The Tavern Between Worlds

A Door for the Lost. A Hearth for the Found.

The Tavern Between Worlds does not exist on any map. It cannot be summoned, charted, or chased. It is a place that finds you.

Not when you’re ready.
When you need it.

Hidden deep within the folds of the Weave, the Tavern rests where threads intersect, tangle, and sometimes break. It drifts quietly in the spaces between realms—a patchwork sanctuary stitched together by magic, memory, and one woman’s will. Its doors do not always lead to the same place. Its windows show skies that don’t belong. Its hallways are longer than they should be… or shorter than you remember.

And yet, it is home.

Warm light spills from the hearth. Mismatched chairs crowd close to the fire. The soup always tastes like something comforting—even if no one remembers cooking it. There is music sometimes, but no one plays. Cats appear, vanish, and reappear again. There’s always room for one more.

Time flows oddly here. Some guests stay for an hour, others for centuries. Some forget how they got in. Some are running from gods, grief, or war. And some, like the Threadweavers, are called to it—to protect it, to draw strength from it, to rest before stitching the broken world back together again.

The Tavern is alive in its own quiet way. It listens. It shifts. It remembers.

And while it may look like a cozy little place with knotted beams and faded tapestries, it holds within its walls a power older than any kingdom, older than any spell: the power of sanctuary.

If you find yourself standing before a crooked wooden door glowing softly in the dark, with warmth spilling out and laughter on the air—
step through.

You’ve found the Tavern Between Worlds.
And the Weave remembers you.