Three Oracles, A Dance, & A Song, part I (FREE TEASER + full chapter)

... from The Vitmar Chronicles, Volume II

The Vitmar Chronicles, Volume II: Three Oracles, A Dance, & A Song is out now! As a thank you for the support, I am currently running a discount on yearly subscriptions, which is valid until September 22nd, 2025! Paid subscribers will have full access to The Vitmar Chronicles as well as its deleted scenes and extended tales. Thanks for giving my writing a chance!

You can find the discounted subscription link here!

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Foreword from the Author

Hey folks, I’m Bear Wiseman!

Thanks so much for stopping by to read this excerpt from the second installment of my series!

“The Vitmar Chronicles” is a low-fantasy, slice-of-life novella series that follows two brothers — Gabriel and Kaldor Vitmar — across decades of their lives. It’s a chronicle about life, love, and all of the complications we face when doing our best to survive and thrive in our strange and wondrous existences.

The world of Ilynika was designed to be a more supportive and functional world than ours, so if you're looking for patriarchal masculinity, racism, sexism, homophobia, capitalism, or will-they/won’t-they romances (though this Volume surely qualifies as “romantasy”)… you won’t find them here very often (though you might stumble across them when the story goes to the land of Andranei). Rather, I hoped to create a world with less judgment and conformity, and more openness and individuality.

So if you like stories with emotional characters, real-life trauma, meaningful personal arcs, and occasional monsters, these are the stories I’m here to tell.

You don’t need to save the world to be the hero of your own story.

Volume II is out now!

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Part I: Light 5th, 233, 3rd Era

“...And thus, with great bravado,

Mighty Kaldor slew his foe!”

Gabriel finished the song with a flourish, channeling his jitters into the notes to give them more oomph. The tune faded sharply from the lute’s strings and the people around him began to enthusiastically murmur and applaud. He smiled, gave a shy, nervous bow, and proceeded to greet the small group who came to thank him for his performance, occasionally offering tokens of appreciation.

Gabriel remained quite uncomfortable with this much attention, but he now had a variety of methods to deal with the situation if things began to get overwhelming. In this case, he began casually circling his thumb around his inner left wrist, following an inked pattern.

Despite his inherent tension, the people who came to speak to him were considerate and encouraging enough that he was able to manage his nerves. The upside was that he enjoyed the many brief conversations with these interesting new people, all of whom had unique reasons for finding Kaldor’s lyrics and Gabriel’s music worth pausing to enjoy. He also never tired of hearing the reactions people had to the way the lute adjusted to their subconscious interest. So, even though public performance still made him more anxious than he cared to admit, he balanced his energy and pushed himself to play music whenever he had the opportunity, especially when visiting Isidor Hold.

It had been nearly a full turn since the ill-fated invasion of The Enchantry in Whiteridge, but fortunately the mages there had a good sense of humor about the incident. Though they constantly teased Gabriel by calling him creative phrases that glorified him as an unhinged maniac, they were fascinated by his newfound ability to sense innate magic and had immediately taken him on as a project. Thanks to the enchanted print they tattooed into his forearm and a custom-bred herbal tincture to ease the hyper-awareness and racing thoughts that plagued him, these short trips out to perform were starting to become more and more enjoyable again.

After the last listener had continued on their way, Gabriel gathered up his lute and the trinkets from his listeners, musing all the while as to whether Kaldor would be at the lodge. He had been fussing endlessly over the arrangements for the next span, and Gabriel had snuck off to perform in public, largely as an excuse to extract his younger brother from his rear end for a moment.

As he fastened the ties to secure his lute case, a sandaled foot appeared in his peripheral vision. “That was a brilliant song! The dramatically heroic lyrics caught me halfway across the market.”

“Thanks,” Gabriel said as he reached for the final clasp on the lute and grabbed his travel satchel. “My brother wrote them. His takes on our experiences are generally more flamboyant than mine.”

“They were based on a true story, then?”

Gabriel slung his bag over his shoulder as he rose, turning to face a young woman looking up at him with excitement blazing across her face. She was dressed in foreign attire, her sun-browned cheeks split by an enthusiastic grin that made her freckles crinkle. As their gaze met, he saw a flash of silver sparkles in the indigo of her irises and felt an immense soundless pulse invade his senses. This was followed abruptly by heart-clenching, bone-crushing fear.

“I… ah…” Gabriel stammered, clutching his lute case close to his chest, eyes darting around the square. “I, yes… well, I mean… umm…”

Every hair on his body was on end. Unable to articulate anything, he backed away slowly, then bolted into the crowd, leaving the young woman standing flabbergasted in his wake.

Gabriel exploded into his room, slammed the door shut behind him, and yanked the curtains closed. He put his lute and bag down on the trunk that was tucked against the foot of the bed with as much delicacy as he could muster, and flopped heavily into crossed legs on the floor. As he closed his eyes, he took a deep breath and let out a silent scream in an effort to purge the blinding fear and raw panic from his blood. When he was done, he began breathing deeply to re-center himself—in and out through the nose—with three fingers pressed into the whorl on his wrist. He had only been at it for a moment when a knock came at the door, followed immediately by Kaldor’s voice.

“Gabriel? The host said you came running up here in a panic. Is everything all right? Can I come in?”

“Come in,” Gabriel replied and got to his feet to unlock the door. Kaldor stepped inside, looking a bit frazzled.

“What’s going on? Is everything all right?” he repeated, warrior’s arms open in question.

“No.” Gabriel paused, dark hair falling over his eyes. “Something… happened in the town center,” he stammered. “I felt… you know… like at The Enchantry? But so much stronger. From eye contact. I didn’t jump to any conclusions this time. I just… panicked. And I left.” He slumped onto the floor, leaning against the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” Kaldor said, giving Gabriel his full attention. “Something new. Something you haven’t faced before. That’s okay. We’ll figure this out together.”

“I’m doing the thing again… you know, where I can only imagine the worst possible scenario. I’m convinced she’s some sort of horrible fae entity, but I know the odds of that are low. So I… I need you to tell me what she really is. What’s real.” He took a deep breath and failed to steady his trembling hands by shaking them out.

Kaldor sat down next to Gabriel and put his arm around his elder brother. “Keep breathing. What else did you notice about her? Anything strange? Anything that stood out?”

“I… don’t remember.” Gabriel frowned, frustrated with himself. “She was shorter than me by a fair bit, almond-white hair—I guess that’s unusual—but everything else is a blur. The intense spark in her eyes was so strong that I just… fled.”

“Well, perhaps the sensible solution then would be to find her and talk to her,” Kaldor offered gently. “Then at least we can see what we’re up against.”

Gabriel inhaled sharply and nodded. “You’re probably right, though I don’t like the idea. But how would we even find her?”

Kaldor was about to reply when another knock came on the door.

“Gabriel Vitmar? You have a visitor.”

Gabriel froze. Kaldor snapped his gaze to his brother.

“No,” he said, cutting Gabriel off before he could speak. “No-no. Absolutely no. This is proof of exactly zero things.”

Gabriel lowered his protesting hand.

“There could be a perfectly sensible explanation,” Kaldor added. He turned his head to the door and called out, “Thank you, we’ll be right down.”

“Kaldor…” Gabriel started.

“Breathe,” Kaldor coaxed, and Gabriel obliged, exhaling slowly. “I’ll be with you. You’re not going to be murdered in Isidor’s joining lodge today.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Gabriel murmured through several long breaths. “All right, let’s go.”

The Vitmar brothers descended the staircase with slow, wary steps. The young woman was waiting on the bench across from the bookkeeper’s desk with her hands folded in her lap, fidgeting slightly. She looked nervous and Gabriel suddenly felt an unwelcome twinge of resentment for being the cause of her furrowed brow.

Another cold wave of fear surged through his body at the thought, wondering if that was the sort of thing she might use to lure him in.

She rose when he came downstairs and he snapped out of his extrapolation spiral.

“Hello,” she said, hesitating. She opened her mouth again and paused, as though unsure of what to say next. “I apologize for following you here, but… you rushed off so suddenly. I was just so…” She seemed lost for words and Gabriel again felt another pang of guilt, followed by sharp resistance. “Confused?” she squeaked.

Gabriel’s eyes darted to Kaldor, then back to her. “How did you find me?” he demanded, a bit more sharply than he had intended.

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, as if the answer were obvious. “Oh, you’re quite well-loved here. Everyone knew your name and that you’re in town for your brother’s joining. They pointed me right to you.”

Kaldor studied the woman as she spoke, while Gabriel failed to hide his shaking knees beside him. Kaldor hadn’t seen him this scared since he’d awoken from Amakela’s glamor last turn.

“Hello,” Kaldor offered amiably, stepping forward and giving a bow that was only slightly dramatic, so as not to make light of the situation. “I’m Kaldor Vitmar, the aforementioned younger brother of both legend and lore.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Amelie. Amelie Nivekorpi,” she said, returning the greeting.

“Nivekorpi,” Kaldor said, tilting his head to the side and turning his eyes sharply to Gabriel. “The white ravens of the west.”

Gabriel stopped him before Kaldor’s head could turn to meet his eyes. “Shush your face,” he said. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you even. I reject your I-told-you-sos.”

Kaldor’s eyebrows shot up wryly as he masked his laughter.

Gabriel, however, looked utterly defeated, rubbing his face. “The hair should have given it away. I just… Altas blood is nonexistent in Isidor. The thought never crossed my mind…” He trailed off the explanations as he realized he was babbling.

Amelie looked more and more bewildered as the brothers exchanged telling facial expressions.

After a moment, Gabriel straightened himself. “I’m dreadfully sorry. Let me start again. My name is Gabriel Vitmar and I cannot apologize enough for before. If you’re not otherwise engaged, I would be happy to take you to the smokeroom, treat you to whatever you like, and explain…” he gestured vaguely around himself, “…this.”

Amelie, eyebrow still raised in confusion, nodded in silent agreement. Gabriel opened the door for her and they headed downstairs, leaving Kaldor shaking his head.

“Perfectly reasonable explanation,” he muttered with a bemused snort, returning to his room.