Brammelwurz and the Spore Library of Fennbirn

More about Brammelwurz and the Spore Library of Fennbirn

Deep beneath the fog fields of Fennbirn, hidden between tangles of roots and mossy passages, lies a place known to few. The ancients reverently called it the Spore Library – but Brammelwurz knew it was more than an archive. It was a memory. A living, breathing heart of forgotten stories. That morning, Brammelwurz stood with his gnarled walking stick at the entrance to a hidden cave. His brown hat was covered with tiny mushrooms, his pockets rustled with collected spore samples. "Today, my friends," he murmured, "we will hear the song of memories." With a last glance at the pale light of the overworld, he plunged inside. The passage was narrow, the air smelled of old wood and damp earth. Glowing spores began to dance around him, tiny lights that guided the way. Soon the tunnel widened, opening into a vast chamber, its walls like porcelain—crisscrossed by fine fungal threads that glowed a soft blue. Between the roots hung capsules, as transparent as dewdrops, filled with glowing spores. "The books of the library," whispered Brammelwurz reverently. He approached a particularly large capsule. Inside, golden spores swirled, forming images: a child running across a flowery meadow; an old man gazing at the stars; a kiss that never happened. Each spore was a scrap of memory, collected and preserved so nothing would be lost. Brammelwurz placed his hand against the capsule. "Show me the memory of Marlen Fennbirn," he begged. The spores condensed, dancing faster, until an image appeared: a young woman laughing with a mushroom wand in her hand, surrounded by flaming mushrooms of light. "You have awakened the spores, Brammelwurz," a voice rang out. A figure stepped out of the gloom: Lusera, the guardian of the library. Her hair was made of fine fungal threads, her eyes glowed like spores. "Why are you looking for Marlen?" "Because her memory is missing," Brammelwurz answered seriously. "Up in Fennbirn, names disappear. People forget who they were. I think someone stole their memories – here, from the library." Lusera stepped closer, her gaze becoming thoughtful. "There are spores that grow darker. That make you forget instead of remembering." She led him to a corner where the fungal threads glowed black. "This is where the erasing spores are hidden. Someone has used them." Brammelwurz narrowed his eyes. "Can one retrieve the lost memories?" Lusera nodded slowly. "Perhaps. If you go deep enough." She pointed to a crevice in the roots that led into the darkness. "Down there grows the primordial spore. It carries the memories of everyone who has ever been here. But be careful—it asks questions.