Somewhere in New York City, Morgain le Fey has a small stronghold, warded from any form of mystical detection. It is here that she has brought her prisoner ( Read more... )

It's been an odd 24 hours ( Read more... )

The Green Chapel is within a deeply wooded area, built into the side of a hill. The only ceiling is made up of interweaving tree branches, and a small creek runs through the center of the chapel. One of the walls has collapsed, and a second wall has vanished completely. At the front of the chapel is an altar carved out of a tree trunk. The whole ( Read more... )

Ian sighs. This has to be the most indirect way to England that he's ever been.

Not a single ticket available out of Providence. Not a one. Not for at least a day ( Read more... )

Ian McDougal sighs, running his fingers through his hair. The stacks of books before him would intimidate most grad students; he's only a third the way through the pile now, meaning he's got hours left until he's done. It'll be another late night in the library ( Read more... )