July 2021

image credit @ Matchuri

Medeva, the Sorceress

  • Race: Half-Mortal 
  • Birthplace: the Freelands
  • Gender: Female
  • Birthday: ??? B.D.


History / Background

Medeva was born, Before the Destruction, to a mortal man and a goddess, Luna, who was associated with one of the moons of Aeora. Her father abandoned her when she was a child, leaving her in a tribal village where she grew up under protection from the nearby villagers. Eventually they arranged for her to marry Jason, the leader of the Society of Alchemists. She lived with him in Ratio-res for a short time, but grew to resent him and looked for an opportunity to flee. Eventually she met Emilia, her own half-cousin, and fled with her (on a ship called the Kraken) to the Isles of Ananta.


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Thereb: Main District

I'm happy to announce the release of my newest map -- the Main District of Thereb! For those who have been following my "History of Aeora" posts, you'll know that Thereb is the capital of Northern Misram. There are a few key places outlined in this map including the Castle Ketavas (literally Castle of the Wind), the Fountain of Merisa, and the Tehmas Jhirathar (a popular temple in Misram). Subscribers are allowed to use this map in their free, or personal, projects, as well as a blank template with no labels that can be downloaded from my Ko-Fi. Thank you and I hope you like it~

"What major, global trends and traits affected your individual characters (Medeva)?"

Character Bio: Medeva, the Sorceress

Prompt inspired by Characters and Worldbuilding by Steven Savage

Beginning in her early life, Medeva was impacted by her birth to the goddess Luna — who came to be associated with one of the moons over Aeora. Although Medeva had no idea of her heritage for many years, Luna eventually came into contact with her daughter (in the form of prayers and prophecies). This gave Medeva access to hidden information and powers, as well as a deeper understanding for the life of Aeora. Luna’s involvement in Medeva’s life, even from a young age, caused her to want to become a sorceress and archivist.

Another major impact on Medeva’s life was the Hellenic Disaster, otherwise known as the Destruction. According to legend, Medeva survived the Disaster — but how exactly is not clear. Some sources claim that spirits helped her travel to another world, but still others suggest that she found refuge at the Ananta Islands. In any case, the Disaster was a major influence on Medeva (especially later in her life), as it was with anyone who lived in this time period.

During Medeva’s lifetime, there were major shifts in the political landscape like the destruction of civilizations such as Kemet and Valentia. Events such as these had an impact on Medeva’s worldview, causing her to become familiar with death and disharmony. However, her closeness with disaster proved to be an asset, as Medeva used her experiences as inspiration to make a better world in the post-Destruction era. The shifting political landscape also offered Medeva certain advantages, giving her the opportunity to lead people who were disillusioned with their society.

Medeva’s life was unusual from the beginning. Having been born to the moon, Luna, and during that period known as the Hellenic Disaster, her world was filled with instability. But she used this as inspiration to find peace within herself and try to spread stability across a broken world. This philosophy demonstrates a high-level of resilience, another area in which Medeva improved after witnessing the events of the Destruction.

Tales of Aeora, Part 1 (Beta 2.0)

Thanks to Blogger and Designrr, I'm now able to bring you the Tales of Aeora (Part 1) Beta pdf in a new flipbook version! It took a lot of work to figure out which program was the best, and lost a little money in the process, but it was totally worth it. I hope you enjoy and please leave comments if you like the new format~

Hello everyone!

I am finally off work, have a cup of coffee and a smoke, and am ready to talk about all of the new updates that are going to be coming to the World of Aeora in the next couple of weeks. I think this could be a useful trend, and maybe every month I'll make a post on upcoming updates -- let me know what you think in the comments! Here is the list of updates that are set to release soon:

  • World of Aeora Moving to Blogger -- By far one of the biggest updates is that World of Aeora is no longer going to be primarily hosted by Wordpress, and instead will be hosted by Blogger. I'm sorry if this causes any issues for anybody, but Wordpress is just not a financially feasible platform (for even basic features). This site will still remain somewhat active, to post news and links, but will mainly push people back to the upcoming Blogger website. A big apology to my followers on Wordpress, but I know that this transition will be much better for the site overall.
  • Tales of Aeora Part 1 to be Completed Soon -- Part 1 of the Tales of Aeora collection is going through its final stages of editing. Hopefully you will be able to read it soon! And in a much nicer PDF embed once the website has moved to Blogger, which is a big plus.
  • Discord and Subscribers -- The World of Aeora Discord should be finalized soon, as well as the special Subscriber role which you will be able to purchase from my Ko-Fi. Subscribers will be able to chat with other fans, and gain access to exclusive content like map templates and assets.
  • New Maps -- There are a couple new maps I've been working on that are also set to release sometime soon. Both of them are from the nation of Misram, and blank templates will be provided for Subscribers to include in their own projects.

And those are all of the new updates and features coming soon to the World of Aeora! Hope you are all excited, and please like or comment if you have a question or request.

As always, thank you for your support!

Brett Palmer

Note: This chapter was previously published in the Tales of Aeora collection (Beta, Ver. 1)

After Emilia told Medeva her tale, the night grew old and the three moons of Aeora revealed their faces (reflected in the water, three luminous orbs in various phases of their celestial journey) through the thin fog that swirled between the Kraken and the sky. They both walked the deck where few members of the crew remained, either cleaned or prayed to one of the three lunar deities. Medeva looked to Luna, the biggest and brightest of the three bodies even at half-light, and silently remembered her mother — remembered, rather, a dream she thought was a memory from childhood — and allowed herself a muffled reverence. The Twin Moons, Phrixus and Helle, inhabited the other side of the dim sky and appeared more distant in space than their elder sister. Phrixus choked with red dust and bright orange cracks crawling over his face, body made of a substance akin to ash and magma, and the other called Helle orbited him on a wide, diagonal elliptical — tonight rose above Phrixus in her rotation and emanated a pale blue aura reflected from her oceanic surface. The Twins, three-quarters full and waxing, found Luna gained on their orbit every night and prepared for their eventual collision. Medeva noted their paths and reminded herself to plot them later in her notebook, convinced that it was an omen she needed to decipher.

As she considered the heavens, Medeva was led to a locked cabin on the bow which Emilia unlocked with a key from a collection hung on a chain beneath her tunic. The keys were of several different metallic hues and shapes (some crafted from heavy elements Medeva didn’t even recognize). Emilia peered through them all and picked the right one with a brief glance. All made a different jingle as she unlocked the door and revealed the two chests, locked and unlocked, beside one another on the sea-side wall of the cabin. Emilia fumbled with her key ring and unclipped one, handed it to Medeva. The key was small. Thin. Silver like the chains which bound the box (and wrapped around Emilia’s left wrist). “Look inside.”

Medeva stood before the chests. Had to choose between two paths. One seemed simple and safe, the other either a boon or curse, she knew not which was which. She stepped up to the dark oak bound in chains, a large iron lock clasped in the middle of its front side, and slid the key within — felt the teeth crawl through the mechanism before a imperceptible click! released all the pins and the lock opened. The chains fell and Medeva lifted the lid to peer inside this Pandora’s Box. Inside was a dark blue, silken cloth, which Medeva removed to behold row-upon-row of opaque, foggy vials and pouches of dried herbs and powders. Smugglers… Medeva thought and pulled out one of the vials with care. “What is it?” she asked trying to peer inside, swirling the contents by moving the lid in tiny circular motions between her thumb and pointer finger.

“The most powerful drug, produced by the greatest alchemists, of our mysterious homeland. It is said that one drop contains a million, tiny gods and goddesses, and could allow you to hear the music of the spheres. Two drops and you’d know the great mysteries of Aeora. But three drops, they say, and you would learn the secrets of life and death — but stolen soul you’d be, embraced by those miniature deities.” Medeva tried to steal a glance through the tinted glass bottle and Emilia asked, “Do you want one?”

“At what price?” Medeva said, and Emilia shrugged.

“A favor — any favor — I choose to be doled out from now until eternity,” Emilia said. The price was high, Medeva knew that, but remembered deals she’d struck with spirits more nefarious than Emilia the sailor. Medeva considered Phrixus and Helle. Wondered what music they might sing.

“Deal.” The two of them shook hands, Emilia’s grasp more firm than Medeva’s.

When it was done, Medeva and Emilia went to their cabins (the Kraken bobbed on the sea like a paper boat that Medeva saw children let loose in canals of the city fading dimly on the horizon, candles snuffed out by the dark) but not before she stole one last glimpse at the moons. Their trinity of reflected sunlight seemed to grow brighter every night. Medeva hugged herself, though there was no breeze; Phrixus stared with his big, red eye and Luna with her half-closed lid.

Medeva retreated to her room, withdrew her notebook from her pack, and set-up an array of writing instruments, a spyglass, and an astrolabe in a pre-ordained pattern on the bed. She had no desk or table, knelt before the blankets and the porthole to say a short prayer before she swirled the contents of the vial. Medeva peered closely, as if she could distinguish those tiny deities in the suspended minerals that floated like stars behind the glass, raised it and administered a single drop — hands steadier than steel beams — and watched it fall like the rain on to her finger before placing it on her tongue.

There was an indescribable whisper. Her whole world seemed to glow (phosphorescent orange) covering her eyes like lenses, and exuded an aura she could nearly perceive. The room, once drab and sparse, was saturated in color and appeared to grow with each passing second until she was afraid that it would burst through the ship’s hull. When it didn’t, Medeva turned to the tools that littered her bed and let her eyes blink in-and-out. Like going to sleep. Her hands worked their way to the pen like a disembodied spirit and took hold with a loose grip. Medeva watched — an observer of her own body and mind — as the hand traced letters in a notebook, the eyes inspected an astrolabe. The whisper became a whistle. Lips hummed a melody that hands wrote down in verse.

She studied the poem an hour later. The effects of the elixir diminished as she scanned the meter and found a distinct pattern related to the phases of the moon. She referenced her notes and astrolabe, constructed a table of the days of the week and went about filling them in. When she was done she double-checked her work. Triple-checked. Medeva always came to the same conclusion: in two weeks, the orbit of all three moons would meet and they would be forced to share the sky at full, lunar illumination. In the books she read these three days (which happened once every 140 months in Aeora) were known as the Morte Kalendis — but the people called them the Triquetra, named after a forgotten and ancient symbol.


By Brett G. Palmer

Seagulls gather in crowds to comb the shoreline,
send small crabs scuttling past the tide 
as emerald water churns rhythmically to a slow,
saltwater heartbeat, covering the coast in a repetitious 

Beach worms burrow narrow tunnels in the sand
that bubble over as water washes over their entrances, 
lapped by foam, a sea nettle floats ashore — 
wispy arms coiling down the sand like wires.

Discarded mussel shells dot the embankment — 
stone crabs peek beneath a swarm of minnows, 
algae blooms on a durable carapace of brown
and red chitin as if it were a sea-rock.

Lone, bottlenose dolphin crescendos in-and-out
of its water world, taking breaths of air through
a blowhole. The seven, sinistral whorls of a 
lightning whelk forms a rigid spiral on

rock rubble overgrown with seaweed — whose colony 
stretches the shelf and deeper water. King mackerel 
stalks extensive reefs outside the Gulf Stream as it 
sends schools of fish and sperm whales west to 

the Sigsbee Abyssal Plain, where a pod’s sonorous echo
signals a swift dive past a forest of octocoral arms, 
furled with snake stars, among the unrecognizable ruins
of a former metropolis:

Distant sound of a buried, broken flute. 
Absent aroma of flowers in a sponge-garden. 
Lost relics of creatures that lived on land. 

Just wanted to share with all of you an exclusive look into the design process for my fantasy language, Kemeti (Kehmehti), which was spoken in the southern hemisphere of Aeora (Before the Destruction). You'll notice that the alphabet is broken into consonant clusters which are then used in word and syllable generators. Really excited about this. Thankful that Excel had all of these functions available and ready to go.

Look forward to seeing all sorts of new naming dynamics and conventions based on this language, as well as future documents detailing more about Kemeti's grammar and dictionary.

“Tree Between Two Countries”

Great-horned owl flew east over

a craggy coastline, every night 

passed through different

phases of the moons,

soared within range of a fig tree

that teetered on the edge of a

multi-layered, sandstone cliff-face,

battered by angry waves and sea foam,

hugged the precipice with coils 

of roots half-buried, half-revealed

crescendoed in and out of the stonework

like a lattice of waves.

Myriad of creatures housed 

within moist, fertile

underbrush; thick, cobwebbed 

branches twisted eternally toward the 

sunlight; disfigured ladder stretched,

its limbs hide several hundred 

miles above in a thick cloud 

of impenetrable vapors

where fly and roost the most mysterious

avians never glimpsed by mortal eyes.

Plethora of flora furled 

around the trunk, bundles of

grapevines grew unimpeded 

in patches of royal blue, 

clasped stems entwined in

leafy, wooden rivers joined with

the thick, thorny tendrils of a

black rose — over-ripe,

leaning toward the earth.

Locked, oak chest buried within a

hollowed-out shrine beneath the roots,

held a fire stolen back by the gods,

guarded by the watchful eyes of the owl 

(with its 360° vision and immense province 

of flight, the raptor spies an isle northwest 

ordinarily out of sight),

people seeking peace unaware that

their armistice laid top a ridge

left uncharted a few miles out at sea,

proved, instead, that life did not exist

with mathematical and philosophical proofs;

murdered one another for centuries 

despite answers hidden poorly 

just beyond their field of vision — 

kingdom of zealots to the southeast,

across the fig tree’s massive circumference, 

orchestrated prayers loudly in droves;

prepared crusaders to invade the forest and

burn sacrificial lambs deep in the 

heartwood — scar torn open and


Fig tree roots cried salt-water tears,

condensed and splashed on its

dense outer layers, as the owl learns 

that it can unlock the chest with its beak.

"Legend of Rosecreek Road"

By Brett G. Palmer

Legends told of a Rosecreek Rd.
thirteen miles outside a small town,
so few homes occupied by so few souls
out this far — not even a sound

two boys, were said, evoked the dead
at a crossroads beneath the Church — 
resurrected white chalk circle 
on the asphalt, there past a hearst, 

and climbed from the ditch without repent
said prayers proclaimed to God
and never stopped to think about 
the snowfall, and of it, how odd

what was once a breath refused to rest,
flurries fell down, they flowed, 
like punctuated white rivers ran
up to the earth from spirits below

now they say, and believe who you may,
that “the boys came apart at the seams — ” 
but the children relay a roar, like a wave,
from the woods (from something unseen)

they ran through the snow convinced to get home
stumbled in their maze of dead trees,
but as they grew cold, frost-chilled and alone,
they fell down, their bodies — dead leaves.


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