PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 1 --- Tacenda; pl (plural only): Things that are not to be spoken about or made public. Things that are best left unsaid. --- He was unlike anyone else you had seen before. There was a certain confidence about him that drew everyone's eye. His hair was tied back into a messy plait, but it was the color that was the most striking, a bright pink that contrasted the dark red and black of his robes. His face was mostly obscured by the mask of his people, but you could just make out the shape of his jaw and a flash of sharp teeth when he smiled. He was dangerous - but he was magnetic.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 2 --- Versailles (proper noun). The argument over the etymology of Versailles tends to privilege the Latin word 'versare', meaning "to keep turning, turn over and over", an expression used in medieval times for plowed lands, cleared lands (lands that had been repeatedly "turned over"). --- He wasn't like any endermen you had seen before - probably because he wasn't fully an enderman. He was tall like an enderman, but that was where the similarity ended. He was split down the middle - half of his skin the same inky black as the twins, the other half a radiant white. His eyes didn't match either - one blood red and the other emerald green. His hair fell in soft waves, almost obscuring his eyes at times, and he kept his head tilted down, his sharp jawline on display. He seemed timid, but that might have just been the situation - anyone behind bars would likely hang their head.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 3 --- Hiraeth (Welsh pronunciation: [hɪraɨ̯θ, hiːrai̯θ]) is a Welsh word for longing or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that no longer exists or never was. A deep and irrational bond felt with a time, era, place or person. --- You were close enough that you could see the crew scurrying about on deck now. They looked as ragged as the ship - no sense of unity about them other than that they were all standing on deck together, swords brandished as you approached. You scanned over them and felt suddenly grateful for your sailing uniform - some of those pirates didn't even have shoes. Simon strode the deck, scanning through the ranks for the captain of the Ghost. You had been given some indication as to what she looked like, but when she parted herself from the ranks of her crew, you weren't quite ready for what she actually looked like. They didn't do her justice on the wanted posters back home. She was short, but powerfully built. You could see ram horns sticking out from underneath her extravagant hat, and her coat was a bright blood red - the gold trim faded somewhat. You were most focused on her hair though - pure white and absolutely massive, it looked like a cloud around her head. Stern eyes finished the look, and you couldn't help but be a little bit entranced - this was the kind of person that people were scared to make eye contact with. Simon didn't seem all that frightened when he came to stand on the edge of your own deck, facing her over the narrow strip of sea that separated you - and you were grateful. If you were captain, you didn't know if you would be able to look her in the eye.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK SIX --- Addendum (noun); an item of additional material, typically omissions, added at the end of a book or other publication --- A collection of pieces puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit into the rest of the story - oneshots and timelines and little asides about the universe from the point of someone who's thought way too much about it.

THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE BOOK ONE --- Your eyes trailed up to the balcony, taking stock of the man who was perched there, hands resting on the railing as he peered down at the crowd that had just entered the room. Broad shoulders were only accentuated by plated armor, polished to a bronze sheen. You had seen this man before, during military processions and that sort of thing. The prison warden, and one of the caesar's previous champions. Samuel. The warden of the prison underneath the colosseum.

THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE BOOK TWO -- Approaching Anoitos' temple again, you opened the door, turning as you stepped inside to close it again. The door closing with a satisfying clunk, you spun back around, intending to just quickly bow your head and grab your beads without much circumstance. You were not expecting to see a man, mid-way through stuffing his face with the plate of offerings you had brought, at the altar, his eyes blown wide with panic and focused on you. You stared back at him. "I- you- what are you doing? Who are you? How-?" You turned halfway back to the door, intending to run for one of the guards. "Wait!" The man's voice drew your attention back to him, just in time to see his appearance shift slightly - like there was something behind the mirage of his skin. For a moment - the man was gone, and in his place, a living replica of the hulking gold warrior depicted in the statue took his place. Your hand dropped from the handle of the door, staring up at the god before you. Out of all the times for your prayers to be answered... and of all ways, like this... "See?" He said, shrinking back to the man you had seen before, the boyish smile you knew so well still on his face. "It's just me!" Standing before you, with crumbs of bread on his face, was Anoitos, somehow - impossibly - in the flesh.

THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE BOOK THREE --- What a wonderful little secret this was though. If you hadn't been able to follow the signs you would have never found it - a real travesty. Everything you could possibly need resided here in some form or another - feverfew sprang up in little bunches from the ground, accompanied by echinacea. Gingko trees around the place offered their leaves down to you in little bundles. If you hadn't known better, you would have thought someone had planted it all here... A rustle from the bushes behind you stopped your train of thought in its track, sending a shiver of panic down your spine. Your hand withdrawing from the bundle of milk thistle it had been about to grab, you slowly turned, mind filling with all a matter of wild animals that could be lurking in this wood. A pair of soft brown eyes peered out from one of the clumps of brush, staring directly at you.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 4 --- Gladius, (noun): (in ancient Rome) a short sword. --- Eret perked up as soon as you and Simon walked into the room, a wide and welcoming smile coming onto his face. He was softer looking than his father had been, but you could still see some of the similar traits. He had a head of thick dark curls, and the same sharp jaw that his father had had. He wasn't as bulky though - he was tall and thin - and his face was a lot more open. What separated him most from his father's likeness though was the colorful cape, and the large mirrored glasses he wore - swirling with colors reflected from the room. He stood from his seat when Maven let the doors swing shut behind her, that wide smile still on his face. "You must be the embassy." "And you must be King Eret." You said, stooping into a bow. "Oh, there's no need for that." Eret said as you rose from your bow. He stepped down from the dias where his throne sat - colorful cape trailing behind him - and came to stand in front of you, taking your hand instead. "I'm not really one for formalities." He grinned, shaking your hand. His palm was warm against yours, and you could feel some slight callouses - most likely from practicing his sword work.

"You remember what I said a few months ago?" Alex asked. "About when you hit one million subscribers?" You thought for a moment, sorting through your memories. "You're going to have to be more specific." Alex smiled, sipping at her drink. "About the SMP." That jogged your memory immediately. "Wait- really?" You asked, now excited. "You'll ask if I can join?" Alex nodded, and your heart swelled up with joy. You were going to join the Dream SMP. And, oh, how your life would change because of it.

You were one of the first people to arrive in the piano room - probably because your form room had been so close by. The room was empty when you walked in, so you just made your way to the back of the room, sitting down at one of the pianos near the window. There were no desks in the room besides for the teacher, only keyboards lined up in rows facing the front of the room. You set your books down under the piano, not knowing where else to put them, and sat down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt in your hands as you waited. You would have much preferred for at least the teacher to be in the room - sitting by yourself was not really what you wanted to be doing. You turned your attention to the window in the room, absently watching a couple of songbirds dart in an out of a small shrub while you waited. Hopefully someone else would get here soon and it wouldn't be so stiflingly silent- "Oh. Hello." Your head snapped back to the front of the room to see a boy standing there, hovering awkwardly just inside the door. He was rather short, and his arms wrapped around his books in a hug. You wouldn't have noticed him in the hallway if you had passed him - his height combined with brown hair and brown eyes made him the sort of person that would just blend in to a crowd. He didn't look particularly mean though, so you just tried for a smile. "That's my seat." He said, still hovering by the door.