Berries & Ink/Issues/Berries-03-01

Publication: Berries & Ink

Volume: 03

Issue: 01

Issue Date: April 1, 2026

Contributors: Eruwyn, Shaoimhe, Valynn, Crobin, Stelling, Allye, Vendelt, Karatyna, Jaelia, Qij, Harkour, Dilemma, Kiashandra

Editor: Illiya

You tap a pale blue paper. A blob of berry-red wax is affixed to the paper. It is imprinted with a plump strawberry nestled in a crown of delicate leaves. You gently open the folded paper.

[~* Soft light breaks across pale blue paper sky above a sun-drenched forest clearing with rain-streaked strawberries and inkpots framing the hand-lettered script: *~] Berries & Ink - Volume 3, Issue 1 [~* Editor's Note *~] Dearest Readers, For a time, I wasn't entirely certain that I would be writing this. It took us a little longer to find our way back, but sometimes the most important thing is not when you begin, but simply that you do: that you find a way forward despite the many reasons to stay still. And so, gently, here we are again. I am moved beyond words by the massively talented souls who gave their brilliance to these pages and our faithful readers whose encouragement never wavered. Your dedication and belief has been the guiding force behind every page, giving us the light to walk together into this new beginning. You will find familiar comfort in the voices of Allye, Crobin, Eruwyn, Shaoimhe, and Valynn, joined by new columnists Harkour, Jaelia, Karatyna, Stelling, and Vendelt - each bringing their own distinct worlds and ideas. Along with contributors Dilemma, Kiashandra, and Qij, they round out this issue with pieces that linger long after reading. Whether the skies above you are blue or grey, I hope these pages remind you that even after the storm, there is still so much worth tending and sharing. May your days ahead be gentle, and may you find your own moments of light between the clouds. Yours in the journey, Illiya [~* With Gratitude to Our Sponsors *~] [SmithingServices] Do you need a clown suit? Does your cousin? Contant Hanryu for all your armor needs! [QIJ] This ad brough to you by Qij. [~* Twin apple tree branches abloom with pale pink petals embrace the words "Guess Who? by Eruwyn Cholares" *~] A sylphlike, Elven woman stands with her angular face tilted upwards, her blazing blue eyes are speckled with golden ink to give them an impishness, while her raven-black hair displays the same metallic shading at its silky tips. A sleeveless longcoat is worn draped over a fire-hued songsilk blouse with an asymmetrical neckline and a pair of alabaster trousers of similar material follows her legs. Knee-high boots encase her feet and calves in supple black leather. Her hands are held out at her sides, where flickers of flame have been painted flowing up her arms, the hues standing out against the paleness of her skin. (Last issue's portrait: Nilme. Winner: Allye. MAIL in your guess for this month! The winner will be revealed next issue.) [~* A tiny cartoonish tart carrying a bindle walks atop the words "The Traveling Tartling by Shaoimhe Bramblebairn" *~] Hello, it's me! SheShe! Back for the THIRD edition of Berries and Ink! That's a lot of editions...just think of all those words. And you still came back for more! Well, this time around I hope to give you something a little different yet again. See, I haven't really seen too much of Elanthia, but I want to more than anything. So I thought, what if I take you all along with me! Each issue, I am going to follow my wanderlust and write about my experiences as I travel from sandy desert to snowy mountain and everything in between. I'll share my thoughts on the food, the people, the shops...do you think they have tarts, well, everywhere? I guess we'll find out together. I hope you enjoy the upcoming adventures of The Traveling Tartling! [~* Eat This, Not That by Valynn Aehre *~] The Lamb's Shank in Zaldi Taipa is ruled by Madikh, a tiny, black-eyed woman who commands her open-air kitchen with nothing more than an eyebrow lift, a sharp glance, and the rare thwap of her wooden spoon. Her apprentices scatter at her slightest look and the food they produce is magnificent. The goat pahodei is hot, juicy, and unapologetically greasy opposite the assorted blossom salad offering a sweet, tender crunch. The fire-roasted bison tenderloin will clear your sinuses and steal your heart while the deep-fried persimmon terati is pure, palate-coating pleasure. Wash it all down with a glass of the amber persimmon wine and consider yourself fortunate. Madikh will not fuss over you. She will simply feed you extraordinarily well and isn't that more than enough? * Outdoor seating. No reservations. Arrive hungry. [~* The Adventures of Lavacano Gator, Ch. 21: Between Breath and Silence by Crobin Yuanfen *~] Moonlight filtered through the Grove as Zynell's voice rose in steady chant. Illiya knelt nearby, hands glowing faintly as she watched Lavacano's still form. "His spirit lingers," Zynell whispered, voice tightening. "But something else holds him." The boar bead at Lavacano's neck trembled. For a moment the air grew warm, like distant war drums echoing through stone. The leaves above them stirred though no wind blew. Illiya leaned closer. "Did you feel that?" Zynell did not answer. Her chant deepened. And somewhere far away, in darkness between heartbeat and silence, Lavacano stirred. [~* Bottles and flasks sprout from thorny vines encircling the title "Measured Pours by Stelling Constalon" *~] Many a whiskey, whisky and ouisque Fill the shelves of bars o'er the land Cigars infused with it Even kept in kitchens, enhancing sweets and meats Many lacking flavor and character Though in a pinch, all do the trick Drink the worst quick But the rarest of all, the best, are quite treats Have you ever had a bottle of Idon's Wench? Perfect offsets of bitter and sweet You will desire more Best find someone with a wand or a crate Jackal's Reserve is missing the bitter bite Gentle, easing, relaxingly sweet Quite a smooth drink If you missed Hollow's Eve, you might be late Last, far from least, the best I have found Spice, sherry, fruit, chocolate and smoke Liquid comfort, puts you at ease Chelsea Estate's Special Reserve, at Medir's Tavern, awaits [~* Myths of the Mouse by Allye Karayilma *~] The sun shone bright on Arthe Dale. The jousts were to be held again, and young Klineklaus could have leapt for joy! Last time, he'd been but a mouseling, awestruck and clinging to his mother's skirt in the crowd. Now, he nearly tripped over his own tail in his hurry to the Greensward. Suddenly, a trundling caravan veered unseen toward sweet Granny Tansy, a hunched, elderly mouse tapping her toothpick cane! "Watch out!" he cried, dashing to pull her clear of both wheel and hoof. "Ah, thank you, gallant Knight," the frail mouse said, her milky eyes twinkling. Klineklaus blinked. "Oh no, Granny, I'm not-" But she shushed him and ushered him on toward the stands. The young mouse scampered forward, floating through a dream as he saw the jousts again, now with new eyes. [~* The Dark Dyaus, Ch. 1: Tenebran and the Price of Knowing by Vendelt *~] I fiddled with my golden crocodile for a little bit before thumbing the ignition switch to light my last cigarillo - no sparks came out, I forgot the damn thing was busted still. Flicking the damp butt into the mud with a sigh, I stepped out into the road from under the safety of the Great Dyaus and into the pouring rain as I lifted my hood. The dim gaethzen lamps cast a weak sickly yellow upon the muddy road as I made my way back home, putting me just as ill at ease as the previous encounter had. Things weren't right in this town anymore. Some elven dame had come to me with an odd question, something weird, something she could only trust me with. I hadn't answered her right away. In this line of work, it's not the questions that matter - it's the price of knowing the answers. [~* Aether and Whiskers - A Pop and a Hop: The Familiar's First Stop by Karatyna *~] I drifted in Aether, a wisp in the haze Until a sharp tug pulled me out of the maze. "SUMMON!" she shouted, the magic took hold I zipped from the Aether, so brave and so bold. I landed on stone as a Gerbil of fluff My Lady was kind, she was made of good stuff. She looked at my nose with a smile on her face My Warrior Mage in this magical place. I scurried about on my tiny pink feet The world was so grand and so strange and so sweet! I sniffed at the grass, I took in the view Oh, what a joy to see something so new! But then came a Bear, heavy, brown, and so grand A Fir-type familiar who ruled all the land. He chomped me right up with a hungry "Ker-gulp" And turned my poor self into magical pulp. [~* Community Commentary by Mother Jaelia Evensong *~] Have you considered locally crafted items to fill out your wardrobe? Phoebe's Fashions in Arthe offers amazing garments, including shamrock polka-dot smocks and frocks, along with tasteful designs in chocolate, tangerine, and lemon chiffon. I have so many gowns, dresses, skirts, corsets, bodices and more, yet never enough slippers, blouses, and accents to complete them. Dye Shops provide a myriad of colors, but true character comes from detail. The Clothiers in Haven offer beautiful additions, including jeweled, beaded, feathered, and frilled designs. Support your local craftspeople, and you will always find the pieces that bring everything together in a way that feels truly your own. [~* The Search for The Rootkeeper by Qij *~] I am certain, though uncertain why, that somewhere is a place where the afterlife settles its accounts. Perhaps Qijs are admitted, though I suspect the door sticks for us. For years I have quietly chronicled the doings of one I call The Rootkeeper. He tends the forest's fractures with an unhurried rhythm, an almost deft plodding, settling what storms, time, and foolishness have unsettled. On rare occasion I have found him, listening beyond the bramble. Before I can spot any wrong, he is righting, mending a break, and moving along whatever thread he follows....Some story through the roaming loam. Perhaps I simply pursue a diligent gardener...but I think more. Whatever its beginning, and toward whatever end it may stretch, The Rootkeeper has been courteous not to show me. For now, I prefer the company of question to the staleness of answer. [~* One Year So Long and So Short: Spring Comes by Harkour Navarre *~] Warmth blossoms in the air Growing so much warmer like our love. Nights spent held entwined And days longing for the one dreamt of. The wind smells sweeter Filled with flowers and your perfume. Time apart like hours And time together over too soon. Our days grow like spring Flowered with light, passion, and joy. Blessed for your smile And the love you give a boy. These days all carefree While I share them with you. The sunsets become promises Of a future we strive to make true. Every dawn has a sunset Those days draw to a close. Forging moments into memories That time weathers as it flows. [~* What the Sea Does Not Divide by Dilemma Al'thor *~] It is a common habit to divide the world into what we welcome and what we fear. We are taught to seek the shallow, sun-warmed waters of Eluned and the guiding winds of Lemicus. We sometimes act as though we can choose what to take from it, as if we can take the calm of the water but refuse the dark weight beneath it. But the sea does not know such boundaries. We must also acknowledge the reach of Drogor's depths. The wind that fills a ship's sail is the same breath that whips the waves into a fury. The tide that carries us home is the same pull that leads to the sea floor. There is a kind of peace in that vastness. Not because the water is safe, but because it does not choose between what we welcome and what we fear. The same truth can be found in the people we hold close. You do not truly take a hand if you reach only for the light it holds. You must also be willing to stand in the shadow it casts. If the sea is the whole of the world, then even the storm belongs to it. It does not come to soften what it touches, but to shape it. And if a heart is true, then even what lies beneath it must be taken as part of the whole. [~* Where the Lantern Light Ends by Kiashandra *~] When the lantern's warm glow fades behind you, the moonlit hush awakens. The fields draw breath beneath the sky, and the air itself seems watchful. Magic does not leave this place, it lingers with ancient patience, Waiting for the quiet footfall of a mind that knows how to listen. [~* Thank you for reading! Look out for more juicy bites in the next issue! *~]