But the King’s Edict had been clear: every citizen of the realm of Aurelia, upon their seventeenth birthday, must report to the nearest Quest Keeper and receive their official Quest Log. It was a magical leather-bound book, bound in silver thread and stamped with the royal crest. The moment you touched it, the book would know your destiny. It would fill with quests—grand or humble—that you alone could complete.
“Four percent is still a percent,” she said. And she walked through the Shadow like it was mist. The Fractured Prince sat on a throne of broken mirrors, each shard reflecting a different version of himself—prince, martyr, monster, child. He was beautiful and hollow, his chest open like a cabinet, a shard of black glass where his heart should have been.
Iona gave herself a pep talk. It was terrible. The blade dimmed. The hermit of Echo Pass required a Sunset Orchid, which grew only on the lip of a waterfall that fell upward into a floating island. Iona climbed for two days, nearly fell to her death three times, and finally plucked the flower while screaming apologies at a nesting griffin. The hermit—a wizened woman who smelled of old cheese and bad decisions—took one look at Iona, laughed, and gave her the map. rpg maker mv quest log
Current mood: Hesitant. Suggested action: Stop sighing and pack a bag.
Iona looked up at her doubt. She smiled. It was a small, cracked, clay-stained smile. But the King’s Edict had been clear: every
She played the lullaby. Not with the flute—the piper had taken that—but with her own breath, her own cracked voice. The Lullaby of Unmaking poured out of her nameless throat, and the Prince’s mirrors shattered one by one. The black shard in his chest trembled, cracked, and fell.
She didn’t remember her name. But she remembered how to make something from nothing. It would fill with quests—grand or humble—that you
“It’s sassy,” Iona muttered.
