Episode 116

full
Published on:

24th Apr 2026

116. Raven Crown Chapters 31, 32 and 33

A murdered guardian. A stolen sapphire. A raven with opinions.

Brie must gather the Jewels of Tambor—learning courage, cunning, and a strength she never knew she possessed—all while braving a twisted foot, a lack of trust, and impossible odds. Meanwhile, Dogmar, known as Jackal, will do anything to claim the throne—until a stolen jewel begins to unravel everything she believes about strength and survival.

Transcript
ghia:

Chapter 31, Brie.

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As soon as jackal leaves,

I jump to my feet.

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She's going after the jewels.

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Come on, we've got to find them first.

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There's panic in my voice.

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Brie, wait.

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Gray grabs my hand and pulls me down.

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It's dark.

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Jackal hates the water.

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She isn't going anywhere tonight.

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gray's rational voice calms me.

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Yes, of course you're right.

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I say, but we can't let her

give the jewels to Reagan.

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Thorn My eyes skim across

the deck to Nona's Map.

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We've already entered the Black Canyon.

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there isn't another village along the

river for four or five days as the gorge

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gets too steep for even a digger village.

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I start thinking fast.

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Let's leave tonight.

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We'll take the old boat

tied at the end of the dock.

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Brie.

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Be rational.

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The only way to get there

is with the banjara.

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We can't run the cataracts

alone for the love of rats.

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I'm so agitated that I

start ringing my hands.

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what will Jackal do now

that we know her secret?

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How will we stop her?

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Gray grabs my hands.

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I have an idea.

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We'll set jackal up.

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I'm skeptical how?

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I will steal a handful of shekels from the

till while I'm ladling bitters tonight,

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and you'll hide them in jackal's bag.

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when the Tauk suspects, the coins are

gone, we'll tell Marette it was jackal.

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She'll raise the alarm.

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when the tauk finds the shekels,

he'll leave jackal behind easy.

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Can you steal the shekels

without being caught?

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Gray grins, leave it to me

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With a pat on my shoulder, he gets up.

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I better get back to the bidders or

I'll be the one left behind, but, Raven,

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trust me, for once Gray leaves the boat.

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But I am worried gray isn't naturally

sly like jackal or sneaky like me.

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What if he's caught?

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Am I just supposed to trust

him like I trusted Nona?

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I go back to ringing my

hands, get it together.

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I command myself.

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You're acting like a nervous old hen.

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As a distraction, I pick up

the Pedallers book, which is

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sticking halfway out of my bundle.

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I open the cover to see the word corvex

Corona embossed on the first page.

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Madox mentioned the word again tonight.

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I've tried to look up Corvex Corona

in the LXi gloss before, despite

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how useful the LXi gloss is.

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It isn't indexed well, the translation

is likely somewhere in its pages.

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I just need a roundabout way to find it.

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As I look at the word now, I

remember the Banjara translation,

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which Marette gave me.

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Corvex meaning Raven Corona,

meaning crown, the Raven crown.

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I dig out the LXi gloss and look up

Raven and find a reference to priestess.

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When I look up priestess, I find corvex.

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That's it.

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With excitement, I look up Crown.

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Once again, I find a reference this time

to queen, and queen translates to Corona.

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I sit back.

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Corvex Corona means

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priestess, queen.

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ghia: I sigh.

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It's progress, but

certainly not the answer.

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Percing my lips.

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I look up any word that

relates to Raven or crown.

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I hunt for a long time, but don't

find anything that makes sense.

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I finally give up and

wonder where gray is.

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I expected him back with the by now

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What if he was caught all at once?

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I'm in a panic again.

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I climb to the front of the boat

and pull back the canopy flap.

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There is still a large crowd

of diggers on the dock.

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Marette will wonder why

I am not at my telling.

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Nevermind that.

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Now I've got to find gray.

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I look towards the barrel of bitters,

but he isn't there glancing around.

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I see him in the shadows

by a pile of crates.

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After watching for a moment,

I realize he isn't alone.

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Moving across the boat for a better view.

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I see jackal with him.

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Her hand is in his thick hair,

pulling his head towards her.

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I stop breathing.

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They kiss on the lips.

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The sight hits me like a blow

to the chest immediately.

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I roll backwards and

slip under the canopy.

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Now I know why Gray didn't want

to take a boat and leave tonight.

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He was stalling for time, looking for

a way to get me to trust Jackal again.

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he's liked her since

the first day they met.

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He betrayed me once and

I let him do it again.

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I should have known better than

to think he was on my side.

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They must see me as a complete

feather brain shaking With fury, I

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find my eyes darting around the tent.

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I've got to leave.

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I never want to see jackal or gray again.

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I'll find the jewels alone.

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I start to think fast

considering what I'll need.

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Food and a way down river.

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For starters, I remember the old

boat tethered to the end of the dock.

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It's doubtful anyone will

even notice if it disappears.

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But where will I get food in order

to think I grab my hair and twist

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it in a knot on top of my head.

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The simple action gives me an idea.

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I unie my hair and look

at the snarled mess.

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Yes, I've got my answer hastily.

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I dig in my bundle and pull out

the old wooden comb, which I

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jerk through the tangles, working

around my various embellishments.

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When I've got my hair in a semblance

of order, I drape it over one

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shoulder where it dangles to my hip.

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Before I can change my mind, I

pull the little knife from my waist

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and begin hacking off handfuls

of hair just below my chin.

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I drop the locks into my lap.

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It's not until I'm done that I look at

the giant bird's nest that I've created.

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Please let it be enough.

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I gather the hair and stuff

it into my old stalking.

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Cautiously I peek out

from under the canopy.

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Gray is ladling bitters

to a line of diggers.

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Jackal is on the other end of the dock.

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Past the dancers.

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Clouds have blotted out the

stars, so it's dark except for

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the torches set against the cliff.

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This is my chance.

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I slipped from the boat, cross the

deck, and head up the trail to Nsra.

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with my new boots and my staff.

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I make it up the trail

without too much trouble.

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At the top, I stagger slightly at the

site of the massive village before me.

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How so many people can

live so close together?

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I don't know.

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Just find the Croker's lounge.

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I tell myself, I look around cobbled

streets go off in several directions.

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It could be anywhere.

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I'm debating about which street to take

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When a loud call nearly causes

me to jump out of my boots,

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I slap my hand to my chest.

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Give me a little warning.

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Next time would you, grim doesn't respond.

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He just walks in a wide circle around me.

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I get the definite feeling.

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He's looking at my hair.

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Is it that bad?

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I ask Grim ruffles his feathers,

making them stand up around his head.

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Then he croaks.

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I laugh, no short hair does not make

me look like you now leave me alone

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or help me figure out which way to go.

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Grim takes off, flapping down

one of the cobbled streets.

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I shrug and follow him.

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Checking each sign for the

croker's lounge as I go.

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I've gone several blocks when I

smell the pungent scent of herbs.

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A moment later, I spy the Croker's

lounge and exhale in relief.

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Turns out g Grim was right.

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given the late hour, I assume I'll

have to bang on the door to wake

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the Roker, but that can't be helped.

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I pause, summoning my courage.

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Finally, I grip my teeth and walk up

to the door, only to find it open.

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Chapter 23, Brie.

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I step into the dimly lit croker's

lounge, but can't move any further.

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The only light comes from the tapers held

in a tarnished candelabra on the shelves.

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Behind a wooden counter are rows of

faceless heads draped over them are

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wigs in every style despite seeing

similar wigs in ska, I cringe.

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One wig looks something like an owl's

nest complete with bits of bone.

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Another has the look of a curling

wave dripping with seaweed.

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the room smells of herbs and old

sweat dried plants and roots hang from

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the ceiling as well as pig snouts,

rabbit's, feet, and withered chicken's.

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Heads bottles of all sizes

and colors lined the walls.

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A woman lies face down on a

table in the center of the room.

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Her dress is pulled up to expose the pale

skin of her thigh, which appears to be the

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only place on either leg that isn't inked.

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A man in a black robe is bent

over her with long, pale fingers.

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He dips a needle into a

bottle of reddish ink.

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then he begins tapping the

needle into the skin of her leg.

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After a moment, he turns to me

peering with toad like eyes through

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the pattern of ink on his face.

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Take a seat.

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I'll be with you in a moment.

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he says, with a voice that

sounds like crumbling parchment.

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He gestures with his chin behind me.

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Turning.

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I see a low chair, but

I couldn't possibly sit.

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I look at the woman lying on

the croker's table and see

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spots of blood on her thigh.

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I avert my eyes feeling sick.

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I know how healing is done.

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This isn't it.

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When the Roker is finished, the

woman slides off the table and

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stands, I'll be back next month.

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At the same time.

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She says, smoothing down

her skirt Very well.

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After dropping a few coins on the

table, the woman leaves the lounge.

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What can I do for you?

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The Croker asks, fussing with his tools

instead of looking at me, I step forward.

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My legs trembling like blades of grass.

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I try not to stammer.

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I have some hair to sell.

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let's see.

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The Roker says, holding

out ink stained fingers.

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Gathering my courage.

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I pull the shorn hair from the

stalking and place it in his palm.

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He bounces it as if weighing the locks.

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then his bulging eyes look me up and down.

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I cla my hands together

to stop the shaking.

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After a moment, he places the hair on

the inking table and holds up a finger.

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Wait here.

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I'll be back.

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He leaves the room by a

small door in the back wall.

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his black cloak almost

catching on the latch.

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As he hurries out, my mouth drops open.

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What's going on?

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The lounge is even more eerie.

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Now that I'm alone, slowly I turn.

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Taking in the room.

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When my back is to the wigs and

I'm facing the front door, I notice

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a parchment tack to the wall.

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It is similar in every way to the

wanted poster of Boan in known as

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envelope, but there's one difference.

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The picture in the center is

of a girl with ratty long hair

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that looks very much like mine.

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Below the picture, it reads 1000

Shekels for the Girl and:

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Shekels for the Pero of Naja.

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In a panic.

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I grab my hair off the table and run

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How long until the Croker

finds the dragon stationed here

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and gets back to the lounge.

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I race down the street, The wooden

sole of my boot clomping on the cobbles

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stabs of pain, radiate up my leg.

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When I get to the trail leading down

to the boats, I can see that there

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are still a few diggers on the dock.

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I want to keep running, but flip up my

hood and force myself to a casual stroll.

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I can't look concerned.

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I even manage a fake smile as I walk

up to gray and whisper in his ear.

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I'm going to bed.

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I'll take care of that

business in the morning.

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Gray intent on moving

the line in front of him.

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Nods and continues.

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Laing Bitters.

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I'm glad he has agreed because

I can't have him looking for me.

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Tonight I go straight to the

boat and climb under the canopy.

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Now there's only one option for food.

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Wild forage.

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Hopefully the rest of my plan goes better.

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I get to work, fluffing my blankets and

arranging it so it looks like I'm under

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the covers, adding to the effect I stick

my shorn hair where my head should be.

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next I strip out of my tunic

and skirt, which I stuff along

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with my cloak into my bundle.

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I'm left in my small clothes,

a one piece top, and shorts.

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For a moment, I finger the

tattered flowers, Nona embroidered

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around the edge of the fabric.

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Would she approve of what I'm doing?

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I promised not to be rash.

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but I also promised to find the

jewels with a purse of my lips.

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I peek out from under the canopy.

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When I'm sure no one is watching,

I grab a cork vest from off the

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side of the boat and slip it on

with my staff over my shoulder.

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I drop silently into the water holding

the bundle on top of my head with one

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hand so I can swim with the other.

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The water is shockingly cold, and the

current's stronger than I expected.

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It's hard to swim and keep my bundle dry.

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For the love of rats, I panic.

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I'm going to miss the end of the dock.

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I take a desperate stroke, almost

dunking my bundle in the process.

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At the last moment, I managed to toss

the oil skin onto the wood planking

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and heave myself up behind it.

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This end of the dock is quiet and there

isn't a lantern close With my teeth

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chattering, I slip into my clothes

without delay, I move to the old boat.

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It's not in great condition, but

it floats, and there are oars and a

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bale bucket Quickly, I climb in and

untie the bow line without a sound.

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I let the boat drift down river on

the current until I'm far enough

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from the dock that no one will hear

the squeak of oars as I row away.

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Jackal.

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When I've calmed enough to sleep, I

climb onto the boat and sit on my tick.

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What I learned about my

mother has me in the pht mood.

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I've been in for quite some time.

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I wanted to take my anger out

on someone, and the girl was the

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easiest target when she poked her

head out from under the canopy.

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I pulled my rodents little romance

towards me and kissed him on the lips.

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When she ducked back

inside, I pushed him away.

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He wiped his mouth and looked

furious, but I waved him off.

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Go back to your bitters

before the taru gets mad.

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I told him.

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He stormed away.

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Frankly, I'm not sure why

the kiss wasn't half bad.

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I smirk even now as I remember

it, but only for a moment as a

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twinge of guilt washes over me.

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I am not fooled by the emotion

anymore and fished the jewel out

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of its pouch in my skirt pocket.

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As I touch.

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Its cool surface.

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Some of my anger slips away.

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I frown.

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No, you don't.

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I want to stay angry.

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It's the only way I'll survive.

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I return the stone to its pouch

and shove it deep in my pocket.

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Again.

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My rodent is sleeping soundly

in the back of the boat.

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I glance at her form.

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I will persuade her to help me find

the jewels and when the time is

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right, I'll leave her in the Norwood.

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It will work out fine.

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Brie, there is no moon to speak of, and

even the starlight is blocked by clouds.

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All I've got is my sense of hearing

to tell me where I am in the river.

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Thankfully, I recall weather saying

it was flat water from NS R to the

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first cataract which lies deep

in the heart of the Black Canyon.

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It should be all night and most

of tomorrow before I have to

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worry about the great falls.

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Even still, I strain my ears

for the sound of water on rock.

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terrified of coming upon

any waves in the dark.

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My insights turn to mush when I think

of running the Black Canyon alone,

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even the most experienced rivermen

occasionally flip in the cataracts,

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But weathers assured me that a

successful run is all in the setup.

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Surely if I scout the worst of the swift

water from shore, I'll get through.

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I do some figuring if I left the

dock around midnight and Jackal

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doesn't discover I'm gone until

I miss staff practice, that

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will give me a six hour lead.

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Even then, she'll have to wait at least

an hour for the banjara to break camp.

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That gives me seven hours to

reach the castle, find the

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jewels and head down river again.

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Can I do it that fast?

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I pull harder on the oars.

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What choice do I have?

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It rains on and off, but my

steady rowing keeps me warm.

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As the boat slices through

the black water, I think about

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gray and jackal and the kiss.

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Was it their first or one

of many My eyes sting.

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I don't care about jackal.

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She's Reagan thorn's daughter.

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How can I be surprised by anything she

does, but gray, I trusted him again,

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Jackal.

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I wake sometime in the

wee hours of the morning.

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It's dark and all is quiet,

but something is wrong.

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I feel it in my gut.

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I sit up and call to the girl.

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She doesn't move.

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I reach out to shake the sleeping

figure, but my hand sinks

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into the folds of her blanket.

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That's when I realized my mistake.

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It never crossed my mind.

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She would slip away without gray and

I kept an eye on him all night.

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In a rage.

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I scramble off the boat.

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The boy is sleeping under an oil

cloth on the dock on Kick him.

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Wake everyone up.

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Bri is gone.

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Chapter 33, Brie.

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I row, then row some more When

it's light enough to see, I

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search the boat hatches and find a

withered apple and some dried meat.

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I eat the apple.

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Thankfully, the rain stops.

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Before taking up the ORs again, I

add another notch to my staff,

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bringing the total to 16.

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16 days gone and I still only

have one Juul I start to row

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once more, determined not to stop

until I reach the first cataract.

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I'm feeling some fatigue, but overall

I'm impressed with my endurance

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falling into a rhythm I push on.

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The sun has reached its zenith and

started its downward journey before

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I'm too dogged to keep rowing my

hands are chaffed and my back aches.

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I stop to chew the dried meat

savoring the peppery flavor

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as the boat floats down river.

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Without planning it, my eyes drift closed.

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I've only been still for a

moment when I hear a flutter of

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wings as grim lands on the bow,

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He calls loudly.

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I don't move.

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The vision in my mind is too beautiful.

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I'm on a boat riding up a curling

wave, then crashing through

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the frothing white foam grim.

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Cause again, go away.

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I mumble The foam

clears and I'm in a cave.

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Silver glint of water

sparkle on stone walls.

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I see Bogdan's boat.

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There's another call.

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Leave me alone.

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I call out without opening my eyes.

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I don't want the dream to end.

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I'm about to find the amethyst.

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I know it.

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Grim cause two more

times, three more times.

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The vision disintegrates.

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I sit up blinking and confused.

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The sun has slipped below the canyon wall.

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The river is in shadow.

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How long did I sleep in the

distance I hear a low rumble?

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No, it couldn't be.

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I look downstream, but can't see

beyond the bend in the river.

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My heart begins to

thunder like a rainstorm.

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Nothing but the first cataract

would make that sound.

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I scramble to the oars and

begin pulling to shore.

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I need to see the swift

water before I run it.

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I've got to enter at just the right

place, or I'll never make it through.

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As I pull grim, squawks and flaps

his wings, raising a foot in the

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air, then landing on the deck again,

You could have woken me sooner.

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I say straining to reach

shore, grim squawks more,

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hopping up and down as he does.

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He's making such a ruckus that

I quit rowing and look at him.

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He stops instantly and looks back at me.

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I pull on the oars, and he squawks.

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I stop again.

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You are crazy.

402

:

I'm not letting the boat float

through the swift water on its own.

403

:

Grim cock his head and

croaks deep in his throat.

404

:

The dream wasn't real.

405

:

I insist, but as I say the words,

I'm reminded of Marette calling

406

:

both Grim and the Hesperian Corvex.

407

:

Does the whisper speak to me through Grim?

408

:

I can't believe it yet.

409

:

The bird seems determined

to communicate something.

410

:

I recall weather saying that

Bog Dan's boat ran the swift

411

:

water without anyone rowing.

412

:

If I want to find the amethyst, should

I run the swift water the same way

413

:

Grim gives several quick cause

as if affirming my thought.

414

:

for the love of rats.

415

:

The idea is lunacy, but I find myself

believing it's true grim, or should

416

:

I say the whisper wants the boat

to float the cataract without help.

417

:

Grim did lead me to the Roker in Ns ran.

418

:

Maybe I should trust him.

419

:

I look longingly ashore, but sit still.

420

:

Grim stands on the front

deck, preening his tail.

421

:

Feathers calm as can be.

422

:

This gives me confidence.

423

:

The rumble of the cataract

gets louder still.

424

:

I continue to sit even when

I see the monstrous waves.

425

:

I stay composed.

426

:

The boat is just dropping down the

smooth water at the top of the falls.

427

:

When grim takes to the air and

flies away, Hey, I call after him.

428

:

What kind of chicken are you?

429

:

My confidence evaporates,

but it's too late.

430

:

I grip my handholds and brace my

legs, determine that no matter

431

:

what happens, I won't let go.

432

:

The boat plummets into the swift

water, picking up tremendous speed.

433

:

The fall is so steep, I'm afraid

I'll tumble out of my seat.

434

:

Down I go until the boat hits

the mass of churning water.

435

:

There is no time to catch a breath as the

boat is smashed, like a fly under a water.

436

:

Instantly.

437

:

My hands are ripped from my

holds Violent water envelops

438

:

me as I'm washed from the boat.

439

:

I open my eyes.

440

:

There's light above me, but

I'm going down, down, down.

441

:

I try with all my might

to swim for the surface.

442

:

My arms and legs thrashing.

443

:

I make no progress.

444

:

Soon.

445

:

My lungs feel like they'll explode.

446

:

The river won't let me go In

a panic, I flail harder, but

447

:

I'm in the grip of the current.

448

:

My lungs continue to burn.

449

:

If I don't get a breath soon, it hits

me Then that I might, actually die.

450

:

Blackness closes in around

the edges of my vision.

451

:

I stop struggling.

452

:

My body goes limp, Suddenly as

if the river is done with me,

453

:

I shoot towards the surface.

454

:

I anticipate breathing at any moment.

455

:

Instead, my head hits something hard.

456

:

I stifle the urge to suck in water as my

hands go up and I feel the rock above me.

457

:

I am under an overhang, which is blocking

the surface for the love of rats.

458

:

I need air.

459

:

Now with my hands overhead,

I frantically attempt to move

460

:

myself out from under the ledge.

461

:

Without warning, I pop up to the surface.

462

:

Air, glorious air.

463

:

I can breathe, but the

darkness around me is absolute.

464

:

I tread water as I spin in a whirlpool.

465

:

Something bumps me.

466

:

It's a log throwing my

arms over the sodden wood.

467

:

I hold on as I continue to turn.

468

:

At first, I'm so grateful to

breathe that I'm not afraid,

469

:

but as I spin, my fear grows.

470

:

Things I can't identify

bump me in the dark.

471

:

What if some other soul

got washed in here?

472

:

What if I come across a floating body?

473

:

I want to cry.

474

:

Why did I trust grim?

475

:

I should have rode the cataract

the way weather's taught me.

476

:

This is nothing like

the cave in my vision.

477

:

It was sparkling with light and there was

a ledge where the boat rested a ledge.

478

:

the thought gives me hope.

479

:

There may well be a ledge here somewhere.

480

:

It takes me a moment to gather my

courage, but I reach into the darkness.

481

:

What I feel isn't solid rock, but a

crumbling pile of sticks and debris.

482

:

Quickly, I pull my hand

back and try to think.

483

:

This underwater whirlpool is a

natural place for things to collect.

484

:

Who knows how long it's been here?

485

:

I do several more rotations before

reaching out to the pile again.

486

:

When I do, my hand digs into the

loose sticks, rotting leaves, and

487

:

whatever else has been washed in here.

488

:

. After a moment, I managed to

pull myself out of the water

489

:

and onto the mass of debris.

490

:

I grope around in the

darkness, not caring anymore.

491

:

If my hands come across

something repulsive.

492

:

Above me is solid rock.

493

:

I'm definitely in a cave at my side I find

a HU board about the length of my arm.

494

:

A board that could easily be

the sighting of a banjara boat.

495

:

I get hopeful as I find

some kind of framework.

496

:

This must be bogged Dan's boat

as I grope in the darkness.

497

:

I can tell that many boards are

gone, but many are still in place.

498

:

All the river gear, including the

oars, have been washed away, but my

499

:

fingers come across what feels like

a hatch cover that is still in place.

500

:

I am shivering so hard that my

fingers aren't working well, but

501

:

I manage to release the latch.

502

:

The lid comes away in my hand, the

leather hinges completely rotted through.

503

:

I reach in tentatively it

feels empty and my heart sinks.

504

:

But with more searching, I discover what

feels like a bean pot with a missing lid.

505

:

I plunge my hand inside and

find something hard, something.

506

:

I feel certain, even in the

pitch, black is the amethyst.

507

:

I clutch the lump to my chest and weight,

but as usual, there's nothing fine.

508

:

I say to the darkness, all

that matters is that I have it.

509

:

With shaking fingers, I place the

new stone next to the sapphire in

510

:

Nona shawl at my waist and double

check that the knot is secure.

511

:

That done, I sit in

the darkness shivering.

512

:

finding the amethyst is all well and

good, but now how do I get out of here?

513

:

After thinking for a while, I

come up with only one solution.

514

:

I've got to return the way I came.

515

:

The thought is horrifying, but

there is no other choice.

516

:

I kneel in the crumbling debris

next to the water and tell

517

:

myself to dive in, but I can't.

518

:

I almost died the last

time I was in the water.

519

:

My hand goes to the

New Stone in Nona Shaw.

520

:

I made the choice to let

the boat run the cataract.

521

:

Now, like it or not, I have

to suffer the consequences.

522

:

Just do it.

523

:

I command myself.

524

:

After feeling my lungs

with air, I dive in.

525

:

The water thrashes me, and I

can't control where I'm going.

526

:

For an interminable moment,

I'm held against a rock wall.

527

:

In the next moment, I'm

propelled downstream.

528

:

Finally, I pop up gasping for air.

529

:

My eyes dazzled by the light.

530

:

I am completely disoriented

until I see the boat bobbing

531

:

right side up along the shore.

532

:

I swim to it as fast as my sodden skirts

will let me and pull myself aboard.

533

:

I'm grateful to see that the boat is still

in one piece and both oars are in place.

534

:

I check that my bundle is in the hatch.

535

:

It is.

536

:

The only thing that appears

to be lost is the bale bucket.

537

:

I should have tied it to the

boat the way weathers does.

538

:

I grimace.

539

:

From now on, I'll be bailing

with Nona's Cook Pott.

540

:

Then it hits me.

541

:

Where's my staff?

542

:

Dread builds in my chest as I look

around, but the boat is empty.

543

:

The staff known a carved for me is gone.

544

:

Washed down river.

545

:

I slump in the cockpit.

546

:

Lost without it.

547

:

the boat still bobbing along the

shore knocks into a rock, then

548

:

it knocks again reluctantly.

549

:

I get up and tie a bow line

to a large boulder before any

550

:

damage is done to the boat.

551

:

Grim lands on a rock not far

away, and watches me in silence.

552

:

Stupid bird, I murmur.

553

:

You don't even care that

I nearly died back there.

554

:

Grim just blinks.

555

:

I turn away.

556

:

I'm done with the whisper.

557

:

I'll keep up my search, but

I'll never trust you again.

558

:

this reminds me of my find.

559

:

I dig the new lump out of Nona Shawl

and hold it up to the sunlight.

560

:

It is indeed the amethyst.

561

:

Its natural crystalline shape

extends the width of my palm.

562

:

The deep lavender runs from end

to end without a single flaw.

563

:

Grim squawks when he

sees it and flies away.

564

:

I can't help but think he wanted

to confirm that I had the amethyst

565

:

before acknowledging I survived.

566

:

Is that all the whisper cares

about finding the jewels?

567

:

Does it even matter what happens to me?

568

:

Annoyed.

569

:

I glance at the sky.

570

:

There couldn't be more than an

hour or two of daylight left.

571

:

Time is wasting.

572

:

I've got to find the castle.

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About the Podcast

Creative Spiritual Journey
one small, deliberate step at a time
We are all on a journey—a journey home to our heavenly parents. Any experienced traveler knows there are days you laugh and days you cry.

We aren’t here to tell you how to live—we are here to share how we live—how we survive, thrive, and even find joy!

The journey gets messy with rainstorms and sleepless flights but the hard times—the miserable times—those make the best stories.

And the vistas, the sunsets, the little birds outside the window—those are the reminders that God is in the details, he is aware of us, he has trod the path before.

The Creative Spiritual Journey Podcast is hosted by Judy and Ghia Cooley—two sisters in their wisdom years—who love the savior and are dedicated to making this journey one small, deliberate step at a time.

Join us!

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Ghia Cooley