The White Buck

Some nights, the world changes shape while you sleep.

Beneath the hollowed bones of a fallen elder tree, four fugitives huddle against the chill and silence, each haunted by all they have lost and all they still fear to lose. The forest is not what it was—its ancient trees stand as monuments to things forgotten, its shadows grown long and strange, its paths tangled by time and sorrow. The old songs have faded, and the Moon herself seems to have turned her face away from the land.

Wisp, the youngest, curls into herself, shivering with dreams she cannot escape. Thatch, proud and trembling, stands guard against a darkness that presses closer with every hour. Reed, the quiet one, clings to half-remembered prayers, his voice a thread of hope in the hush. And Bracken—Bracken cannot sleep, his eyes fixed on the narrow strip of starlit sky, searching for meaning in the scattered constellations of his childhood.

But it is not the stars that find him.

When the mist thickens and the night deepens, Bracken sees what should not be—a white buck, spectral and silent, standing just beyond the reach of their camp. Its eyes are fathomless, its antlers pale as driftwood, its presence both a promise and a warning. In that moment, Bracken understands what the elders always feared to speak aloud: the world has shifted. The old ways are gone. The white buck has come, and with it, the certainty that nothing will ever be the same.

Now, the four must journey through a land transformed by myth and memory, where every step forward erases the road behind, and every choice carries the weight of all that came before. Pursued by the shadows of their past and the strange, wild magic of the white buck, they will be tested by hunger, by doubt, and by the ancient hunger that stirs beneath root and stone.

In the silence after midnight, when the white buck stands watching, will you follow where it leads?

Coming 2026