Collection: Of Greater Shadows, Chronicled by: Valhel
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Dear Reader,

Our hero was, as you might expect, not the sort folk would see as a hero. In fact, when I had first met her, she was no more than a petty thief…or so we believed.

She dashed through the streets, zig-zagging between baskets and bustling merchants in a panic.
“You there!’, came a cry,’Stop her!”
In the golden light of a radiant sunset there was no shadow afforded to make an escape, if our thief was to keep herself out of the stocks then speed was her only chance at escape. Leaping up and over crates and carts, she did her best not to disturb the merchandise or perusers, though consistently failing in this endeavor. So too did the thief’s pursuer, though as the thief had toppled displays and baskets, he managed to topple bystanders.
“Thief!”
Her name was Lore. Scuffed brown boots, tattered beige pants, a tunic that had been stitched and restitched, all cut from rough cloths made up her dress. She carried no pack or satchel, thinking it better to stash her belongings elsewhere while she ran the risk of a chase through town.
Lore was about to turn a corner, this road would take her away from the last light of day and into the cover of night, and then she saw a glint of silver down the street. More guards, their armor shining, were patrolling toward her. It would not be long before the one chasing her would draw their attention, Lore darted the opposite way. This path would take her away from the crowded markets but then leave her at the edge of the city’s wall.
The city was carved into the face of a sheer cliff, thousands of feet tall. This cliffside was the face of the city, at its base were massive iron gates, ramparts and turrets. Above them rose prestigious housing and balconies, terrace gardens and spires. The Wall, as it was commonly called, was nestled between steep and jagged mountains that provided a natural defense against attackers. These mountains wrapped behind the Wall and created a sheltered valley where the rest of the city sprawled. And atop the wall, a grand temple fortress stood where the nobles held their court.
The level Lore was on housed many of the wealthier citizens, there was scarce a place for her get out of dodge as many patios were either gated or occupied. The light of the setting sun gave way to the glow of the evening torches within the blue dark, and up ahead Lore could see the golden horizon of the fields that lay before the Wall, gleaming in the last moments of sunset. She was fast upon the edge of the cliff now.
“She went this way!”
The shout was not from too far off, Lore hadn’t the slightest idea what to do next. Hoping to deter the guard she decided to abandon the spoils of her efforts. Lore threw down the loaf of bread she had stolen. Perhaps the guards would give up once they saw she had surrendered her prize, or perhaps they would take pity on her and turn back. At the very least it may buy her a few moments to discover a way out.
What next? Where could she go? Lore ducked into the shade of an alcove to catch her breath. A statue too, took refuge there, the stone likeness of a seraph wrapped in dried vines and leaves.
“This way, men!”
Lore darted back out from her cover into the open street, bits of leaves and twigs pulled away with her from the seraph. Before her was the edge of the terrace, the cliffside of the city. There was no where left to run, she could hear the hurried march of the guards about to turn the corner, and then the sound of a door being thrown open. Before Lore could turn to look over her shoulder someone took her by the arm and pulled her into a darkened house.
That someone shut the door and leaned upon it as if listening intently, Lore fell to the stone floor, finding the hilt of her dagger before her footing. The stranger was tall, clad in a long dark, hooded robe. Gesturing to keep still and silent, the stranger continued to listen through the door. Footsteps and spears could be heard clattering by and Lore’s host relaxed, finally speaking, “Put your knife away, you are safe here.”
The hooded figure turned and the candlelight revealed a pale face, though eyes and brow were still obscured by the hood’s shadow. A braid of golden hair hung from the hood, resting over her right shoulder, silver ornaments glistened in the braid by the firelight as the stranger leaned close to Lore.
“What is this?”, Lore asked, hand still on her dagger.
“So it is you…do you not remember?”
“Remember? Where am I? Who are you?”
Standing, the stranger extended her arm to help Lore to her feet, “I will explain another time, Lore. For now, please make yourself at home.” Lore took the hand, rising up to nearly face to face with her host, but still Lore could not see her eyes.
“You may call me Nycerra, Lore. I have urgent matters to attend to this evening and I must leave you now.”
“What? Why pull me in here? What is happening?”
“All will be revealed in time, now please, rest and eat. You are free to retreat anywhere you wish in this home, but I must take my leave.”
Lore turned to look at her surroundings and then latch of the door clicked and Nycerra was gone. Scrolls and maps were scattered across a table. Food was set out in a bowl next to a flask of water. Bed rolls, a pillow, and a ring of keys lay at the foot of the table. Lore was obviously expected, and Nycerra's intentions were completely unknown. But with her host absent, food upon the table, and roof overhead, Lore could not argue that her fortunes on the wind swept streets of the Wall would be much better that night. And so she decided to stay, or at the very least, she decided to stay and explore before Nycerra returned.

Collection: Submissions/Ages of Youth/the Halleaux Guest Chronicle by Daniel

Chapter 3: Homecoming

Ren walked down a hallway that looked exactly like the others, but he had memorized the way in the two weeks since he had moved into his rooms. He stepped through a door and into another hallway. He stared left first, then right. To his right were his quarters locked behind a set of double oak doors. To his left were another set of oak double doors which hid Marius’ quarters from the other recruits. He was, after all, a commander. He was one of Petra’s right hand men, the other was an englishman named Mech, whom Ren had never met. He walked to his right and unlocked his door. As he stepped inside he caught a whiff of his favorite smells: cinnamon, cloves, pine, and white sage. They blended together in the air to form an altogether not-unpleasant medley. The First room was lit by the soft light of a candle that burned on the table, filling the room with a gentle glow.
Inside was everything on his list, plus a few things he had not asked for. The double king- sized hand carved bed, with a mattress stuffed with down, had not been slept in. He slept instead on the floor in a sleeping bag. He walked to the table and took off the top portion of his armor. He sat down and thought of his last two weeks, joining the Haven Fighters, telling Petra mostly everything, and meeting Marius. He sat at the table for several minutes lost deep in his thoughts when he was jolted back to reality by a loud knock at the door. He stood and slowly walked to the door, grabbing a large knife on his way. He opened the door just enough to see who was there and found, to his great surprise, Petra waiting in the hallway.
“Ah, I was hoping that you were home, may I come inside?” She asked
    Ren was shocked that she had come to see him. After all, he never got the impression that she considered him anything more than someone to watch as closely as possible. He was glad that she believed what he said about being a soldier because technically it was the truth, not the whole truth, but the truth nonetheless.
“Of course, Milady”, he replied smoothly, “ I have been hoping to speak to you myself”
Ren opened the door the rest of the way and Petr strode in, she took a moment to stand there and take in the sight.
“Excuse the clutter, I wasn’t expecting company” Ren said, moving his armor off the table along with a long thin box engraved with what appeared to be glyphs of a language long lost to the world.
    Petra took a seat and rested her hands upon the table, staring at a point somewhere beyond Ren.
“Can I get you something to drink?”, he asked politely
“Water, please” she stated tensely.
He poured her a glass of crystal clear water and set it on the table in front of her. He then walked across the room and poured himself a small glass of an unknown liquid that was light brown in color, walked back to the table and resumed his seat.
“What is that?” she asked
“The juice of a berry who’s name I can’t pronounce. it comes from the northern forests, where the native tribes make all sorts of things out of it. Try it” he said pushing the glass towards her.
“I’m not sure that it’s a good idea,” she said, “Are you even sure it’s safe?”
Ren chuckled quietly to himself and handed her the glass.
“It's perfectly fine, as long as you don’t-” Ren began. Petra took a big gulp of the juice and inhaled sharply.
“It burns” she said between gasps of air.
“Well, yes, I was going to say it’s perfectly fine as long as you drink it slowly and take small sips” Ren said, “However, you didn’t know that because you were too busy chugging it to hear”
Ren poured her another glass of water and dropped a small tablet into it making it fizz and bubble, saying “Here, drink this, it’ll help with the burning”
She took the glass and drank deeply not stopping until the glass was entirely empty.
“Why?” she asked
“Why what?” came his answer
“Why does it burn, and why do you drink it” she replied
“It burns because it contains so much acid that in large quantities the acid of the fruit begins to burn you, just as any acid does with time, as for why I drink it, well, because it tastes good.” He answered her, “Now, you wanted to speak with me about something”
“Um, yes, as you can see I have kept my end of our little deal and I think it’s time you fulfill yours” She said suddenly businesslike. Ren did not quite see where she was going so she stayed quiet. “Tomorrow you will go to the computer room and meet with Mech, you and him will begin to work on strategic maps of Javert’s command posts, understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am” He said.
“Now, didn’t you want to speak to me about something?” She asked politely
“Yes, for the past two weeks I have been here, I have done nothing but walk around the base and report to you.”
“Okay”, she said looking slightly unsure of what was to come.
“I want to go to the training field, or leave the base, or go somewhere other than your office, my lab, and my quarters” he said
“I will see what can be done and we will revisit this matter tomorrow”
“Good”, he said obviously satisfied.
They sat there for a moment and finished their drinks. Then he gathered up their glasses and took them to the sink.
“Now, is there anything else I can do for you” He asked quietly
“I actually have a question about your past.” She said
Oh great, he thought, here it comes, then I’ll have to tell her the rest and I’ll lose one of the only people who trusts me around here.
“What did you do in the time between leaving Javert’s army and joining the Haven?” She asked. Ren breathed a sigh of relief because it was not the question he had been expecting.
“I wandered around and eventually found the native tribes of the north and made friends with one of them. They taught me many of the skills I learned.” He answered
“Which one?”
“Come again” He said
“Which tribe did you make friends with” She asked
“One of the larger ones, I believe they are called the Wolf People in this tongue and the Nikitari in their own” he explained.
Petra stood and walked to the door, opened it, and stepped into the hallway. Before she left, she turned and said to him “Ren?”
“Yes Ma’am?” came his response
“Have a good night and I will see you tomorrow”
“Yes Ma’am” He replied
Ren shut the door behind her and took off the rest of his armor. He layed down on his sleeping bag, rolled over, and soon fell into light, fitful sleep.

He woke the next day at 5:00 as usual, and ran through his usual morning workout. Then he hustled to the shower. He sighed to himself, after all, there was nothing like standing under ice-cold water early in the morning. He wrapped a towel around himself and stepped out of the tub. Smiling to himself as he breathed in the fresh morning air he stood before the mirror and picked up his shaving razor. After applying a salve to his face to his face (just one of many from his collection of homemade remedies for everything) and began to shave off what little hair had managed to grow since the last time he had done this two days ago.
He was happy, pleased that he was going to be around people for the first time in almost three weeks. Then he stopped and peered into the mirror. He had just taken notice of his hair. He was going to meet people and he would not meet them looking like a prison escapee. He picked up his knife (never leave home without it) and the short length of cord he usually tied his hair back with. He proceeded to tie his hair back and cut it just above where it was tied leaving him with a shaggy, shoulder length mess. He continued to cut it shorter still until he was satisfied. Almost there he said to himself and he picked up his razor. Five minutes later his hair was finished in a standard military haircut, short around the sides, longer on top. It had been almost four years since he had his hair cut like this last. He walked over to his bag which was lying next to his sleeping bag and pulled out a pair of black linen pants and a thin, black, sleeveless cotton shirt. He put them on, belted on his knife and one of his handguns, and grabbed his training gloves. His gloves were black tactical gloves with steel reinforced carbon fiber knuckles.
He had worn his armor for so long it felt weird leaving without it, but wearing his training gear again felt good, felt right. For the first time since he had left the army, he truly felt like he was home.

Collection: Of Greater Shadows, Chronicled by Valhel

Dear Reader,
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The One called great and mighty spirits out of the nothingness and set them as wardens over his creations. To some he gave powers over the skies and winds, to others he bestowed the dominions of dreams and terrors. And to each of the spirits was appointed a task, a duty to watch over their own charges and to defend them from corruption.

Then the spirits began to fall into order. The Seraphim ascended to the highest halls of the One and kept a vigil of burning lights. From these halls the some spirits descended to the worlds below. These spirits immersed themselves within the elements of their charge and were changed. A swift and clever spirit plunged into the rivers and seas, he emerged with skin like rushing waters armored with smooth, stone-like plating that rippled in deep shades of blue and bright silver. Another sought out the heart of the world, and within the great darkness of the cavernous deep she found light. Calling the molten stone unto herself she bound fires to her mind, forging a blazing likeness to give her form in the waking realms. Such was the birth of all of the first spirits sent to the worlds.

Once they had been recalled to the heavenly halls these angels were named Revenants, for they had descended and returned with the favor of the One. The Revenants were many, some of stone and earth, others of wisdom and purity, each with their own guise to wear before the creatures of worlds. They were the avatars of the elements of creation, guardians of their appointed dominions.

Lords, too, were given a place of rule in the cosmos. These spirits were less than the host of the Revenant, yet had been given great foresight and power to shape history through subtle influence. The Lords did not often take on manifested form, only on the rarest of events did they appear as mere apparitions. So great was their cause in their own minds that secrecy was deemed necessary to carry it to fruition.

Altalorn, High Seraph of Song, served before the One. Honored with a gift of the One’s own creativity, Altalorn’s compositions filled the heavens with music. His melodies could nearly take shape as unmade worlds and creatures, and all were raptured in awe of his songs. The One was pleased with Altalorn and his works, for as he had created wonders beyond knowledge so too did Altalorn imitate this through music.
For a time High Seraph Altalorn remained a servant of the heavens and loyal to its cause of peace and order. Altalorn could feel the pride with which the One held for him and this was enough for many aeons, no reward or prize could Altalorn find in all of existence greater than the blessing of the One for his music.
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The twin stars of the heavenly places, Esthar and Vesper would reign in the day and retire to give way to evening. Their Revenants would carry them beneath the seas of night, and others would raise the moons into the astral reaches. Over the darkness the One had appointed Revenants to stand guard. Just as the creations of the world would sleep or wake at night, so too were the spirits. Spirits of dreams, nightmares, and visions, avatars of the moons, of shadows, and the void. Alongside these were also wardens of stranger tasks, jailers of corruption, arbiters of the One’s vengeance. To them were given the secrets of righteousness and of evil so that in all wisdom they may act in accordance with the One.
In the youth of the realms these dark Revenants had little to fear, the dreams of creation were sweet and the might of the corrupt was frail. In place of their grim vigil these spirits watched the halls of the moonlit heavens while their brethren awaited sunrise.
To be continued…

Collection: Aeon Chronicles - Chronicled by Valhel ​

Collection: Blogs & Blurbs - by Valhel

Dear Reader,

With this site and our social media outlets I hope we can build a community of people who love mythology and the One True Mythology, the Gospel. I am a youth director at a church and I always seem to be weaving story telling into ministry. Through special events like the Halleaux or the Mountain, we've told fun stories about brave adventurers fighting to discover, share, and preserve their faith. While telling these tales of make believe our goal was to help our students increase their faith in Christ, that the make believe would be an avenue to make some believe.

Of course it can get tricky when you're telling a story based in fantasy as a tool for the purpose of sharing the true story found in scripture. Trust me, I'll spend some time discussing that predicament, its perks and problems, in a future post.

So what will Aeon Chronicler be? Great question, we're still figuring that out! But we do have some goals and projects for the first year. In youth ministry there seems to be tremendous effort made in reaching out to students through sports and music, but I haven't really seen to many programs focussed on students who take interest in things like video games, fantasy, and the like. (Not to say that there aren't any, there certainly are!) One of our aims at Aeon Chronicler is to explore new ways to engage "nerd culture" among students with the Gospel. We'll look at things like gaming, movies, events, and maybe even develop our own VBSlike material designed with Youth Groups in mind. 

While looking for ways to engage in these fantastical sub-cultures we might as well jump in! A few of our contributors, "Chroniclers", spend their free time enjoying hobbies such as trading card games, MMOs, DC & Marvel, and more! Some of our posts will focus on these subjects as we enthusiastically enjoy them and wish to share that joy with our readers. Some of these discussions may even be found in the form of Youtube Videos and Interviews. 

We'll also be unboxing Loot Crates once a month (for now) to share with you! Other video ideas we have are gameplay recordings of some of our Chroniclers, discussions and reviews of movies, youth ministry opportunities, and watching me try and fail at games that you suggest!

We're also working on a small RPG Game that you can download and play. It'll be an 8bit adventure about a Chronicler attempting to collect missing scrolls in dangerous and odd worlds. This game will also poke fun at RPGs and other observations we've made about pop culture. Expect to die a lot in hilarious ways. Look for these installments of the RPG in the next few months!

Aeon Chronicler will also host a collection of short stories! I've been writing short fantasies since jr high, and now I'd like to shape them with you, dear reader, through our posts in two different ways. You'll notice that we have a Canon blog and a Submissions blog. Canon is where you can find the working projects and stories of our Official Chroniclers. These tales are approved and deemed official works in progress. Under the Submissions page you may find stories crafted by other story tellers, these stories are not official or canon, but they are up for review! We'd love to see our readers take our stories, characters, and universes and imagine their own tales to tell! Once a Submission gains traction with readers, our Lore Masters will review the story and work with the author to shape it into Official Canon. So start reading, commenting, and crafting your legends!

Finally, Aeon Chronicler is a place for the Gospel. Our "Chroniclers" are believers, our faith and hope is in Christ for the forgiveness of sins and the resurrection into eternal life. Shelving the fantasy, we'll look into the One True Mythology, the Bible, and share devotionals, posts on ministry, and the like. Expect to see encouragement for church leaders, discussions on how a believer interacts with the darkness that can be found in media, and some suggestions on engaging students with the Gospel.

In this broad spectrum of subjects, dear reader, I hope Aeon Chronicler will take shape and foster a community of people who love mythology and the One True Mythology.

-Valhel