This April Fools Day is going to look a little different here at Arcbeatle Press. As many of you may be aware, Lungbarrow by Loomlight is on the horizon! So, instead of a anthology of humorous tales from our talented pool of writers, this year we're bringing you three vignettes, of varying hilarity, to tease this highly anticipated release. 

In our final vignette, we return to the Base of Operations for revelations, and a story to remember...

If you didn't read our first two vignettes:, you can find them at the links below:
The Fall of Lungbarrow by James Hornby
Lungbarrow? Can You Use it in a Sentence by Hunter O'Connell

This April Fools Day is going to look a little different here at Arcbeatle Press. As many of you may be aware, Lungbarrow by Loomlight is on the horizon! So, instead of a anthology of humorous tales from our talented pool of writers, this year we're bringing you three vignettes, of varying hilarity, to tease this highly anticipated release. 

Our second story takes us to La Kraw el Sol: Lungbarrow? Can You Use it in a Sentence? by Hunter O'Connell

La Kraw el Sol, orbiting about 200 miles above Heaven, Sheol
 
It was with increasing frequency that Kwol would barge in on their designated partner Larles, during her so-called “Kwol-free” time in their ship’s library. This was why, today, Kwol made up their mind that they would knock before entering.
 
They forgot to do that, and would, for the hour after being made aware of it, profusely apologize to Larles, who didn’t actually care but pretended to in order that she could hold it as a dagger over Kwol’s head if she needed something.
 
Larles herself was reading an anthology edited by one Hunter O’Connell, who according to her intensive research did not exist anywhere in the Totality. How odd. “Hello Kwol,” she said, her nose still in the book. “Where did we end up getting this one?”
 
“Chris is in his room.” Kwol did not seem to register that Larles had asked a non-rhetorical question, which caused her to close her book with a sigh.
 
“Yes. He lives there. He tends to be in his place of residence. Our nomadic lifestyle of hopping from planet to planet is, I have been told, uncommon.”
 
“Yes, but he’s talking in his sleep-pod.”
 
“You talk in your sleep too. I imagine many people do.”
 
“Yeah, sure, but he’s talking like… he’s having a conversation with someone. I caught some of it. A mirror. A place called Lungbarrow. A canvas.”
 
“…Lungbarrow? Can you use it in a sentence?”
 
Kwol leaned their weight on a bookshelf, which Larles took to mean they were unenthused. “Look, I think he’s having a bad dream or something. And the last time he had a bad dream he had to have his memory cut out of his head by that Suala whatsername.”
 
“So you’re suggesting we watch him while he’s sleeping?”
 
“No, I’m suggesting we prepare to listen if he wants to get into the grimy details.”
 
She considered for a beat, then prodded, “Why did you come here just to tell me to listen to Cwej? I listen to him more often and with more intensity than you.”
 
“Nuh-uh!”
 
“Oh, so this will be a very easy follow-up question. What did he say yesterday? He said it directly to you. I only overheard it, and I can remember exactly what it was.”
 
Kwol stammered through at least three dozen “um”s before landing on the expected answer. “I dunno.”
 
Larles exhaled something between a chuckle and a cough. “Right. Anyways, about this book, do you know who edited this?”
 
Kwol glanced at the cover. “Doesn’t ring a bell, no. But how important can they be? Not like they’re involved with you or me in any way, so why worry?”

This April Fools Day is going to look a little different here at Arcbeatle Press. As many of you may be aware, Lungbarrow by Loomlight is on the horizon! So, instead of a anthology of humorous tales from our talented pool of writers, this year we're bringing you three vignettes, of varying hilarity, to tease this highly anticipated release. 
First up is The Fall of Lungbarrow by James Hornby. Stay tuned for further releases throughout the day. 

A violent breeze whipped about the valley. Dionus pulled his long robes tight around him, wishing he’d have dressed a little more sensibly for the trek across the wilderness. As always, his people’s tradition carried more weight across the ages than common sense.  

In the far distance, beyond the fields of emerald-petaled flowers, Mount Lung dominated the skyline, its three peaks beckoning him towards it like a taloned hand, despite his best intentions.  

He’d always found the place ominous, an omen of darker times to come. Indeed, he recalled his own journey to its Plutarch peak, where the Kingmaker imparted her own cryptic prophecy to him on the night he was granted his timeship. The memory made him shiver, and he swore then he would never return.  

And return he would not. He averted his gaze from the triune colossus, reminding himself of his reason for traversing this desolate place, and how long a journey he still had ahead of him.  

Though as he tried to alter his path towards the Inland Sea, the mountain found another way of drawing him back. 

The wind picked up, even harder now. The blast came so hard that the skin on his cheeks began to ripple. Curiosity got the better of him, and he turned his head back to the jagged blot of white on the horizon.  

But it wasn’t all white. Something large and black was sliding down the mountainside, kicking up a trail of grey in its wake. Dionus could only stare in disbelief. The object plummeted at a rate of knots, before it crashed into the base of the mountain, leaving little more than a pile of rubble. 

“Lungbarrow…” Dionus whispered, as the wind whipped the word from his lips, and carried back across the valley to the Time City. He felt his heart sink. The fall of a House was no small affair. 

Whatever happened there was significant, and on this planet little that happened was significant. He was lucky to have seen it, as the events would no doubt be shrouded in mystery once the authorities arrived. He recalled the same happening to the House of Marnal after its Kirthriarch went missing, its Loomlings absorbed into higher House without a further word spoken.  

“Change is definitely on its way,” Dionus said with a sigh. 

"You’re just imagining it," said his mother, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He nuzzled against it, soaking in her warmth as if for the first time in centuries. All the while, his eyes lay fixed upon Lungbarrow, shattered at the base of the mountain. 

“Should we go and help them?” Dionus asked. He knew what his instincts were telling him, but the decision wasn’t his to make. 

His mother shook her head. “I’m sure there are far more important players than ourselves involved in what’s happening there. Now come on, Casmus won’t be happy if we don’t return by Sunsbreak tomorrow. You remember what happened last time you disappointed him…” 

Dionus winced at the memory, and spared a thought for Lungbarrow’s own Kithriarch, hoping they weren’t caught up in the House’s fall. 
​
Reluctantly, Dionus followed his mother away from the fallen House. As they went, he uttered a silent prayer for Lungbarrow, hoping one day it would get its chance to rise from ruin.