Strictly Sealed Ecclesiastical Correspondence — For Temple Eyes Only

To Her Holiness, High Priestess Marissin of the Great Temple, Reichsherz.

Brauncliff Citadel, Outer Reach
Third Moon of Stormtide, 3E.743

Your Holiness,

May the Four keep your path steady.

I write from the edge of our blessed Empire with troubling news—unsettling not only in content but in implication. What I describe here has passed beyond the threshold of sailor's tale or weatherborn misfortune. This is, I believe, a matter of ravenglass sorcery, and of a wyvern-bound nature too deep for any temple at Brauncliff to safely interpret.

Over the past fortnight, several vessels have reported sightings of a black-rigged ship moving along the mists of the Braun Sea. No colours. No name. Her sails are dull as ash, and her prow juts forward like a blade drawn halfway from a scabbard. Of itself, this would not concern me—pirates grow bold when winter currents shift.

But the crew.

Every account describes them standing motionless on deck. Not resting, not bracing—but fixed, eyes forward, as though one body shared among many forms. Witnesses swear that when one turned his head, the others followed in perfect synchrony. When the ship drifted near, some observers claimed their own thoughts began to echo—hearing words not spoken, memories they could not place, and a sensation of being watched from within.

One survivor carved spirals into his palms, claiming he was “mapping his way back to himself.” Another threw himself to the sea mid-prayer, muttering about “tides in the blood.”

At the prow of the vessel, secured in a cradle of blackened iron, is what multiple witnesses describe as a massive shard of ravenglass—coffin-sized, lightless, and thrumming with a resonance they felt more than heard. One Captain described it as “remembering him.”

Attempts to board or dispel have failed. A Circle-trained enchanter attempted to sever the ship’s link with known currents of enchantment. He now speaks in fractured birdsong and refuses to step indoors. Even the lesser rites of Unknotting bring no relief.

We believe the crew is psychically bound—not merely bewitched, but fully absorbed—by a wyvern working through the shard. If so, this represents an evolution of ravenglass manipulation we do not understand and cannot counter with known rites. The suggestion has even been made—though not lightly—that this could be the work of a Ravenglass node, not merely a shard: a self-sustaining focus of thought and will.

Your Holiness, we are unprepared.

I humbly request immediate guidance from the Great Temple. The local orders are unwilling to act. The Vigilant here are fractured, and we lack the authority to sanction action without temple sanction. We require the wisdom of the Hierophants and, if I may say so without overstepping, the insight of the Guardians—if they are indeed still known to your circles.

This ship does not attack. It does not speak. It only moves through the fog, crewed by silence and the echo of will not its own.

And it is watching.

With reverence and urgency,
Archivist Dern Halveth
Brauncliff Citadel, Outer Reach Authority

Winter’s Crown is out now!

The battle for Ostreich reaches boiling point in Winter’s Crown (The Ravenglass Throne: Part Four), now available on Amazon.

Irmin steels the defences. Adelinde uncovers a chilling conspiracy. Elana plays a dangerous game of politics.

The sisters hold the capital—but for how long?

As foreign armies gather and old enemies stir, the throne hangs in the balance.

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Jon