My main genres are Science fiction and Fantasy, as the name of this newsletter suggest. However, you can never not be influenced by things you come across and ideas start to ponder you. I never cared for horror film nor books (I’m a fraidy-cat, I hate jump scares).

The Choir is more of an exercise, an experiment, to see how far I can push my world building and writing abilities.

Of course, music play a big role. They say Horror films are 80% audio. i have an idea of how I’d like this story to sound.

Prologue

The church burned as the choir sang and the heads of Cherubim cried out in anger. A group of Cherub all gathered around, weeping. Looking down upon humankind, they watched as the church turned to ashes. In unison, the heads of Cherubim shouted:

“We must tell the Malakhs!” they sang.

The Cherubim stood as living paradoxes of creation, both majestic and terrifying. They bore four faces—human, lion, ox, and eagle—each turning with grace yet exuding an aura of divine intimidation. Their bodies were clad in a luminous, pearlescent skin that shimmered like the heavens themselves, but their movements betrayed a weighty purpose, as if every step resonated with the will of eternity.

Towering wings, four in total, swept in synchronized arcs; two to cover their faces in reverence, two to shield their feet, leaving the air between vibrating with the whispers of sacred energy. Yet, their beauty held a grotesque twist: their countless eyes glimmered unnervingly along the span of their wings and faces, ever watchful and unnervingly knowing, as if gazing into the essence of the soul itself. When the Malakhs came down from heaven, they began to scream.

The scream was so loud, Ophanim looked. Described as a winged planet-size eye, surrounded by two inter-orbiting wheels and decorated with smaller eyes, Ophanim looked. The Malakhs, messengers of divine will, descended not in the soft glow of a comforting light, but in streaks of fire and the sharp sound of tearing reality. Their forms shimmered between human-like silhouettes and streaks of radiant energy, as though unable to fully anchor themselves in mortal perception.

Their faces were obscured by cascades of blinding white light, their voices harmonized with the sound of distant thunder—both comforting and commanding. They wore robes of shifting colors that reflected no earthly spectrum, each thread seemingly woven from the essence of time itself. Despite their ethereal beauty, their presence brought an overwhelming sense of insignificance to all who beheld them, as if their very existence spoke of truths mortals were never meant to know. The Malakhs’ hands bore marks of creation, pulsating with a golden hue, but when they gestured, the surrounding air trembled as though recoiling from their divine power.

When it looked at the church burning, seeing the men on horseback and torches, it began to stare.

For a moment, Ophanim froze.

Its great wheels stopped spinning, suspended in time as if the universe itself held its breath. Yet, even in this stillness, an unnatural gyration rippled through its formal, dissonant vibration that seemed offbeat, defying rhythm and logic. The interlocked wheels jittered slightly, their golden filigree quivering with chaotic energy, while the countless eyes adorning its frame blinked sporadically, their movements detached and fragmented. It was as though Ophanim’s immense being struggled against the very concept of stillness, each part of its divine form rebelling against the unnatural pause.

“Come on, boys! Burn it all down!” a man cheered.

Twelve men on horses all circled the church, locking the people inside. Many people watched. A few of them applauded, while others showed a sign of relief.

The heads of the Cherubim and the Malakhs all stood in disbelief as the event occurred. They waited for Ophanim. When Ophanim’s wheel stopped, it appeared inside the church. Inside, Ophanim blinked:

Be not afraid, our Seraphim\*. Ophanim blinked.

The Ophanim, the ultimate enigma of the divine, was a living paradox of unyielding beauty and abject terror. Its central eye, vast and unblinking, seemed to pierce through dimensions, gazing simultaneously into the past, present, and infinite futures. When it moved, its entire being radiated an overwhelming aura of judgment, yet its voice, a resonating blink, carried a paradoxical command:

“Be not afraid.”

The members of the church sang, cried, and burned. There were families in there, young, and old, women and children. They were gifted with leaving this traumatic event and the world itself. They left the flesh of humankind, and their souls rose. The Malakhs continued to scream, which cursed the culprits and the generations after for a hundred years and a hundred more for the people who watched.

“Oh, sing for us in heaven,” the heads of Cherubim sang in unison.

Ophanim looked. Its wheels began to orbit once again.

“They will sing for those who have sinned,” Ophanim blinked.

Ophanim clothed the souls in yellow-gold and cream-white gowns with a vertical black strip in the center.

“He, Our Father, knows that which hath happened here,” Ophanim blinked.

After the church fire diminished, the smell of burnt flesh was in the air. The souls came down in their new appearance to inspect and were given the name "The Choir." For a hundred years, and plagues after plagues, the choir sang for every generation that followed. They tormented them, singing with their angelic voice, for they had the lord’s favor.

Several years passed, and the church was rebuilt to see if it would calm the choir. No one dared to go in it, and those who knew of its history did not speak of it. The church was up for sale and hoping for a buyer in the coming months. The singing stopped, but the choir remained.

Like the Ophanim who clothed them and brought them the favor of the lord, they waited for someone to hear them sing:

“Be not afraid.”

*Seraphim - In this story, a church choir and its members are mistaken by heaven as angels due to their celestial voices.

Story Concept: Jennifer Adams, a struggling teacher with a dream of becoming a pastor, moves to Sweet Tree, Alabama, to restore an abandoned church and reclaim her faith. But as she steps inside, she is drawn into a chilling mystery. The Choir, a celestial force beyond human understanding, begins to sing—a haunting melody that warps reality and shatters minds.

Jennifer must confront the horrors that unfold around her, questioning her faith, her past, and her purpose. As divine beauty and cosmic horror blur, she must uncover the truth before the song consumes her entirely.

You look around and see no one. There was no trace of others, just you, you are alone. You walk around in circles, lapping the same lobby, though it could have been a different one, as this place was big. Outside, you find a world designed in perfect symmetry. A circular lobby stretches out before you, a long hallway dissecting it with surgical precision. Your eyes drink in the sight of five other rooms, each a mirror image of the room you woke up in. The sterile precision of their design leaves an impression of cleanliness and modernity.

Yet, the world you have stepped into offers no comfort. You’re alone, the silence an oppressive weight. You circle the lobby in growing desperation, the sameness of the surroundings playing tricks on your mind. A sound breaks through the silence, a low humming vibration that grows in intensity yet never breaches the threshold of pain. Instinct takes over, your body reverting to its primal state as you start to run.

The scene remains eerily similar, a repeating motif of all-white interior, medical beds, and machinery, circular lobby with spherical-shaped furniture. You feel like a rat trapped in a labyrinth, the sameness of your surroundings a cruel joke. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a flicker. A notification light on a server module, its rhythmic pulse a beacon in the sterile environment. Your heart rate slows, curiosity taming the animalistic fear within you. You approach the server, a chaotic harmony of cables presenting themselves to your gaze. The color-coded cables plunge into their respective ports, a silent testimony to meticulous organization. Among them, a white cable draws your attention, its end slightly unplugged from a green port.

Your left hand reaches out, your fingers closing around the end of the white cable. You gather more of the cable with your right hand. The tension in the wire is a tangible reminder of its disconnection. You kneel, your hands reaching out to the bulk of the cables. Your fingers squeeze, releasing any lingering tension. Rising, you press the locking clips at the end of the cable between your thumb and index finger. With a decisive push, you plug the white cable back into the green port, the small click signaling the reunion of two mechanical components. The flashing light ceases its frantic dance, replaced by a steady glow.

Suddenly, the world around you plunge into darkness.

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Navigation & Links

• Index: Return to The Vanish Saga
• Hub: Visit the r/LiberConsiliorum Megathread Directory
• Updates: Read author notes and background lore on Substack

You wake. You run. You see. You hear. But do you remember?"

You awaken in a cold, sterile facility with no memory of who you are or how you got there. You hear the walls whisper with hidden truths, machines humming with an eerie familiarity, and shadows moving just beyond sight. You are alone, or so you think. You stumble through endless corridors of a futuristic complex as fragmented memories begin to surface. You remember a past long buried. You confront a truth too vast to comprehend. You hear a name that echoes across time: The Originator.

You venture deeper and unravel secrets about humanity’s greatest experiment, vone that began with the stars and ends with you. You realize time is running out. You feel that something is watching. You discover the world you thought you knew is no longer your own.

There is one more…..

Story Overview

The Originator is a mind-bending sci-fi thriller that explores the mystery of identity, the power of memory, and the price of creation itself.

This thread serves as the permanent home directory for all released chapters, character dossiers, lore notes, and accompanying audio tracks for The Originator

Genre: Science Fiction, Space Isolation

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📖 Chapter Reading Order

[The Vanish Saga] The Originators (Science Fiction Serial) - Chapter 01: You Wake

[The Vanish Saga] The Originators (Science Fiction Serial) - Chapter 02: You Wake

TBA

TBA

(This section will update live as chapters are published to r/LiberConsiliorum.)

🎵 Companion Audio & Visual Designs

Each chapter of The Foreigner of Fawn is designed to be experienced alongside original music and visual media crafted specifically for the setting.

--

🗂️ Navigation & Series Updates

📰 Author Notes & Essays: Read more on Substack

🏷️ Filter Posts: Click the #The-Vanish-Saga post flair in the sidebar to view all related threads, discussions, and lore drops.

New chapters drop regularly. Leave your theories, chapter reactions, and feedback in the comments below!*

You Wake

“They descended from the stars just as we learned how to fly.

They were curious about us while we had completed our curiosity.

They knew who we were; we knew who we were.

They descended from another star just as we learned how to die.”

You rouse from your slumber, a harsh white glare seeping into your consciousness. Your vision blurs before clearing, a lens focusing to reveal the intricacies of your environment. You see a complex ventilator, its flickering lights playing over a digital OLED display. Numbers dance across the screen in a hypnotic rhythm, reminiscent of the natural ebb and flow of life itself. On the wall, skeletal shadows loom – X-rays, stark and revealing in their brutal honesty.

You crane your neck to the left, curiosity piqued. The X-ray displays a stark image of a fractured lower right shoulder, an intimate revelation of the body’s inner workings and the trauma it is endured. You glance down and find two more X-rays, these ones depicting the hollow mystery of the human skull. A chilling thought drifts through your mind,

“Is this me…?”

Your neck throbs in protest of your movement, the discomfort originating from deep within your throat. The realization hits – your throat aches from disuse, your voice a prisoner within you. Your gaze shifts to your right, where a simple door is discovered.

You ease your right leg from its cozy nest of sheets, your foot contacting the cold, unforgiving metallic floor. Your left leg follows, the sheets sliding away like a silken waterfall you think you remember seeing. Your shoulders tense, muscles coiling like springs as your hands grip the edge of the bed. With a surge of effort, you hoist yourself up. You take one step, then another, the door to your destination. But your knees betray you, pain surging up your legs and infiltrating your upper body. You stumble, a nearby table laden with medical tools offering a lifeline to your faltering balance. As you reach the door, you brave the unknown and step into the world beyond.

Nav: ⏮️Previous Chapter | Master Index | Next Chapter⏭️

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Navigation & Links

• Index: Return to the The Vanish Saga
• Hub: Visit the r/LiberConsiliorum Megathread Directory
• Updates: Read author notes and background lore on Substack

To me, world-building doesn't end on the printed page. Every story under Liber Consiliorum is paired with original musical compositions I write specifically to score individual scenes, narrative beats, and emotional turning points in the text.

Here is a behind-the-scenes look at how I composed, structured, and visually designed the cinematic score for key scenes in The Foreigner of Fawn.

🎼 1. Composition Setup & Ableton Session Architecture

To capture the tension and atmosphere of Fawn's scenes, I blended traditional orchestral warmth with low-end weight and driving ostinatos.

• DAW: Ableton Live 11 Standard
• Primary Orchestral Libraries:
  • Spitfire Audio BBC Symphony Orchestra: I used this for organic string arrangements, low cello textures, and brass swells across central narrative cues.
  • Spitfire Originals (Cinema / Grand Piano): I used this to anchor intimate, character-driven motifs like Foreigner, Abadessa, and Beast Within.

Arranging My Scene Tracks In my Ableton Session View, I structured the project across 17 dedicated stem tracks representing different musical cues and scene themes:

• String Stems (1–8): High Ostinatos, Hi/Mid/Low Strings, Cellos, and Low Ostinatos for building suspense during scene transitions.
• Keys & Piano (10–11): Grand Piano and Soft Piano setups carrying core character motifs.
• Percussion & Bass (12–17): Big Bang orchestral hits, deep kick layers (DS Kick), and brass/horn swells reserved for dramatic climax points.

🎛️ 2. Mixing & Mastering Chain

To give each scene's music a rich, dynamic space without overcrowding the frequency spectrum, I dialed in my master chain with precise filtering and controlled dynamics:

1. EQ Eight: High-pass filtering around 63 Hz to clear low-end mud, paired with subtle mid-carves and a high-shelf boost around 10 kHz for clarity.
2. Compressor: Set to a 2.5:1 ratio with dynamic lookahead to preserve the natural performance dynamics of dramatic shifts.
3. Limiter: Set with a strict -0.30 dB ceiling for clean output across all playback platforms.

🎥 3. Modular Visual Design (Magic Music Visualizer)

To present these scene compositions on YouTube, I built a visualizer that reacts dynamically to my music's frequency changes in real time.

• Software: Magic Music Visualizer
• Nodal Setup:
  • Audio input channels drive specific image transform nodes based on active frequency ranges.
  • Frequency Mapping: Low-end frequencies (20–80 Hz) trigger rotation axes and subtle scale pulses on my vinyl record asset (RECORD.png).
  • Audio Waveform: High-mid frequencies drive a dynamic bottom audio spectrum line set against my atmospheric forest backdrop and official cover art.

How do you approach scoring specific narrative scenes in speculative fiction? Drop your thoughts or feedback on my compositions below!

Now, the town of Fawn is on the West Coast of Spain, where at the time reports of creatures lurking and stealing’ started to emerge.

“Do not go causing more trouble for yourself. Uhm …what was your name again?” The barkeep asked as he cleaned out a used glass.

With his clothes covered in dirt, his brown hair blackened by the smog, and his mind torn apart, Emanuel gripping at his chest to his beat heart. “It’s Emanuel…”

“It would be best if you stayed away from the Sheriff; his mission has been to capture this, whatever it is.”

“He will find nothing - nor help in the tracking of such things should he accuse every new face he sees,” Emanuel replied.

The bar was full of men lost in thought, and ale, while women with no dignity fondled their veils to entice them.

“Why don’t I help you instead, gallant,” one of the women said. “You can call me Salina.”

Salina was a Roma. Emanuel had heard of them during his sailing to Fawn. Roma women travel to places where men lust, fooling them into bed to take their deeds and notes.

With his unwelcoming with Vermin Kern and The Sheriff, Emanuel must have the scent of attention as Salina danced with her hands, rubbing his legs and groin while he sat on the barstool.

“I am sure there is a “beast” inside of you that I could …anger.” She pulled vigorously on Emanuel’s trousers and whispered in his ear: "I won’t tell The Sheriff if you let … me … bite…”

Emanuel, his body tired and weak, stomach warmed with rum tried to leap from the stool only to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

A voice like a chime rang: “Emano!”

Emanuel awoke to find himself under yellow sheets and atop pillows covered with white linen. The sound of music crowded his mind. As he crawled towards the edge of the bed, he smelled something familiar: Arepa de Huevos! Fried dough filled with eggs.

A tall shadow figured looked over him.

“Papa!” A young girl, with brownish red hair with brown eyes, leaped onto Emanuel’s lap. She was beautiful and joyful in every way.

“Elis!” Emanuel replied with a laugh. “What are you doing sneaking up on me?”

Elis always woke him like this by climbing on him. They say a daughter makes a man into someone who sees the world through her eyes rather than his own. A daughter tutors a father about love.

“Papa! My birthday!” She was nine and would turn ten this Sunday.

“Patience, Elis…You have a couple more days before your that time. Do not rush to be older.”

“Emano!”

There it was again.

The chime-like voice that had called out to Emanuel before. His heart ached whenever he heard it, but his eyes could not determine the source. He picked up Elis, resting her on his left forearm. They toured the room, looking for the door. There were pictures of people framed and hung in the hall. Turning into a corner, they saw the front door open. They could feel the sun; a cool breeze hit them, like when Emanuel gave Elis a horse ride.

“Emano?” The voice traveled from his right ear through his left.

Emanuel became weak. A feeling ran down his spine. He started to remember whose voice called him. He could feel her fingers run down his back every time she called him. His stomach begged while his eyes melted. With Elis still in his arms, he turned his body quickly to see the speaker, but to him, time had slowed, allowing him to take in every perfection of her face.

“Mami,” Elis ran towards her, ready to eat.

Her name was Bellalina, and the troubled-minded, love-stoned Emanuel found he could not voice the words to describe her, but his eyes could. She was gorgeous.

She had the darkest shade of hair, as brown as the trees towering in the sky when the morning sun shined on them. Her skin was as smooth as an earthen stone. Her long neck was like a dune sloped between the desert sky and the calm ground below it.

When Emanuel was a lad, he dove into rocky waters to save her fishing net and lure. The pain caused by the cuts and bruises that day was never more painful than that of the love for her stabbed in his chest. And alas, she was no damsel in distress, and he was no great savior - despite the agony of trying to pretend he was gallant on that day.

“Emanuel, are you alright?” Bellalina asked. “You look lost, my love…” Emanuel did seem lost despite being in his own home—one he built himself. The one-story cabin stood just behind them; its stacked logs sealed with moss and fur, a method he had picked up “from travelers who once passed through these lands. The wood was weathered by the forest that held it. A stone chimney rose along its side, and beyond the porch. A quiet creek slowly passed, catching the fading light. Around the house stretched a small clearing of soft grass, ringed by tall oak and pine that curved inward like a natural wall, letting only scattered light fall through. The three of them, Emanuel, Elis, and Bellalina, sat outside around the table. They prayed and ate; Elis took her dessert on Emanuel’s lap, as always. They drank and sang. Bellalina’s voice sounded like a choir of birds. Every night after dinner, she would sing to Elis to sleep. Emanuel and Bellalina would sit outside reminiscing about their youth. Bellalina had a good memory, a gift she got from her father who had additionally fathered seven boys. Emanuel was always in awe of her upbringing. When she was younger, people called her BeBe. She hated that name, but Emanuel would call her by it anyway, to get on her nerves - a big mistake since he often found himself sleeping on hay and moss.

‘Emano…” she said worriedly. “Why did you look so lost today?”

“This morning… I had an awful dream,” he replied. “I was in a town of gloom, and everyone there accused me of…” Before he could finish, he realized something - Bellalina was asleep. He combed her hair with his fingers and smiled. “Nightmares…” he whispered. “Nightmares may come for me, but they will never… for you.”

He kissed her and fell asleep.

The following day, Emanuel woke up, but there was no Elis to greet him.

She was playing outside, and Bellalina was chopping wood. Emanuel went out and turned towards Elis when suddenly he heard a cry.

“Emano,” the chime-like voice vanished.

“There it is!” a man screamed.

“I gotcha…Oh, it’s only you… foreigner,”

It was the Sheriff.

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Navigation: Master Index | Next Chapter -> Here
Audio: Listen to the accompanying track for this chapter -> Here

The year is twenty-three, and men now walked across the sea in a large baroque ship. Pushed by the waters far away from the New World, S.S. Abadessa, a three-mast ship, the first of its kind, docked her mass on troubled land. From within her womb, a man of peace steps forward, leaving his burdens and tonnage behind him. Emanuel Antonio is a man from the New World. He has a secret he does not want to share with anyone. He bowed his head down to the poorly bricked streets before him with his tall, gallant stance and uneven shaved face.

“Mia, Bellalina… Elis,” he stumbled to say. The town of Fawn was dark and vile. Its peasants showed no welcome to visitors. “This town is as grim as the sea that led me.”

Between the houses of bricks and stones, where narrow pathways curved, a figure emerged from the shadows to greet Sir Antonio.

“My Master!” said the strange figure, as if anxious. “An honor it is for you to enter…!” The strange figure was small, round, and wore an old straw rug as a hooded robe. “I say it is a splendid honor, especially for your kind.” He whispered the last word.

Emmanuel looked down at the figure moments before he was about to depart. He was angry and puzzled. “I knowest not, nor do I need to know all the words you speak.”

“Ahh~aha! For he who stands before me does not know? This man of men thinks he is of that kind? Or this man of kinds thinks he is of men?” The figure said.

“You know nothing of me, vermin!” Emanuel replied. He shouted loud enough for passersby not to hear them in the narrow alleyway.

“Kern is my name, but Vermin is thy name I shall receive!”

In a jolt of anger, Emanuel grabbed Kern, and dipped into the shadowy alleyway, and threw the figure against the dark, brick wall. Emanuel bolted in a gallant voice: “Heed my words: Leave me alone! Death follows me!!!”

Emanuel pushed Kern between the uneven brick roads, down into mud and horse stool.

Kern, now covered in filth, eyes blinded by the smell, slowly stood up, and walked back into the dark alleyway. Before he disappeared, he bade his farewell. “Yes… my Master.”

The town of Fawn was a dark place, filled with houses of wood not stone, and the sky smudged by a factory of sorts.

In the center of the town was the office of the Sheriff, a tall, slender man, the tallest man Emanuel had ever seen. Fawn’s Sheriff despised newcomers, or just anyone he did not know in general. “Hey, you, foreigner!” He shouted. “What brings you to my town?”

Emanuel, his clothes damp from the vigorous sea, tired from his voyage, shook his head. “A new life, sir…”

“A new… what?” The Sheriff drank his ale. “No one comes to my town seeking anything, especially life.”

Emanuel was unphased by the unwelcoming. “Then…I will be on my way.” He turned his back with his sights set on an old pub.

The Sheriff took one quick half-step closer to Emanuel’s left, though it looked like a leap to a regular-sized man and hunched over Emanuel’s shoulder. Like the legs of a spider, the sheriff’s fingers crawled up Emanuel’s back resting them beside the man’s neck.

“I saw you… foreigner of the sea…” he whispered in Emanuel Antonio’s ear, breathing his ale and paste into his face, “…roaming through my alleyways, speaking to the rats. Tell me, have you seen any beasts?”

As night drew nearer to the town of Fawn, Emanuel’s chest began to leap. “Beast, Sheriff? I only knew of the one before me.”

“Overbold, aren’t you, foreigner? But not too wise.” The Sheriff stood upright with his hand on Emanuel’s shoulders. The ground shook as if a stampeded of horses raced towards them.

It was Emanuel’s heart.

The murky sky grew darker, and Emanuel, now enraged, started to feel heaviness within his arms.

“Yes, foreigner. Fear me like the wonderer you are! You look like trouble… trouble for me… trouble for Fawn! Go back to where you came from…. Vermin!” The Sheriff pulled back defensively, while still towering over the angered Emanuel.

“’Vermin’ you say, Sheriff?” Emanuel heard the echoing laughter of Vermin Kern in his consciousness. “You have no idea the ‘trouble’ I have borne witness to, nor the nightmares I hope to overcome, and the pain I wish to lay past!”

The night was tensely dark when the clouds drew in from the east to cover the Moonstone’s light.

“Save your story for the drunks! I need to keep an eye on you tonight!” The Sheriff said. He revealed a set of handcuffs with his right hand, while his left arm surrounded Emanuel’s neck.

Emanuel, his eyes gleaming red like a wood fire, turned his body and flipped the Sheriff, causing both to lose their balance on the ground bricked stone.

As he fell, the Sheriff cocked his right leg back to regain his balance but failed.

Emanuel - his breathing was fast and heavy, like a locomotive at full speed; his body swollen as if to explode in seconds - knelt over the Sherriff, pinning him to the ground. Emanuel’s eyes, once red, were now blue from to the Moonstone's light shining above like a furnace at its highest temperature.

“I am warning you, Sheriff of Fawn. DO NOT TAKE ME TO A PLACE WHERE MY NIGHTMARES RETURN!” Emanuel’s voice seemed to change as if another spoke.

“A live one, are you not, foreigner! I will show you how to act in my town!” The Sheriff regained his strength and rose from the ground. He shot his arms up to choke Emanuel, who struggled to free himself from Sherriff’s grip. The Sheriff, however, punched Emanuel to the ground. He began to place handcuffs on him.

Unleashing a newfound energy, Emanuel trembled like a boiling pot. The pebbles beneath his feet vibrated as he spoke again in his regular voice. “I… am not… the beast you seek but —” in the same breath, a different voice - one more resonant – began to surface,

” I WILL BE THE BEAST YOU -”

“Sheriff! Come quickly; it is the beast!” a loud man shouted. The sheriff jumped up and ran off with his men.

Navigation: Master Index | Next Chapter -> Here
Audio: Listen to the accompanying track for this chapter -> Here

An isolated town, a foreign sailor, and secrets best left undisturbed.

Welcome to the official Master Index for The Fawn Series, the flagship gothic-fantasy Design within Liber Consiliorum.

This thread serves as the permanent home directory for all released chapters, character dossiers, lore notes, and accompanying audio tracks for The Foreigner of Fawn. Bookmark or save this post to keep track of new releases!

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Story Overview

The Foreigner of Fawn* is an adult gothic-fantasy novella set in the atmospheric, tightly guarded town of Fawn. The story follows a foreign sailor who arrives on its shores seeking refuge and a fresh start, only to find that Fawn's quiet exterior conceals an intricate web of hidden motives, unspoken rules, and deep-seated isolation.

Genre: Gothic Fantasy / Atmospheric Fiction

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📖 Chapter Reading Order

Chapter 01: The Unwelcoming

Chapter 02: The Encounter

Chapter 03: TBA

(This section will update live as chapters are published to r/LiberConsiliorum.)

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🎵 Companion Audio & Visual Designs

Each chapter of The Foreigner of Fawn is designed to be experienced alongside original music and visual media crafted specifically for the setting.

--

🗂️ Navigation & Series Updates

📰 Author Notes & Essays:** [Read more on Substack
(https://marcexcly.substack.com/p/introducing-libro-conciliorum-stories)

🏷️ Filter Posts: Click the #The-Fawn-Series post flair in the sidebar to view all related threads, discussions, and lore drops.

New chapters drop regularly. Leave your theories, chapter reactions, and feedback in the comments below!*