“Scholars propose the Fangwild Forest is a spacetime anomaly much like a black hole. It borders many realities, and in theory travelers might pass through it into other worlds. But they would inevitably be torn to shreds along the way.”
Smith’s Miscellany Cryptobotanica
No mortal has seen the center of the Fangwild Forest. The magic is too dense, the peril is too deep. Not the elves who live on the edges of the Fangwild. Not the adventurers and fools who brave the forest in search of paths to other universes. Not the ghouls and beasts drawn in by the call of magic. No mortal but Ember.
For thousands of years, Ember hunted the ever-changing paths of the Fangwild. With the wolf Ash and her raven Yarra, she guarded the Fangwild from itself, and protected the bordering worlds from the eldritch wood. She fought the Primordials. She befriended a lonely Minotaur. She rescued a furious viking lost deep in the Fangwild’s heart. She rode a wild dragon through the maelstrom at the heart of the forest. In ancient days before Valhalla, Fangwild’s borders touched even Asgard, and Ember walked with the first warriors among the mighty trees that would form its rafters.
“If I have to separate you two again, neither is staying in the Fangwild. And that goes for every dragon here.”
Now, amidst the glory of her afterlife in Valhalla, Ember’s mind is fixed on the Fangwild, and the Fangwild mourns its daughter. With Ember gone into Valhalla, the Fangwild has slipped into madness. Twisted and impassable, its wilds threaten to spill out across the many realms it touches. Ember knows there are paths both to and from Valhalla. She fights in the tournament, hoping that in victory she can find a way back and set things right in her forest home.