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Cajek Veilwinter

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2022

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33 Followers
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60 Stories

1141 karma pts

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Memories in the Fog

Weekly Contest #329

It was a dark and stormy night as the young terrier male sat at a corner table of a forgotten tavern in a drenched overcoat, waiting for his mysterious contact.The “Fog District” of Vulane - the City of Lies - was a place to go to forget - and be forgotten - by the outside world. Even the Veilwinter Silvermasks rarely stomped around the place.But every resident of the Fogs was known to every other, at least by sight. Their true names - or at least what they were named when they were born - had been lost in the mists.A lute from an enchanted ...

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Beneath Hollow Roots

My companion hesitated as she looked at her cup of tea.“Do not worry,” I said, smoothing my black skirt. “I do not poison potential customers.”It was midmorning and the dew had just lifted off the grass and strange plants in my witch-garden. The person sitting across from me in my hut was what some would call a ‘rogue’. Her reason for visiting me was pedestrian, but the fact that she was able to find me at all was anything but.“Now,” I began, “the last ingredient for your potion is a Ghostrose from the Drenchlash forest, just East of here.”“...

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Time for a Break, I Think

Weekly Contest #321

“Okay, I think those are good levels,” Dr. Lynxala - a Patheurian - said as he double-checked his spreadsheet.Wormholes were the ultimate workaround for the pesky speed of light barrier and Dr. Lynxala was studying them. He was the head of the Blackdeep research facility: a place so secret that even the admiralty of the Alliance of Planets was unaware of its existence.Dr. Lynxala’s long, furry tail wrapped around his left leg, as it always did during these tests. One wrong number and the anti-protons that power the generator could either col...

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Essenash's Guide to Blood Curses

Weekly Contest #318

I have learned in my extensive travels that, in the East at least, it is customary to begin an epic tale with an invocation of one’s muses. To that effect, I invoke the name of Essenash:Essenash the Spectacular. Essenash, (formerly) of the Flying Citadel.He of the Golden Bough, found via miracle by Lithilin the Splendid in the divine ancestral lands of the Procyonids across the Great Ocean.To him I dedicate this, my autobiography.I shall begin at the beginning. Not my beginning, but the beginning of everything: The antecedent of everyone who...

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Dark and Shifting Mists

The golden fields of Hearthmere stretched endlessly under the summer sun, a gentle breeze making the stalks of wheat ripple like an ocean of gold. In the heart of the village - among cottages with thatched roofs and bustling burrows - a small hare dashed between the wooden fences, a grin spread across his young face. “Callithin, slow down!” an older hare called, balancing a sack of flour over his shoulder. “If you knock over the baker’s wife again, she’ll have you peeling turnips for a week!” Callithin only laughed, skidding to a stop just b...

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The Rain in Vulane

Weekly Contest #288

The rain in Vulane never stops,Dripping down in silver drops.It hums on rooftops, taps on glass,And whispers lore as it falls past. Even in the ancient days, the place that was now known as Vulane had been cursed - or enchanted - with continual rainfall. In the deepest, subterranean parts of the aqueduct there were cave scrawlings of creatures in the rain, scurrying for shelter or hunting large game. The environment made it perfect for stone fruits, grapes, large produce, and rice. Grain was a little harder to come by, but Vulane - in i...

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Shadow and Mist

Weekly Contest #286

Writing the letters to his parents and his sister - the one that would understand - was difficult enough. Packing his backpack with his favorite books and laptop - ready to be destroyed - made the fur under his college uniform prickle and sprout like a horrified feline’s. Szal Veilwinter, though, was a fox... and he had to make the scene look perfect: Like he expected to return to his dorm room and his college life. Like he was merely going home for the weekend. Like there was nothing wrong. He had to let go, he told himself. It shall be all...

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Blood on Golden Wings

Weekly Contest #284

The Silent Harp was a remarkably well-built inn and tavern for such an out of the way location. Settled at the edge of the Altarhome Forest - enchanted with holy magicks - the two-story wood-and-brick structure was seemingly out of place in the wilderness. Aside from the trickle of pilgrims making their way to Altarhome Temple, very few travelers actually made it to the Harp’s sturdy hearth and spacious living quarters.  ...Except for the coming holy days of Tyr, the God of Justice - who called Altarhome his central shrine and holy site...

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Fog-Drenched and Nameless

Weekly Contest #282

The hare stood at the edge of the Fogs District, gripping his holy staff with a trembling paw. Brother Callithin was fresh from the ivory spires of the Tyrian Church and had just gotten off the slowboat to Vulane that morning... or was it night?The staff in his paw glowed with a comforting golden light, casting the narrow street ahead in pale, flickering light. “Tyr’s holy blessing,” they had called it at the Temple, where priests assured him the Light of Justice would guide and protect him. But here in Vulane, the light seemed faint, swallo...

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An Overcoat, a Flask, and a Crossbow

Weekly Contest #281

The sidestreets of Vulane were a tangled web of alleys and forgotten passages, a perfect maze for those who thrived in the shadows. Here, amidst the flickering glow of lanterns and the distant hum of the city’s opulent districts, sat a modest office between a baker and below an apothecary. The worn wooden slab above the door simply read:  “Uresh Greystone: Investigator.” Being an investigator in the City of Lies was like being a captain on a ship that had already sunk three times. Uresh was busy relighting candles in his shop when he st...

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The Library of Profanity and the Palace of Shadows

Weekly Contest #280

“...To have acquired this place you must be both cunning and rich. A rare combination, though not an impossible one.”“I appreciate the flattery. What is your name, sir?”“Mortimer, my lord.”“I see that this place is windowless. You have been here for... how many decades?”“Four I believe, my lord: ever since I was a teenager. And are you here alone?”“My sister and my wife live with me in the floor above. I appreciate that you did not ask my name. Your last name must be ‘Discretion.’”“I generally do not ask the name of the persons who step out ...

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Letters from Nowhere

Weekly Contest #279

The huge, palace-like Interpol office in Lyon was well lit. On the outside, the stark columns and shadows made it appear well ordered, but that night there was disorder within. Director Ranjit was spending another night in his usually austere office, trying to string together the breadcrumbs that his crafty opponent had left for him. The hulking tiger’s office was cluttered with maps, dossiers, coffee cups, cyphers - both broken and unbroken - and dominated by a picture of the fox he was hunting, tacked to a billboard and looking on the scen...

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Old Friends Under Shrouds

Weekly Contest #274

The night fell like a heavy curtain over the Coins district in New Nottingham. The Coins - once the wealthiest place in the world - had fallen into disrepair as the war with Veilwinter had entered its tenth year. The statues of legendary badger kings and rabbit deities who were supposedly the protectors of New Nottingham were now falling into disrepair: their copper fading and chipped in a mockery of what was happening outside.  Farah the renowned ferret thief flitted among the betting tables of The Last Drop, The Coin’s finest speakeas...

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Only Visible in Moonlight

Weekly Contest #271

Detective Skreet Snickertooth picked up the bottle of new whiskey that he was currently indulging in and examined the label against the night sky. His long rattail flicked as he rested his furry brown head on his knuckles as a mysterious new record turned in the dark corner of his private eye office. It was dark and rainy outside, making the air fresh as it danced into his forgotten room. “Sade Mountain Whiskey,” he slurred, leaning in his leather chair. “Barrel aged. And look at that...” he said, turning the nearly empty bottle towards the ...

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A Little Soup and Sorrow

Selthia and her companion sat in the corner of the dimly lit inn, her dark fur and long brush streaked with mud from weeks of travel. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting long shadows on the rustic wooden walls of the remote village tavern. Her once-ornate cloak - embroidered with the fine silver thread of her lineage - was now threadbare, its brilliance dulled by the harsh wilderness and the weight of the past. The jackal sitting across from Selthia was a few years older than her, and was well armed with a magical staff lean...

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