This story began with the hearts of two remarkable people. Before you read a single word, I want to thank them.
Belle Strömberg, your strength and spirit lit the spark. This story was born from a place of pain, and my hope is that it honors you in the only way that feels right—with love, always.
Portus Strömberg—my moon and stars—I’m endlessly grateful that you’re part of my journey. Your quiet wisdom and gentle encouragement have not only deepened my understanding of the Gorean world, but helped me grow in my writing and beyond. My wonderful Welsh man, I love you.
Though this story is still unfolding, this part is dedicated to Belle: daughter of Amira and Marleneus Strömberg, sister to Portus and Saga, aunt to Caspian and Elodi, and sister and best friend to Niamh.
Within these pages are the echoes of your family’s love and the moments that make this world whole.
Silas had wandered far, chasing whispers of wind and the shimmer of light that felt just right. He sought a place where the birds sang without fear, where the sun spilled gold across the earth like a blessing. A final place. A sacred place. One where her memory could take root and bloom for lifetimes.…
Dear Belle, It might take long before this letter finds you. You might not even know or remember me. It was a brief flicker of time — I saw you. And nothing has felt quite the same since. I’ve spent days wondering what color your eyes truly are, and whether you hum to yourself while…
Belle had missed the delivery on the day the next letter arrived, she had spent the day in the forest collect berries and just taking in all that the God’s surrounded them with, the beauty the unknown. She once enjoyed the time alone but since her days gad grown cold and dark, the happiness that…
In the hustle and bustle of the docks, Belle went about her daily ways, the sounds of the birds landing and sqawking while they fasted on the scraps of fish being tossed aside. The laugher of the people trading woth the merchants that had docked. Her basket hooked on her arm and her thoughts with…
Belle had received the letter, given by the same boy that carried the smile of innocence. She dared not to ask him of the man who wrote such words to her. Words that had brought yet a smile to her lips, a spring to her step abd for once in a very long time a…
[07:48] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “oh what a lovely surprise…Belle!….extends my arms for an embracee [07:48] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): Arriving to the land where her brother lived and pushed the scroll of the name down in her pouch, Walking along the docks she turned the corner and there he was. Smiling wide.. “Portus” she says as…
My moonlit heartflare, Once again my fingers betray me, moving faster than my thoughts, rushing these words onto the page with nothing but a fragile hope. I do not know if this ink will echo the warmth of the last ones, or if it will drift to you like a lost whisper in the wind.…
A sound tore from Silas’s throat—no word, no command. Just grief unleashed. “NOOOOO!!!” The choice was there, twisted cruelly in the split-second that followed: chase the thieves and reclaim what they stole, or fall to her side and bear witness to what might be her last breath. There was no deliberation. His boots struck the…
Crows Murder 