Disclaimer: The following story is centered around my own character, Mhari Freysri, who is the only character in this piece that I own. All other characters and elements of the world within the Elder Scrolls series is the intellectual property of Bethesda. This story contains, not just massive spoilers, but is in and of itself one very long spoiler, as it is based off of my playthrough of Skyrim: Special Edition. You have been advised. Please enjoy this newest installment of my cringy fanfiction.


*Music:' The Bannered Mare' - Jeremy Soule


"Well? You can't stay in that room forever, Little Bird," Lisette teased, tapping her foot impatiently from the chair outside of Mhari's room. "Come out so I can see!"

Mhari gulped and slowly reached for the doorknob with an uncertain groan. Lisette beamed with a little applause of encouragement.

"I don't know why you're clapping," Mhari sighed. "I look like a child playing dress-up in these clothes."

Lisette regarded her friend for a moment. While it was true that Mhari did not carry herself with the confident aire of a noble of Solitude, the fine dress she'd received from Taarie fit her well. The thick, forest green fabric was detailed intricately with golden seaming and red gemstones; a honey-brown mantle of brown wolf fur rested upon her shoulders, and her golden circlet set with emerald gems tied the outfit together nicely. She had carefully lined her eyes with coal paint and opted to use green eyeshadow rather than her usual gold. Her cheeks were lightly rouged with rose powder, and her lips painted a soft coral, drawing the eyes to her mouth as she spoke. Mhari shuffled her feet uncomfortably, pondering whether or not her new dress shoes made her feet look too big.

"Well, you will stick out like a sore thumb in court," Lisette started, allowing a pause before flicking Mhari's chin upward playfully. "If you keep your eyes glued to the floor like that."

"Have you ever been to the Blue Palace?" Mhari asked as she fumbled with her ponytail nervously.

"I've only ever been a few times," Lisette straightened Mhari's mantle, taking one final look to ensure nothing else was out of place. "But I think you're building this up far too much in your head. Jarl Elisif is...inexperienced, but she is not difficult to approach."

Mhari took a deep breath as she tried to calm her nerves.

"You have nothing to worry about," Lisette reassured her with a pat on the arm. Mhari nodded, still uncertain, but she knew she had put this off for long enough. She and Lisette made their way downstairs to see Sorex waiting by the inn's front counter.

"Alright," Mhari sighed. "I'm ready as I'll ever be."

"Don't forget this," Sorex cleared his throat as he placed the small crate of Stros M'Kai rum onto the counter. "Give Falk my regards."

"And remember," Lisette spoke finally. "Chin up, shoulders back; you have nothing to worry about."


*Music: 'Toothless: Smitten' - John Powell(from the film 'How To Train Your Dragon 3: The Hidden World')


Mhari walked the stone path with the crate of rum under her arm, pondering what she was going to say when she approached the Jarl. I've never had an audience with royalty. I hope she's a kind Jarl, at least.

As Mhari passed the Hall of the Dead and the Bard's College, she continued on beneath a stone archway and found herself in the front courtyard of the Blue Palace. It seemed so much larger in person. Great stone walls lined with crystal windows and stone parapets surrounded her from all sides, and beautiful, well-maintained vines crept up the sides of the rain-slicked stone, giving the structure a timeless and almost mythical appearance. From the central section of the palace was a massive sapphire domed ceiling, and guards sporting the red and grey Haafingar colours stood vigilantly at every door and archway in sight.

"I can see why they call this place the jewel of Haafingar..." Mhari whispered under her breath, standing in the courtyard, gaping at the towering structure in awe. "The books I've read really don't do the Blue Palace justice..."

"Yeah, yeah," an annoyed voice grumbled, snapping Mhari out of her stupor. "Welcome to the center of the world."

Mhari turned her attention to the sound of the voice to see a grumpy-looking blonde Nord woman in fine, red quilted clothing folding her arms with a petulant scowl, regarding Mhari with blatant disapproval.

Who is this woman...? Mhari thought to herself. "The center of the world?"

"Hmph; well at least my brother Erikur's world," the woman spat the name with a disdain so blatant, Mhari thought she could turn honey to poison with her words alone. "I'm Gisli. But you can just call me Erikur's sister. Everyone else does."

"That's a pretty bleak outlook. Surely that's not he case..." Mhari frowned, uncertain of how else to respond. Gisli rolled her eyes with a scoff.

"Look, if you want a good attitude, go see the bards. They'll fake it for you if nothing else. If you're looking for truth, you can go and see Noster Eagle-Eye. He's a good example of what life has to offer. And if you're looking to feel good, go buy some Spiced Wine from Evette," Gisli ranted. Mhari raised an eyebrow in irritation at the woman's tone. "But whatever you do, just leave me alone."

Without another word, Gisli stormed off toward the marketplace, leaving Mhari staring after her in vacant disbelief. Leave her alone? She's the one who approached me... Mhari sighed. With a shake of her head she continued along the stone path and opened the great stone doors of the Blue Palace.

Her thoughts of Gisli's ranting were replaced once again with awe as she craned her neck upward to see the inside of the magnificent dome ceiling was beautifully designed with stained glass patterns that Mhari had only ever read about in storybooks; soft rays of scattered light shone into every corner of the room making it appear warmer and brighter.

The marble floors shone like still water, and Mhari found herself grateful that she had come in the cleanest shoes she owned. Potted Snowberry plants decorated the hallways with their evergreen leaves and tell-tale ruby-like berries, with small smatterings of the deep violet Deathbell flowers that filled the room with their notoriously tempting, sweet aromas. There seemed to be more guards within the palace walls than anywhere else in the city. Mhari approached the elegant spiral staircase in the far center of the room and found the Jarl's throne-room just beyond the threshold. Upon a raised pedestal of marble, two immaculate thrones stood at the center. One throne was painfully and unmistakably empty, and upon the other sat a tall and beautiful woman with silk-like strawberry-blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders in a casecade of beaded braids. She wore a golden circlet with flawless rubies set within, and she wore the finest robes of gold, ivory and and magenta. Her face was far more youthful than Mhari had been expecting, hinting at her vast inexperience as she had heard, but within her expression was a great lingering sorrow that she was pushing aside for the time being; Mhari could see that she was clearly in mourning. I can see why people call her Jarl Elisif the Fair. She's lovely.

"Not what you were expecting, hm?" a gruff and somewhat haughty voice snapped Mhari out of her thoughts. She turned her attention to the source of the voice and saw a Nord man standing nearby, crossing his arms. He appeared to be wearing fine blue robes somewhat similar to her own, and very well-kept.

"Oh, uh- no, sir," Mhari conceded, adjusting the crate of rum under her arm slightly, deciding to place it carefully on a table beside her to rest her arms. "I take it you hold a title here in the court?"

"I'm a Thane.Thane Erikur of Haafingar," the man frowned in irritation, tilting his nose upward and adjusting his posture to make himself look as tall as possible, despite only being as tall as Mhari. Mhari bit her tongue in amused disbelief, attempting not to show it. "In the future, you might want to gain that information before talking with someone. Risk of looking like an idiot and all that."

"Right, right. Sorry," Mhari cleared her throat, trying to come across as apologetic as possible despite her amusement. "Do all the Thanes here support the Jarl?"

"Oh most certainly...at least when Elisif herself asks. If you're inquiring whether we have concerns about her age and experience, let me put it to this way..." Erikur lowered his voice as he continued. "The thanes have every confidence in General Tulius' leadership."

Mhari was about to approach the throne, but noticed there were nearly a dozen people gathered throughout the room near the throne, deep in conversation. Erikur's attention turned to the commotion; as did Mhari's. A slightly-balding man with tufts of auburn hair and frightened eyes stood in the center of the throne room, and had the attention of not only the Jarl, but her entire court. He seemed exceedingly nervous, his hands fidgeting in front of him. His eyes darted from person-to-person as he spoke with the knowledge that he was being judged heavily.

"I swear to you; unnatural magics are coming from that cave! There are strange noises...and lights!" the man recounted frantically. "We need someone to investigate."

"Then we will immediately send out a legion to scour the cave and secure the town," Jarl Elisif spoke graciously as she rose to her feet, placing a hand over her heart in a well-practiced motion. "Haafingar's people will always be safe under my rule."

"Your eminence..." A dark-skinned Breton woman in deep indigo mage's robes stood near the throne and rolled her eyes with an impatient click of her tongue as she spoke. "My scrying has suggested nothing in the area. Dragon Bridge is under Imperial control - this is likely superstitious nonsense."

The frightened man shot the wizard a glare, but he immediately averted his eyes when she met his stare with her own.

A firm, but measured male voice interjected. The man was tall, with a full, well-manicured beard of bright red; he wore fine red-quilted robes and had an aire of respectability and nobility to him. Mhari assumed this man could be none other than Falk Firebeard. "Perhaps a more...tempered reaction...might be called for?"

"Oh, yes of course; you're right." Jarl Elisif nodded in response to her steward's suggestion, and her court wizard's input. "Falk, tell Captain Aldis that I said to assign a few extra soldiers to Dragon Bridge."

"Thank you, Jarl Elisif..." the frightened man began uneasily, but clearly unsatisfied. "But about the cave..."

"I will have someone take care of the cave as well, Varnius. You can rest easy," Falk attempted to ease Varnius' concerns with a patient nod. "You're dismissed."

A dull hum of mixed conversations between the members of the court commenced, signifying the closing of the issue for better or for worse. Varnius sighed uneasily and started to turn to slowly leave, hanging his head in uncertainty.

"Are you content with that solution?" Mhari asked as he passed by her. He looked up in slight surprise that anyone was still acknowledging him at all. "You seem...pretty unsatisfied."

"I've done my part. Dragon Bridge will have extra guards..." Varnius sighed with a slow head shake. "Falk Firebeard will find a way to take care of the cave.

Mhari watched him leave, uncertain as to whether he was trying to convince her of the solution, or himself.

"Do you have business with the court?" Falk asked as he approached Mhari.

"Yes, sir," Mhari replied politely, placing a hand on the crate of rum that sat atop the table at her side. "I have a delivery for you from Sorex Vinius."

"Oh, right - the rum. Thank you," Falk exclaimed with a contented smile. "I developed a taste for it after a fair weather trip to Hammerfell. Here, for your trouble."

Falk dropped a pouch of gold in Mhari's hand; she smiled in response. "Thank you. Oh, and I was wondering if you might point me in the direction of the Pelagius Wing."

"Absolutely not! That wing has been sealed for hundreds of years - and for good reason; they say the ghost of Pelagius the mad stlil haunts it," Falk explained. His expression dropped slightly when he realized Mhari was unphased by the subject of a haunting. He crossed his arms and said finally, "ghost or not, there are reminders of his dark rule that are best left buried away."

"Understood," Mhari nodded with a serious expression. Looks like I'll need to find other means of entry... she vied to change the subject, hoping Falk would be convinced that she had dropped the issue altogether. "Does the Jarl allow her subjects to approach her freely, or...?"

"You may approach the throne if you have business with the Jarl," Falk began, motioning for a nearby maid whom he referred to as Erdi, to take the crate of rum elsewhere. "Just mind your distance and your tongue. She may be young, but she is still to be the High Queen of Skyrim."

"I thought she already was," Mhari inquired carefully. "I've heard bits and pieces of what happened to the High King. Does that not make her the High Queen by default alone?"

"Well, shedoeshave a legitimate claim as High Queen of Skyrim, but we must have the support of the other jarls for that claim to have any meaning," Falk explained. "Should they accept her rule, we may even have peace."

"And does this...General Tulius support her claim?" Mhari asked, her brief conversation with Erikur in the back of her mind. To her surprise, Falk's brow furrowed in irritation before he responded.

"Seems you've met Erikur, then," he shot Erikur, who stood nearby a sideways glare. The Thane quickly rose to his feet with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat before leaving the room. "There's been loose talk among some of the thanes, and I suspect he's the cause of it. You'll pay those rumours no heed if you wish to retain your welcome in this city. She may be young, but Elisif is the jarl by right. And here in Skyrim, if nothing else, we respect the traditions of our father's fathers. You'd do well to remember that."

"My apologies, Falk. I meant no disrespect. It seems I have much to learn about how things work here in Skyrim," Mhari nodded, impressed by Falk's clear loyalty and dedication to the jarl he served. "I am not one to take mere rumours as fact; that's why I'd much rather ask than assume."

"Good," the tension in Falk's shoulders seemed to relax as he lowered his guard slightly. "Approach the jarl if you have business to discuss; I will be nearby."


*Music: 'The Train' - James Newton Howard(from the film 'The Hunger Games')


"The soon-to-be High Queen of Skyrim," Mhari bowed her head in respect. "My name is Mhari Freysri; of High Rock. It's an honour, your majesty."

"Well, not yet," the Jarl smiled kindly as she regarded Mhari, nodding to signify that she may raise her head. "Although it is true my husband Torygg was the High King and I am his widow...now is not the time to lay claim to such a title."

Mhari cocked her head to the side in curiosity. "Doesn't Skyrim need a High King or Queen now more than ever?"

"This land is riven by war, and her people suffer for it," Jarl Elisif replied seriously, the fair features and soft lines of her face hardening with a barely-concealed hatred. "The Stormcloaks are a blight on Skyrim and, like any blight...must be purged."

Mhari grew silent in thought as she listened to the Jarl's words.

"Only then," Jarl Elisif continued, her voice returning to a softer, more measured tone, "will I take my rightful place as High Queen."

"Forgive me if this comes across as ignorant, your highness, but seeing as how I only arrived here in Skyrim a short while ago...," Mhari began carefully. "I still don't entirely understand why this Ulfric Stormcloak killed your husband."

"Because that's what traitorous cowards do when they desire power," Jarl Elisif replied, a heavy sadness sweeping over her expression as she spoke. "Ulfric coveted the High King's throne; he thought he deserved it more than Torygg - and so, he came before my husband and he..."

The Jarl trailed off as her eyes clouded with the unpleasant memories of which she was recounting.

"He shouted," finally, she continued. "With that terrible voice. It was like something out of a legend. Or a nightmare."

"He shouted?" Mhari exclaimed, even more confused now that she had been before. Jarl Elisif simply nodded grimly before she opened her mouth to continue.

"When Ulfric unleashed his fury...my husband, he simply ceased to be," a heavy silence descended upon the court once more. Jarl Elisif's gaze wandered to the polished floor at her feet, Falk Firebeard frowned and let out a heavy, inaudible sigh; even Sybille seemed to be in her own version of mourning, tinged with anger of the memory. "That is all I will say about the matter, for it grieves me to speak of it."

"My apologies for bringing up the sore memories, Jarl Elisif," Mhari was the first to break the silence. "My reason for requesting an audience with you was not...well, this."

"Ah," Jarl Elisif nodded politely. "Then what can I help you with, young lady?"

"Well, I would like to present to you the latest work from the seamstresses at Radiant Raiment," Mhari announced, straightening her posture, trying not to let it show how weak her knees were as she felt the eyes of the members of the court on her. "They would like to know if you would like to have a set made for your own collection?"

"It's quite fetching, actually. The craftsmanship is excellent as usual," the Jarl smiled approvingly, regarding the fine dress hanging off of Mhari's thin frame. "You can tell them I will be putting in a request for a few dresses quite soon."

"Very well, my Jarl," Mhari bowed graciously. "Thank you for your time. Before I go, I would like to extend my aid in the issue regarding Wolfskull Cave. I couldn't help but overhear Varnius' concerns and I was wondering if you're sending anyone to investigate."

"I thought Falk had that issue handled..." Jarl Elisif looked to her steward, who stood by her side once more.

"I'll be honest with you, I was planning to let that go," Falk explained somewhat sheepishly. "Varnius is jumpy at the best of times. There have been reports of weird happenings near Wolfskull Cave - travelers disappearing, odd lights."

"Does that not sound strange to you?" Mhari asked.

"I suspect wild animals; perhaps bandits. But I don't think it's worth our time with the war going on," Falk said with a shrug, clearly unconvinced of any serious happenings. He could see Mhari was unsatisfied with this answer, and thought to himself for a moment. "Look, if you want to clear out the cave, I will make sure you're paid for the work, but don't expect to find much more than bones, dust and skeevers in it's depths."

"Out of curiosity," Mhari began. "Why is it called Wolfskull Cave?"

"The cave has a bad history," Falk almost sounded as though he was telling a ghost story, his tone grim and hushed. "Long ago, Potema - the Wolf Queen - used it for necromantic rituals. That's where it got the name; but that was over five hundred years ago. Still, everyone's always convinced that the cave is haunted."

"Ah, well," Mhari nodded in understanding. "I'm not sure I believe in ghosts and the like. If I happen by Dragon Bridge in my travels, I'd be happy to check them out. If nothing else, it may give me a unique peek into the history of Haafingar. Thank you, Falk. Jarl Elisif."

Mhari bowed politely before taking her leave.

"Be well; and pray for Solitide. And my husband." Jarl Elisif dismissed Mhari before turning her attention to her steward so that she could resume her courtly duties.


*Music:'A Chance Meeting' - Jeremy Soule


Mhari decided to have a look around the palace, hoping to ease her nerves after her presentation with the Jarl. She walked among the thanes and nobles of the palace, and her eyes scanned the halls, regarding the paintings of rulers past. As Mhari started slowly making her way back to the entrance, she passed by an Altmer in blue mages robes, sporting a dark brown patch of facial hair under a small pointed nose and cynical eyes.

"Excuse me, sir," Mhari greeted. "Are you also a court wizard here?"

The Altmer regarded Mhari with a look of confusion at her statement.

"Er, no. My name is Melaran; my job is to make sure Erikur keeps breathing," the Altmer sighed with a roll of his eyes. "The court wizard title belongs to Sybille Stentor'. She has a grasp of magical theory that I never would have expected from a human. Even a Breton."

"Oh, I see," Mhari nodded in understanding. "I thought perhaps you worked alongside the Jarl. It wouldn't have surprised me to hear that she had two court wizards."

"A smart man steers clear of Sybille Stentor. And keeps himself out of the dungeon when she's having a bad day."

"What do you mean by that?" Mhari asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow at the foreboding comment.

"Let's just say that the headsman's axe may not be the worst way for a Solitude jail prisoner to die," he explained with a slight chuckle. His slightly amused expression was replaced with faint fear as his eyes moved to focus on something behind Mhari's shoulder; Sybille Stentor was about to pass by. He rose to his feet, ready to be on his way. "Look at that. I've told you to watch your tongue, and now mine is waggling. I've said enough."

"I heard my name," Sybilled sighed in irritation, folding her arms as she waited for Mhari to speak. "I have little patience for mundrane concerns. Make it quick."

"O-oh, er...I was wondering where I could learn more about magic, actually?" Mhari asked, nervous at the wizard's commanding and quietly intimidating presence. "Are you taking on apprentices, by any chance?"

"I have no time or patience for a student," Sybille spoke plainly, quickly shutting Mhari down on the subject. "I have some spare tomes you may purchase, but you may want to try the College of Winterhold - if they'll grant you admission. Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. Jarl Elisif mentioned that this Ulfric Stormcloak shouted High King Torygg apart...I don't understand what that means," Mhari started, tapping her finger to her chin curiously. "What happened that day?"

"Ulfric showed up at the gates of Solitude requesting an audience," Sybille paused for a moment, her fists clenched at her sides being the only sign that her emotions had flared. "We thought he was here to ask Torygg to declare independence. By the time we realized Ulfric was here to challenge Torygg..."

"It was too late?" Mhari asked quietly.

Sybille nodded gravely with persed lips. "When Ulfric's lips parted; when he unleashed the power of the Thu'um - that shout - that ancient and terrible tongue..." Sybille shook her head with an angry wince. "he ripped Torygg asunder."

"I'm getting the sense you were close to the High King," Mhari waited to see if Sybille would speak on the matter. At first she was silent, but eventually, she decided to explain.

"I was a member of the court during the reign of Torygg's father. It was Torygg who appointed me to the position." If Mhari didn't know any better, she could swear she detected a wistful, motherly smile behind Sybille's golden eyes. "I practically helped raise him. I could not have been more proud to see Torygg on the throne. He made a fine king."

Sybille was silent for a moment as the hint of a smile faded to a more guarded and empty expression. Almost inaudibly, Sybille repeated her praise. "...a fine king."

Sybille wandered off without another word, leaving Mhari to wonder if she'd pried too much. As Mhari was lost in thought, she noticed the maid who had taken the crate of rum for Firebeard returning from the kitchens, a large metal ring packed with over a dozen keys jingling at her hip. She patted some dust off of her pale green dress, humming a folk tune under her breath.

"Excuse me, miss Erdi," Mhari approached the maid. "I need to get into the Pelagius Wing for a moment; would you happen to have a key?"

'Oh, I'd get in trouble for that - it's not allowed," Erdi stuttered nervously, shaking her head. "Besides, it's scary in there!"

Erdi's eyes darted to an old door leading to the lower east wing of the palace, letting out a shudder of unease. Mhari frowned. I was hoping not to lie to her, but I don't really see any other option...

"Falk asked me to check it out," Mhari said carefully, hoping she didn't come across as suspicious. "Surely it would be acceptable under his orders?"

"Well, in that case, I suppose I can let you in...as long as it's only for a brief time," Erdi didn't seem entirely convinced, but on the chance that this had been an indirect order fron Falk seemed enough to sway her. She quietly lead Mhari to the door and unlocked it, checking over her shoulder before allowing Mhari to slip by her. "Just be careful. And come right back!"

Mhari nodded and mouthed a 'thank you' before Erdi quietly close the door behind her, leaving Mhari on her own in the dusty wing.


*Music:'Silent Footsteps' - Jeremy Soule


The moment she closed the door behind her, Mhari couldn't help but note the absolute silence, and the room she found herself in was eerily cold and black as pitch. The scent of dust, rotted wood and moth balls filled her nostrils, and made her skin crawl. The castle gossip of ghosts and haunted corridors circled her head, and she could feel a growing sense of unease in her stomach.

Light. Mhari though uneasily to herself. I need light.

Wasting no more time, Mhari took a breath and held out her palm in front of her; summoning a small amount of magical energy, she felt the skin of her hand tingle and gradually grow warmer. Slowly, a ball of silver light the size of an apple began to appear. The light moved to hover at her side, staying close to her as she walked.

Even a small amount of light seemed to do wonders for Mhari's nerves; she felt her heart rate slow ever so slightly as she began to move forward. Her spell illuminated many thick cobwebs layered over nearly every surface, and if not for the architectural wonder just behind the door she'd come from, she would think there wasn't a living soul for miles.

"I wish I could cast a proper Candlelight spell," Mhari sighed, hoping talking aloud to herself to fill the deafening silence might make her feel a little more at ease. "I've seen mages who can cast an even brighter spell with a snap of their fingers; they make it look so easy."

Mhari crept up the old stone steps to the second level of the wing. A small room that had clearly been an intimate dining hall was slightly brighter than the lower levels of the Pelagius Wing. An old wooden tavern bar was tucked in the corner of the room and every chair and stool had been placed upside down on the table tops. Empty bottles of mead were strewn around the room, and the eastern wall was lined with tall stained-glass windows leading to an uncharacteristically light corridor. As Mhari's Candlight spell faded, her shoulders relaxed slightly as she let out a small sigh of relief, approaching the bright hallway.

"Hello?" Mhari called out, but was met only with silence. She sighed. "I still don't even know who I'm looking for...why would Dervanin's master even be in this wing in the first place? Maybe he reallyisjust a madman."

As she approached the halfway point of the corridor she glanced up to the wall across from the windows to see an aged portrait of a Breton man in rust-coloured quilted robes and a copper circlet. His blonde hair was tied in a short ponytail behind him and his face appeared eerily gaunt; his cheeks appeared sunken in and the dark circles around his already charcoal-coloured eyes reminded Mhari uncomfortably of the undead Draugr creatures that she'd read about in books of Skyrim folklore. A small golden placard on the bottom of the painting was engraved with the name Pelagius Septim III.

"Pelagius Septim the Third," Mhari mumbled. "He looks as he though he's never slept a day in his life. This painter must not have liked him very much; I doubt this painting bears much resemblance to the emperor himself."

Mhari's heart sank as a boistrous and brash cackle echoed throughout the whole wing. Before she could react, she felt her body magically lift from the ground so that she was face-to-face with the painting, her legs dangling helplessly beneath her several feet from the floor. She opened her mouth to shout, but before she could muster a sound, an arm holding a wool hat emerged from the painting, shoving the fabric in Mhari's mouth before patting her comically on the head.

"No resemblance," the unknown man's voice cackled. "Well, why don't you see for yourself?"

The man's cruel and maniacal laughter filled her mind as her vision went dark, her consciousness fading.


~To Be Continued...~


Note From the Author:Thank you again for reading the latest chapter of Songstress of Skyrim! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider following this story and dropping a review below. I'd love to hear what my readers think; what their favourite parts were, what they'd like to see more of, etc. If I receive any questions, I am happy to either answer them via private message, or even as a short Q section in the next chapter. I hope to see you in the next chapter, dear reader.
~Voth Werid