In Sagenlund, stories matter. They are more than entertainment and history, and at times more than prophecy. They are forces that quietly reshape the world. Most tales are small things: comforts for children, warnings whispered at night, half-remembered lessons passed from one generation to the next. But every so often, a story takes hold strongly enough that it does more than endure. It changes what is possible.
The following tale is one such story. It is the first telling of the Wolf and the Unicorn, a myth that spread faster than it could be contained and, in doing so, gave rise to Overmodmarken—the unexplored continent over which the King and the Bard now vie through stories. Whether told as a children’s story, a migration myth, or a quiet act of defiance, it stands at the heart of Sagenlund’s lore, marking the moment when hope was no longer something remembered, but something to be pursued.
What followed were the myths that gave rise to the heroes – the hope-bringers. Then came monsters, despair, and everything that devourers hope. I will follow up with entries for those as well, but today I share the foundation myth that led to a vast new continent, filled with dangerous legends, powerful treasures, and myths yet to be told.
The Wolf and The Unicorn:
Long ago, there were two children. During the great war, their father was called into service. On the last night he was home, he told them the story of the wolf and the unicorn.
As he went to tuck them in for bed, the little one began to cry. The sound of his tears broke the older one’s spirit, and soon both children were sobbing uncontrollably. They wondered if they would ever see their father again.
The father held them each in turn, then asked if they had heard the story of the Wolf and the Unicorn. They shook their heads, trying to stop the flow of tears. Then the father began:
Two children went into the woods to play.
They played and played, making forts, pretending they were knights, and all manner of make-believe. Before long, they had become hopelessly lost. They tried to find their way out and came across a small squirrel. They asked the squirrel for help. He replied, “Out of the forest? How could that be? The forest goes on forever.”
Next, they found a bird and asked the same question. The bird replied, “Out of the forest? Why, you need only go up.”
They continued on like this, and each animal in turn shared its own way out—the turtle telling them to go into the river, the mouse telling them to go underground, and so on.
Then they came upon a wolf and a unicorn. Like all the other animals, they offered a way out. The wolf promising food and shelter, the unicorn simply showing them the way.
Their stomachs growled, and they followed the wolf. As they walked, they asked how much further they were, and each time the wolf replied, “Not far.” The brother began to grow nervous, and each time he glanced around, he caught a glimpse of the unicorn.
Finally, they neared their destination. The wolf nodded them toward a cave, and his smile revealed sharp teeth stained a brilliant crimson. The boy nudged his sister and pointed through the trees, where light reflected brilliantly off a shining horn.
Something in them broke all at once. The sister seized her brother’s hand and ran.
With this, the wolf grew angry and gave pursuit. Ahead, the children glimpsed light flashing from the unicorn’s horn; behind them, crimson teeth gnashed within the wolf’s jaws. All the while, the wolf chased them, and the unicorn seemed always just out of reach.
This continued for an eternity. Each time the siblings stopped, one child or the other wanted to give up, saying, “Perhaps we are mistaken. Perhaps the wolf will feed us.” But in turn, each prodded the other along no matter how wary they grew. Always fearful of those crimson teeth, always seeing the brilliant reflection of the horn just out of reach. And so they turned toward the unicorn and ran once more.
Then, just as the wolf was about to catch them, they tripped over a log and fell into a stream. The current tossed and turned, then carried them safely to the opposite shore. As they climbed out of the river, they saw smoke rising in the distance from cookfires in a town. They turned back to look at the forest one last time and saw the unicorn and wolf once more, both safely out of reach.
Each night, the mother retold the children that story, saying, “Perhaps tomorrow we receive news of your father.” But, alas, when tomorrow finally came, the news was as they had feared.
Even still, their mother shared the story each day. Always pointing the children towards something new, always towards the future. But tragedy was not done with them. One day, their mother grew terribly ill. So the sister carried on their tradition, comforting her brother and mother, each day praying for her mother’s swift recovery. But alas, that day never came either.
The first night the children went to bed without either parent, the older sister did not tell the tale. Her brother asked for it, but she grew angry and refused. The brother said, “Maybe it’s my turn. We don’t want the wolf to catch us after all.”
Then, after the boy finished telling the tale he asked, “Where do you think the forest is?”
Startled, the girl replied, “It’s just a story.” The boy replied just as confidently, “No, no I don’t think so.” He then got up and packed a bag.
Unsure what to do, the girl followed her younger brother’s lead. They couldn’t stay there anyway and needed to go get help. Then the two set off.
Soon, the boy found tracks. Huge paw prints, with large gaps between them. Determined to find what left them, he followed.
After a short while, they came to a cave. There, they saw the wolf and the unicorn. The unicorn stood just inside the cave, crouched low, its the horn pointed towards the wolf. The wolf circled just outside, growling, its claws striking stone.
Seeing the unicorn, the two children were overjoyed and heedlessly charged into danger. The wolf turned and showed its crimson teeth, but the moment’s distraction was enough. The unicorn charged the wolf, slaying it.
The children realized, as in their story, they were now lost. The unicorn raised its head, pointing its horn towards the brilliant moon, and then disappeared. They children saw no wolf, no footprints, and no unicorn. Cold, confused, and lost, they argued over what to do. Then, the girl said. “Shouldn’t we follow the unicorn now?”
Frustrated, the boy replied, “What unicorn? This was all just silly make-believe.” Then the girl set off to follow the path of the moon, and the boy reluctantly followed.
For many years, as the children grew, they pondered the moon and the stars, wondering where they might lead. They followed the moon east until they settled in a small port town. The boy learned to sail and, in time, became a ship captain. He returned to find his sister, and together they set sail, braving stormy seas and unknown waters, until they find Overmodmarken.
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This tale birthed the land of hope, but hope cannot exist on its own. Despair always lurks nearby. The difference between Sagenlund and Overmodmarken is that, in the latter, hope often conquers despair. If one can escape the forest or the town, one can leave the land where despair wins the day.
When the Bard wove this tale, his goal was only to create images of hope for people to cling to—to create a symbol. What he achieved was far more. His tale, and its many variants, spread too quickly to be contained. It gained a life of its own, as others spun stories of the siblings’ journey to the new land and what they found there. All the while, the Collector listened.
Stories in Sagenlund never begin with “Once upon a time.” Rather, they start “in a land far away,” or “long ago.” A story not steeped in mystery, not left open in time and place, or stated as false is not one the Collector can weave into truth.
Worlds by Wally 