Fractals of the Feyspire

## Introduction

Our tale begins in the hamlet of Lessyk, Thrane. Just off the Aruldusk line, a day’s ride south by Orien coach. The village is little more than a high street, a cluster of simple houses, and a struggling lumber yard. The spire of the church of the Silver Flame dominates the skyline, standing sentinel between the village proper and the looming pines of the Harrowcrowns.

Your mission dossier includes a note written in Cinnabar's elfin hand:
“My cousin Kael was last seen in Lessyk, chasing a tale of a princess held in a tower in the forest. The locals will speak as if the tower has been there forever, but I can find no written record of it. I fear the worst - he's no Wayfinder, just a minstrel with a knack for putting himself in danger. Please bring him home. House Phiarlan will be in your debt. Cinnabar x”

You carry with you one more boon - a package arranged by fellow Wayfinders. A gift, in one sense. An insurance policy, in another.

#### In-Character Foreshadowing 1

Atalie sighs, quietly ignoring the Khoravar ever so gracefully smashing her head into a wall. She gets another glass and fills it with water, having received no answer to her vague gesture, and brings it over to Cinnabar's table with her own in hand. "Well, shit. Can you offload some of that work?" She looks around. "It isn't like there are any postings to keep me busy," she half grumbles. After a moment, she adds, "May I sit?"

*Cinnabar nods, and picks up the glass Atalie has brought for her. She takes a little sip. Then a gulp.*

"I think you can... If... I think there are answers in some of these stories."

"If I read one, would you listen?"

Atalie cocks her head to the side slightly. "You want a second set of ears, essentially?" She sits on the empty side of the couch, crossing one leg over the other and peeking at the title of the book on top of the stack. "I can do that."

*Cinnabar shows Atalie what she has in her hands: 'Taer Syraen: Scattered Histories.' On top of the stack is 'The Fey Queen.'*

*Cinnabar leans into Atalie's shoulder and opens her book. It's written entirely in Elvish, but beautifully illustrated with scenes of forests and flowers.*

Atalie shifts around to get comfortable. If she's going to be leaned on, she doesn't intend to be stuck sitting up straight. "So can I get a rundown of what you already know?"

"My cousin Kael has been on the circuit around southern Thrane. From what we can tell, he ventured into a forest called the Harrowcrowns in search of some princess in a tower. A story fed to him by a local rival, no doubt."

*She traces one finger down the page.* "We've got Wayfinder money buying what information we can right now, but I *know* I've heard stories like this before."

"Have you ever heard of the Feyspires?"

Atalie squints up one eye, scratching at the side of her neck. *"Ehhh..."* She eventually shakes her head. "I am sure I heard the name at some point... somewhere. Maybe."

"Maybe we should start with the first page, then..." *Cinnabar clears her throat.* "Once upon a time, there was a king of winter, who held court in the the city-spire Taer Syraen. His was the story of ice, writ upon every snowflake..."

*Cinnabar reads a fairytale about a fey spirit, the King of Winter, who received a travelling Phiarlan into his court. When she didn't return, her brothers and sisters followed her trail to the Feyspire, only to find it had disappeared when the blizzard had cleared. A generation later, the Phiarlan's son stumbled upon an icy lake in the Karrnwood - the spire was reflected in its frozen surface. He stepped through the waters into the fey wilds, and found his way to the Winter King's Court. There he found is mother, frozen forever as an icy statue in the King's throne room. He made a pact with the eladrin king that day - his long-dead mother would remain in the Spire until the end of time, gracing the King's court with her beauty. In return, her son and the rest of his line would blessed with a mastery of the fey's icy magics.*

"It's a true story, you know." *Cinnabar grimaces.*

Atalie settles in to listen, at times peeking over as if trying to see the words herself before remembering that it isn't written in a language she can read. She does like to look at the illustrations, though. Her brows raise at Cinnabar's final comment, and she hums thoughtfully. "How long ago?"

Meanwhile, nearby: *Aida shifts uncomfortably on the cold hallway floor by the front door of the Foundation. She tries to focus on her meditations, but the puddle of muddy water slowly seeps closer and closer. She can't help but open an eye to inspect its progress every few minutes. She wonders what Cinnabar and Atalie have gotten up to in the lounge. Then, once again, she returns to her meditations.*

"Nearly three thousand years ago. Long before Galifar. Not long after the Phiarlans came to Khorvaire. The tale is still told by their descendents, but I don't know any of its keepers personally."

Atalie nods a few times. "Alright... Very quickly, what is the situation with these woods that you would search immediately in Fey tales for an answer?" She sounds a bit concerned.

"That's the thing." *Cin sighs.* "I can't find *anything* about a Feyspire appearing in the Harrowcrowns. It's haunted, according to the local superstition, but fey? I don't know. Maybe it's my ancestral biases, but having my cousin run off to follow up a story about a lost princess in tower that no one knew existed until a few weeks ago? It *stinks* of eladrin."

"Hmm... I am no fey scholar by any means, but should you really expect this to be history repeated? I have heard that the nature of such things is that they are unpredictable. Perhaps the Harrowcrowns may be just the latest vacation spot, so to say, eh? If your gut tells you this is fey, listen to it." She leans over to check the stack of books, "How many of these stories have you found?"

Meanwhile, nearby: *Aida shifts once again on the floor outside the lounge. Her stomach growls. In the activity of the afternoon's carpentry, she forgot to eat. The lounge has food, of a sort. Atalie and Cinnabar are in the lounge. Food is in the lounge.*

*She sighs. Slowly unfolding her stiffening muscles, Aida stands to her feet.*

"Five, so far. There's the story of the Emerald Lights. The Quicksilver.. Sisters. The... Twilight Harpist. The..." *Cinnabar trails off. Atalie soon realises that Cinnabar has fallen asleep against her.*

#### In-Character Foreshadowing 2

Cinnabar is sat at the desk in the archives, sipping a cup of coffee and trying to make sense of Atalie's notes. She also has her stack of books about fairy tales. Books and pages are scattered someone chaotically, but Cin seems to be skipping between them with purpose.

The papers are scattered with ink-scribbled notes, each one written without thought for context. Sentences are abbreviated and a couple vague drawings seem to have been traced out of their source material.

The door to the archives creaks open quietly, Atalie descending the stairs with a slip of paper in hand--the note Cinnabar had left on the lounge door. Atalie speaks quietly as if afraid to disturb the atmosphere of the place. "Sorry to dump all of that on you." She gestures with her chin to the notes.

"Don't be sorry!" She says, smiling as Atalie comes down. "Though... To be honest I'm having a hard time following. Maybe you could run me through what you found?" She kicks another chair out for Atalie, leaving them both room at the desk. "I know there's a cork board behind one of the shelves, too, if you want to get elaborate."

Atalie waves off the cork board, picking up a few fresh pieces of paper and moving to sit down. "There is not really enough of substance to be worthy of a cork board." She scribbles down at the top of the first page, *'Recorded Feyspire Appearances Since Galifar.'* She underlines it with a quick sweep. "This part is... flimsy, at best." She holds out a hand in the direction of the messier notes, not immediately snatching them from Cinnabar, and begins to copy down the relevant information to the fresh paper. Most, she tags with *'rumored'* at the side. The Harrowcrowns and their immediate area is not listed here. "It is all from one source, a book which admittedly seemed to embellish some. *Coterminous Visitors*."

"Coterminous Visitors? I don't think I saw that one. Where did you find it?"

"Ah, a library in Middle Menthis. Cassan... Bridge district, I believe? I followed an address, so the trip was rather mindless. Do not quote me on that." Atalie quickly writes down the volume's title. "I will find the address later, it is in my coat at home. The book is dubious at best, and it only has a small section on Thelanis."

Pushing the paper slightly up the desk, she moves to write below that. "I think I did find something more significant in these..." She writes in the margins below, *'Albaric Beaulieu - Anomalous Manifestations,'* and *'Imposed Narrative Causality and Feedback.'* She pauses, looking to Cinnabar to ensure she's making sense before diving in.
Cin throws Atalie an impressed look.
"I had no idea you were such a scholar."

She taps the second recommendation.
"Narrative Causality? That's... this is the essence of Thelanis, yes? A world that's more story than history?"

Atalie shrugs. "I only got... vague ideas out of that one. *Were* I such a scholar, perhaps I would understand it better. I would certainly recommend picking it up yourself sometime, to see if you have better luck." Writing as she speaks, Atalie says, "The general idea I could pull from it relates to how you said the story your cousin heard seemed out of nowhere. It could be a rival's doing, as you said, but the nature of Thelanis certainly lends to the idea of a story brought *with* the theoretical tower."

Atalie purses her lips. "That is not entirely of importance, though, I think. Albaric's volume is one I am familiar with, however. Its section on Thelanis is rather focused on gateways--like the lake in the tale you read. They are said to appear in manifest zones, but are not the strongest of signs. A zone, thus, could go unnoticed for a while, I would think. And they appear under... dubious circumstances." She notes each as she goes. "Romantic whims, the hunting of a particular creature... I would chance that a Phiarlan in search of a tall tale might qualify." That scenario, she writes with a question mark. "If so, that would make any search a bit more difficult than a Feyspire's true presence."

Cin leans back in her chair, considering Atalie's theory.

"You think the spire appeared for him, in some way? That's... a really interesting theory. Do you think we could use that, somehow? Will it appear again simply because we want to find it?"

"Not so much..." Atalie chews on the inside of her cheek, thinking on her phrasing. "I think that it is a risk that must be considered that perhaps there is no tower... or perhaps there is, but regardless, that this trail may lead straight into Thelanis itself."

"And then what? You can get back again... Right?"

Atalie offers Cinnabar a pinched frown and a shrug, finishing up that section of her more organized paper. "Opinions are... mixed on that."

"Oh. I see." Cin runs a hand through her hair. "In the fairy tale I talked about, the son returned from the Feyspire after making a deal with the Winter Lord. Maybe if we sent our Wayfinders with something they fey would want?"

Setting her charcoal pencil down, Atalie sighs and leans her chair back on two legs. It creaks under the heavier woman's frame quietly. "That sounds tricky. I think such insurance is a good plan, but figuring out what to send with them..."

Cinnabar taps her lip. "Thak said that fey like waffles."

The front legs of the chair clonk onto the ground as Atalie rights herself, fixing Cinnabar with an odd squint. "He said they like... *waffles*," she repeats in a highly skeptical tone.

She shrugs.
"He said the Talentans give them to their spirits on the Plains."

Taking in a deep breath, Atalie massages her temples. "Perhaps something to confirm first. Make sure he is completely serious? That sounds ridiculous." She frowns. Fey *are* supposedly rather nonsensical, in fairness...

"It... Does sound pretty ridiculous, huh? You know, he never did demonstrate how he made them."

Atalie shakes her head. She scoops up her charcoal again and writes near the top of the page, *'Send something of appropriate worth with the team, in case of need for bartering.'* "I think sending anything would be a blind swing, in a sense," she says in a thoughtful tone near a mumble. "There is not much to be certain of."

"Hey, Atalie," Cinnabar says as she finds her page of notes intensely interesting."Why are you doing all this? You haven't even been recruited for this mission yet. No one has."

Arching a brow slightly upward, Atalie glances up from the desk to look at Cinnabar. Her lips purse slightly as she sits back in her chair. "Leaving such a sudden mess to one person is never a good idea. You could do with a little less workload, and I could do with a little work, eh?"She shrugs. "It lines up with some of my own interests, I suppose."

"You have a personal interest in fey?"Cinnabar throws her a questioning look. "... or wayward Phiarlans?"

Atalie looks down at the organized notes, sliding the paper over to Cinnabar now that she thinks she's finished with it. "No, it is just..." She pauses, looking briefly troubled in direct opposition to her casual tone. "It is a familiar scenario, in a way." After a very brief pause, she leans an arm on the table. "Can you think of anything else specific to be pinned down and figured out?"

Cinnabar frowns, but indulges Atalie's question. "So...we know that all of a sudden people in a village in Thrane started talking about a princess trapped in a tower in the Harrowcrowns. We know my cousin disappeared while looking for it. It sounds like a Feyspire has appeared, but it doesn't match any of the known locations. No Lord of Winter or Twilight Harpist, this time. We know that Thelanis is a world of story, and is strongly shaped by that." Cinnabar looks thoughtful again, turning away from the Orien. "Stories tell us the fey play with our narrative expectations, and they often expect gifts and deals, so we should be prepared for that. Probably not waffles, but you never know. Did I miss anything? Oh, that the Harrowcrowns are 'haunted', whatever that means. Wouldn't surprise me if it's just dar."

Atalie's brows pinch together slightly at the frown. She nods along, drumming her index and middle fingers on the table. "That sounds like all of it... I am sure there are other Wayfinders who would have ideas about gifts."

"What would you even gift a creature that's like a story come to life? Are we bribing a 'princess' or some dragon that has locked her up? Too many unknowns... I don't like it." She rests her head on the desk.

"I suppose it is mostly a matter of hoping." Atalie sounds none too happy about the matter, herself. "Agonizing over it will only make it more stressful." She gives Cinnabar a light, uncertain pat on the shoulder.

Cinnabar turns to face Atalie and puts her own hand on Atalie's shoulder - much the mirror of the Orien's gesture. "What did you mean that it's a familiar scenario? Have you lost people the same way?" Then she retracts her hand sharpy and looks down. "Sorry, I'm prying again."

Atalie's eyes settle on Cinnabar's hand, following it briefly as it leaves her shoulder. "No, I did bring it up," she says quietly, seeming to deflate a bit. "Sorry if you thought it would be relevant or helpful, I don't think it is." She pauses, her tone a bit stiff and formal. "In short, to your question, yes. A similar way, at least." She takes her own hand back, folding it with her other on the desk.

"Do you... Want to talk about it?"

Atalie shakes her head. "Not particularly. Don't think that it is the only reason I am here, hm?" She flashes a small smile in Cinnabar's direction. "I want to help, so let me know if you think of something else I can do." With that, the Orien gets to her feet, pushing the chair she'd been sitting in back into place.

"OK.... OK." Cinnabar stutters, half returning Atalie's smile and half grimacing. After a moment's hesitation she moves closer with arms wide - enough for a hug, if Atalie would accept.

After pausing a moment to make sure she understands the gesture, Atalie steps in, briefly wrapping one thick arm around the elf's back. "Now, I need to get into the snack cabinet." With that, she steps around the desk to head upstairs.

Cinnabar watches her go, offering only one more thing: "Thank you."

# Summary

## Lessyk

Ekt, Atalie, Regis, Tamiyah and Merith arrive in the war torn village of Lessyk in southern Thrane. They are first met by Taris, a curious farmer. Though she knows nothing of the minstrel Kael, she tells them about some potential people and places of interest - the archery range, Morgan’s inn,, and the church of the Silver Flame headed by Mother Norah. Taris suggests Norah appreciates leaving an offering at the town entrance, and so Regis, Ekt and Merith leave burning incense.

The Wayfinders first head to Morgan’s, to find Morgan himself manning the bar. He’s an old half-elf, and his granddaughter Brennah is cleaning up while the day is young. Morgan reveals that he knows of Kael, not as a minstrel but rather as a Prince on a mission to rescue a Princess from a tower in the Harrowcrowns.

At the church, the Wayfinders meet Mother Norah, who worries over the strange stories her congregation have gotten themselves worked up over - all of which seem to reveal a different side of the princess/queen/hag. She seems unaffected by the fey influence on the region, and remembers Kael perfectly fine. Regis discovers that the church is Hallowed ground - unusual for a place this size.

At the archery range, the Wayfinders run into a father and young daughter practising. The father reveals that Kael discovered a buried map (which he shared with Brennah in Morgan’s) before he headed out into the forest. Deciding to recreate Kael’s discovery, Merith finds himself lost in a strange compulsion, and soon digs up a map himself. It is a crude map revealing next to nothing in the way of actual geography despite apparently leading to the fey’s tower. They decide the map instead signifies the order of events rather than locations, and set out into the forest via the village armory, fulfilling one image on the map.

As the group enters the Harrowcrowns, the whispers begin - Atalie and Regis hear warnings, Merith a plea for aid. Though they are set upon by an ettercap and giant spiders (also predicted by the map), they pull through with only minor injuries.

## Story of Masks

The Wayfinders hear a scream, and a dead grey mist falls over the forest. An elf woman in motley colours runs onto the scene, her face is a theatre mask. It falls away with a flurry of butterflies, revealing the face of Merith’s sister Saphiara. She claims it is the day of Mourning, four years ago from now. Then, the Wayfinders are set upon by creatures of the mist - grey skinned humanoids with voids in their eyes and mouths. Tamiyah keeps close to Saphiara, while the others engage the threats. When the battle is won, Saphiara soon dissolves into a swarm of butterflies, crying for help all the while. Merith puts on a brave face.

## Story of Judgement

The Wayfinders come across a small campsite with a pair of goblins, Vesh and Ket’nu. They reveal that the local dar in the Harrowcrowns are laying siege to the queen’s spire, though they refuse to reveal much else despite being pressed. Moving on, they soon come across the siege camp proper. Ekt tries to approach peacefully, but the hobgoblin woman leading this part of the camp (Varkala) has other ideas. When a bugbear sneaks up on Regis and binds him in chains, Varkala orders a goblin to check the Wayfinders - with a dagger! The Wayfinders resist, and a fight ensues. After being cut, Varkala transforms into a werewolf, and seems to blame Atalie (“What have you done to me?!”). When they are killed, some of the goblins dissolve into butterflies. Others, like Varkala, leave a corpse as any true mortal should.

When Varkala’s battalion are defeated, the rest of the siege appears to be broken by a mounted charge of knights. They bear an unusual flag - a symbol of the Silver Flame with a crown atop it. Three of the knights greet the Wayfinders as allies, and their Captain Radcliffe skewers the dying hobgoblin-werewolf Varkala. He offers to share tal with the Wayinders while they rest. He reveals that he believes it is 1009YK, and the Jaela Daran was killed in an incident known as the Briar Moon which saw the resurgence of a lycanthropic plague. His crusaders are on a holy mission from the new Keeper to see it extinguished. As it turns out, the tal is poisoned, triggering nausea in most, and and a heightened shifting state in Regis and Tamiyah. As Radcliffe is killed, he taunts Tamiyah and Regis with how the transformation proves his prejudice is justified. Then he too dissolves into butterflies, leaving behind a shattered theatre mask.

## Story of Regret

With the siege broken and both goblin and future-knight forces dispersed, the Wayfinders have a clear path to the Feyspire. They discover an ivory stone tower, broken or unfinished, with no apparent door. They set to climbing, but Atalie and Regis struggle. As it seems that Regis might fall, Tamiyah pleads with the story’s narrator - saying it would be anti-climatic to fail now. Sure enough, Atalie and Regis find safe handholds, and the Wayfinders continue the climb to an open level of the tower.

Inside, the come across two bugbears. One wears a helmet signifying command, the other is injured. The commander reveals himself as Marduke, Ekt’s brother. He bears scars across his arm from the Mourning, having only just escaped. The injured bugbear is Nagata, his bond mate and second in command. Marduke pushes Ekt on why he would abandon his clan, and it seems about to escalate to conflict - Marduke even reveals his new black-fire magic! But Ekt hugs his brother instead, and the pair put their difficult past behind them. Marduke and Nagata will join the Wayfinders in climbing the tower!

## Aesune.

Up the stairs, the Wayfinders find themselves in a rustic Thranish inn decked out with fey flair. Sitting among a pile of books is the fey queen, dressed in a pink and white kimono and wearing a golden flower crown. She is reading through books based on people the Wayfiners know: Shiaali: Ego and Escapism, Alban d’Deneith: Trysts and Traps. Atalie and Regis’ books are left unopened. Atalie summons her familiar Jasper, but the archfey Aesume beckons him over to her. She claims to have found Kael’s story boring, so is changing it. She offers Tamiyah and Merith a place on her court, and then opens Atalie’s book. The world collapses.

## Story of Loss

The Wayfinders find themselves in a twisted version of the Harrowcrowns - darker and more foreboding. Urged on by the Narrator, they head back towards the feyspire, finding instead a black stone tower set in a swamp. Unwilling to disturb the water they construct a bridge from fallen trees. At the base of the tower are four doors, each with a different spoken phrase. The Wayfinders choose the one saying "Open here if you seek the lost," and head inside to find a mausoleum and crypt.

The mausoleum hosts a dead, bandaged warrior - a mummy in the image of Atalie’s father Adrian Chastain, who was killed by ghouls in the Eldeen Reaches. He asks after Atalie and the family, and resolves to test his daughter. The battle is joined by ghouls, though only Atalie is truly injured - a terrible case of mummy rot seems sure to kill her, but Ekt is able to remove the curse.

## Story of Failure

In the basement of the tower, beneath the mausoleum, the Wayfinders find Aesune again. This time, she is mourning beside a grave, and dressed in black and blue. Down here she is the Princess, a kinder and gentler mirror of the queen in the ivory tower. She laments that she is unsure how Regis could be further taunted, given his shared trauma with the other Wayfinders, and instead reveals that the grave belongs to his missing mentor Sir Dominic.

Ekt tells Aesune a story of how Atalie’s familiar Jasper might return, and she grants the wish. Merith pushes their luck further, and asks to skip to the climax. She happily obliges.

## Climax

The Wayfinders finally meet Aesune, merged in black and white, in her bed chamber at the top of the spire. Kael is bound to a writing test, furiously writing out everything that is happening. The Wayfinders bargain for his life, peacefully, though it seems they have little of worth to offer Aesune. Except for Atalie, who offers her Jasper - a part of her own soul. Aesune agrees, returns Kael to the Wayfinders, and sends them on their way in peace. At the bottom of the tower, the Wayfinders turn to the material plane via the reflecting surface of the pool surrounding the feyspire.

With Kael in tow, the Wayfinders return to Lessyk to find they have arrived three days before they originally left. In order to avoid unfortunate paradoxes, or at least close the timeline in a healthy way, Merith buries their copy of the map to the feyspire so they can find it in three days time.

# Epilogue

Cinnabar groans. Being in the same room with her mother and her uncle was always such a chore. But Host knows they’d scream impropriety if Kael wasn’t delivered by hand like some Orien package.
“Hey, careful with your grip there, Cousin.” Kael laughs nervously, and Cinnabar releases her vice-like hold on his arm.
“Sorry. I’m glad you’re back safe, though.”

Renna and Torren Ellorenthi stand imperious beside the hearth. Torren waits for his son to close the distance, before enveloping Kael in a stiff hug.

“Thank you, Cinnabar, for organising this for us.” Uncle Torren speaks with precision.
“Please pass on our esteem to your colleagues in the Wayfinder Foundation,” Renna finishes, without any sign of affection for her daughter.

“Of course I will, mother.” Cin rolls her eyes. She crosses her arms and taps her boot, waiting for her dismissal.

“Did you know our cousin Merith went on this expedition?” Cin enjoys seeing her mother’s little flinch.

“I’d say he has a pretty promising career with the Wayfinders. I’m sorry to have to pull him away from Guild work, but he really does have a talent worth fostering, you know?” Cinnabar smirks as her mother narrows her eyes.

Cinnabar spins on her heels and waves, leaving Kael to her mother and uncle. Renna offers one last gift of parental wisdom....

“You should really stop colouring your h-”

Then Cinnabar slams the door.

((Credits Roll, fade to black, but then...))

Mother Norah is knelt beside the wooden sign marking outskirts of Lessyk village. She has her hair tied back, and is cleaning the brazier beside the sign. She shoos away a few curious butterflies - some black and blue, others pink and white. She spies a face in the polished silver, and turns around to find a young human woman staring at her while she works.
“Can I help you?” Norah offers the traveller.

The woman shifts awkwardly in her mismatched Brelish clothes, and holds out a paper with five names drawn in neat, curved handwriting.

Norah frowns. Reflexively, she looks down to three sticks of incense burned by other travellers only days ago. She coughs, and waves her off.

“Oh, you won’t find anyone by those names here. Perhaps you could try Lyssford down the way?”

The traveller tightens her grip on the hilt of her sword.