The Gloamspire Court of Twilight Autumn

House Duskwither – Keepers of the Veilborn Beacon

Autumn’s sorrow wove the mists and twilight woods, creating a realm suspended between life and decay. Within the heart of this perpetual dusk lies the Gloomspire Court, seated in the Twilight Forest, where golden leaves drift through the air like whispered secrets. The court is ruled by the enigmatic Crimson Oracle, Queen Estrella Duskwither, a fey sovereign said to weave fate itself. By ancient decree, only a queen may rule the Autumn Court, and at her side stands her consort, Hallviford Duskwither.

The lands of the Autumn Court are gilded forests shrouded in mist, where time slows and echoes of forgotten knowledge stir among the trees. The fey of this court are watchful and elusive, guiding lost souls through the shifting paths of their domain—though such guidance does not always lead where one expects. At the heart of their rule burns the Veilborn Beacon, an artifact of shadowed flame that illuminates the thin veil between worlds, ensuring that neither the living nor the dead may stray too far from their destined path.

The libraries of the Twilight Forest house ancient tomes, forbidden prophecies, and secrets even time dares not reclaim. Scholars and sorcerers seek audience with the Duskwither Court to unlock the past and glimpse the future, but knowledge here is never given freely. Due to the Fateweaving abilities of the Crimson Oracle, many truths remain hidden, bound by whispers of destiny. Deep within the heart of the forest, unseen figures guard these secrets, their presence felt in the hush between rustling leaves and the lingering scent of old parchment and candle smoke.

The Duskwither Woods are a place of spectral beauty, where golden mist weaves through Crimson Birch Trees, their blood-red leaves glowing in the half-light. Witchblossoms bloom in the shadows, their petals steeped in forgotten spells, while soft tufts of Mallow Grass line winding paths, cushioning the steps of those who walk them. When the wind stirs, the woods wail and murmur—a chorus of voices lost to time—but the sound is strangely soothing rather than unsettling.

Among the shifting foliage, creatures of twilight roam. Gloom Wolves, large and cunning, move like living embers through the underbrush, their shimmering red and gold pelts blending seamlessly with autumn’s fallen leaves. High in the branches, Cinder Ferrets dart between boughs, their mischievous chittering often preceding the disappearance of trinkets from unwary travelers. The patient Duskwave Spiders spin their great, silken webs between ancient trees—threads so fine they are said to capture not just prey, but fate itself

The Harvest of Souls

During the longest night of each year, the Veilborn Beacon is lit, and the lost souls are brought to it. The festival is a deeply private affair, one in which the Duskwither family plays a pivotal role, guiding these souls to their peaceful afterlife after collecting them. On this night, the air is filled with the haunting melodies of songs and the telling of tales by firelight. Meals are left for the departed, and the ritual remains sacred to those who observe it.