An Unfound Door, Chapter 16

Fhiad reflects on the uncanny emptiness of Erdbhein Castle as he leads Agnes to the queen’s ruined chambers. While describing Erdbhein before the war, Fhiad tells Agnes about his three sisters, all of whom were highly competent administrators. Fhiad confesses that he dreamed of becoming a mage so he could return to Erdbhein to build monumental stone structures aboveground to rival the stonework in the long-abandoned city underneath the castle.

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This chapter is about Fhiad processing his grief. It would be the perfect opportunity for an exposition dump, but Fhiad isn’t in a good mental state to deliver a lecture at the moment. Like Agnes, he feels like a failure, and he misses his family.

While Fhiad talks about the past, I hope the reader gets a sense of this character belonging to a much larger story. Unfortunately, Fhiad is never going to be able to live that story, and the reader isn’t going to hear much more about it, either. Fhiad mentions spending time in an ancient city in the mountains below Erdbhein, and tells Agnes that he went to university to study architecture because he always dreamed of building something equally grand aboveground.

That’s an intriguing detail, I hope. It adds another layer of foreshadowing regarding Agnes and Fhiad’s final destination, but the reader is never going to encounter another reference to Erdbhein’s history and culture. That’s what it means for an entire group of people to be destroyed; all of their art and memories and folklore are destroyed along with them.

Agnes is deeply disturbed by this loss, as she should be. Meanwhile, Fhiad’s anger regarding the destruction of Erdbhein has drained away, alongside his sense of agency. At the beginning of the story, he was furious and hostile and scary, but he’s become calmer and more introspective as the reality of his situation becomes clear.

Fhiad’s monologue in this chapter mirrors Agnes’s monologue at the beginning of the novel about how she’s the exact wrong person to handle a difficult situation. Agnes was doing something stupid (bringing a demon back to Faloren) because she felt that she had no power to halt her kingdom’s decline on her own. Fhiad was likewise attempting to do something stupid (stealing a relic that could turn back time) because he saw no other way to address what happened in the past. Fhiad knows that his mother or any one of his sisters could have been effective in restoring his kingdom, but he feels that he himself doesn’t have the power to do anything. And honestly, he’s right.

I think that’s a hard lesson to learn, that sometimes you’re just not the right person to fix a messed-up situation. Not everyone can be a hero. At the same time, if a broken situation can’t be fixed by normal people working together and trying their best while using the tools at their disposal, then perhaps the situation isn’t worth fixing.

In The Demon King, a novel I put on hold to focus on writing An Unfound Door, the main character finds himself in a situation that’s somewhat similar to what Fhiad’s going through. This character is going to succeed by virtue of being ten years older and completely unhinged, and his success will destroy him. Fhiad is going to fail, though. His failure isn’t without sadness, but accepting himself and the reality of his circumstances is going to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

The same goes for Agnes, who needs to understand that she can simply walk away from Faloren. The arc of her character development is longer and more complicated; but, from this point forward, it’s going to be Fhiad’s job to support her.

This chapter is relatively quiet, especially after the action in the previous chapter, but it’s the emotional turning point of the novel. So this chapter is about grief, but it’s also about two tired adults taking a much-needed break to have a nice date with delicious tea in a handsome ruined castle overgrown with beautiful bioluminescent flowers.

The illustration of Fhiad in this chapter’s preview graphic was created by the bold and brilliant fantasy illustrator Armd39, who posts dynamic and creatively textured artwork on Bluesky (here) and on Instagram (here). You can also find her commission info pinned on Twitter (here) if you’re interested. Arma was wonderful to work with, and the process of creating this illustration was a fantastic experience that easily added a few months to my life.

The Smile of the Mountain Demon

Liam is a budding content creator who specializes in guided meditation videos. Seeking to grow his following, he jumps at an Airbnb listing for a spiritual retreat in the Adachigahara mountains of rural Japan. At the end of a long journey, the stylish cabin enclosed within a verdant forest is everything Liam could hope for. The beautiful young woman who manages the property offers a warm welcome, but there’s something strange about her smile…

I was extremely honored to contribute to this year’s 13 Days Advent horror anthology. My story, “The Smile of the Mountain Demon,” is about a 21st century yamauba who entraps a YouTube influencer with Buddhist pretensions by using Airbnb and the language of New Age spirituality. The young man is looking for a scenic “spiritual retreat” to use as a source of content, and the yamauba is looking for a tasty snack.

This story is based on the medieval Adachigahara folktales in which a cunning yamauba entraps a less-than-devout Buddhist priest, as well as Minako Ohba’s beautiful and heartbreaking short story “The Smile of a Mountain Witch.”

If you’re interested, I’ve posted my story on AO3 (here), and you can download a free digital copy of the anthology via its page on Itchio here:

🌟 https://13daysadvent.itch.io/13days-demons-divinity

The illustration that accompanies my story was created by the brilliant dark fantasy artist Maxyvert, who posts strange and ethereal paintings on Tumblr (here), on Instagram (here), and on Twitter (here). This artist takes commissions for both digital and physical watercolor portraits (here), and it was an amazing experience to work with them.

An Unfound Door, Chapter 15

Now that Fhiad has taken the form of a demon boar, Agnes rides him through the mountain forest on the way to Erdbhein. They make quick progress, stopping only for Agnes to rest. As they approach Erdbhein Castle, Fhiad leads Agnes to an overlook from which she can see the overgrown ruins of the city in the valley.

At the cliffside castle’s back entrance, severely decayed husks emerge from what used to be a village that housed the castle staff. Fhiad is frightened, so Agnes dismounts and comforts him as she leads him across a bridge and into the castle’s rear courtyard. More husks emerge, and Fhiad is paralyzed with fear. Agnes forcibly reverts him to his human form, and they escape into the castle keep.

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Based on the synopsis, you might think there’s fighting in this chapter, but the truth is that I dislike writing action. As much as I enjoy the choreography of cinematic fight scenes, I find prose descriptions of battles to be tedious. I always skim through action sequences as a reader. Why subject myself to this sort of thing as a writer?

In my defense, neither Fhiad nor Agnes is an action hero. Fhiad is an extremely cowardly demon, and Agnes wields a sword the way I imagine most people would, which is to panic and swing it around wildly. When she actually hits something, she’s horrified and disgusted.

Instead of a thrilling adventure, this chapter is more of an extended meditation on death and decay. In particular, I really enjoyed writing about the slow creep of the husks. My personal take on zombies is that they’re scariest when they take the “persistence predator” aspects of human physicality to an extreme. Fast zombies are a lot of fun! But slow zombies that just keep coming? That’s what really creeps me out.

On a more serious note, zombies are an indirect way to think through the indignity of certain types of death. An Unfound Door isn’t a political novel by any means, but I can’t deny that I wrote this story while watching a genocide unfold. It’s important to bear witness, I think. Still, I’m disturbed by the media spectacle of destruction, in which the victims of war are reduced to nothing more than their blunt physicality in order to sell an enticing narrative to a public that passively consumes death on television or online. As my academic work has (hopefully) demonstrated, I care deeply about these issues, and fiction is another way to explore the complications and consequences of an empire lashing out at imagined enemies as it crumbles from the inside. Let it suffice to say that I have a great deal of sympathy for zombies.

In any case, Agnes isn’t particularly afraid of husks, which she sees as pathetic but harmless. There are a whole lot of husks in this ruined castle, however, and Agnes has a difficult time shepherding Fhiad inside the keep while doing her best to keep both of them safe. Consequently, the main narrative breakthrough that occurs in this chapter is a demonstration that Agnes has become much more sensitive to Fhiad’s emotional state. I guess riding a man through the forest like a horse will do that.

The illustration of Agnes in the chapter preview graphic was created by Loustica Lucia, a bright and shining fantasy artist who posts colorful battle scenes and character portraits on Instagram (here), on Tumblr (here), and on Bluesky (here).

Crow Country

Crow Country is a retro-styled 32-bit survival horror game that takes about four hours to play. What I love about Crow Country is its Story Mode, which removes all enemies and allows you to enjoy the game as an atmospheric adventure in an abandoned amusement park.

The year is 1990, and you (ostensibly) play as a police detective named Mara Forest. Mara is investigating the disappearance of Edward Crow, the owner of a small amusement park called Crow Country. Crow Country shut down and closed to the public two years ago after a girl named Elaine Marshall was severely injured in an accident.

Although Elaine’s family sued Edward Crow for the hospital fees, he never responded to court summons, and now the park sits boarded up and abandoned. Mara has reason to believe that Crow has holed up on the property, so she breaks in and begins searching for clues pertaining to his whereabouts.

Unfortunately for Mara, there are zombies about. Thankfully, she has a gun and a car trunk full of ammo. There’s also ample ammo scattered throughout the park, as well as various types of guns (and grenades) for Mara to pick up and experiment with. I’ve heard that the zombies aren’t particularly aggressive, and that shooting them isn’t particularly difficult, but I wouldn’t know. I didn’t bother with combat, and I have no regrets.

Even in Story Mode, Crow Country is a dense game with a lot to do. The map isn’t actually that big, but every “room” has multiple points of interaction. Most of this interaction provides atmosphere and flavor text, but Mara also needs to solve environmental puzzles in order to find the tools she needs to progress deeper into the park.

Mara can collect bits and pieces of brochures that she assembles into a map that proves to be extremely useful, as locked doors and unsolved puzzles are clearly marked. Although I did have to look up one or two solutions for optional challenge puzzles, I was never lost or confused about what I needed to do next. Unlike many puzzle-based adventure games, Crow Country is entirely possible to play without a guide.

In terms of its PlayStation-era retro graphics, Crow Country looks exactly like Final Fantasy VII. All of the character models are composed of charmingly blocky polygons, and the environments are pre-rendered and gradient shaded. Points of interaction are easy to distinguish, and you can rotate the camera a full 360 degrees. It’s a joy to move through this environment, especially once you begin to open Dark Souls style shortcuts.

Crow Country isn’t a cozy horror game; there’s no learning or friendship or beautiful autumn leaves. That being said, the horror elements are very mild, especially in Story Mode. Despite the atmospheric creepiness of its setting, Crow Country is less of a horror story about zombies and more of a speculative fiction story about how humans process the reality of climate change – or rather, how we will do anything to avoid processing this reality. The game’s conclusion is fantastic, as is the foreshadowing leading to its final reveals.

I wasn’t expecting Crow Country to be so fun to play, or for its environment to be so creatively designed, or for its story to hit so hard. I have zero patience for “intentionally inaccessible” retro game nonsense at this point in my life, but Crow Country wants to be experienced. Since it’s so short and accessible, I’d recommend the game to anyone who’s interested in the premise, even if you’re not typically a fan of survival horror.

An Unfound Door, Chapter 14

Agnes and Fhiad have a brief conversation with Galien and Caelif before departing from Faloren Castle. Fhiad’s personality becomes warmer and more open as they travel across the countryside. He’s friendly to travelers, and he shares his memories of the university in Cretia with Agnes. In the evenings, Agnes stretches and practices the sword forms that she learned from her mentor Mylah, who left the castle shortly after Fhiad’s arrival and hasn’t returned since.

On the first night after they enter the northern forest, Fhiad watches Agnes practice and confesses that his magic won’t be useful against the dangers they’ll face in Erdbhein. He asks that Agnes remember him as human before transforming himself into a boar.

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This chapter is the transition stage between narrative acts that Jessica Brody (of Save the Cat Writes a Novel fame) calls “the eye in the calm of the storm.” It’s a seemingly extraneous but actually extremely important part of the story in which the characters take stock of their situation, their relationships, and their goals.

Even before I read Save the Cat, this in-between chapter was always one of my favorite parts of any longer story I wrote. This is especially the case with romances, where this scene is almost always the first intimate moment the characters spend together. If An Unfound Door were a different type of novel, things would have gotten spicy before Fhiad decided to transform himself, but he just kisses her hand. Which is plenty romantic enough, I think.

I end this chapter with the suggestion that Fhiad is going to be reckless and violent as a demonic boar, but this is misdirection. Even in the form of a powerful monster, he isn’t emotionally equipped to handle action, and Agnes is going to have to forcibly transform him back into a human in order to drag him forward in the next chapter.

Even to me, as someone who ostensibly knows how this story ends, it’s been interesting to see how Fhiad has developed as a character. He initially seems strong and dangerous, but his personality becomes more complicated and neurotic as the reality of his trauma sets in. He slowly unravels as he goes from one set of bad behaviors to another, which is always fun to watch. In this chapter, however, Fhiad is a completely normal person, which I think is the key to the story. As long as Fhiad isn’t subjected to the pressure of being involved in history-changing events, he’s fine.

The goal is to get both Fhiad and Agnes to the point where they’re able to accept that they can just leave these ruined kingdoms behind them and start a new life elsewhere. I therefore used this chapter to create foreshadowing that strongly suggests that this is the best possible outcome for them both. Although their respective homelands are beyond redemption, Agnes and Fhiad can still save each other.

The illustration of Agnes for this week’s preview graphic was created by Anta ARF, who posts brilliant and shining fantasy art on Cara (here), on Tumblr (here), and on Twitter (here).

An Unfound Door, Chapter 13

After crossing the bone-covered courtyard of the west wing, Fhiad and Agnes enter the main library of the former magic academy. It’s in an advanced state of decay, but Agnes finds an isolated reading room that’s still in decent condition. While searching the shelves, Fhiad remembers how he was seduced and betrayed by Agatha, the princess of his era.

Fhiad lashes out at Agnes, who weathers his emotional storm and tells him that she’s found a book with illustrations of the three keystones needed to open the door in the courtyard. Two of the stones are in Faloren, but the third is in Fhiad’s home in Erdbhein. Agnes proposes that they travel there, revealing that she has experience fighting the magically preserved corpses called husks that have infested Erdbhein.

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This is the last chapter of the “Fun and Games” section of Act 3 of An Unfound Door. In this chapter, Fhiad and Agnes visit the third library of the castle. What’s cool about this library is that it’s been partially exposed to the elements, so it’s filled with trees and mushrooms and bats and centipedes. All of the books are rotting. This is my story, so I get to put in all of my favorite things.

Thankfully, one of the smaller reading rooms has been preserved, and this is where Agnes does some detective work while Fhiad has a minor breakdown. Since this chapter is written from Fhiad’s perspective, the reader gets to follow his mental state as he becomes progressively more upset and unnerved. Agnes is generally fairly observant, but she’s having so much fun going on the magical adventure she’s wanted all her life that she doesn’t pick up on Fhiad’s distress until it’s too late.

Fhiad loses himself for a moment and threatens physical violence in a burst of anger that’s partially fueled by his confused attraction. Agnes responds to this as she always confronts adversity, by coldly insisting on getting back to business. Neither of them looks good in this scene.

Still, the characters need room to grow, and there also needs to be an inciting incident that moves the story forward. Agnes has begun to care for Fhiad, and she’s gotten the message that both of them need to get out of the castle.

After leaving Faloren, are Agnes and Fhiad going to a second ruined castle filled with terrible things? Yes they are! I won’t lie, I love writing stories filled with drama in decaying ruins.

The illustration that graces this week’s chapter preview was created by the marvelous Hansoeii, a connoisseur of darkly compelling characters who posts sharp and handsome artwork on Instagram (here), on Tumblr (here), and on Twitter (here).

Ganondorf’s Robes in The Wind Waker

I’m excited to share my contribution to Hyrule Fashion Anthology, a fanzine celebrating the complex evolution of fashion history through the characters and setting of the Legend of Zelda series. Here’s a short description…

“A Wind-Grieved Ghost” discusses the influence of medieval Noh theater on the striking costume worn by Ganondorf in The Wind Waker. I provide a brief introduction of Noh drama and summarize how its character archetypes are enhanced by their clothing. I then explain the symbolism of Ganondorf’s gorgeously patterned robes and argue that the sartorial allusions to Noh theater serve to characterize Ganondorf as a frightening yet tragic ghost displaced from the beautiful vanished kingdom of Hyrule.

If you’re interested, you can read the full essay on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/60062635

I consider myself extremely fortunate to have this essay illustrated by the dangerously stylish Astarsor, who shares bold and colorful character portraits on Instagram (here).

Leftover sales for Hyrule Fashion Anthology are open until November 15. This is a beautifully published zine filled with gorgeous artwork and fascinating articles inspired by the golden age of glossy fashion magazines, and it’s a stunning physical object. You can pick up a digital or paper copy along with a dazzling selection of merch via the zine’s storefront (here).

An Unfound Door, Chapter 12

Fhiad and Agnes enter the abandoned west wing of Faloren Castle via a covered bridge that crumbles into the lake below as they cross. As they explore the empty corridors, Fhiad admits that he wasn’t particularly well-suited to being a diplomat. All he wanted was to leave for the university in Cretia, as his talent at magic was the only thing that set him apart from his sisters. After entering the ruins of the academy housed in the west wing, Fhiad and Agnes experiment with the magical tools left behind in a lecture hall, gleefully not caring about the wreckage they create.

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Chapter 12 is at the core of the “fun and games” section of the novel, which mainly involves Agnes and Fhiad exploring an impossibly giant castle. The currently occupied east wing is sad and empty but still livable, while the abandoned west wing is a crumbling ruin barely held together by magic. I did my best not to write too many scenes of characters walking down hallways, but I enjoyed describing the decrepitude of the environment.

This is the chapter in which Fhiad and Agnes begin to flirt with one another. As the culmination of their flirtation in the chapter’s final scene, they experiment with magical tools left behind by dead mages, and they behave a bit like Link smashing pots in a dungeon just because he can. Personally speaking, this is 100% what I’d do if magic were real. I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone, of course. I just think it would be neat to make junk cars explode.

I spent my teenage years in a rural area in the Deep South near where Stranger Things was filmed. I worked a number of garbage part-time jobs with other local kids; and, when we got off our shifts in the evening, we would drive around the country roads and look for abandoned houses where we could sit and smoke weed to chill out for a bit before going home.

A lot of these abandoned houses were filled with literal piles of junk, and there was a certain pleasure in lining up ancient Coke bottles along rotten wooden porch railings and throwing rocks to smash them. The glass made a lovely sound when it shattered, and the broken shards were beautiful in the moonlight.

Fhiad and Agnes aren’t teenagers, and neither of them is the sort of person who would work in a gas station convenience store. Still, I think this is an aspect of human nature that transcends time and place and social class. If the world is already filled with ruins, why not smash some glass? It’s a minor and ultimately meaningless act of rebellion against a system that failed long before you were born, but that doesn’t make it any less satisfying.

The illustration accompanying this chapter preview was created by the magical SashaArts, who draws radiant fantasy portraits that you can find on Instagram (here), on Twitter (here), and on Bluesky (here).

Necromancer Zelda

Echoes of Wisdom is growing on me, and I especially love how Zelda fights by rapid-summoning monsters to overwhelm her enemies. I suppose Zelda is technically creating “echoes” instead of resurrecting her defeated foes, but she still reminds me of the Tears of the Kingdom trailer in which Ganondorf triggers the Blood Moon, summons a bunch of monsters, and tells them to “sweep over Hyrule.” Necromancy seems like a very fun gig if you can get it.

This comic was drawn by the horrifically talented Frankiesbugs, whose cute and creepy illustrations and comics can be found on Tumblr (here), on Instagram (here), on Cara (here), and on Redbubble (here).

Best Horror Comics on How to Love Comics

I had the immense honor of being able to contribute to a list of “The 45 Best Horror Comics You Should Read” on the website How To Love Comics. Here’s how I pitched the eight titles I recommended…

Betwixt: A Manga Horror Anthology, edited by Fawn Lau and Mayuko Hirao
A diverse collection of big-name creators showcasing manga-style stories that focus on urban legends and folk horror.

Bloodborne: The Healing Thirst, by Ales Kot and Piotr Kowalski
A stand-alone story that captures the oppressive gothic atmosphere of Bloodborne while being accessible to readers with no knowledge of the game.

The Crossroads at Midnight, by Abby Howard
A single-artist collection of queer short stories with distinctive monochromatic art and intensely disturbing imagery. 

The Hills of Estrella Roja, by Ashley Robin Franklin
A lushly illustrated graphic novel about a college student on the hunt for cryptids in the beautiful but eerie Texas desert.

Loving, Ohio, by Matthew Erman and Sam Beck
A suburban gothic horror story about a small town quietly controlled by an all-too-realistic cult. 

Not Drunk Enough, by Tess Stone
A colorful and stylish horror comedy about being trapped in a mad science corporation after dark.

PTSD Radio, by Masaaki Nakayama
A quiet but intensely creepy collection of Japanese urban legends loosely connected by an overarching narrative.

The Shadow over Innsmouth, by Gou Tanabe
A painstakingly faithful Lovecraft adaptation with meticulously drafted art and a well-researched translation. 

You can check out the fully annotated list (here). There are a lot of famous heavy hitters on this list, and it was a pleasure to be able to include a few lesser-known manga and indie graphic novels.