The Greenfyre Chronicles
Come closer to the fire, and listen as the stories are told -- of heroes whose names have long been forgotten, of empires raised on stone roads and crucifixions, of temples burning while legions march home in triumph, of mortals who became gods and were reshaped once again. And then, a new world. Industry. Revolution. Lightning captured in iron and glass, where magic still waits just around the corner.
You breathe in the bitter air of villages undone by dragonflame, that cold fire which unmakes what it touches. What lingers is not smoke alone but a sharp, metallic tang that stings the tongue. And then, a voice -- perhaps a prophet who has wandered too far, perhaps the fire itself -- calls your name. Out of the corner of your eye -- a flicker, a presence. Someone new at the fire? You turn, but the space is empty, yet you half-remember a face with emerald eyes, searing themselves into your memory. But that memory is not yours. It belongs to someone else.
"That's him," the storyteller murmurs. "The Green One. He always returns."
Then the sounds rise -- bronze striking bronze, shields buckling, swords shattering against armour, the screaming lost beneath it all. The din rolls forward through centuries into the crack of muskets, the pistol's echo chasing itself through stone streets. The world convulses with noise: revolutions unfolding, saints undone, gods consumed in the hunger of mortals.
Sit closer. When the flames turn green, the story is only beginning.
The Greenfyre Chronicles is a mythopoetic epic spanning over six thousand years, reimagining Abrahamic and world mythologies through the lens of the Green One, known in Islamic tradition as al-K̈ıḍr. A transcendent intelligence woven from all living things, the Green One has walked the world in human avatars throughout history: as prophets, wanderers, and hidden hands. It has intervened, protected, guided, and sometimes made everything immeasurably worse. Despite its shortcoming it has no greater purpose than our survival and our flourishing. We are, in some sense, its very mind.
Deathless yet vulnerable, the avatars cannot be destroyed -- and yet one is, by ancient sorcery, and nearly two thousand years of chaos follow. Out of that wreckage, in 1890s Paris and Berlin -- an age of industry, empire, decadence, and revolt -- three men awaken to an inheritance older than memory. They are not heroes. nor saints. Just a few who refuse to yield, and maybe, just maybe, save the world.
The Greenfyre Chronicles is a trilogy. But the story begins earlier -- much earlier.
Where myth remembers the wounds of history.