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A moment of your time prior to delving into this venture, if I may. I know you are eager; your time is precious. I’ll be brief.
Everything you are about to read is true. Magic is real, and the events I have described happened as I say they happened, and if that shocks you to the point of disbelief, well, perhaps these are not the tales for you. Move along. I shall not breathe nor scrawl any mention of you having been here. Consider yourself safe.
This information is also false. All tales necessitate a certain amount of, shall we say, embellishment, else they are not stories, but merely facts. And really, what fun are those?
But, oh, they happened, and are in fact still happening now. The histories, the character portraits (or character assassinations) are all factual. To a point. These secrets I tell … some would say they are not mine to tell at all. They may be right in that, and some secrets are best never told. I have considered the risks, weighed the possibility of judgement, in this life or the next, and here I am, still, quill placed to parchment. Metaphorically speaking.
This is the Otherrealm—that faerie’d land beyond the mirror; that secreted place where the lost or harried souls fled, where the old gods moved to, once their places in our world had ceased to be, and where She yet hides Her many secrets from His sight.
It may be a familiar tale to you; the greatest stories have been told so many times that their telling is embedded in our hearts, intimate and warm as hearth and home. This is not a retelling, however, for I loathe the very concept. I don’t want to hear about the Golden Fleece again. I know how Hansel and Gretel died.
I want to know what happened after. And so I went and saw. I took copious notes.
So please, peruse. And be welcome to the Otherrealm. Tread with care…
And speak not of this to anyone you do not implicitly trust.