The Chronicles of Asterveil: Ink and Iron

First of all, welcome. This is an ongoing project. I hope you all enjoy it.

If you haven't read any of the previous Chronicles, then the reading order can be found HERE

If you want to dive straight in, here is a quick recap

Rose is a 29-year-old librarian from another reality who is suddenly pulled through an unstable rift in reality. She finds herself alone in an unfamiliar fantasy world with no idea how to get home.

While exploring, she discovers a ruined ancient temple. Inside, she finds a mysterious living grimoire. The book seems to recognise her, and its pages react to her memories and knowledge of the stories she has read.

As Rose examines the book, Sora the Grey enters the temple.

Sora is a former slave turned mercenary, hardened by a brutal past but highly observant and cautious. She doesn't know who Rose is, why she's there, or what the strange book is.

Rose, meanwhile, has no idea whether Sora is friend or threat.

Book One: The Girl Who Carried a Story

Chapter Two

They left the temple the following morning.

Neither of them called it travelling together.

Sora simply said she was heading east.

Rose happened to be heading in the same direction.

That was all.

At least, that was what Sora told herself.

The forest was quieter beyond the ruins. The ancient trees stood close together, their branches forming a canopy that turned the morning sunlight into scattered patches of gold. Somewhere high above them, a bird called once, then fell silent.

Rose walked carefully.

She had discovered that fantasy forests were considerably less romantic when you were actually lost inside one.

Every root seemed designed to catch her foot. Every unfamiliar sound made her turn her head. More than once she found herself looking at Sora, wondering how the woman could walk through the wilderness without appearing remotely concerned.

Eventually, Rose broke the silence.

"How do you know where you're going?"

Sora glanced back.

"I don't."

Rose frowned.

"You seem remarkably confident for someone who doesn't know where she's going."

"I know where east is."

"That's not quite the same thing."

"No."

A pause.

"But it's useful."

Rose smiled despite herself.

It was the first time she had seen even the smallest crack in Sora's guarded expression.

They continued walking.

For several hours they spoke very little.

Rose found herself studying Sora when she thought the mercenary wasn't looking.

There was something deliberate about the way Sora moved. She never seemed hurried, but she was always aware of what surrounded her. Her eyes moved constantly between the trees and the path ahead. Occasionally she would stop, listen, then continue.

Rose wondered what kind of life made someone behave like that.

Eventually curiosity overcame caution.

"You've done this before."

Sora looked at her.

"Walked?"

"Survived."

For a moment, Sora said nothing.

"Yes."

Rose immediately regretted asking.

She had learned enough already to know that there were questions Sora didn't want answered.

So she changed the subject.

"I'm a librarian."

Sora raised an eyebrow.

"I remember."

"I mean, properly. That's what I did before all this."

"You worked in a library."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Rose looked genuinely puzzled.

"Because I liked it."

Sora considered this.

"You spent your life surrounded by books."

"Pretty much."

"And you enjoyed it."

"Very much."

"Strange."

Rose laughed.

"You carry a sword for a living."

Sora looked down at the weapon hanging at her side.

"Fair point."

For the first time, they both laughed.

It wasn't much.

But it was something.

“There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met.”
— commonly attributed to W. B. Yeats