Kyle is on patrol. He patrols the perimeter of the village. It’s night. But even so, the streets are not empty. Writhing on the gravel road are swarms of rats. During the daytime, they squirm at the sides of the road, keeping away from people. But at night, they

“Very well, you have me convinced.” Sylan says, “Perhaps we can form a symbiotic relationship after all.” … A few months later Sylan has named the fungal colony Mycal because it is the same name that the millipede-type antrhopomorphic arthropod had, and that creature is part of the fungal colony. When

Long ago, in her home realm, Sylan Myrkul lies in a fungal forest next to a giant mushroom. She groggily gets back on her feet but her head reels as she stands up. A voice vibrates in her head. “Submit!” She feels her sense of self slipping away as she

Sylan Myrkul practices a simple light spell in a graveyard. The college doesn’t usually forbid casting magic, but they made a special exception for her since she has yet to pass the safety classes that are prerequisites to arcane classes. To keep from prying eyes, she went to a

“Sylan? Are you paying attention?” The reptilian professor asks. Sylan looks up from her book. She doesn’t know why she’s even taking mathematics. This is supposed to be an academy of the arts, as in the arcane arts. Why would she need to know algebra to cast spells?