Date and Author:
December 11, 2025 |  Sareen Talyra

Last night a rare cosmic phenomenon occured as seen by many Voyarans. Under the bright moonlight, the Lantern of the Wandering Light illuminated the night sky. This shimmering arc is one the most quintessential elements of Voyaran culture. It was first observed the night when our ancesteral families decided to commit to our nomadic way of life. The astral being was seen as a good omen and gave them the confidence to carry on. Now it has returned, marking a once in a lifetime expierence. 

Eyewitnesses discribed the moment as transcendent. Many Voyarans were still gardered around the bonfire when the Latern passed. Fortunately, the clear sky allowed for optimal observation. An elderly lady shared: 'I have lived many trips around the sun, but I had lost hope I would ever get to see the Lantern. But tonight the universe blessed us with its beauty. This night was and will forever be the most magical of my life.' 

The return of the comet comes at a time when tensions are at an all-time high. We are forced to rapidly adapt due to continuing raids by foreigners along our coast line and the palpable consequences of climate change, most noticable in the northern, artic region of our country. These elements, combined with the escalating tension with Sacravia, have caused restlessness in several tribes. However, the flare of embers is said to be a harbinger of change. It marks a new path for our people towards the future and will spread hope in these dire times. 

The Counsil of Elders has announced that an official reading will be conducted by the best astrologists in Voyara. Their expertise will allow for a deep understanding of the messages that the Latern is trying to send us. They have already declared that the constallations were in a favorable position last night. We encourage all Voyarans to honour the sky with special care in the following days and to make offerings to the Lantern to thank it for blessing us. This generation will likely not see the Lantern return in their lifetime, which is why we encourage everyone to continue sharing the story. This way, we ensure that the Lantern of the Wandering Light will to greet us once again for generations to come. 

Category / Tags: Culture | Astronomy | Community

Date and Author:
December 5, 2025 | Korali Sharin - on behalf of Voyaran Council of Elders

Lately, the land itself seems to be changing. Rivers dry earlier each season, and the winds that once guided us now shift unpredictably. Some herds have fallen ill, and plants that once healed no longer bloom as strongly.

The elders believe the earth is urging us to tread more gently, while others see these changes as a warning from the Gods for the harm done by outsiders who ransack forests, poison waters, and build heedlessly.

Our people are adapting. We travel shorter distances so as not to exhaust the land. Water is shared among tribes, and children are taught to honor every tree and river.

Though the nights grow warmer and rains come more sparingly, Voyarans do not lose hope. Listening to the voice of the earth, we trust that balance will return, and we will flourish once again.

Category / Tags: Environment | Culture | Community

Date and Author:
November 18, 2025 | Aïsha Nahrim 

The day begins before the sun even brushes the dunes. Aïsha wakes to the low grunts of camels and the bleating of goats. She stretches, tasting the desert air for changes, a sign of incoming wind, of ripening herbs. First, she milks the goats, humming softly to keep them calm. One mischievous kid tries to nibble her sleeve; she swats it gently, muttering, “You think I’m made of food?”

By mid-morning, she’s out with a small group of apprentices, teaching them how to identify and gather herbs. Fingers brush against feverfew and desert sage; she demonstrates drying techniques, warning, “Too much sun and it loses its soul.” She laughs softly when a young girl sneezes from the dust, calling it “the desert’s way of keeping you humble.”

Around midday, the caravan stumbles upon evidence of a raiding party. Aïsha’s calm authority takes over. She tends to scratches and bruises, applies poultices, and reassures frightened children. Her own pulse quickens, but she doesn’t show it; fear is a luxury the healer cannot afford. Once the wounded are stable, she bends down to instruct her apprentices on which herbs soothe pain and which help wounds close faster. Even in urgency, teaching remains central.

Lunch is a quiet affair: flatbread, goat cheese, a handful of dates , eaten wherever shade appears. She scolds her eldest gently for sneaking too many, while secretly enjoying the crunch of a date herself, hiding it in the folds of her robe.

As afternoon wanes, she checks on her camel, Safra and packs herbs harvested earlier, labeling bundles with woven tags. The younger children gather around, impatient for stories. She sighs, mock-annoyed, “Do you think I grow herbs for you to waste time?” Yet she crouches down, finger tracing the leaves, explaining which part of the plant heals fevers, which eases stomachaches.

By dusk, the caravan settles at a seasonal oasis. Tents rise in well-practiced rhythm. Nariyah unpacks the Moon Milk, and the fire is lit. Children and adults gather, eyes wide at the warm, numbing drink. She stirs the herbs into the goat milk with careful hands, taking a small taste first, light, slightly tipsy, joyful. Laughter spreads as the intoxicating warmth settles into everyone’s chest.

Stories, songs, and teasing flourish. Nariyah joins in, humming off-key, changing a lyric just to see her husband frown, then laugh, watching her children giggle uncontrollably. She quietly scolds a child faking a cough to get another sip, though she secretly admires their cleverness. A drop of Moon Milk spills on her sleeve; she shrugs, sipping more, savoring the fleeting, intoxicating lightness.

When the fire dies to embers, the caravan grows still. Nariyah leans back on her mat, eyes tracing familiar stars. Safra rests nearby, goats huddle close. She hums a low healing song, feeling the pulse of the desert, the warmth of family, and the lingering tingle of the night’s Moon Milk. Slowly, she drifts into sleep, wrapped in sage, goat milk, and quiet contentment, ready to rise with the desert once more.

Category / Tags: Lifestyle | Culture | Daily Life