#Caith Threads

[spiribia]

not to grip your shoulders desperately for a moment, but i never personally saw caithe’s egg thievery as an illogical progression of her character. there’s a consistent thread of this profound loneliness and uncertainty in her throughout the personal story. i don’t blame people for finding her later actions random, either, because it’s possible to just miss a lot of this stuff and some time had transpired - but look at the twilight arbor dungeon, where she enlists you, rytlock, and logan to help her confront her evil ex (afraid of succumbing to her plant wiles). and rytlock and logan get angry at her, and both ditch mid-dungeon. leaving only you by her side - which she comments on. and meanwhile faolain is saying, look how all your friends abandon you, no one will stick by you - but i will, so give up and come to the dark side already. and you can see how caithe believes this, with only the commander as her anchor otherwise. and caithe is basically gripping the commander for dear life at this point. there’s that vision from the pale tree of the doomed future where destiny’s edge never reconciles, and caithe feels so hopeless and alone she does actually run back to faolain. and at lion’s arch where she first tries to get destiny’s edge back together, and they only bicker and storm off - and she, despondent, is left with a sylvari commander who can assure her that they are still here for her, at least, and caithe says, no, you’re right…i suspect that will be my only comfort that gets me through the nights to come. she is literally sending you (sylvari commander) DMs like this

and then in comes mordremoth telling her You cannot trust anybody. You cannot trust yourself. And you cannot trust even the commander.

[ratasum]

Man I really wish Snaff haunted the narrative more. There's a very small thread of it in the asura personal story with Zojja but he should haunt every single member of Destiny's Edge because it wasn't JUST their failure that broke them apart, it was Snaff's horrifying, tragic death and the fights that erupted as a result.

Logan's guilt, feeling like his not being there resulted in their failure and, ultimately, Snaff's death.

Eir's grief, letting Zojja blame her because what if she had been more aware? Maybe she could have-!

Zojja's anger, watching her mentor die horrifically and cremating him with her own two hands.

Caithe's desperation, seeing that it was no one person's fault but powerless to fix it.

Rytlock's bitterness, seeing everything as ultimately Logan's fault, for betraying and abandoning them. Just like a human.

Just. AUGH there was so much potential there and the decision to ultimately break apart DE instead of working with it was not my favorite one. I want Snaff to be threaded through all of this!

And yes I know Glint too played a part in the tragedy but Glint gets her part in the narrative in PoF.

[just-eyris-things]

okay eyris rambling lets fucking goooo (because i dont remember if i've said any of this before)

soto spoilers so imma put a read more riiiight here.

So I was thinking and then I did some more thinking and then I thought some more! In conclusion: I've been thinking a lot lately. About Eyris.

Honestly, SotO fucking sucks for her.

All your friends and family are either dead or have left you because they have their own lives (and that's okay!!). Your girlfriend kinda disappeared without a world so I guess she dumped you. Your dragon child went for a long-ass nap, your life-long mission that you've tried so hard to avoid for most of your life is finally over and in theory you finally have what you've always wanted: freedom. There is no more Wyld Hunt, no more lose threads to pick up on. Your mission is over and you can rest peacefully in a shadow of a tree with a book in one hand and Elonian wine in the other.

So why do you feel so empty? Why do you feel like a part of you is gone now that it's all over?

So after the entire Oni business is over in Cantha, Eyris finally returns to Tyria. She tries to rest at Whale Tail Island and fails miserably. Sitting idly is not doing her any good. She hates how the moment she gets to sit down and relax, she immediately starts overthinking and having nightmares. She hates how all the problems that she avoided adressing are now resurfacing. So, she leaves for the Shiverpeaks. She could try to find Freya, right? She went missing after Bjora's Marches so...

SOTO SPOILERS BEGIN HERE. THEY SMOL BUT THEY STILL THERE.

While it keeps her occupied and she meets another norn, Yagna (more about Yagna in another post that I will eventually make, but here she goes for your "looking orbs" needs),

Eyris gets a call from "Caithe". By the Bear, she is sooo happy! Finally she's needed again. But she isn't aware of those feelings. Eyris just sighs heavily and says "well... I guess she's really gone...", then proceeds to go to the Grove to meet Caithe. Right after she gets it over with with the Reporter, she gets an unexpected letter - a letter from an old acquaintence and a Whispers agent, Laeyrin.

Laerin wants Eyris to investigate the disappearance of Wizard Tower in Garrenhoff. Eyris was hesitant but she agreed. She had nothing to do anyway. Laerin gives Eyris a little private comm device for the two of them only (she omits that latter info) and sends her on her way.

So we have:

Eyris, lost, traumatised, running away from confronting her past which causes her to get send into the demon realm

Laerin, who wants to slither back in because she's bored.

Peitha, Eyris's new brainworm. Eyris doesn't want to trust her. Eyris would still choose Peitha over her sadistic ex. Also she somehow finds Peitha's presence comforting. Peitha being in her brain somehow resembles the connection to the Dream and to Airell. Yes, it's a bit more intense since Eyris feels like she has NO privacy and that Peitha's watching and hearing EVERYTHING but... She'll take it. Eyris leans into it because something about Peitha is drawing her in. Idk, something something Eyris is trying to subconsciously replace Freya and Peitha is RIGHT THERE.

Okay ramble over. Two minor points left.

This is not where I was going when I started writing this post and

I was thinking "What if Freya and Eyris reunited in teh Wizard land or in Nayos but idk how to get Freya there so for now I am shelving this idea until I figure out how that could happen and if I realise there's no way - it goes into the idea trash can.

THANK YOU SORRY FOR THE LONG POST BYE--

[grasping-earth]

Ok, so as a Charr lore enjoyer, I haven't really played many sylvari. What do you know about the second pale(?) tree? I know that there is a mysterious sylvari you meet in one of the personal stories that claims to be from another tree, but from what I can tell that is just never touched on again?

You are correct, it totally is not touched on again 😆

I actually replayed that story recently, and was scanning through Caithe's dialogue for any hint of what we later find out she knew all along (but whether the writers had decided she knew yet is another matter). It remains pretty ambiguous.

Caithe is very insistent that it would be bad for the Nightmare Court to get hold of this guy Malyck and his tree. The Nightmare Court call him the Harbinger and believe that turning him to Nightmare will lead to the death of the Dream and their ultimate triumph. Now, the Dream is pretty complicated - the Pale Tree is connected to it but doesn't control it, and Mordremoth is connected to it as well but it's unclear whether it comes from him (being the dragon of Mind) and it persists without him. So whether the Court would be right about this is an open question.

The other piece of the puzzle is that other seeds like the one the Pale Tree grew from definitely existed at some point - the human who planted her centuries back found seeds in a cave and took one, and that's all we know. It's theorised that another one could have grown on its own and matured and birthed sylvari - we can guess that the Pale Tree is basically a blighting tree, but awakened without a dragon to direct what it produces (more questions about the Dream here!) so it's not out of the question that another tree would make humanoid people.

Unfortunately, if we were going to hear more about this guy Heart of Thorns is when we'd expect to, and we did not. At this point I don't expect that thread to ever be picked up again. Personally, I don't really see a world in which Malyck heads west, into the jungle and his home tree that's closer to Mordremoth, and doesn't end up claimed by the dragon during Heart of Thorns.

[mystery-salad]

YOU! gimme 6&7! 12! 16! for Matthias and Aildyn (@where-is-caithe)

💖💖💖 Matthias and @ascalonianpicnic 's Aildyn 💖 coming right up!

6. Did they chase after Caithe together or was one/were some on the airship with Trahearne during the start of HoT?

Neither was on the airship, they were both following Caithe (though with some severe discomfort. Matthias didn't like using the seeds to dig up an unsavory past...hits too close to home. And Aildyn has am awkward gistory with Caithe at that point) and while neither was comfortable with the chase, they both didn't really have wiggle room in it. Aildyn was still under scrutiny as a court spy who needed to prove their place in the pact. And Matthias had a very specific persona he built and has to upkeep to ensure no one finds any loose threads in his story. I feel like, even without the shadow of the dragon interrupting, one of them would've found a way to let her get away "accidentally"

7. Did all of them go into Mordremoth's mind? Did an extra NPC get left out or did two still go?

Matthias and Aildyn both went in, with just Canach! Braham and Caithe both lost people that were huge impacts on them, and that has emotional consequences. They wanted everyone going in to have as clear a mind as possible, and while Canach was still mentally fighting Mordremoth he didn't lost anything drastic to the jungle during the expedition. Not to mention Caithe doesn't trust Aildyn at all yet, so they would have made an awful set to send in together.

As Socks said, "Canach only speedrun any%"

12. Which one was shot by Bangar?

Matthias! And this was finally far into the plot enough that Aildyn knew they loved him. It was fucking devastating to see him get hit and immediately go down as the magic burst to life in the arrow buried deep in his chest. They were at his side and rode with him to aurene's pool. He woke up with his head in their lap...awkward considering the two have been at a point where they literally weren't even speaking outside of required work ._.

The arrow even gave a two for one death deal for him! Matthias is a warrior with the berserker spec, and with that natural internal heat he's been regulating his temperature much better up in the mountains than most others. It's hardly a concern for him until Jormag comes in with their freeze. But that arrow blessed with a fire magic strong enough to fell a dragon? It fucked up his magic real good, but subtly. When Frost Legion revealed their hand and the cold snap blew in, Matthias naturally compensated with upping his own warmth quickly. Which ended up shorting it out completely. Another snap of heat (much like when the arrow first hit him) released from his body, surging him up far beyond a survivable temperature, then plummeted down to freezing as his magic turned off completely. He was down as fast as the first time and had to be dragged back to the healing pool, for much longer to actually repair his magic now too. He's still a bit more cautious with it to this day.

16. How effective are they as a team?

Immensely!!! They may have their differences, they may have hated each other, they may have just started a barely functional relationship now, BUT the one area they never let this affect is their work. These are two people with everything to lose, if this job falls through. They both have pasts waiting to latch their teeth into them the moment they're not backed by a very large and dangerous organization. Whether they get along or not, this job has to work. And they are both immensely skilled fighters and have skills that compliment each other well. Things run so smooth with the two working together even if the team gets tired of the arguments and fights they have to endure in some meetings

[forsakenmyths]

( @whiskeyflavored )

“I don’t know what I think about the latest fashion week.”  Caith gave a shrug and a laugh.  The woman rambling about the differences between Dior and McQueen was already five martinis into her night.  Caith was close to cutting her off when she, thankfully, asked for her tab.

He turned to the man that sat down in front of him at the bar after handing the woman her credit card slip back.  “What can I get you?”

[storm-called]

For Fíondorach

nothing to see here: hiding an injury? Character A? Never. The growing red stain on their clothing? Just some spilled paint, they promise. Now if you’ll excuse them, they have to go collapse in some quiet corner where no one can see them

spoilers for the very last chapter of EoD!

--

It was... done.

Those words didn't fit together. The work was never done. It had been near a decade since Fíondorach had been roped into the dragon-killing business. And now, as a fresh breeze washed away the taste of oil and smoke that the Void left lingering, the last dragon had been dealt with.

The glow of the fight was fading, and with it, the remains of Aurene's magic. The larger-than-life power that had consumed Fíondorach during the battle was draining out through his fingertips, leaving him to feel every scrape, bruise, and burn he had accumulated. His companions didn't notice his slight slouch, nor the hand that slipped beneath his robes and gingerly pressed against his abdomen.

He had almost died. Again. This time, it had been Aurene's grace that had brought him back from the brink. And although Aurene, like her champion, had a strong handle on the art of necromancy thanks to Joko's essence, she was not a healer.

The magic-stitched flesh across his abdomen felt like wet paper, the crystal threads holding him together threatening to snap if he breathed too hard. A hand clasped him roughly on the shoulder, the owner breathing relief and exclamations of triumph far too loudly. Fíondorach pulled on a strained smile, gritting his teeth as he felt another inch of the magic stitching slip. Already, his hand felt damp with ichor.

He wanted to slink away, lick his wounds in dark silence until the throbbing stopped and his skin no longer felt like it was splitting. Someone else could handle the fallout, the cleanup, the logistics. It was over, he had done his duty.

Fíondorach mustered his strength and pushed away from the throng of people that had gathered atop the ruined remains of the Harvest Temple. He’d sneak away onto the airship; maybe he could get an hour before someone came looking for him.

Almost. He almost made it to the airship’s gangplank, doing his best to hide the stiffness of his steps, his hand now thoroughly wet with rose-colored ichor.

“Sneaking off already, Commander?” Caithe’s voice, a little rougher than usual, although Fíondorach couldn’t tell if it was from the smoke or something else. “Navan and Fa are talking about a celebration. There’s an open-air tavern in Xunlai; even Aurene wants to come.” She said the last bit with a chuckle.

A faint smile crossed Fíondorach’s face, but he didn’t turn to face her. If he did, the ichor dripping lazily over the back of his hand would become apparent now, the strained quality of his expression, and the pain glittering in his slitted eyes. “I—I’ll meet you there. There’s something I have to grab from the ‘ship.”

It must be the hesitation, the trip-up in his speech, that tipped her off. Fíondorach was not one to stumble in his words. Besides, he was never good at lying to her, anyway. She always seemed to see right through him — probably the reason they never got along well when they were younger.

“Commander?”

Fíondorach cringed at the hint of concern that had entered her tone, swallowing hard. Slender fingers ghosted over his shoulder, and Fíondorach jerked away from the contact. A mistake; the last thread of Aurene’s magic ripped away at the movement, and he was unable to hide the whine that slithered from between his teeth.

A presence — Aurene's presence — pressed up against his mind, although he couldn’t tell if she was summoned by his distress or Caithe’s concern. The sound of her approaching wingbeats tapered, followed by heavy footfalls as she neared. “Champion?”

Still, Fíondorach didn’t move. It wasn’t fully out of stubbornness this time; a weakness had crawled into his limbs like a blight, and he had to lock his knees to keep them from buckling beneath them. If he turned now, he wasn’t certain he would remain upright. His thoughts were disturbingly sluggish, and he willed his tongue to spit out some excuse quick. Nothing came to mind, just a fast-breathed sigh that belayed his rising panic. He wasn’t able to shake off Caithe’s hand when she closed it around his cloaked bicep, and he hated the way the limb trembled beneath her touch.

“I’m fine, Caithe,” he finally managed to hiss. With the lie went the rest of his strength, and it was only Caithe’s firm grasp on his arm that kept him from wholly collapsing. They sank to the rubble-covered ground, Caithe slowing his descent.

Rather than spiking, the pain ebbed. Dimly, Fíondorach was aware of shouting, the feeling of Aurene’s alarm. Caithe’s free hand was frantically searching his person, and it stilled as it prised free his own loosened grip from the hidden wound. He grunted, more from surprise than pain, as Caithe’s fingers met the open wound that wept rosy ichor freely. Darkness ate at the edge of his vision, and he knew his consciousness was slipping away from him. For once, he didn’t mind it. Didn’t fight it. His duty was done, perhaps he deserved a little peace.

[kerra-and-company]

Actions 15 from the most recent list✨

Thanks a bunch @i-mybrunettelady! :D Have a fic that's basically the sequel to this one I wrote a bit ago (also for a prompt you sent me, funnily enough!):

Warnings: none, I don't think; spoilers for my version of HoT's ending, if that counts as anything

15. for one muse to fall asleep in the hospital bed with the other

Rel remembered only two things from the chopper ride back to base: the pressure of bodies on either side of him—Kerra and Caithe—and the feeling of Trahearne’s hand in both of his, dry leaves crinkling as Rel poured wave after wave of healing magic into the Firstborn.

Despite Rel’s efforts, though, Trahearne was still unconscious.

When they’d touched down, he and Braham had taken the Marshal to a medical tent. The other healers had wanted Rel to leave. He’d refused. Kerra—and Nisha, thank Ameyalli that xe was still alive and mostly unscathed when they returned—had convinced them to let him stay.

I would have stayed regardless, he thought.

There was a part of him that wished he could take Trahearne’s place. Another part pointed out that it would never have been possible. Even if they’d been on the same airship, even if he’d been captured too or instead, Rel would never have been as valuable to Mordremoth as Trahearne. Healer, not Marshal. Not a warrior, nor a chess piece. Mordremoth would have killed Rel, not trapped him.

Besides, Rel thought, I would never want him to worry like this.

Rel sighed. His eyes fell to his hands, still holding Trahearne’s and lit up blue from his glow and his magic. They shone brightly in the fading light; it was getting dark in the jungle.

“Thought I might find you here, tree-kid,” a voice said behind him.

“Hello, Ceera,” Rel said, barely audible.

The Pact medic sat beside him. He could see her face wrinkle out of the corner of his eye. “You’re still healing him?”

“He’s not awake yet. Of course I am.”

“Everyone needs rest, Rel. I think it’s time you give him some.”

“I’m not leaving,” Rel bit out. Ceera smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you to. Let his body heal on its own. Sometimes that’s more helpful than magic.” Ceera stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “And you need to rest, too, Healer.”

Rel’s lips twitched. “Hypocrite.”

Ceera threw her arms up. “Fine. Stubborn plant. I’ll go to my tent. But you better not still be working when your friends come to check on you.” She turned towards the door.

For the first time, Rel lifted his head. “Wait. Is Kerra all right?”

Ceera froze mid-step. “The…Commander is fine,” she said, a bit stilted. “Tired, like you. She’s with your sibling and that spiky sylvari. Good night, kid.”

“‘Night, Ceera.”

The tent flapped shut behind her.

Rel let himself relax, shutting off the magic flow as exhaustion settled over him like a stifling blanket. He looked at Trahearne’s face. His eyes were still closed, his brow slightly furrowed.

Rel stood and gently ran his thumb over the furrow as if he could smooth it out. He brushed a few stray leaves to the side, away from Trahearne’s face.

I’m exhausted. I need sleep. But even thinking about walking away made Rel recoil.

I can’t leave him.

So, he climbed up on the bed next to Trahearne. He draped an arm over Trahearne’s chest, both to protect him and to feel him breathe. You’re here. You’re alive. I will make sure you stay that way.

He suddenly wanted to sing, or play his lute, but he no longer had the energy to move. Instead, he hummed softly, the lyrics scrolling by in his head until he fell asleep.

There is a long, invisible thread

That wraps around my heart and wraps around your head

It tightens its grip when things go unsaid

And I can’t break free…

[uwmspeccoll]

Staff Pick of the Week

For Staff Pick of the week I chose A History of Tapestry From The Earliest Times Until The Present Day which was written by W.G. Thomson (1865-1942), who was a self-proclaimed “Examiner in Art.” There is not much written about William George Thomson but what is known is that he was an artist and tapestry historian. Thomson also wrote Tapestry Weaving in England from the Earliest Times to the End of the XVIIIth Century published in 1914. His art was mainly watercolor reproductions of tapestries. One of his watercolors is currently on display at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Three watercolor reproductions in the book, Adoration of the Infant Jesus, The Hunting Tapestries First of the Scene and Second of the Scene, were also painted by Thomson.

A History of Tapestry From The Earliest Times Until The Present Day was published in 1906 by Hodder & Stoughton, and our copy is a first edition. Thomson discusses techniques and literary references to weaving in myth and history. I found the excerpts he chose to include very interesting, such as a section on weaving from Ovid’s Metamorphosis;

Straight to their Posts appointed both repair, And fix their threaded Looms with equal care; Around the solid Beam and Web is ty’d. While hollow Canes the parting Warp divide; Thro’ which with nimble Flight the Shuttles play, And for the Woof prepare a ready way; The Woof and Warp united, pressed by the toothy Slay.

Thomson also includes a Scandinavian story about weaving, with very different feeling and meaning, from the Niál Saga;

In the North of Caithness, Darad came up to a rock, having seen several figures approach and disappear in it. In this rock there was an opening through which he saw wild women weaving, and singing as they wove. And the weights of the loom he beheld were human heads -- heads of heroes: of entrails were the warps and woofs: swords were the shuttles: and for a comb they had arrows. Now as they sang their awful song, the words dinned in his ears and became understandable. They sand that they were Valkyrias and that the web they were weaving was the web of Darad. As the song ceased they tore in pieces the work they had done, and departed as they had come, some going North and some going South.

I enjoyed looking through this book because I am intrigued by the history and myths surrounding textile arts, as well as the subject matter that are produced within them.

– Claire, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[lightvoices]

@wraithslight continued from [here]

☼ - Hands spread, Zufash makes a placating motion with her hands, seeking to calm the agitated Guardian.  “I know you are.  Be at ease, Guardian.  We can stop if you’d like.”

Stormcallers were not a common thing.  It was rare to find a Guardian with the potential to harness arc energy.  Few were the people who understood it. Zufash was one of those people.   Which was why she stood in one of the Tower’s many training rooms with a fellow Warlock. 

The girl smiles at the nervous Exo, reaching out to take his hands.  Immediately, the lightning cracking up his arms ceases, the teenager soothing over his Light with a gentle hand.  She withdraws her senses back into herself and squeezes Caith’s hands gently.  “Stay calm.  Your Light will not hurt you if you let it, despite how scary it may seem.”

How did arc flow?  Zufash hummed, pondering the question briefly.  Her experience was not the normal one - arc came to her naturally, the first element she mastered.  Sometimes it was difficult to explain the logistics of it.

“Like water,” the girl repeats, holding up a hand before Caith can reply.  “Wait, let me explain.  Think of your Light as a river - it can flow calmly, slowly.  Or it can be a raging force of nature.  You must be a dam - controlling its flow.  Let it out in controlled amounts.  Let out too little and you will cut yourself off.  Let out too much and it may overwhelm you.”

[emotional-support-salad]

sometimes you just gotta indulge and write rytmander.

commander!agueda, rytlock, allusions to lws5 under the cut.

.

The way he threads into Jhavi's study is different. Rytlock usually doesn't bother to hide the weight of his armor; his gait is confident, cocksure, accompanied by the sound of metal clanking together. But even if he stealths his steps, Agueda hears him and looks up from Jhavi's research with tired eyes. 

"Did the dragon ask you to come kill me?" She asks, frank. The bone-deep exhaustion that's seeped into her posture hidden away behind the amusement in her voice. 

Rytlock snorts, loud. It's a better answer than whatever words could provide. His shadow flickers over the desk when he comes stand behind her chair, looming over her like the shiverpeaks outside over the keep. Agueda smirks and daintily crosses one leg over the other. 

"Jormag--" and there's nothing but distaste, discomfort when he utters the name, "He's more crafty than asking me that outright." His nose wrinkles, exposing his teeth. 

Her expression softens. Agueda doesn't let her guard down around just about anyone, but Rytlock's always been different. 

She reaches out to touch his gauntleted fist and says, "Tell me."

"I do more harm than good. he says I’m too selfish, and feh, that's why I kept Ryland at paw’s length, why I... hurt you." His gaze sweeps down to her collarbone, to her chest. where Balthazar cleaved her apart. "He says it's too late to make amends now. that I'm going on another fool's errand," Rytlock murmurs, shaking off her touch with a lowered head. 

"Don't," she whispers. 

The sound of the chair scraping over the floor comes off as claustrophobic in the study. Her hands come to rest at the collar of his chestpiece. There's fire in her eyes. He bristles at the proximity, showing off his fangs, but there's nothing remotely threatening about the gesture. 

Agueda holds his gaze the way she holds her ground in battle, and Rytlock's reminded of the moment they would go to face Mordremoth, when she unflinchingly told Caithe she would kill her if she got in their way. 

"The only way you could possibly hurt me," she begins, emphasizing the last word with a meaningful look. "Is by abandoning me now. And it's the same for Ryland. So find your son."

Rytlock places a paw on her hip; claws spreading over her thigh and belly. The sheer size difference between them becomes apparent once more with this one simple gesture. He neither steadies her or pushes her away. A rumble chugs from his open maw as he searches her face for something. She gently cups his jaw, a small private smile on her face. Her thumb trails over the soft fur there, counter to how it grows. 

"We will get him back. You will get him back," Agueda reassures as she caresses his lower lip, teases the pad of her thumb against his dark pink gums. 

The pinpricks of claws become tangible through the fabric of her robes. Rytlock's paw trembles in the face of her tenderness. She cocks her head to the right, slowly pushing her fingers deeper inside his maw. Feeling at his teeth, his sandpaper tongue, the roof of his mouth. And Rytlock trusts her, lets her. Whatever whispers Jormag breathes against the back of his skull quiet down. 

Rytlock feels her move on the tips of her toes, watches her lean in to press a kiss against his wet muzzle. 

It's the closest he's ever allowed himself to let her come. 

"Commander." One word, the inflection pitched higher at the last syllable; a question. 

Agueda shakes her head and replies, "Now go."

[alahmnat]

What do we do now?

On the eve of the finale, I wrote a little thing to try and get into my sylvari Commander’s headspace. Below the fold for length and also Episode 5 spoilers, you’ve been warned.

"What do we do now?"

Braham's words still echoed in my head. A pleading, begging question that mirrored my own as I fell to my knees beside Aurene's lifeless form.

After all of this... After everything... So many plans, so many struggles, so many close calls and near misses... only to fail in the end. What do we do now?

"I don't know."

I wish I had a better answer. For so long now, my friends and allies have looked to me for guidance, for clarity, for answers. And for so long, I've had some wild scheme, or a clever retort, or even just some half-forgotten trick plucked from a thread of the Dream to help propel us forward. Even in the Crystal Desert, when the human gods turned their backs on us as Balthazar unspooled his crazed plan and left us with nothing, we still had a shred of hope that we could unearth something to use in our fight.

Now...

Aurene was our last hope. Our light in the darkness. My light in the darkness. She bore the impossible weight of Glint's legacy with strength and dignity far beyond her years. She trusted me, and I led her into battle against her grandsire knowing that she was afraid, on the whisper of a chance that we could succeed. I tell myself that she was smart, that she knew what she was getting into, that she chose to stand and fight with us on her own... but did she? Or did she do it out of obligation to me? Did she believe we could win, or was she just one more unwitting soul thrown into the meat grinder that my path through the world has become?

I've been forced to deal with so much loss since my awakening beneath the Pale Tree. First they were small things; things I had no real control over, like Ysvelta's fall into Nightmare. Then Sieran, who laid down her life so that Trahearne and I could escape Claw Island with the Vigil's wounded. But then I joined the Pact, and I lost Apatia, who fell to darkness because I could not save her from the krait in time. Over time, the losses under my watch grew. The war against Zhaitan claimed so many lives... death is inevitable in war, and yet, I fear the thought of becoming accustomed to it. When the dragon was finally defeated, we hoped that it would usher in a new time of peace, but it was not to be. Scarlet Briar strangled that fragile peace in its cradle, bringing death and destruction to parts of Tyria that even Zhaitan had not yet reached. Tasked though I was with stopping her, her defeat came with its own terrible cost: Mordremoth's awakening.

From that moment I can trace a single line through everything that has happened to arrive at this one. It, too, is coated in the blood of my friends and allies. The Zephyrites, Aerin, the Master of Peace, the Pact... Eir and Trahearne. Even Mordremoth's defeat ultimately empowered a new foe in Balthazar, and his defeat only served to empower Joko and Kralkatorrik. Because of me, the crystal dragon claimed most of Balthazar's magic, and now runs free in the Mists, threatening to tear apart the very fabric of our world. Perhaps Ventari was right, "you cannot expect the world to give you peace".

Through it all, though, there was Aurene. And Caithe...

Caithe...

My stomach turns when I think back to how I treated her during the campaign against Mordremoth. In the moment, Caithe's distrust cut me deeply. But now I understand that she was also doing what she thought was right, and that anyone trying to take the egg from her was a possible threat – especially if that someone was also sylvari. I wish she had trusted me then, but someone can only have their trust broken so many times before they lose it altogether.

It must have stung her when Aurene chose me as her champion, after investing so much of herself in caring for her egg. I was so pleased – and proud – when Aurene... "branded" is the wrong word... "adopted" Caithe as her voice. Finally, after so long, she had been given a purpose by someone she loved, and who truly loved her back. It was a delicious irony, in a way... a woman destined to be the mindless pawn of an elder dragon, instead sharing the will of the dragon that would replace them. When her crystal blossoms faded, I knew there was no hope that Aurene had somehow survived Kralkatorrik's final blow. When I close my eyes, I can still see the petals falling away, a quiet sparkle still audible over the sound of Taimi's wracking sobs.

I didn't cry for days. Though I put on a strong face for my friends, my life so far has left me... hollowed. There is a numbness to grief that comes with being a soldier. Between that and the enormity of this loss, I couldn't even begin to process it. When I finally stumbled out of the Auditorium and back into the forge, I couldn't even speak. The sound of the Zephyrite choir that fed the production of our dragon's blood weapons was twisted now, a morbid dirge instead of a prayerful hymn. I haven't been back to the forge since the battle, but I suspect they're still chanting, still forging. After all, with Kralkatorrik still out there, his branded armies are stronger than ever.

Eventually, though, the tears did come, and when they did, they did not stop. I made my way back to the Pale Mother through their stinging burn, and wept at her feet. I don't know for how long. Hours? Days? I cried out my apologies to her, begged her forgiveness for failing, for being so arrogant as to think that I could stop Kralkatorrik, and for dooming the world by losing Aurene in the process. The enormity of the past five years – my only five years – poured out of me, until finally, Mother placed her hand on my head to calm my spirit. "Life can be painful, my child," she said, echoing Ventari's words. "But do not fear. The hour is never truly lost, as long as you have faith. I know it may seem impossible, but there is always a way forward. Go, Valiant, and reflect on this for a time. Perhaps the answers you seek will come to you in the Dream."

Zafirah found me yesterday. I don't know how. Perhaps Mother contacted her. Still, she must be a truly skilled tracker to follow me halfway across the world to the secluded part of Arbor Bay where I had made camp. I expected her to be angry, or disappointed. After all, I had dragged her into this fight after killing her god, only for her to have what little hope there still was snatched out from under her. Instead, she merely leaned her rifle up against a rock and sat down heavily beside me, and we both stared out into the sea for a time.

"I'm sor—" I began, my eyes still fixed on the horizon.

"I don't blame you, Commander," she said, cutting me off. "Not now, anyway. Oh sure, I did at first, what with all the talk about prophecies and grand plans. I got swept up in it, having something to believe in again after Balthazar's betrayal. For a moment, it really seemed like it was going to work. But maybe it was all wrong. Maybe this world is destined to die..."

"Then why are you here?" I asked.

"Because even if this world is doomed, for as long as I can see down my scope I won't stop fighting to prevent it."

She turned to look at me before continuing, "In the Book of Balthazar is written: 'War is life, and life is brief. Death comes, but death's not death that breathes life into others, and life's not life that never dares to risk. The world is loss, and grief, and faith, and hope. Then take heart, and re-join the war eternal, for it may be that death is not the end, but possibly the end of the beginning.'"

"You still want me to come back?" I said.

"Yes," she replied. "Your friends need you. Tyria needs you. Aurene needs you."

I winced.

"So, Commander," she asked, pulling herself to her feet and offering her hand to me. "What do we do now?"

For a moment I hesitated. But then I felt a tingle in the back of my mind... a calling. Like my Wyld Hunt, but... different, and yet not different at all. Maybe it wasn't over yet. Maybe there was still something we could do. Or maybe not. Tyria was still worth defending, regardless. I reached out to take Zafirah's hand. "I don't know," I said as she pulled me up. "But let's find out together."

[battlestar-royco]

7/7/7 tag

thank you @spaceshipkat for the tag!!!

Rules: Find your favorite sentence (or a paragraph) on each of the last 7 pages you’ve written. Copy and paste those 7 out-of-the-context snippets. And then tag some peeps.

Dreams of stars and sheep were made of a thin cloth, easily slashed by Reston’s knives. The same man who’d sat her down under the night sky and told generations of stories about constellated idols, who’d carried her on his back when she was too tired to walk from village to village, who’d sang her to sleep when she cried, had threatened to slit her throat the night he found out.

A crimson banner of blood streamed from his chest, descending to the ground like rain.

Finn ran across the road, vaulted over the stone, and clasped Arenkal’s extended hand. It was sweaty, but sturdy enough for him to swing onto the saddle behind her. The dragon ascended and they gained height with two unsteady wingbeats. She laughed, sounding free.

Faryn took a slow breath, jaw set. “Nice try but I’m not leaving any of you alone. Because I know a threat,” she said through her teeth at the men, “when I see one. I just hope all of you do too.”

Nirya’s free hand drifted over the column of his throat. Her gentle fingers made him flinch. “Don’t tempt me. Next time I have my hands around your neck, I won’t let go.”

Lady Kasath stood just outside the light, night cutting her features sharp. She didn’t shiver even though she wore no cloak. When Finn neared, he realized she smiled her usual unsettling smile.

Heavy curtains shrouded the room, hiding alcoves and accenting the crackling fireplace. Winged creatures threaded in silver and white danced along the turquoise silks. Lady Caith stared out the window across the chamber. A ripped envelope hung from her fingers.

Welp, all the writeblrs I would have tagged have either been tagged or already done this because it took me approximately 67 years to do this so whoever has some writing they want to share, please do this and tag me in it!!!!

[leafofkudzu]

Normally I’d make a big thoughts post following such big episode stuff but for once I actually had a receptive audience in my stream and we just kind of chatted about it for an hour or two following and now I’m all talked out, about the finer points at least.

But like....after the previous episode I was already wondering how Anet could go bigger than what they were doing, and well. This is certainly a way to do it. But where can we even go now? I feel like anything going forward from here is going to be really hard to sell tbh... :S

You know what screw it it’s time for a readmore. Gonna summarize the things we were talking about on stream as well as get a couple theories and stuff out because why not. Probably end up rambling as well since I usually always do. Here we go. Big big spoilers ahead, obviously.

So like, here’s some things chat and I discussed the night of:

- Deep Sea Dragon??? What’s happening there. It’s gotta be getting dangerous in its own right by now...or did the largos deal with it already? Is it dead? Asleep again? Anet can’t keep ignoring it forever because eventually it’ll be the last and biggest threat and they probably don’t want to have The Underwater Expansion™ be so pivotal to story. If there even is an underwater expansion. Which I do want. Anet pls give me playable largos I beg you.

- Very lengthy discussion about human gods and gods left behind. Lots of lingering on Abaddon, who the lore keeps saying is totally super dead guys really we swear....but hey look at all this influence that’s still around. Hm....

--> Continuing that thread, if we’re going for Big Outlandish Story, a return of Abaddon would certainly be that. I don’t like it, but it’s one of the biggest things I can think of, and I mean sure why not. He’s been mentioned and fleshed out more than I expected a dead god to be lately (thinking Siren’s Landing stuff) so who knows.

- Thoughts on whether or not Aurene could have like, transferred her mind into Kralkatorrik’s body via her partial-branding of him in his weakened state or whatever. This is also a really really obnoxiously big stretch but if we’re talking tin foil hat theories then why not.

--> Against this theory is Caithe losing her Voice-of-the-Scion state, but if it’s proximity-based (which we can’t confirm or deny because Anet gave us literally no time to think on the implications of this revelation) then maybe that could be hand-waved away.

- Quick aside here because I am FURIOUS that Anet gave us something as lore-bendingly cool as an Aurene-branded Caithe and then took it away like 30 minutes later. If this doesn’t come back in some way in the future I will riot. Of course it coming back relies on Aurene coming back in some capacity so maybe it’s gone forever in which case TIME TO RIOT.

- A realization that Glint probably doesn’t care for her children in an individual capacity. She had many eggs probably as failsafes, had multiple nursery-cities set up (Kesho/Tarir/who knows where else at this point because the writers drop things like this on our heads whenever its convenient), addresses all her memory-recordings to a singular ‘Scion’ because it’s a catch-all neutral term to avoid emotional attachment....did she just see her children as tools? Did she care about them at all? Does she care that they’re dying for her plans?

--> Related: What if her plans rely on them dying? If Glint’s in the Mists and fighting...is Vlast there too? Will Aurene be there too? Is this how we’ll encounter her again? This is an idea I’ve just had now and so didn’t mention on stream obviously, but it seems to be lore-friendly and less tin foil hat than the previous ideas...

- What can the next story step possibly be here regardless. Are we going to get her body out of the spikes for a funeral thing? Can we even? ...HEY WAIT. WHEN GLINT DIED SHE CRYSTALLIZED. WHEN VLAST DIED HE SHATTERED INTO CRYSTALS AND STUFF RIGHT? OR AT LEAST HIS BODY VANISHED AND LEFT SOME CRYSTAL BITS BEHIND AT THE SITE. WHY ISN’T MY BABY CRYSTALS. ANET. EXPLAIN. CAITHE SAYS SHE’S ‘GONE’ BUT IS SHE DEAD OR NOT? HMMMM. >:T

- ANYWAY like for real the literal exact next instance is going to be entered with a fuckton of energy and emotional charge and I am doubting whether or not Anet can keep it rolling considering we also have to deal with the other high-stakes issue of Kralkatorrik in...whatever state he’s in. How much damage did we do? How much of a threat is he in this state? I have Questions that aren’t going to be answered for a few months now, agh.

- At the very least though if Aurene’s not dead-dead and/or can still help us in some way, I want them to keep the drama and tension of that moment for a while. Go a full episode or two at the very least before they start backpedalling and going ‘no it’s fine and here’s why’, yknow?

I think that’s all my major thoughts for now. 

tl;dr we’ve been left in a really strange spot with a lot of new concepts thrust upon us and I’m nervous but also extremely interested in where else we can go from here.

[thewinedarksea]

a christmas gift for the lovely @eunoiaschaos​, who asked for something “dark and dramatic and makes me love the villain,” ft. “dead gods.” hope you like it! 💕

The statues are coming down.

Veseth, one of their last strongholds of faith, resistance broken beneath the jaws of the Silian empire at last, their temples forfeit. The story spans three pages, bracketed on each side by accounts of the war, lists of casualties.

Grainy black-and-white photographs accompany it. Half of the first page is dominated by a shot of the temple’s interior, the arched ceiling punctured with holes, pale light streaming over the ring of statues. Valehn recognizes only two: Arienrel, goddess of the sea, dark arms outspread, and Daemon, god of the harvest, his head topped with a crown of golden leaves. She searches the temple for a hint of past glory, finds only cracked marble columns, old murals faded with time.  

When she turns the page she’s greeted with a full-length picture of the wreckage, the wood of the altar splintered and snapped, piles of rubble lining the aisles. Daemon’s crown is scattered across the ground, leaves bent and misshapen. One of Arienrel’s hands has broken off, the marble fingers reaching towards the uncaring sky.

With a sigh Valehn flips the paper closed, shoving it across the table, and drops her head back. The quiet of the room washes over her, easing some of the stress of the last few days.

The Agartha Club smells of smoke and whiskey and spilt blood, the air thick and warm, filled with soft chatter and the rustling of pages. It’s more refuge than social gathering, a place where the old gods go to remember and the new priests come to learn, trading secrets and knowledge of arcane rites over cups of coffee and honey. A pale imitation of what was, but it’s enough, sometimes, for her to pretend.  

When she closes her eye it’s Il’lythria she sees: the walls swathed in silk, incense heavy in the air, revelers dancing to the wild music, the crush of bodies turning in the violent light. And the gods high above it all, their lips dripping blood and gold, drinking in the worship. Adahris, with his wine-red mouth and feverish eyes, the dark silk of his robes pooling around his shoulders; Caithe, their hair in a hundred delicate braids, prowling the edges of the room; Elohra on her throne, wrapped in chainmail, dusted with rose petals.

The memory dissipates at the sound of someone settling in the chair across from her, the creak of springs loud in the stillness. A disciple, perhaps, one who has not yet learned that Valehn has little interest in reminiscing on the past and even less in being disturbed. Frowning, she opens her eye, an angry retort already on her lips.

But it’s Elohra she finds sitting across from her, a peach in one hand and Valehn’s discarded paper spread out on the table before her. She’s flipped it open to the story on Veseth, her lip curling at the wreckage of the temple, the shards of ancient statues scattered across the floor.

The words vanish from Valehn’s mouth. She chokes instead, the sound strangled and ugly, her heart tightening painfully in her chest. Elohra glances up at the noise and, finding Valehn’s attention on her, brings a hand down on the picture of the broken statues, fingertips spanning Arienrel’s face.

“It’s amazing what mortals will get up to, if we leave them alone long enough,” she says, tapping one bloodied nail against the page. In the dim light of the club her eyes are perilously bright; they glow in her face, radiant as a collapsing sun. Valehn averts her gaze too late, black dots crawling across her vision.

By the time it clears Elohra has set the newspaper aside. One hand now holds a slender knife, the hilt carved to resemble a wolf, mouth open and snarling. Valehn stills, pulse quickening. Her eye lingers on the silver fangs, the tips stained crimson. It’s Elohra’s favorite blade, a present from Adahris. She’d taken it to Valehn a handful of times; she can feel the phantom bite of it against her skin, on her wrists where the scars never healed right.  

“Why are you here?”  Valehn’s voice comes out rough and low, tinged with fear. The corner of Elohra’s mouth ticks up at the sound.

“It’s amazing what you get up to, if I leave you alone long enough.”

Long enough. Elohra’s been avoiding the major conflicts, a rarity for her; Valehn hasn’t laid eyes on her in half a century. Once any separation would have seemed unthinkable. Now Elohra’s presence feels foreign, dangerous, threatening to drag Valehn back into her orbit.

Valehn says nothing and the light of Elohra’s eyes flicker as she rolls them. She tilts backwards until she’s lounging in her chair, kicking her boots up onto the table, the heels leaving scuffs on the hardwood. Paper tears beneath her careless feet, separating Arienrel’s head from her body. Valehn winces at the sound, and again when Elohra kicks the newspaper to the floor with a disdainful noise.

“There have been rumors,” Elohra says. Her knife bites deep into the peach, carving out a generous slice. “About Adahris.” She pops it into her mouth and chews, juice trickling down her chin. “About Caithe.” The blade points at Valehn. “About you.”

“Adahris.” The name fits strangely in Valehn’s mouth, her heart catching again at the mention of him. Cruel, beautiful Adahris, with his cold eyes and clever hands, trailing violence in his wake. Apparently today is the day for reopening old wounds.  

“I haven’t seen him in decades.” Not since the Battle of Navera, where he had retreated into the mountains, wounded and beaten, forces routed and stronghold overrun. Recent whispers placed him in Istane, a remnant of his former self, gathering his followers in a desperate bid for power. Harmless enough on his own, but if Elohra entered the war on his side… Velahn tucks that thought away for later consideration, out of the reach of Elohra and her burning eyes.

“And Caithe?”  Elohra’s mouth twists around the name, eyes flickering dark and molten with hatred.

“We worked together, once.” They’d seen much of each other in those long centuries after Il’lythria, when the world continued on and Elohra was nowhere to be found. “We still keep in contact.”

Elohra’s grip on the knife tightens. The next cut she makes is ragged, tearing at skin. Silence settles over the pair of them, thick and choking. Valehn doesn’t dare to break it, settles for stealing glances at Elohra through her eyelashes, careful to avoid her eyes.

Elohra is beautiful still, and that hurts in a way Valehn hadn’t expected. Most of the other gods have became less than as their temples crumbled and their worshippers dwindled, skin hardening to stone, beauty peeling away to reveal the monster beneath. The only mark time has left on Elohra is in her bearing: her arrogance threaded with exhaustion, the weight of centuries pressing down on the sharp line of her shoulders.

“Are you planning to betray me, Valehn?” Elohra’s voice is flat, the words dropping into the space between them with the finality of a thrown gauntlet. Valehn jerks at the question, her gaze darting upwards.

She is met with the implacable burn of Elohra’s eyes, her face smooth around them. Valehn cannot read her expression. It’s disquieting to think that she can no longer decipher Elohra’s emotions, that there is a part of Elohra that Valehn is not privy to. In all of their time apart it’s the one skill she’d never thought she’d lose. Elohra has changed so much. Or perhaps it is Valehn herself who has changed, shaped by a merciless world into something more than Elohra’s shadow.

“Are you?” Elohra repeats, still flat, still unreadable.

Valehn’s chair protests as she rises to her feet, skirting the table to stand in front of Elohra. Elohra watches, expectant, the knife spinning lazy circles in the air.  

The carpet is thick and soft as Valehn sinks to her knees, the accumulated warmth from the fire soaking into her leggings. When she tips her head back Elohra’s eyes catch on her mouth and linger, the knife going still in her hands, eyes subsiding to a deep flicker.

“I have always been loyal to you,” Valehn says, careful to keep her voice steady. The words ring hollow in her ears. She has not stood by Elohra’s side in decades; the space between them can fit empires. She raises one hand, pressing it to her heart. An old soldier, playing at a loyalty that had once consumed her entire soul.  "Always.“

Elohra softens at the sight of her, something dark and complicated flitting across the blank expanse of her face. Valehn does not dare dwell on it.

“Yes,” Elohra muses at last. “You have been.”

She stands in one violent, fluid motion, tossing the remainder of peach over her shoulder to land on the rug. Her fingers are still sticky with juice when they reach out, trailing along Valehn’s cheek in a parody of a caress, ghosting around the empty hollow of her right eye. They track a path down her face, nails drawing blood where they catch at the skin, coming to rest on the curve of her neck.

“Oh, my love,” Elohra sighs, and Valehn can read her face now, an ancient fury trembling across the whole wild breadth of it. There’s love there, too, raw and aching, unbearable in its intensity, and Valehn shuts her eye in the face of it. Elohra’s grip tightens, and Valehn shivers, desire igniting in her veins, white-hot and hungry. “It is a dangerous path you tread. Take care to remember your place.”

The centuries had killed Valehn’s love as surely as they’d driven a knife into its heart; she’d buried the remains beneath the ruins of Il’lythria, laid it to rest alongside whatever monster she’d once been. But in this moment, with Elohra’s hand wrapped around her throat and the scent of blood thick in the air, she remembers what it was like, thinks that if Elohra asked she would follow her to the ends of the earth and over the edge into the star-speckled nothing beyond.

She doesn’t ask. Her hand falls away, smearing golden juice across Valehn’s skin. When she walks out of the room, the silk of her coat fluttering behind her, she leaves behind the sickly smell of peaches and Valehn, kneeling on the floor, trapped in place by old memories.

It’s a long time before she lets out a shaky sigh and stands, legs weak beneath her. The blood on her face is drying in sticky lines and her neck itches, the weight of Elohra’s hand still vivid, threatening to drive her to her knees once more.

But there is work to be done. Caithe needs to be informed, her network of spies prepared. Valehn knows Elohra, knows the difference between a threat and an inevitability. Elohra is planning a war, and she won’t stop until she’s burned the world or broken it, no matter the consequences.

[books-in-a-storm]

Urban Fantasy Snowflake Reviews

I read a lot of urban fantasy and it’s hard to write a review when the books kind of blend together. (❤ Complete Series)

Alphabetical Stand Alone & Series:

A:

Arcadia Bell-Jenn Bennett

Kindling the Moon(Arcadia Bell #1)

Summoning the Night(Arcadia Bell #2)

Binding the Shadows(Arcadia Bell #3)

Banishing the Dark(Arcadia Bell #4)

Alexandra Sabian- Jeannie Holmes

Blood Law(Alexandra Sabian #1)

The Adventures of Owl-Kristi Charish

Owl and the Japanese Circus(The Adventures of Owl #1)

Abby Sinclair-Allison Pang

A Brush of Darkness(Abby Sinclair #1)

Alex Craft-Kalayna Price

Grave Witch (Alex Craft #1)

Grave Dance(Alex Craft #2)

Alpha & Omega-Patricia Briggs

Cry Wolf(Alpha & Omega #1)

Hunting Ground(Alpha & Omega #2)

Fair Game(Alpha & Omega #3)

Allie Beckstrom- Devon Monk

Magic to the Bone(Allie Beckstrom #1)

B:

Black London-Caitlin Kittredge

Street Magic(Black London #1)

Black Wings-Christina Henry

Black Wings(Black Wings #1)

Black Night(Black Wings #2)

The Beginner’s Guide to Necromancy-Hailey Edwards

How to Save an Undead Life(The Beginner’s Guide to Necromancy #1)

Betwixt & Between-Darynda Jones

Betwixt(Betwixt & Between #1)

Bewitched(Betwixt & Between #2)

C:

Crimson Moon- L.A. Banks

Bad Blood(Crimson Moon #1)

Coveted-Shawntelle Madison

Coveted(Coveted #1)

Kept(Coveted #2)

Charley Davidson-Darynda Jones

First Grave on the Right(Charley Davidson #1)

Second Grave on the Left(Charley Davidson #2)

Third Grave Dead Ahead(Charley Davidson #3)

Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet(Charley Davidson #4)

Fifth Grave Past the Light(Charley Davidson #5)

Sixth Grave on the Edge(Charley Davidson #6)

Seventh Grave and No Body(Charley Davidson #7)

Eighth Grave After Dark(Charley Davidson #8)

The Dirt on Ninth Grave(Charley Davidson #9)

Chicagoland-Chloe Neill❤ 

Some Girls Bite(Chicagoland Vampires #1)

Friday Night Bites(Chicagoland Vampires #2)

Twice Bitten(Chicagoland Vampires #3)

Hard Bitten(Chicagoland Vampires #4)

Drink Deep(Chicagoland Vampires #5)

Biting Cold(Chicagoland Vampires #6)

House Rules(Chicagoland Vampires #7)

Biting Bad(Chicagoland Vampires #8)

Wild Things(Chicagoland Vampires #9)

Blood Games(Chicagoland Vampires #10)

Dark Debt(Chicagoland Vampires #11)

Midnight Marked(Chicagoland Vampires #12)

Blade Bound(Chicagoland Vampires #13)

Cassandra Palmer- Karen Chance

Touch the Dark(Cassandra Palmer #1)

Claimed by Shadow(Cassandra Palmer #2)

Caith Morningstar-Celia Kyle

Hell’s Chapel(Caith Morningstar #1)

Chronicles of Elantra-Michelle Sagara

Cast in Shadow(Chronicles of Elantra #1)

D:

No Mercy(Dark-Hunter #18)-Sherrilyn Kenyon

Dorina Basarab- Karen Chance

Midnight’s Daughter(Dorina Basarab #1)

Dante Valentine-Lilith Saintcrow

Working for the Devil(Dante Valentine #1)

Dead Man Rising(Dante Valentine #2)

The Dresden Files-Jim Butcher

Storm Front(The Dresden Files #1)

Fool Moon(The Dresden Files #2)

Grave Peril(The Dresden Files #3)

Summer Knight(The Dresden Files #4)

E:

The Edge-Ilona Andrews

On the Edge(The Edge #1)

Bayou Moon(The Edge #2)

Elemental Assassin-Jennifer Estep

Spider’s Bite(Elemental Assassin #1)

Web of Lies(Elemental Assassin #2)

Venom(Elemental Assassin #3)

Tangled Threads(Elemental Assassin #4)

Spider’s Revenge(Elemental Assassin #5)

By a Thread(Elemental Assassin #6)

F:

Fire and Ice- K.F. Breene❤

Born in Fire(Fire and Ice Trilogy #1)

Raised in Fire(Fire and Ice Trilogy #2)

Fused in Fire(Fire and Ice Trilogy #3)

J:

Jaz Parks-Jennifer Rardin

Once Bitten, Twice Shy(Jaz Parks #1)

Another One Bites the Dust(Jaz Parks #2)

Biting the Bullet(Jaz Parks #3)

Bitten to Death(Jaz Parks #4)

One More Bite(Jaz Parks #5)

Bite Marks(Jaz Parks #6)

Jade Calhoun-Deanna Chase

Haunted on Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #1)

Witches of Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #2)

Demons of Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #3)

Angels of Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #4)

Shadows of Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #5)

Incubus of Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #6)

Bewitched on Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #7)

Hexed on Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #8)

Dragons of Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #9)

Jill Kismet-Lilith Saintcrow

Night Shift (Jill Kismet #1)

Hunter’s Prayer(Jill Kismet #2)

Redemption Alley(Jill Kismet #3)

Jane Yellowrock-Faith Hunter

Skinwalker(Jane Yellowrock #1)

Blood Cross(Jane Yellowrock #2)

Mercy Blade(Jane Yellowrock #3)

H:

Hidden Legacy- Ilona Andrews❤

Burn for Me(Hidden Legacy #1)

White Hot(Hidden Legacy #2)

Wildfire(Hidden Legacy #3)

Diamond Fire(Hidden Legacy #3.5)

Sapphire Flames(Hidden Legacy #4)

H&W Investigation-Jess Haines❤

Hunted by the Others(H&W Investigations #1)

Taken by the Others(H&W Investigations #2)

Deceived by the Others(H&W Investigations #3)

Stalking the Others(H&W Investigations #4)

Forsaken by the Others(H&W Investigations #5)

Enslaved By the Others(H&W Investigations #6)

The Hollows-Kim Harrison

Dead Witch Walking(The Hollows #1)

I:

Indexing-Seanan McGuire 

Indexing(Indexing #1)

G:

Gallow and Ragged-Lilith Saintcrow

Trailer Park Fae(Gallow and Ragged #1)

Guild Hunter-Nalini Singh

Angels’ Blood(Guild Hunter #1)

Archangel’s Kiss(Guild Hunter #2)

Archangel’s Consort(Guild Hunter #3)

Archangel’s Blade(Guild Hunter #4)

Archangel’s Storm(Guild Hunter #5)

Archangel’s Legion(Guild Hunter #6)

Archangel’s Shadows(Guild Hunter #7)

K:

Kate Daniels-Ilona Andrews

Magic Bites(Kate Daniels #1)

Magic Burns(Kate Daniels #2)

Magic Strikes(Kate Daniels #3)

Magic Bleeds(Kate Daniels #4)

Magic Slays(Kate Daniels #5)

Magic Rises(Kate Daniels #6)

Magic Breaks(Kate Daniels #7)

Magic Shifts(Kate Daniels #8)

Magic Binds(Kate Daniels #9)

Magic Triumphs(Kate Daniels #10)

Kara Gillian-Diana Rowland

Mark of the Demon(Kara Gillian #1)

L:

M:

Mercy Thompson-Patricia Briggs

Moon Called(Mercy Thompson #1)

Blood Bound(Mercy Thompson #2)

Iron Kissed(Mercy Thompson #3)

Bone Crossed(Mercy Thompson #4)

Silver Borne(Mercy Thompson #5)

River Marked(Mercy Thompson #6)

Frost Burned(Mercy Thompson #7)

Night Broken(Mercy Thompson #8)

N:

Night Huntress World- Jeaniene Frost❤

First Drop of Crimson(Night Huntress World #1)

Eternal Kiss of Darkness(Night Huntress World #2)

Night Huntress-Jeaniene Frost❤

Halfway to the Grave(Night Huntress #1)

One Foot in the Grave(Night Huntress #2)

At Grave’s End(Night Huntress #3)

Destined for an Early Grave(Night Huntress #4)

This Side of the Grave(Night Huntress #5)

One Grave at a Time(Night Huntress #6)

Up from the Grave(Night Huntress #7)

Night Prince-Jeaniene Frost

Once Burned(Night Prince #1)

Twice Tempted(Night Prince #2)

Bound by Flames(Night Prince #3)

Into the Fire(Night Prince #4)

O:

Ordinary Magic-Devon Monk

Death and Relaxation(Ordinary Magic #1)

Otherworld-Kelley Armstrong

Bitten(Women of the Otherworld #1)

Stolen(Women of the Otherworld #2)

Dime Store Magic(Otherworld #3)

Industrial Magic(Otherworld #4)

Haunted(Otherworld #5)

Broken(Otherworld #6)

No Humans Involved(Otherworld #7)

Personal Demon(Otherworld #8)

Living with the Dead(Otherworld #9)

Frostbitten(Otherworld #10)

October Daye-Seanan McGuire

Rosemary and Rue(October Daye #1)

P:

Prospero’s War-Jaye Wells

Dirty Magic(Prospero’s War #1)

Cursed Moon(Prospero’s War #2)

Deadly Spells(Prospero’s War #3)

Volatile Bonds(Prospero’s War #4)

Pyper Rayne-Deanna Chase

Spirits, Stilettos and a Silver Bustier(Pyper Rayne #1)

Spirits, Rock Stars and a Midnight Chocolate Bar(Pyper Rayne #2)

Spirits, Beignets, and a Bayou Biker Gang(Pyper Rayne #3)

Spirits, Diamonds, and a Drive-thru Daiquiri Stand(Pyper Rayne #4)

Spirits, Spells, and Wedding Bells(Pyper Rayne #5)

Princess of Hell-Eve Langlais 

Lucifer’s Daughter(Princess of Hell #1)

Q:

R:

Riley Jenson Guardian- Keri Arthur

Full Moon Rising(Riley Jenson Guardian #1)

Kissing Sin(Riley Jenson Guardian #2)

S:

Sabina Kane- Jaye Wells

Red-Headed Stepchild(Sabina Kane #1)

The Mage in Black(Sabina Kane #2)

Sookie Stackhouse- Charlaine Harris

Dead Until Dark(Sookie Stackhouse #1)

Sentinels of New Orleans-Suzanne Johnson

Royal Street(Sentinels of New Orleans #1)

River Road(Sentinels of New Orleans #2)

Elysian Fields(Sentinels of New Orleans #3)

Pirate’s Alley(Sentinels of New Orleans #4)

Soulwood-Faith Hunter

Blood of the Earth(Soulwood #1)

Curse on the Land(Soulwood #2)

Flame in the Dark(Soulwood #3)

T:

U:

V:

Vamp City-Pamela Palmer

A Blood Seduction(Vamp City #1)

A Kiss of Blood(Vamp City #2)

Valkyrie Bestiary-Kim McDougall  

Dragons Don’t Eat Meat(Valkyrie Bestiary #1)

W:

Worldwalker Duology-C.E. Murphy❤

Truthseeker(Worldwalker Duology #1)

Wayfinder(Worldwalker Duology #2)

X:

Y:

Z: