Sep 9, 2026 · 2 hr 49 min · 12 segments
CONTENT WARNINGS: Gore, Graphic violence, harm to fantasy animals, the undead, blood, self harm, allusions to torture, blades, grief, child endangerment, pregnancy, misophonia, crucifixion, dental…
Jess JewellGuestMatt RisbyGuestWrenGuestMichelle KellyGuestNarrate a flashback to a great victory won in the name of humility.
What beauty or wonder of the old fire did you see then, untouched by ruin? To the far southwest of the lands that word or the rhyme mire, a frigid disk of stinking marsh land covered in a low-lying orange fog.
It's cold and unyielding, and few would bother to make the journey to answer a call of protection for a bordering township.
But Ash trudged forward and his squire, plucked with all her regrets, followed close behind, their boots thick with muck and a cloth wrapped over their noses as they drew closer to their quarry.
On foot they trod to the heart of the mire, towards a broken ruin of an ancient Rhaegarn temple jutting up from the earth like fingertips.
And it was in there he heard the rumbling purr of great lungs.
A snatcher of livestock and now of children, the bane of the mire was a creature of varying description, but all the villagers had said was true.
A giant, a maiden beauty with a red furry body and wings like an iridescent hawk.
It was beautiful and Ash suddenly felt it was not his place to kill such a thing.
But the people feared it would pass beyond the farmlands to the towns proper and Ash couldn't let that happen.
And the purr turned into a growl of warning as Ash crested the gentle slope.
Pluck, of course, behind with the horses.
The two missing children were huddled in a bed of soft moss, unharmed in the sleep.
The same could not be said for the livestock.
Their desiccated carcasses were strewn in the far corner.
The bane was looking at Ash with a hostile curiosity, a light of intellect reflected in his eyes, and it drew itself up, displaying all twelve feet of its height as Ash held out a hand to stay its motion and asked, Do you understand my words? And its fur ruffled, its wings fluttering, its face frowning.
Give the children to me and leave this place.
And the bane hissed and snapped its eyes wild and yearning.
My children, they do not treasure them.
I mother them.
and Ash could see a light dusting of fur down the arms of both children.
She was changing them.
He was short of time.
They have their own mothers who miss them dearly.
Narrate a flashback to a great victory won in the name of humility.
What beauty or wonder of the old fire did you see then, untouched by ruin? To the far southwest of the lands that word or the rhyme mire, a frigid disk of stinking marsh land covered in a low-lying orange fog.
It's cold and unyielding, and few would bother to make the journey to answer a call of protection for a bordering township.
But Ash trudged forward and his squire, plucked with all her regrets, followed close behind, their boots thick with muck and a cloth wrapped over their noses as they drew closer to their quarry.
On foot they trod to the heart of the mire, towards a broken ruin of an ancient Rhaegarn temple jutting up from the earth like fingertips.
And it was in there he heard the rumbling purr of great lungs.
A snatcher of livestock and now of children, the bane of the mire was a creature of varying description, but all the villagers had said was true.
A giant, a maiden beauty with a red furry body and wings like an iridescent hawk.
It was beautiful and Ash suddenly felt it was not his place to kill such a thing.
But the people feared it would pass beyond the farmlands to the towns proper and Ash couldn't let that happen.
And the purr turned into a growl of warning as Ash crested the gentle slope.
Pluck, of course, behind with the horses.
The two missing children were huddled in a bed of soft moss, unharmed in the sleep.
The same could not be said for the livestock.
Their desiccated carcasses were strewn in the far corner.
The bane was looking at Ash with a hostile curiosity, a light of intellect reflected in his eyes, and it drew itself up, displaying all twelve feet of its height as Ash held out a hand to stay its motion and asked, Do you understand my words? And its fur ruffled, its wings fluttering, its face frowning.
Give the children to me and leave this place.
And the bane hissed and snapped its eyes wild and yearning.
My children, they do not treasure them.
I mother them.
and Ash could see a light dusting of fur down the arms of both children.
She was changing them.
He was short of time.
They have their own mothers who miss them dearly.
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