| Voice of the Neopian Pound |
Circulation: 197,695,101 |
Issue: 998 | 15th day of Celebrating, Y25 |
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Continued Series
 | The Sleepers of Saint Garfir"The trees grew so densely together that all signs of Saint Garfir had long vanished behind them. The ginger plant was a compass in Miphie’s hand. Roots entwined with..."
by josephinefarine |  | The Box from 10,000 Years Ago"Everyone fighting in Faerieland under the blizzard gets an unexpected pause as they witness the strong glow that pierces the clouds, accompanied by..."
by chantili_doce |  | Moonrise: The Origins of Team KreludorIn the midst infighting for the Moon's natural resources, the Kreludan National Yooyuball Team was just about formed.
by pikapi20 |  | The Price of Ambition"When the Golden family finally heard from Kauvara again, it was the middle of the afternoon the day after Annie and SB visited Tuskgus. Annie was sitting in the kitchen, rereading one of her favourite books, when a knock came at..."
by golden1188 |  | Knight & Squire: Preface"Rowan’s arms popped as he stretched them above his head. He let out a huge yawn, not caring that he looked like a horrified Quiggle. He slumped on the wooden bench he was sitting on..."
by terpsichorean_writer |
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"The Emerald Deep" by parody_ham
Snow. How quaint a sight. How it glows in the light of the full moon. In my arms, a bundle of blankets stirs and a little face, that of a bleary-eyed Baby Eyrie, pokes up as if to question the fuss around him. Why his mother sang such a haunting tune, or his father surrounded them with a ring of makeshift candles. We decorated a juniper tree with ornaments made of hardtack, red berries, and garlands of moss—such, my partner, Mariana, informed me, was a holiday tradition of Meridell. What they called “The Day of Giving.” We of the Citadel called it the Day of Darkness. Mariana, the Moon’s Rising. A time of reflection, of hope, of new beginnings. Setarian’s first of many, or so we wished. Looking back, it’s fitting that I met Mariana during the Month of Collecting. Fall colours—something I had not experienced until the Great War—swirled around me like things possessed. Aimlessly wandering, fallen from their tree on high to the dusty ground below. I felt their sorrow, knowing that I, too, could never find comfort from the branches above me. A Darigan, fallen. Leaving my family, my friends, and my life behind, for the hope that isolation could bring me peace of mind. Knowing full well that if I returned there, I would be branded one of Kass’ defectors, one of the thorns he had sworn to pluck from the vine.
Other Stories
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 Many A Reason For The Season
"This time of year has many a meaning to all. So do the other holidays. I sit here with my hopes and dreams furthering into the New Year. I have so many people who mean the world to me. As my Green Xweetok hands type this out, I cannot help but feel my heart fill up with love..."
by harvestmoon66 |
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