Category: fantasy

An Unfound Door, Chapter Six

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

The summer court opens with a celebration attended by the wealthy families and nobility of Faloren. After the ailing king retires for the evening, Agnes is introduced to Fhiad, who claims to be a university student from Cretia studying architecture. Later, when Agnes escapes to a shadowy corner for a moment of quiet, Fhiad approaches her and quickly becomes cruel and insulting. He tells Agnes that his homeland of Erdbhein has been destroyed, and he declares his intention to take revenge by visiting the same ruin on Faloren by finding Soreiya’s Tear, the legendary relic he was once accused of stealing.

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This chapter is the transition between Act One and Act Two. Fhiad has returned, and he establishes himself as an antagonist. He states his goal to uncover a magical artifact with the intention of destroying Agnes’s kingdom. Fhiad’s anger is not the real problem, however, and it will Agnes’s goal to find a means of addressing the atrocity he survived.

It’s always bothered me when a villain is angry about something legitimately upsetting, but then the writer has this character kick a puppy to show that their anger is bad. What I mean by “kicking a puppy” is that the villain will do something excessively violent or disturbing that is either entirely out of character or framed in such a way as to make their actions seem irrational and done solely for the sake of being evil.

A villain typically represents a challenge to an established order, especially an order built on arbitrary divisions that inform a hierarchy. In the case of fantasy, there is often a class of “monsters” who are sentient yet still positioned as being okay to kill. When a villain wants to establish an alternate power structure in which “monsters” are not killed, it’s only natural to wonder if they might indeed be justified in doing so. The villain must therefore be shown kicking a proverbial puppy so that we do not begin to feel sympathy for them. Based on my observations of various fandom discourse wars, a surprising number of people take this puppy kicking very seriously as an indication that a villain is irredeemably evil.

It’s important to me that Fhiad is portrayed as a legitimate antagonist, at least at first. In this chapter, he proves himself to be two-faced, manipulative, and more than a little creepy. He invades Agnes’s personal space, physically threatens her, and mocks and insults her. He verbally attacks her at a vulnerable moment, and he says horrible things that are all the more hurtful because they’re true. Even worse, he’s cruel to Agnes precisely because he knows she can do nothing to stop him. In addition, it’s implied that he may no longer be entirely human.

Regardless, the root cause of Agnes’s problem – the decline of her kingdom – is not Fhiad, nor is it anything he’s said or done in the past or the present. Rather, this problem is a direct result of a horrible atrocity committed in the past by Agnes’s ancestor. I therefore had to make sure that what Fhiad does at the beginning of Act Two is upsetting but doesn’t fall to the level of puppy kicking. In other words, I attempted to create tension by means of the antagonist’s bad behavior while still being fair to the complexity of his character and his experience of justified anger.

Meanwhile, surrounding both of these characters is the opening of the summer court, a lavish gathering that offers a possibility of what Faloren could be if the kingdom weren’t in decline. Despite the good cheer of the party, Agnes is acutely uncomfortable in her role as a princess. Her keen displeasure in being made an object of display is a window into her essential character, as well as foreshadowing for the development of her story.

The illustration that accompanies the chapter preview was created by Arte072, a fantasy artist inspired by medieval fashion and illuminated manuscripts. You can find their work on Instagram (here) and on Tumblr (here).

The Best Witch of Her Generation

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

I’m excited to share another short story I wrote for Goddess Reborn, fanzine celebrating the female (and nonbinary!) characters of the Legend of Zelda series. You can download a free digital copy of the zine on Itchio (here), and you can read my full story on AO3 (here).

A Link Between Worlds is one of my favorite games in the Zelda series, mainly because I find the characters so charming. I’m especially fascinated by the figure of “someone who wants to be a hero but isn’t the fated Chosen One,” a character trope the series plays with but never fully explores. Groose from Skyward Sword is a good example, as is Ganondorf from The Wind Waker. There are several such characters in A Link Between Worlds, and Irene is my favorite.

Irene is the granddaughter of the Potion Witch, and she serves as the game’s fast-travel mechanic by flying Link around on her broom. She seems to be modeled half on Hermione Granger – she calls proudly herself “the best witch of her generation,” a play on Hermione’s famous epithet – and half on Kiki from Kiki’s Delivery Service. Like Hermione, Irene sees herself as a hero; but, like Kiki, her character arc involves her journey to understand and acknowledge her own specific set of talents.

What I wanted to capture was a moment of Irene’s life in which she’s happy and confident of herself as the protagonist of her own adventure. Irene understands that what she’s doing is just as important as Link’s quest, and she’s absolutely correct. Although the player may see Hyrule through Link’s eyes, the female characters who surround and support him are absolutely vital to Hyrule’s history.

While writing this short story, I wanted to get as close to the tone of “early-reader fiction” as I could. I’m not used to this style of writing, so it was a fun challenge. I was aided immensely by the story’s illustrator, Leh Latte. Leh helped me with the diction and rhythm, as well as with structure and balance. She also showed me what it means to work with page formatting in mind. Although the story itself is short and simple, it’s the product of a few good conversations during a collaboration between me, Leh, and Aven Wildsmith, the zine editor.

Leh and Aven are both fantastically talented and creative people who work in a variety of media. You can find links to all of Leh’s social media accounts on her Carrd (here). Aven’s website is (here), and you can find links to all their socials on Linktree (here). And again, Goddess Reborn is free to download on Itchio (here). There’s a lot of love on every page, and this zine is really something special.

An Unfound Door, Chapter Five

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

Agnes rises early the next morning in order to attend to the correspondence that has accumulated in her absence. As she dresses, she reflects on how her mother’s charm and social grace slowed her kingdom’s decline. Unfortunately, her father has done nothing to alleviate the grim atmosphere pervading the castle since the queen’s death.

Agnes proceeds to her study, a dilapidated yet still handsome room where she secludes herself to work. She is interrupted by her cousin Galien, who encourages her to open the summer court. Agnes agrees, believing that a large and lively celebration will be an appropriate symbolic marker of her vow to rejuvenate the kingdom.   

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This chapter is about Agnes’s comfortable existence in the status-quo world. It is indeed a very comfortable and cozy chapter, and I enjoyed writing it.

Aside from establishing the scene of the next chapter, which will be the opening of the summer court, not much happens here. As I wrote in my notes for the previous chapter, it’s important for the reader to understand why Agnes is willing to remain content with the status quo.

It seems as though Agnes is doing useful work and making actionable plans for the future, but none of this actually means anything. An astute reader should be asking the questions that Agnes is aggressively ignoring: How did she find herself out in the woods on the border of her kingdom? Where did the demon come from? Who kidnapped her? Was it someone in the castle? Are they still there?

Agnes needs to start asking herself these questions soon, because Fhiad is going to come back and cause trouble. For the time being, though, it’s nice to have a small interlude of peace.  

I recently read a Tumblr post (here) regarding how the Gothic genre is all about taking four pages to describe a staircase, and there’s a bit of that in this chapter. I want the reader to see how shabby and decrepit Agnes’s castle is, and I want there to be an opportunity to enjoy the comfortable aspects of this state of decay.

All of the chapters in An Unfound Door have titles, by the way. I’m not sure if I’ll end up using them, but I especially like the title for this chapter, “A Slow and Silent Decay.”

The illustration of Agnes that accompanies the chapter preview was created by the fantasy artist and gentle wizard Madeline Hale, whose colorful and whimsical character designs can be found on Instagram (here) and on on Bluesky (here).

An Unfound Door, Chapter Four

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

Agnes returns to Faloren Castle under the escort of her secretary Myla, who has been searching for her. She immediately goes to see her father, who is bedridden from a lingering illness. Her cousin Galien meets her at the door. After sending his friend, a courier and skilled warrior named Caelif, to track Agnes’s whereabouts, Galien conspired with Myla to hide the princess’s abduction. He informs Agnes that Caelif has already reported back to him, but he doesn’t ask about the demonic boar. As she looks in on the sleeping king, Agnes reflects on the decrepit state of Faloren Castle while mentally preparing herself to resume her normal duties in the morning.   

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This chapter presents the bleakness of the status-quo world to the reader. There are no people on the roads. The castle town has seen better days. The castle itself is falling apart. The king is dying.

Fhiad parted ways with Agnes at some point before the start of the chapter, and she seems to take it for granted that he won’t find anyone in his home kingdom of Erdbhein. This presents a mystery: What happened there? In a later chapter, Agnes will explain what she understands about Erdbhein, but the truth is worse than she fears. Erdbhein has gone full Dark Souls, and it’s filled with ruin and blight and zombies.

In terms of the “Save The Cat” story structure, this chapter establishes the internal debate of the main character. Agnes wants to leave the kingdom of Faloren, but she feels that she can’t. In the next chapter, the reader will see that she takes comfort in routines, especially when these routines make her feel smart, powerful, and in control. She ends her debate with herself in this chapter by saying that she needs to concentrate on “work,” which she’s obviously using as an excuse for not allowing herself to imagine an alternative to her current situation.

This internal debate makes a lot of sense to me personally, as I can definitely relate to Agnes. I was driven by a need to be productive, and I was always busy. My work routines made me happy at the time, but they weren’t sustainable. This is all the more true because the constant activity distracted me from more important issues, namely, that there was something deeply wrong with my work environment.

I had to go through the cycle of blaming myself for poor working conditions a few times – and I got very, very good at it – before I realized what it was. I thought I could somehow fix things by working harder, and damn did I work hard. The realization that the cycle itself was the problem was extremely liberating.

I’m not saying that we should all quit our jobs to live our best lives or whatever. Nobody has the money for that. Rather, I think it can be useful to consider a shift in mindset, and it’s important to take time to allow room for new ideas and new perspectives.

I also think it’s worth considering that some things aren’t salvageable. You can try to keep the lights on, but any effort you expend will only yield diminishing returns. Sometimes it’s better to acknowledge that something is rotten and then simply allow it to decay.

The Potentate of Jarburg

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

About halfway through Elden Ring, I realized that the player’s character is the villain of the story.

At some point before the story begins, a manifest symbol of divine order called the “Elden Ring” was shattered by nefarious means, and the rulers of the land fought over its shards. Whether because of the battles or because of the nature of the shattering itself, everything is now in ruins.

As an outcast “Tarnished” warrior who has returned to the magical Lands Between, your job is to retrieve the shards of the Elden Ring from the fallen rulers and thereby restore the Golden Order of the once-great civilization. At least, that’s what you’re led to believe.

If you pay attention, you’ll notice that the society enabled by the Golden Order wasn’t so great. The ruling class built its civilization by subjugating other cultures in fantastically horrific ways. This isn’t subtext, exactly, but neither is it surtext – it’s simply the story told by the environment of the game.

You may think that perhaps, if you repair the Elden Ring and become the new Elden Lord, you’ll do better. You’ll burn the ruined vestiges of the old order and create a more just and fair society. The game defies this hope at every turn, however. For every kindness you attempt, you cause only more suffering.     

In more prosaic terms, almost every sidequest in Elden Ring ends badly.

The kind and modest Sorcerer Thops, who has developed a brilliant form of defensive magic, asks you to spare a key to the Academy of Raya Lucaria if you happen to find one. Should you do so, he is unprepared to face the dangers of the battleground the school has become, and he is slaughtered at his desk.

The gentle and noble Irina has fled from the besieged Castle Morne, and she asks you to deliver a letter to her father, beseeching him to join her instead of perishing in a hopeless battle. When you find Irina’s father, you learn that the castle was overtaken by the slaves he abused. Irina is slaughtered in your absence. This drives her father mad, and you are forced to kill him.

Meanwhile, Preceptor Seluvis, a member of the only group of good guys you encounter in Elden Ring, asks you to deliver a healing potion to one of your former companions. What this potion does is to turn her into a mindless “puppet.” This is an act of revenge against the woman’s adoptive father, with whom Seluvis has a feud that he never bothers to explain. It’s strongly implied that Seluvis uses his puppets as sex dolls, but this unsavory magic is necessary is help another female character. In order to save her from endless torture, you must agree to collude with Seluvis.

The only pure and wholesome place in Elden Ring is Jarburg, an isolated village filled with flowers and animate Living Jars. Living Jars are magical war machines that were abandoned because they happen to be extraordinarily bad at fighting. Should you visit Jarburg, you will be greeted by Jar Bairn, a young Living Jar who asks if you will become the Potentate of Jarburg. Jar Bairn will happily chat with you, and he has more lines than almost anyone else in the game. Aside from enjoying a few rounds of idle conversation, there’s nothing to do in Jarburg. There are no battles or treasures or quests, just Living Jars lazing about in the grass and tending to the flowers.

So the player will leave Jarburg – if they ever bother to find the village at all – and probably never return.

Instead, you’ll continue through the game, murdering and pillaging and destroying everything you encounter. Elden Ring doesn’t give you much of a choice. If you don’t kill something, it’s only because it succeeded in killing you first. You have to survive by any means necessary, even if that means leaving a trail of blood in your wake. In order to become the new Elden Lord, you must be utterly ruthless.

Along the way, you’ll bear witness to the atrocities committed by the former rulers of the Lands Between. You’ll gradually understand why this violence was necessary, and you’ll begin to realize that your own choices are limited. There is no happy end to this story, not for you or for anyone else.

So why finish the game, then? The former rulers are no longer in any position to subjugate anyone, and the formerly enslaved peoples are now free. Castles will crumble, and ancient cities will be forgotten, but the dead will finally be allowed to rest. Why not simply lay down your sword and allow the Lands Between to heal?

I am very bad at Elden Ring, which is an extremely difficult and punishing game. To make matters worse, no one in the game offers you real or meaningful guidance. On top of that, all of the guides available online are fragmentary, disconnected, and clearly written in haste. The artist Frankiesbugs is a veteran of the Soulsborne games, and she’s been patiently helping me find my way forward as we slowly navigate the Lands Between. Mostly we’ve been making silly jokes about the game’s shitty wizards and their appalling sense of fashion, but we wanted to try to create something a bit more serious that reflects the deeper themes of Elden Ring.

This collaborative comic is a tribute to a masterpiece of the medium that forces you to ask difficult questions with no easy answers. I have to admit that I may not ever finish Elden Ring, but maybe that’s okay. It wouldn’t be so bad to be the Potentate of Jarburg.

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You can follow Frankiesbugs on Twitter (here), on Tumblr (here), and on Instagram (here). If you like this comic, you can leave Frankiesbugs a tip on Ko-fi (here) and browse her creepy-cute Plague Doctor merch on Redbubble (here). If you’re interested in stylish gothic horror with a heart, please check out Frankiesbugs’s ongoing comic Necrobirth, which you can read on Tapas (here), on Webtoon (here), or on Tumblr (here).  

An Unfound Door, Chapter Three

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

Early the next morning, Agnes tries to light the campfire with an intonation used by Fhiad the night before. She reflects on how the kingdom of Faloren was once renowned for its sorcery, and how the suppression of magic following a war with Erdbhein a hundred years ago led to the king punishing her for her childhood gift of spellcraft. Fhiad wakes up during her attempt to kindle the bonfire and mocks her lack of success. Agnes acknowledges that his disdain is not undeserved, and her sincerity convinces him to share more of his story.

Fhiad says he was unsuited to be a diplomat and left of his duties to his cousin Lukhara while he studied Faloren legends in the castle library. His interest in a magical relic called Soreiya’s Tear was encouraged by the princess of his era, Agatha, whom he accuses of manipulating him. He was imprisoned shortly after uncovering the location of a door leading to a hidden temple under the castle, and he claims that he is unable to remember anything that happened since then. He tells Agnes that he wants nothing more than to leave Faloren, and she makes the decision to free him from the silver bridle. They agree to part ways as soon as they leave the forest and separate on friendly terms.

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This is the chapter that states the theme of the character development: Agnes needs to break the chains binding her to the past and move forward in a new and different direction.

This theme is suggested by the story catalyst: Agnes breaks the magical silver chain binding Fhiad. She decides to trust what she sees for herself instead of believing what she’s read in books. By doing so, she nurtures the seeds of doubt regarding her kingdom’s history. This act serves as a catalyst because, unfortunately for Agnes, Fhiad is going to come back and cause a lot of trouble in the near future. In addition, Agnes will never be able to return to her former worldview – although she’ll certainly try.

I tried to keep the initial chapters of this novel short and punchy instead of dumping exposition on the reader’s head, but this final chapter in the opening trio contains an abbreviated version of the basic setup of the world of the story. As Agnes makes accusations and Fhiad corrects her, the reader begins to understand Faloren’s history, as well as Fhiad’s place in this history. This chapter also presents a bit of mythology, as well as the first hint of what happened in the past to make the present so terrible.

Fhiad’s testimony suggests that the main villain of the story is the princess of the era he comes from. He is correct. This woman is indeed responsible for the region’s general state of decay. With any luck, Agnes will be able to make a different set of decisions when faced with the same horrible choices.

The illustration of Agnes that accompanies the chapter preview graphic was created by Myrthena, whose gentle and lovely Disney-inspired illustrations can be found on Instagram (here), on Twitter (here), and on Patreon (here).

An Unfound Door, Chapter Two

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

Agnes wakes to find that the boar demon has transformed into a man who identifies himself as Fhiad of Erdbhein, a notorious criminal who was accused of high treason after attacking Faloren a hundred years in the past. He is cultured and well-spoken, but he doesn’t hide his frustration with Agnes, who refuses to free him from the silver chain that bound him as a demon. Fhiad tells Agnes that he never had any intention of attacking Faloren, and he claims to have had no interest in her kingdom at all. Rather, he was only serving as an emissary because he was called back from his studies and ordered to do so. Agnes doesn’t know what to make of this, but she’s exhausted and decides to stop for the night.

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The second chapter of An Unfound Door is about two tired people snapping at each other. Nothing much happens aside from the reveal that the demon Agnes encountered in the first chapter is a person suffering from a curse, but I do my best to establish the geography of the world and a bit of its history without dumping exposition on the reader.

This is what I want the reader to take away from this conversation: Agnes is from a kingdom called Faloren, Fhiad is from a neighboring kingdom called Erdbhein, and there is someplace called Cretia far to the south. Fhiad, who has no concept of how much time has passed since he was cursed, is under the impression that he only recently called back from his studies at a university in Cretia. This establishes him as being in his late twenties while introducing the idea of Cretia being a center of culture in contrast to the forest, which is all we’ve seen of Faloren. According to Agnes, Erdbhein attacked Faloren roughly a hundred years ago, and Fhiad supposedly instigated this attack. Fhiad denies this, but he won’t be forthcoming with more details until the next chapter, as he hasn’t yet had an opportunity to process what Agnes is telling him.

In other words, this chapter establishes the broader conflict of the story through the smaller immediate conflict between Agnes and Fhiad. This conversation sets up a dynamic of Agnes as a character who’s pragmatic and grounded, while Fhiad is well-spoken but emotionally unstable. These two characters have trouble communicating, but each of them gets a “save the cat” moment during this chapter. Despite their petty bickering, their first instinct is to be kind to one another when it counts.

“Petty bickering” may seem like an inappropriate response to the gravity of the situation, and it is. In the next chapter, Fhiad will finally have an opportunity to reflect on his circumstances, and he and Agnes will discuss how they plan to move forward in a more appropriate tone.

As an aside, there are a lot of regrettable aspects of being in your twenties, but it’s nice to be physically fit by default and walk for miles without thinking too much about it. For me in my thirties, I can only walk through the woods for so long before I need to sit down. I wouldn’t turn down an adventure of my own, of course, but it’s so much more pleasant to experience this sort of thing vicariously through fictional characters.

The illustration that accompanies the chapter preview was created by the bold and brilliant Samijen, who paints fantastic character illustrations that practically jump from the screen with life. You can follow their work on Instagram (here), on Twitter (here), and on Bluesky (here).

The Cruel King and the Great Hero

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

The Cruel King and the Great Hero was developed and published by Nippon Ichi Software, and it’s the spiritual successor to the studio’s 2018 title The Liar Princess and the Blind Prince. Just as The Liar Princess is a simplistic puzzle-platformer set apart by its distinctive manga art style, The Cruel King is a JRPG that’s so traditional it would probably be considered retro were it not so visually gorgeous and beautifully animated.  

When I say that The Cruel King is “traditional,” what I mean is that there are a lot of random encounters. The battles are turn-based and controlled solely through text menus. There’s a bit of strategy involved, but not much. Your character walks slowly, and there’s a not-insignificant amount of backtracking. If you suspect that you’ll find this frustrating, then The Cruel King probably isn’t for you.

If you’re looking for a more relaxed gameplay experience, however, The Cruel King is a delightful way to spend about 20 to 25 hours. Personally speaking, it took a few play sessions for me to readjust my expectations of how quickly the battles should progress, but I became hooked on the gameplay once I got used to the pace.

You play as Yuu, a young human girl who has been adopted by The Cruel Dragon King as his daughter. Every night before bed, the Dragon King tells the girl about her “real” father, a great hero who defeated an evil demon king. The girl wants to become a hero like her father, so the Dragon King decides to make her dream come true by coming up with little quests for her to undertake. These quests are in service to the various monsters who live in the Dragon King’s territory, and the girl becomes involved in a series of adorable sidequests.

Most of these sidequests are optional. Because the game isn’t difficult, the sidequest rewards aren’t strictly necessary. Rather, the real reward is the friendship you find along the way. In less cliché terms, the reward for playing the game is being able to experience more of the game.

The environment is not quite 2D and not quite isometric, and it reminds me a lot of the style of the Paper Mario games. There are no puzzles and no platforming, but your character gradually gains abilities that allow her to bypass environmental obstacles and thereby gain access to more of the map. Like most of the sidequests, exploration isn’t strictly necessary. Still, if you want to poke around a bit, the map screen is annotated in a way that’s easy to understand and keep track of, and there will never be any need to consult an online walkthrough. The player has access to a quest log that visually signposts the objectives for each quest, and you can instantly return to the central village hub whenever you wish.

Your adventuring party only has two characters at a time, Yuu and another character specific to each chapter of the game. This can occasionally cause difficulties when a group of enemies is designed to take advantage of an earlier companion’s special abilities, but most players will never experience anything beyond mild inconvenience. Your characters’ skill points are limited but naturally renew after each turn of battle, and it’s fun to play around with different skills and strategies without having to worry about conserving resources.  

The chill and low-stress gameplay allows the player to appreciate the most notable feature of The Cruel King, which is its gorgeous artwork. Playing the game feels like walking through the pages of a storybook, albeit one that’s beautifully animated. All of the characters and environments are hand-drawn, and each screen is filled with unique details. The illustrated bestiary that you can gradually complete as you find and defeat enemies is a treasure.

I’ve gotten used to ambient background noise in contemporary video games, so it was a treat to realize that each area of The Cruel King has its own theme music. I thought this music was nothing special at first, but over time I found that I enjoyed the fantasy flavor it adds to each section of the game. None of the character lines are voiced, but the actress who narrates the storybook-style cutscenes in Japanese gives a lovely performance (although you can silence her voice and fast-forward through these scenes if you like).

The translation is of uneven quality, but this didn’t bother me. Most of the dialog is cute and quirky but still feels natural, and many of the characters have distinctive ways of speaking that are fun without being annoying. The translation for the third-person narrative cutscenes tends to be a bit shaky, both in terms of style and grammar. I don’t think the errors were intentional (especially since the original Japanese text is relatively polished), but I still appreciate them, as the amateurish writing style made the storybook sections feel more intimate. It reminded me of Super Nintendo JRPGs, whose imperfect translations were a significant part of their charm.

Without spoiling anything, I think it’s fair to say that The Liar Princess and the Blind Prince was a horror game that got especially dark toward the end. The Cruel King and the Great Hero doesn’t have any nasty tricks up its sleeves, but the story ends up being much more interesting and nuanced than you might expect. If nothing else, you get to be friends with all sorts of monsters, and who doesn’t want a kind and supportive Dragon King for a dad?

A Legend of Shadows, Part Three

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

This is the third and final section of a speculative comic about gods and mortals in Legend of Zelda lore and mythology. The first part is (here), and the second part is (here). This is a continuation of the ideas I expressed in a short collaboration comic called Hylia’s Chosen Knight.

The goddess Hylia is more than a little scary, and it’s interesting to think of Ganondorf as being the hero of another story. I’m fascinated by the theme of “the failed or corrupted hero,” and I think it would be interesting if Ganondorf went on a quest that paralleled Link’s journey. Maybe young Ganondorf saw Hylia as the villain, but the power he needed to stand against Hyrule ended up overwhelming him. To me, that’s much more compelling than the idea of power only being “good” when it’s wielded by the “chosen” person.