A hand-painted 30×30 cm canvas alive with colour, myth, and Celtic design.
The dragon rises against a backdrop of starlight and water, framed with knotwork corners that anchor the scene in ancient tradition. Its wings shimmer with leaf-veins, binding earth and sky, while the stars remind us of the stories written above.
Every brushstroke carries the spirit of folklore the dragon as guardian, dreamer, and storm-bringer, the knots as eternal bonds.
A vibrant painting depicting a colorful tree beneath a bright blue sky, symbolizing life and renewal.
Rest Beneath the Tree
At last they came to the tree.
It rose from the earth as though the hill itself had forced it skyward roots tangled deep, bark silvered with age, branches spread wide like the arms of a giant blessing or warning all who passed beneath. The ground around it was hushed, as if even the wind dared not trespass too loudly here.
Storm staggered to its shade and lowered himself to the roots. The weight of his wounds and weariness pressed him down, yet the tree seemed to hold him as gently as a cradle. He breathed slow, leaning against the trunk, and for the first time since the hill of ashes he felt his heart’s trembling ease.
The others made camp nearby, but left him undisturbed. Brianna spread her cloak by the fire, her eyes flicking often toward where he lay. Cadan tended the embers, muttering half-prayers, half-jests. The boy slept curled by the packs, his face still wet with the salt of grief.
Storm closed his eyes.
The world changed.
The tree shone with light, its roots glowing as though molten, its crown alive with whispering voices. Wolves circled him in the half-dark Boldolph and Morrigan among them, their eyes like coals, their howls joining others long gone. Above the branches wheeled Pendragon and Tairneanach, wings stirring thunder in a sky that was not a sky.
The gold ring gleamed on his finger once more. Its weight was not a burden but a bond. And the tree’s voice, deep as the earth itself, rolled through his marrow:
Rest, child of storm. The road is not ended. Every root remembers. Every leaf bears witness. You are bound to us, as we are bound to you.
Storm reached out and pressed his palm to the bark. He felt its strength answer, steadying his own. When his eyes opened, dawn was breaking.
Brianna stood ready with her blade. Cadan was already packing. The boy stirred from sleep.
Storm rose slowly, his body aching but his spirit steadier, and gave the tree one last look. The mark of his hand remained upon the trunk, a faint glow where blood and dream had mingled.
When the Roman legions marched into Britain in AD 43 under Emperor Claudius, they did not find an empty land. They found a patchwork of proud tribes, each with its own rulers, gods, and customs.
To the west of Watling Street lay the Cornovii, rooted in Shropshire and Staffordshire. To the south, around the salt-rich lands of Droitwich and Gloucestershire, stood the Dobunni. Both tribes would feel the weight of Rome’s advance.
Salt and Survival
Salt was life. It preserved food, healed wounds, and was as valuable as coin. The Romans renamed Droitwich Salinae and placed it under heavy control, taxing the salt trade and guarding it with military force.
For the Celts, who had long drawn wealth from the brine springs, this was both a theft and an insult. To strike the salt routes was to strike at Rome itself.
Resistance and Betrayal.
Not all Britons resisted. Some tribal leaders saw the might of Rome and chose to make an alliance. They took Roman names, built villas, and dressed in the style of their conquerors.
Others fought tooth and nail, their warriors painted, their gods called upon in the forests and on the hills. This clash between loyalty to tradition and the lure of Roman power split kin and tribe alike betrayal often hurt more than Roman swords.
Gods of Two Worlds.
The Romans rarely erased local gods. Instead, they blended them into their own pantheon.
Taranis, Celtic god of thunder, was aligned with Jupiter, wielder of lightning.
Sulis, worshipped at Bath, was merged with Minerva, goddess of wisdom.
Even the war goddess Andraste found echoes in Roman Mars and Bellona.
For many, this was a mask. Outwardly Roman, inwardly Celtic still. Temples rose with Latin names carved into stone, yet behind closed doors, the old rituals carried on offerings at sacred groves, whispered invocations at standing stones.
Daily Life Under Rome.
Markets bustled with pottery, wine, and oil imported from Gaul and Spain. Roman roads cut straight through the land, binding together forts, towns, and villas. Yet step off the road and you might still find Celtic roundhouses, farmers living as their ancestors had, and druids carrying wisdom that defied Rome’s order.
Legacy.
Celtic–Roman Britain was not either fully conquered or fully free. It was a place of merging, conflict, and uneasy coexistence. Rome imposed its order, but the spirit of the land the forests, the rivers, the stones still whispered the old names.
For some, like the warriors of legend, this was a time of rebellion. For others, a time of survival. And for figures like Taranis Stormborne, also known as Storm caught between gods and men, Rome and Celt, it was the crucible that forged myths still told today.
Abstract artwork depicting swirling colors and intricate patterns, representing the complexity of mental health.
Understanding Psychotic Depression
There are many types of mental illness some considered minor others major. But personally seen the devastating effects of mental illness.
For years I was told I had BPD with associated psychosis, agoraphobia, anxiety. But then the psychiatrist diagnosed me with a condition called Psychotic Depression.
Psychotic depression is not a term many people hear until it touches their life. For some, it’s a diagnosis; for others, a hidden truth they never had words for.
It is a severe form of major depressive disorder (MDD). That includes psychosis a break from reality through hallucinations or delusions.
What Is Psychotic Depression?
Psychotic depression blends the hopelessness of clinical depression with the unreality of psychosis. The result is a state where:
Delusions (false beliefs) often focus on guilt, punishment, illness, or worthlessness.
Hallucinations (often auditory or visual) align with negative internal narratives.
The person lose touch with reality, unable to distinguish fact from fear.
It can be terrifying, isolating, and life-threatening.
Core Symptoms:
Deep, prolonged sadness
Loss of interest in life
Fatigue or inability to move
Feelings of worthlessness or guilt
Thoughts of death or suicide
Psychotic symptoms:
Hearing voices
Believing you’ve committed unforgivable sins
Feeling watched or judged by unseen forces
These aren’t “dramatic” feelings they are real experiences for those living through psychotic depression.
What Causes It?
Psychotic depression is often triggered by a combination of:
Genetics (family history of mood or psychotic disorders)
Trauma or extreme stress
Chronic illness or disability
Imbalance in brain chemicals like serotonin, dopamine, cortisol
It’s not your fault. And it’s more common than most think.
Treatment Options
Psychotic depression is serious but it is treatable.
Medication: Usually a combination of antidepressants and antipsychotics
Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT): Effective in severe or treatment-resistant cases
Therapy: Often after stabilization, to handle trauma and build tools for recovery
Support systems: Family, friends, and community matter
If you or someone you love is experiencing this, seek professional help right away.
A Personal Note:
“I believed I’d infected the world just by being alive. A voice in my mind confirmed it, over and over. I couldn’t tell what was real only that I was dangerous. I wanted to disappear.”
You are not alone. You are not broken beyond repair.
StormborneLore is a space where fire still burns even in the dark.
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