They are all Gehn’s children, forged
by his pen
in his image: lonely and frail. A kind of kinship. Written and illustrated for Mysterium 2016′s convention booklet.
Company to foreign shores
The book rests deep within Tay, in the
roots of the great hive-tree.
Catherine grabbed it, out of
stubborness and spite, as she made her way to the village to see her
people off Riven before her home world’s death. Or stubborness, spite
and a desire to save, to hold onto as many ties as she could grasp
when she could not stop the ground from slipping from under her feet.
To take one last thing from Gehn when Gehn had taken her land from
her, rocks and sea which existed long before he put the first
squiggle of ink on a blank page, and had steered it toward a path of
destruction. So she took his Age, which he called his 233rd and whose
essence once echoed in her dreams, but too far away for her to catch
a glimpse of a name, and carried it to safety. The way one would
carry home a stray.