10/14/2026 - 11/18/2026 | 11:59:59PM IST

The Promise of Tomorrow

Grimara had not come to Ulfrheim without purpose. While she was attempting to return to Helvalla, it was always with intention to find her way to Ulfrheim.

For weeks now, whispers had begun circulating within the Great Maw. Familiar faces spoke of unfamiliar ambitions, questioning the laws that had governed Ulfrheim for generations. Some questioned Fenrir's judgment, others whether the Great Father had grown too comfortable upon his throne. None of these whispers could be traced directly to Grimara, and that was precisely how she preferred it. She had planted her influence carefully, allowing doubt to take root where loyalty had once stood unquestioned. When the time came, she intended to see Fenrir removed from his position entirely. Permanently.

Yet there was one creature whose growing influence had captured her attention.

Oracle.

The Village of Rime had flourished beneath his guidance. What had once been little more than a settlement of frightened followers had become something worth protecting. Many species traveled from distant corners seeking knowledge, shelter, and the opportunity to practice magic without fear of persecution. Oracle had become something he had never truly expected to be. Respected, trusted, and above all else, loved. It was precisely this reputation that brought Grimara to the Village of Rime.

"You've built something rather remarkable here," she spoke curiously, emerging from the shadows beyond the village walls.

Oracle, who had been admiring the village from a vantage point had turned to face her, his expression immediately hardening. "Grimara..."

Grimara smiled ominously as she paused. "You remember me."

"Unfortunately," Oracle responded without hesitation.

Grimara chuckled, seemingly unbothered by his hostility. She had earned it and it was a badge she wore with honor. "I hear Fenrir has allowed you to practice magic, provided you remain obedient within these mountains. How generous of him."

Oracle remained silent, observing Grimara closely.

"Tell me, Oracle. How long do you intend to live beneath another's judgment? You have the power to change Ulfrheim. With my Eosteric magic, and your knowledge, we could bring the Great Father to his demise."

Oracle's ears folded back. Once, such an offer might have appealed to him. There had been a time when he believed power alone was enough to command respect. When fear was easier to inspire than loyalty. Yet his gaze drifted toward the village behind him, where several of his followers practiced magic freely beneath the careful supervision of his most trusted elders.

"And what happens to them?" he asked with clear hesitation.

Grimara followed his gaze. "They would be free, of course."

"Would they?" Oracle returned quietly. "Or would they simply exchange one ruler for another?"

For the first time, Grimara's smile faltered as fury began to build.

Oracle stepped forward, interrupting her before she could even speak. "I have spent enough of my life believing that strength gives me the right to decide another's future. If Ulfrheim's hierarchy is to change, it will be because its people choose something better. Not because I force them to."

Grimara studied him carefully before subduing her anger and instead offering a faint smile.

“How disappointing.” Grimara turned to leave, but before she was consumed by the underbrush she turned to glare back at Oracle once more. “Do remember this conversation when Fenrir decides your little experiment has outlived its usefulness."

Oracle watched her disappear beyond the village, troubled less by her threats than by how tempting her offer might have been once upon a time.

---

Far beyond Ulfrheim, beneath the peaceful skies of Hymnlaeja, Ylva sat quietly beside a familiar spring. Eptara stood delicately upon its surface, her ethereal reflection shimmering beneath her paws.

“I don’t know how to lead them,” Ylva admitted in defeat, clearly burdened by the weight of the throne before her.

Eptara softened her ghostly expression into something gentle. “You believe leadership requires certainty?”

“Doesn’t it?” Ylva followed.

“No, child. It requires the courage to continue when certainty abandons you.”

Ylva lowered her gaze in a sorrow Eptara found familiar. She had visited Eptara countless times since their first encounter, seeking answers to questions she scarcely knew how to ask. Each visit had brought her closer to understanding the responsibilities awaiting her upon Helvalla, yet the weight of the Crescent Throne only seemed to grow heavier and heavier as the days went by.

“Then tell me what to do.”

Eptara shook her head softly. “That is something I cannot give you, Crescent’s Guiding Heart. The path before you is yours to walk alone. Neither I nor Hymn can carry its burdens for you.”

Ylva frowned in frustration.

“But you need not leave those who follow you without guidance. Find somefel you trust. Somefel capable of leading in your absence, of offering wisdom when your own responsibilities call you elsewhere.”

Ylva listened to every word carefully, ears flicking backwards as she found herself deep in thought.

Elsewhere on Hymnlaeja, Skorgrim sat beside Hel beneath the canopy of a hulking willow tree. The two had spent much of their time together since arriving upon the island. What had begun as cautious conversation had gradually become something resembling a friendship, though Skorgrim had come to know Hel as something more. A mentor of sorts. Somefel who understood the darkness he carried without condemning him for it.

Skorgrim swallowed hard before clearing his throat, “Do you regret it?”

Hel glanced toward him as she pricked both ears forward. “Regret what?”

“Everything.”

For a moment, Hel said nothing. Clearly deep in thought before she finally replied.

“Every single day.”

Skorgrim looked surprised at first. He had expected her to defend herself, perhaps remind him of the circumstances that had driven her to such dangerous decisions. Instead, she continued calmly.

“I cannot undo the suffering I’ve caused, Skorgrim. Nor can I demand forgiveness from those I’ve hurt. I can only decide what I do with the days I have left.”

Skorgrim lowered his gaze toward his paws.

“And if they never forgive you?”

Hel turned to see Ylva returning back to camp, she had begun tending to a garden she had nurtured back to health. “Then I will have to learn to live with that and be thankful for those who have.”

The honesty in her answer unsettled him for a moment. For so long he had believed his past would forever determine his future. Yet here sat Hel, a creature who had once inspired fear across entire realms, quietly tending to a life she had chosen to rebuild. A life that welcomed love.

“Do you think somefel like me could change?” he asked.

Hel turned back toward him, and her expression softened in a way that beyond Ylva most would never experience.

“You already have.”

Skorgrim swallowed hard, turning away before Hel could see the emotion gathering in his eyes.

When Ylva finished tending to her garden, she found the two resting beneath the weeping willow tree. She stopped a short distance away, watching Hel offer Skorgrim a gentle smile as he spoke. There was something different about him now. Something that made Ylva realise the weight of all the years they had lost. Even now Eptara’s words echoed within her thoughts. Find somefel you trust.

Ylva’s gaze lingered upon Hel, the love of her life. For the first time since accepting the throne, she wondered whether the answer to one of her greatest fears had been sitting beside her all along.

As you travel along the winding paths of Haldor's Pass, something unusual catches your attention. A raven lies lifeless along the roadside, its feathers mangled and bloodied. Tied carefully around its neck is a small, weathered letter. Curiosity gets the better of you, and upon opening it, you discover a message addressed to Fenrir himself.

The letter bears Ylva's name. Within, she formally declares her intention to claim the Crescent Throne of Helvalla, inviting Fenrir and the remaining Alphas to witness her ascension at the next full moon.

Objective:

Depict or write your character discovering the fallen raven and retrieving the letter, or delivering Ylva's message directly to Fenrir himself.

Reward:

1,500 Felcredits, 1x Chest of War, Peace, Power, Knowledge, 1x Cursed Crows Feather, 5x Felpoints, 5x Flora, 50% Chance for 1x Flask of Purification*

11/01/2026 - 11/30/2026 | 11:59:59PM IST

Warmth in the Weave

With the summer being over, the forests are covered in the most vibrant, warm and earthy colors just like every year. The cobblestone streets of Norn’s Weave are reflecting soft, golden colors from the lanterns hanging on the eaves of the buildings, and street lights bordering the pathways. Evenings get cooler around the city, yet the heart of Norn’s Weave remains warm in spirit. Festivities have softly taken over as manyfel have decorated the doorways, railings and windowsills with various string lights, wreaths, and even candles, keeping up the festive atmosphere. Somefel can be spotted within the Crooked Lantern, enjoying warm beverages and snacks while otherfel enjoy the cool evening breeze and browse the goods at the center of the city, surrounded by a soft murmur of all those visiting and passing by.

Lit up fireplaces can be spotted inside some of the old stone buildings, casting flickering lights on the walls inside, while some huts remain fully dark. You hear a faint crackling of fire somewhere on the outskirts of the city, yet the sound is quickly drowned out beneath the joyful yips and howls. You spot scarcely fallen leaves of gold and rust colors gently swaying in the air, hovering just above the pathways, mesmerizing you for a moment.

The scent of roasted meats and vegetables in season fill up your nostrils and awaken a familiar feeling of warmth within you. The moment is almost magical, as the time feels like it has suddenly slowed down and you have been granted a pause from the outer world, to simply exist and savor the seasonal glow. Gulls cry overhead, and the city is alive and welcoming, offering safety and warmth. This time of the year is always different as it brings everyfel together in high spirits. You gaze around and admire the scene, from lantern lit docks where the light reflects across the dark waters, to the slowly darkening night sky and distant campfires along the shore. Exploring the streets of Norn's Weave offer a plethora of ways to enjoy the heart of autumn, whether on your own or with somefel.

Objective:

Depict or write your character enjoying a warm or festive moment within Norn’s Weave during the heart of Autumn. Show them sharing this time with somefel closest to them amid the city’s seasonal glow.

Reward:

1,000 Felcredits, 1x Long Lost Treasure, 1x Homemade Meat Pie, 1x Basket of Vegetables, 3x Cuppa Emblems

10/03/2026 - 11/02/2026 | 11:59:59PM IST

Falkyre

You found yourself wandering deep within Fenrir’s Incisor, looking to find shelter for the night from a storm that had begun to brew overhead. Black clouds gathered on the horizon, the threat of chilling rain hastening your pawsteps as you searched for a suitable place to rest - perhaps a cavern, or within the trunk of a hollow tree. The forest was silent save for the rustling of leaves, the scent of incoming rain tickling your nose as you made your way through the underbrush. As you pushed past a thorny plant and avoided its branches catching in your fur, you spotted a cavern ahead cut into the mountainside that looked to be promising. Quickened by relief that you had found shelter, you entered the cave and in the dim light, could just make out the large form of something resting within.

Falkyre rose slowly to his feet, his sharp, ivory eyes focused entirely on you with the sort of gaze that felt like it had pierced you to your core. The sabertooth did not growl and did not seem aggressive, but the energy of the wilderness lined every inch of his body, a tenseness that put you on edge. There was something wrong here, a feeling that you couldn’t quite place. Falkyre lowered his head as he stared at you, and as you hesitantly stared back, several visions flashed before your eyes. The first few were simply images of a bright land of greenery and serene peace, making a warmth brew in your chest with every new angle. The last few were even stronger - Loki and Aurora embraced one another, firelight softly dancing over their features.

With each vision, a deep and intimate feeling of longing grew stronger, as if Falkyre was trying to tell you something. Finally they faded, and Falkyre took a step towards you with a shake of his head, as if to ask you if you knew what he was trying to say. The feeling of longing faded away as thunder rolled outside, sheets of rain beginning to move through the trees. You had a sudden realization as lightning struck, the sound of it crashing through your body. Falkyre was Aurora’s companion, and she had been separated from him for too long. Now, this wild and untameable spirit was asking you for help in a vulnerable moment, hoping that you would guide him to the Shrine of Freyja so that he could go through the portal to Hymnlaeja in The Trilling Bramble and be reunited with Aurora once more.

Objective:

Depict or write your character guiding Falkyre from Fenrir’s Incisor all the way across Ulfrheim to the Shrine of Freyja, where he can take the portal in The Trilling Bramble to find Aurora in Hymnlaeja.

Reward:

1,000 Felcredits, 1x Aurora’s Vial of Fortune, 5x Aloe Vera, 1x Empty Vials, 3x Berries