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The Flame

An insurmountably small spot, an ember, the first wisp of aura itself.

The Flame is one that grew through restraint, through being touched rather than claimed, through being held rather than kept, through being given and not being lost.

It is not a god for it existed before the gods, it is not personal for most do not hear it's crackle.

It lives within the hearts of life, it is returned through death, and it is directed through choice.

From the Gorgon who builds something beautiful, to the Lang Yaogui who speak of interconnectedness and releasing, to the Huntsmen who touch the hearts of the pained.

The Flame grew from restraint and from that growth came life.

#writing #writingblr #greek mythology #fantasy writing #poetry

The Den

Seven hundred years before our Houses. Seven hundred years before our Founders.

There was the old den— cold, stone-rotted, and hollowed by fear.

That is where a young Gorgon lived, watching pain calcify, watching hearts abandoned before they ever learned to harden.

Gorgo Aix— the Den Mother, the Saint of Skill.

She was exiled for caring too greatly, for moving too swiftly, for being unsightly to those who worshipped strength without mercy.

But she did not squalor.

She built her home where our homes now stand.

She trained her body where the Euryale now train— learning endurance where none was given.

She raised a forge from dirt, clay, and scale where the Medusa now hammer— teaching fire to obey patience.

And she laughed, and danced, and recited where the Stheno now stand— proving joy itself could be disciplined.

She took in the lost because she had been lost.

She took in the forgotten because she had been forgotten.

And she took in those willing to try, not because they were strong— but because she wished to see them shine.

#poetry #writingblr #spilled ink #gorgon lore #mythology #thehuntsmen #the huntsmen #fantasy writing

Euryale the Eldest

The strength to push, The will to hear what must be said, The mercy to reach a hand down to those weaker.

This is what it means to be of House Euryale, But before our hands ever touched a sword, Before pride became our oath, There was Euryale, cast out not for fear, But for standing up for those smaller than herself.

The old den was cold, harsh, and rigid, Caring only for power without reason. When they cast out the youngest, it was the eldest who stepped in.

"How is this right?" Euryale asked, her muscles tight with indignation. "She’s a child—how does what she looks like matter?"

But the elders, cold and cruel, Saw her strength as a challenge to their control.

In exile, Euryale heard the swift sounds of cutting. In the clearing behind the rocks, she found the Saint of Skill, the Den Mother.

"Hello, dear," the woman said. "Why do you merely watch and not join in? The training of the body forges the pride of will."

Euryale, rubbing her strong arm, stepped closer and asked, "Is will not a challenge? Is strength not just brutishness?"

Gorgo Aix dug her spear into the ground. "Well, when things are unfair, shouldn't they be challenged?" she said. "Strength, real true strength—the kind even Hestia in her peace could respect— Is not about the strong bullying the weak, nor mere brutishness. It is the will, mercy, and guidance used to protect the hearth."

She spoke honestly, with a soft smile. "Only those with strength of heart understand that Strengthening the body without the mind and heart is vanity. Thus, the opposite must be true for pride."

Seeing how tired Euryale was from the walk and the experience, Gorgo Aix added, "Come, dear, a warrior’s mind is sharpest when it understands When it’s okay to set the blade down and rest."

Stheno the Middle

Gracefulness is flow. Flow is movement. Movement is freedom.

We of House Stheno understand this. We live it — in our writing, our dancing, our art.

But before our House, before we laced our sandals, before movement became our craft, there was our progenitor — the Gorgon Stheno.

She was cast out of the Den not for lack of beauty, but for what the original Gorgons called weakness of heart.

“A monster doesn’t deserve freedom,” they would say. “We know our place.”

Stheno loved freedom, but she was too young to understand where it came from, that the old Gorgon were not free.

The Gorgons of that age, ruled by fear and hate, drove her into the cold winter’s night.

For to them, freedom meant rebellion — a threat to control, a thirst for what might be instead of what is.

Abandoned, Stheno wandered through frost and silence until she heard a song — soft steps, a voice in the snow.

There, in a lonely clearing, the Saint of Skill moved and hummed, her steps gentle, her body flowing like water.

“My dear,” said the woman, pausing mid-step, “why do you only watch? This is a time of revelry — a time for joy. Dionysus watches, and he laughs!”

Stheno hesitated. “But is dancing and singing not vanity by another name?” she asked.

The Saint smiled, taking her hand. “My dear,” she said, “movement is a common gift — a thing anyone can use. But only those who labor with effort and time earn the freedom and pride that movement becomes.”

She saw the scratches on the young Gorgon’s feet and hands, the frost upon her skin.

“Come,” said the Den Mother softly. “First, rest. A movement born of exhaustion will always be incomplete.”

#worldbuilding #fantasy writing #original fantasy #mythology inspired #writing #gorgon #greek mythology #urban fantasy #writingblr #the huntsmen

Huntsmen magic system

Aura- The life-blood of the universe, if you know how to do it you can change its form this is where the concept of magic comes from in the human world

and in fact most "stage magic" is actually real magic but humans who are not half night-creature justify it in their minds being fake

Aura expansion- Expanding ones aura can act as a detection system, in order to do so it requires calmness and stillness, the calmer and stiller you are the further you can expand it, non-halfling mortals who has knowledge of this have called it many things such as Qi, Mana, Life force they are all aura, and those proficient with them have an easier time learning how to use aura

Aura Senses- A type of sensing that wolves and other Animalia night creatures are proficient in, it is the opposite of aura expansion as it brings the aura in and enhances the senses

Aura vibrations- A proficient user of aura can use vibrations to tell certain medical health of people or animals though a medium such as a needle or a stethoscope

divination: An offshoot of aura expansion, where one focuses the aura through a diviner an object that allows you to focus the aura. Those whom follow divination are usually devout followers of the gods of fate. The issue with divination is that you are only seeing one potential path of the future, nd that path can be changed. Warning, those who use divination are cautioned against over using it as it can have negative effects on the mortal and godly psyche

matter transmutation- because aura is the life blood and connects everything and everyone including the elements and materials around them, one of the ways of using it is changing one matter into another the most complicated of this trick is turning one element into another of the same class ie lead to gold but this also comes with the most simplest of aura manipulation and usually the first a huntsman will learn how to do, changing one phase of matter into another such as turning the air around you into water Memory magic: a dangerous subset of auramancy specifically aura expansion inheriting its requirement for stillness, memory magic allows a user to go into the mind of another

The danger of it is that an unskilled user may lose themself

Djinn are highly qualified users do to their unique psychology from having a shared crystallized memory allowing them to have an anchor, though even they are not immune to becoming lost.

Emotional resonance: an offshoot of memory magic, where one aligns their emotional state to another

It requires touch.

the danger of falling into another's psyche ehile present is less because all you are doing is matching your emotion to the targets.

Useful for grounding another.

It is also what allows huntsmen to purify negative night creatures thus making it one of the easiest skills to learn as it mirrors empathy.

The one risk with emotional resonance is losing yourself in the emotions of the target.

Notes:

for matter transmutation beyond the mere simple, there will always be a cost the universe doesnt appreciate when its rules are bent or broken, whether it is madness, muscle weakness, blindness.

the universe will take its due.

#the huntsmen #huntsmen lore #magic system #fantasy worldbuilding #aura magic #auramancy #divination #memory magic #urban fantasy #original fantasy #writing fantasy #worldbuilding notes

thehuntsmenwriter

Medusa the Younger

By Nicholas Lamare Before our Houses, before pride became our modus, before the Saint of Skill opened her arms —

there were still Gorgons. We were a culture ruled by fear and pain, divided by what was seen outside, not united by what dwelled within.

Weakness was treated as vice itself. We cared more for the monster than the person beneath the scales.

Medusa — the youngest of our founders — was cast from her den of birth, from the family that shared her blood, because her arms were not fit, because her face was not “beautiful,” because all that mattered to them was what they saw on the surface.

Abandoned, lost amid the sea rocks, she heard the rhythm of iron striking steel. The child, fear in her heart, watched from behind the stone as a tall Gorgon — snakes long and glinting, eyes as sharp as Hephaestus’ forge — lifted her hammer and brought it down, each strike a burst of flame and spark.

The woman set her hammer aside and turned toward the trembling girl.

“Dear one,” she said, “hiding who you are will not work with me — for I see your heart, and hear the fear that lies in it. worry not, i will not judge you, come and show me you”

The girl pressed a hand to her chest and stepped forth. Her body was thin from hunger, but her gaze never left the forge. The warmth drew her like a heartbeat.

“I apologize for intruding,” she whispered. “I heard your hammer — and I was drawn to its sound.”

The snake-haired woman smiled softly, her hand resting upon the anvil.

“The forge is not mindless noise,” she said. “It is pain made purpose — the heart of fire itself. It is where effort meets time and gives birth to pride — the power to create beyond blood or story.”

Hearing the child’s stomach growl, the woman laughed gently and beckoned her inside.

“We will continue after the feast,” she said. “A starving smith is one who strikes her own thumb.”

Her story began in fear and hate, yet it became more — not through shared hate, but reforged through time and effort.

#poetry #spilled ink #writeblr #gorgon lore #mythology