣

I think it's like instant ramen--you can eat it with liquid or without, cooked or uncooked, so it's more of a 'soup ingredient' than soup itself. If you add the liquid then it becomes soup in process, until it is eaten--then it is definitely soup. In the case of said cereal with fruit, I'd say it's 'milk and fruit soup with a sweet bready topping' ? Also, pro-choice implies pro soup, while pro soup doesn't imply pro choice...so if given the option I'd say pro choice. As much as I appreciate soup, I'd like to have other foods also.

Wanted to share with everyone (or anyone) who is still somewhat interested: My book, Awakening, Quickening, is now for sale on Barnes & Noble! You all should feel very proud--without your comments and continued interest I sincerely doubt I would have ever completed it. ❤️ I hope someday in the not-too-distant future, I'll be at a book signing or something and see a familiar lizard lord or ancient falcon swoop down and say hello. Thanks for being my Muse. Here's to the Mighty Pen....may it never die... \ https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/awakening-quickening-helena-marfell/1146417668?ean=2940185888599

Hmmmm. Sounds remarkably like a more detailed take on the City mouse and the Country mouse story, each having their own set of dangers they're accustomed to, and which they feel 'aren't that bad'. Or maybe a cross between that story, Animal Farm, and a certain Dreamworks movie (Over the Hedge..)? Sounds like a fun premise, though. Also, black leather wearing critter MUST be a ferret. Aka Chaos noodle crack missile.

At Pere, Same, like....this could have been written by me personally? I also 'hear' a cadence to this, but probably not the same one you hear. 🫥😄

Stormy Walk Somedays I'm happy to be here, walking this dim and dusty road hearing the raindrops patter there and pitter on the stony walk. it's not too much, to feel the breeze as it wuthers 'round my neck and limbs and the scent of the petrichor, rising strong as the earth drinks deep, and breathes out... But other days, my vision craves the toss'ed clouds and misty dark the place where lighting has its birth and the raindrops, do embark It makes me wish that I were there; a place where naught but nature, free its cycle rolling ever on finds peace in chaos, eternally.

I AM DOIN AN EXCITE EEE EEEEE *deep breath* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE My serial web-novel "Awakening, Quickening" has been rated 132nd of 3,600 epic fantasy books on Wattpad, and has over 1K views on Inkstone!! And I just got this email: (panicpanicpanicpanicpanicccc) Congrats! Novel Recommended on <Fresh Stories> Your hard work has paid off! Your book <Awakening, Quickening> will be recommended on <Fresh Stories> on <2024.04.02>. Please keep writing, your book has the opportunity to get contracted!

As I've never done any film editing, I can't say as I'd know how to do such things... **chases Muse away from the Spaghetti Westerns** Not food! Not! Food! Shoo!

I imagine they're somewhat used to you by now... And I think the idea of "the hole" is a decent one, seeing as the Glup would need to get out of it, in order to rejoin the general process of re-absorption and re-hydration? Being in a hole could possibly prevent that particular Glup from ever absorbing or being absorbed by another... what if you made it a sinkhole? With a cave, and a small stream of goo-ish water which Naggal must be pushed through/ float down, in order to regain the surface and rejoin the rest? That sounds much more epic-ish; especially for a creature which cannot move far and has very few experiences to relate to, when it comes to a cave or a stream. And sinkholes happen by very gradual processes so it's entirely possible, even on a planet that has pretty much nothing except a little moisture, and dust/rock...

*spins in response to Juju* Ah! Yes, there is a linky---riiiight----here. https://www.wattpad.com/story/364212289-awakening-quickening I also have the SAME exact story posted the SAME exact way, on Inkstone.com as a serialized webnovel, under the title "Awakening, Quickening". It's easy to tell because duh, same author, same front cover page. Glad for any input, or sharing, and feel free to holler at me if you catch any glaring inconsistencies or oopses I need to correct.

Hmmmm.....I see the dilemma. I think in order to have any sort of heroic-ness, there must be CHANGE introduced; at the very least, a new type of rock, or something that becomes valuable to them, in some sort of way; some type of villain; and then the brave Naggal can rise above to his "heroic glupness". Because heroes are, by their very nature, unique and different in some way, and in order to be unique there must be change, and stressors of some kind. I would probably make the change something particularly banal, like a chemical reaction to a certain thermal vent which opened on the planet's surface, bringing to light a new gas or liquid that the Glups had never encountered before. The villain I would make the largest of the Glups, a certain Glupulous Glotton, who was known to have excised smaller Glups of themselves when those parts became too hydrated, and then wait until they became powder before intentionally reabsorbing them; thus preventing Glupself from becoming over-hydrated and falling apart, or over-dry and becoming powdered. In this way the Glupulous has developed a knack for avoiding the death that most Glups take for granted, and has grown a particularly odd emotion for a Glup--the wish to prevent death. This unusual wish of this particular Glup makes them develop another rare trait--cruelty. Meanwhile our hero, Naggal the Glup, is an unsuspecting Glup birthed, shall we say, of the Glupulous, is unknowing that they, Naggal, are intended to be reabsorbed without the proper death first--causing pain, and cruelty. Naggal witnesses this cruelty to other Glups, and rises above thier Glupness to make the heroic attempt to escape, and grow into Gluphood on thier own. Naggal does not succeed in escaping (being, after all, very slow) but they do succeed in absorbing a lot of water, unknown to the Giant. And when they are absorbed by the Glupulous (with pain and suffering), the excess water they absorbed takes immediate effect by destabilizing the delicate balance of the giant Glup's innards. Almost immediately, a new generation of smaller Glups are born, the Glupulous is gone, and there remains no more Glups who fear death. The End 😆

I have written over 100 pages of this now!! I often lose my focus and stamina around now so send me your good writer energies to keep me going... over the 100-page hill I go... *muse transforms into a hairy caterpillar the size of a Dalmatian and begins scooching around the room**

Not really a fan of horror myself, but if I meet any fans of the genre I'll pass this along!

Doesn't counseling REQUIRE gross amounts of money though? Easier (and cheaper) to just stare at a brick wall & watch it crumble... not like we can do anything about the situation anyway 😔And that's the real horror... Money requires money requires money. Sure would be nice if living INSIDE a budget wasn't an actual fantasy. Sigh... **Goes to watch bricks crumble

Referring to my family's littles as oompa-loompas has its drawbacks... seeing as Harmony is only 5 foot 2... A large majority of younger folks are already taller than I am 😅 There are benefits to being called one, though. I then feel legally obligated to repossess all the chocolate..

Reaching the high stone wall which housed the forge again, Harmony and Muse sat down by the steps to the tunnel that led inside, and rested for a few minutes. It was warm and Kyir was a little fussy; he had woken up from a nice long nap and wanted his lunch. Harmony sat in the shade of the wall and leaned against it to nurse, looking around. “Muse, why don’t you explore for a minute? I’ll be all right here.” And you can send me anything that looks interesting. Muse smiled. “Of course, My Lady.” she said and curtsied like a proper servant. Her smile was anything but proper, though. Can’t wait. Do I get to look around the forge? Harmony nodded slightly. Just be careful, Muse. Be small and don’t cause trouble. Muse rolled her eyes. Obviously… She walked quickly and quietly off, radiating happiness at being allowed to explore, transform, and possibly, get into some mischief. Harmony didn’t know if it had really been a good idea to allow her to go alone; but, she also really didn’t want to walk back into a deep, dark place just yet. Just the thought of being in a cave-like place made her shiver. She still didn’t know how to feel about her experience in the mountain, or the memories she’d dreamt of–, or that awful feeling of quiet, dark, same, nothingness. Granted, the forge didn’t seem all that quiet. The regular clang-clang-clang of hammer and anvil sounded regularly for what seemed like hours. It was just faint enough to seem musical, rather than irritatingly loud; It must be deep underground, Harmony thought. Or behind a few doors. Kyir struggled and kicked at her, as he nursed, and Harmony awkwardly changed position; this was harder than she’d thought, to sit on the ground and nurse. She was used to sitting in the padded seat Agatha had arranged for her. Finally, she crossed her legs and lifted them a little, and leaned forward, resting Kyir on her lap. Still, she couldn’t help but marvel at him; this tiny thing with tiny hands, tiny feet…every time she looked at him, he seemed new again, somehow. He was so lovely, in such a strange way! She stroked his soft cheek and fuzzy downy head with her hand, taking in every inch of him. His face was not so new, now, and had filled out a little more; during the days they’d been in Grebefal, they had both had time to rest and settle in a little, and he looked more like the babies she’d seen in other families, now. As she looked at Kyir, he looked back; his dark eyes wandered and then settled on her own. Harmony felt a twinge of a mental bond; he was trying to reach her telepathically! She pictured a warm blanket and a softly crackling fire, holding the image; Kyir held her gaze and mirrored the mental image back to her. It was unsteady and rough, and only for a moment; but Kyir was only a few weeks old. “OH!! Little one…you’re going to be someone special, you are!!” Harmony whispered to him, thoroughly astonished. She paused as a flashed mental image came from Muse. A huge, dark room with a massive roaring maw of fire at one end; A giant dark shadow–no, a person, working in front of the firelight–bright flashing sparks thrown under his hammer as he swung it down again and again. A second shadow pouring buckets of water into a long trough, in which the first person submerged a shining red blade of metal. It felt surreal, a painting in red and black, white and yellow, sharp edged, hot and bright. Harmony shuttered her mind from Kyir carefully, not wanting to upset him. How do they keep it so hot? Where does the fuel come from? she wondered to Muse; I don’t know, came Muse’s soft answer. I haven’t seen them feed the fire–if that’s even what it is. Another flash–an image of a wall of fire inside the maw of the furnace, white-hot and appearing to fall down into itself, pouring inward without ceasing. They collect bits of that white fire to make the blades, so I think that’s metal in there. Harmony gave a mental shrug. I don’t know much about forges, or metal, or fire. But it looks pretty interesting, I guess. Muse agreed. Oh! I think I figured out where the real fire is! A flash of stone steps, lit by red fire-light, under a heavy wrought iron grate in the floor…. then, a whoops, I think someone almost saw me… better go! Harmony frowned. Muse! You had better not be transforming in front of people! Kyir finished nursing and gurgled contentedly on Harmony’s lap, a picture of contentment; out here, it was all sunshine and soft breezes and shady fruit trees. Harmony started as someone tapped her on the shoulder. She quickly covered herself and turned, to see Neil regarding her. “See yer back” He looked her up and down. “Why here? Why’re ye not at the inn?” Harmony produced the page and handed it to him. His expression cleared as he saw it. “Oh…Ah see. Yer here ‘bout the wall house.” Neil glanced around. “Where’s yer lil helper?” Muse, be careful–Neil is here, thought Harmony. She needn’t have worried, though; Muse-the-elf stepped primly from behind the nearest tree with a fistful of local wildflowers and offered them to Harmony. “Here you are, My Lady. Are these to your liking?” Harmony nodded as if she’d requested to see the flowers. “Yes, thank you Muse, those are wonderful. I’d like to look at them more later–can you keep them for now? I’ll need to hold Kyir while we look at the residence, he isn’t ready for his wrap yet”. Kyir, like a proper little actor, blinked sleepily. Neil waved them through the tunnel and to the inside-side, facing the castle; there was, in fact, one tree here, right next to the wall and covered with ivy. a little ways past that tree, set into the wall, was a plain front-step and a heavy iron-and-wood door. Muse looked intensely curious, and Harmony shot her a warning look. They entered the wooden door into a very large, plain, rectangular stone room; at one side, a tall, wide fireplace with seats built into the walls on either side, so a person could sit while cooking. On the other side of the room, stairs led upwards; no lights were lit, but Neil found a candle stump and lit it. He carried it to the stairs, talking as they went. “Th’ whole place is empty, only one in Grebefal as is. Nowt wants t’ live here. They all say it’s too creepy. Can’t say as I blame ‘em, but there ain’t nothin’ wrong with it really, it’s just a bit dark an’ a bit lonesome. Theres three floors all together–this big room here, a middle floor wi’ two rooms, and a top floor wi’ another two. Oh, an’ th’ steps to the upper wall, up top. I like to go walkin’ there, times. It’s a good view.” Neil lapsed into an awkward silence after this long speech. They climbed the stairs and Harmony and Muse took in the dark rooms, stone walls and floors, with spiderwebs and straw in the corners. Harmony repressed a deep shudder at the sight of dirt and dust layered on the floor; it reminded her too much of the mountain tomb. Still, looking around, she knew this was the best place they could have been offered. It was close to the center of the condensed mana, the castle; it was in good repair, outside of the dust; had lots of room; and best of all, it was unliked–a place that the other town folk would be less likely to drop by at a moment’s notice, and would be unlikely to want to move in. Harmony didn’t want anyone walking in on some complex spell and ruining it, again. Muse was looking cheerful too. “My Lady, may I walk around?” Harmony nodded. “Here, give me the candle a moment.” She took the candle and encircled it with mana, and set it down on the step, then took it away again–this time, leaving behind a perfect image of the candle. She handed the candle back to Muse, who bounded up the steps with the candle, and could be heard up there, shuffling around, moving things to the sides and opening doors, exploring. Harmony “picked up” the candle-image by drawing it into her hand; it gave off light just like the original, which danced and flickered, but this one could not be blown out by a breeze. “There. Now we have a light also.” Neil looked like he couldn't believe what he had just seen. He gaped at Harmony, eyes round. Harmony offered him the candle-image. She kept a string of mana threaded to it, to keep it lit. He stared at it like it might bite him. “How’d ye do that?” Harmony shrugged. “I had learned to do this on one of my first lessons, at my magic school. It’s called a magelight. It’s not an actual light, just an image of one, but it works much the same way.” She held it high and took her time looking around; on this floor there were several large bare cupboards, an old dresser, a three legged table, and a few wooden chairs tumbled in a pile, in one room; a large wooden bedstead and chest, wide open from Muse’s explorations, but empty, stood in another room. No linens or any food, and a rather strong smell of mice. The third floor was no different–a few bits of old furniture piled here and there, a few pulled-apart mouse nests. One room did have a single window, shuttered with heavy wood shutters. Finally, Harmony motioned to the steps. “This place looks good, and I like it–but we should go back to the inn for now; all of our things are there, and I think it may be getting late already.” Neil tore his gaze away from the candle-image and nodded. “yeh. Best be gettin’ back. Ye can let me know in the mornin’ if ye decide this is the place for ye.”