Grimdark fantasy has dominated the genre for over a decade, constantly mirroring the worst parts of our reality. When did fantasy stop giving us a world we’d want to escape to? Indie author Bear Wiseman explores the current state of the genre and offers an alternative with The Vitmar Chronicles — a new series that proves kinder worlds can still host epic tales, and you don’t need to save the world to be the hero of your own story.

In this excerpt from The Vitmar Chronicles: Volume I - An Ending & A Beginning, Kaldor Vitmar confronts his older brother Gabriel about recent important life decisions, setting off a chain of events that shakes him to his core and leaves both brothers grappling with the consequences.

This piece was based on what I believed to be the internal (and likely subconscious) logic of three friends… people I care about who have wrestled with intense self-hatred. One of them said it was “100% accurate.”

Content warning: intrusive thoughts, self-hatred, and emotional intensity.

I wrote this story in July 2023, the day I stepped away from Tuonela Magazine and suddenly found myself overwhelmed by “grelief.” I was sitting in the sauna, crying and listening to Auri’s “Pearl Diving,” and thinking about what it means to form unexpected, life-giving friendships. This piece was inspired by my friend, Kathy Criswell, and it’s about daring to dive into friendship after you’ve been hurt a lot.

After the Shatterclysm obliterates the multiverse, a recently deceased soul and their psychopomp drift through the endless darkness, unsure where existence ends or if anything is to follow.

A Nightsea short story about endings, memory, and new beginnings.

After the Shatterclysm destroys the multiverse, existence is trying to reset… but for many survivors, grief and loss still linger like open wounds. The singer helps them heal through song, one soul at a time... though the cost may be more than anyone expects.

A Nightsea short story about survival, sacrifice, and the quiet power of care.

This was written instantly after the last time I ever spoke with my adoptive son. At the time, he was still alive, but had chosen the path of destruction over redemption. He passed away five months later. This poem is a farewell, an explosion of anger and grief, and a expression of love that will never go away, even if it changes form.

This was written based on a F(r)iction prompt for my adoptive son, Riku, during a time when he was starting to believe he could be loved.

It made him cry, and he asked me, “How do you see this?”

I told him, “Because you showed me.”

This is a letter to him, but it’s also for anyone who’s ever felt like too much and not enough at the same time. You are seen. You are loved.

This story is a metaphor for love.

I wrote it for my adoptive son, Riku, some time after we met, when our connection was still fragile but filled with potential. The Bear Forge imagines a world where love is an act of co-creation: slow, detailed, intentional, sometimes volatile, and always worth the effort.

It made him feel things. I hope it does the same for you.

This piece was written in under ten minutes based on a F(r)iction prompt. It reflects on the many small, magical influences that led me toward storytelling, from Tolkien and video games to music, tabletop roleplay, and my mother’s quiet encouragement. It’s a spell, a story, and a memory all in one.