{"id":35020,"date":"2026-10-04T22:56:20","date_gmt":"2026-10-05T03:56:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/?p=35020"},"modified":"2026-10-04T22:56:20","modified_gmt":"2026-10-05T03:56:20","slug":"what-the-pig-promised-season-one-episode-one-skies-as-empty-as-promises","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/what-the-pig-promised-season-one-episode-one-skies-as-empty-as-promises\/","title":{"rendered":"What The Pig Promised – Season One – Episode One \u2013 Skies as Empty as Promises"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

Dear Listener, fear not. A chorus entwined throughout space and time is never resolved at first echo.<\/strong><\/h3>\n

\u2014 Author Unknown<\/strong><\/h3>\n

The Blacksmith<\/h2>\n

Foundation and Forge<\/small><\/h3>\n

Iron was born in the heart of a star, fused from lighter elements in fires hotter than any forge\u2014creation beyond any alchemist\u2019s dream. Stars died and exploded, casting their creations into the dark.<\/p>\n

In time, some of that matter gathered again, becoming something new\u2014like the world you live on. And one day, someone pulled this iron from the ground.<\/p>\n

They melted it down and forged it into a sword, a plow, nails for a cobbler\u2019s bench. It all became scrap eventually, melted down and joined with more scrap.<\/p>\n

Mixed. Melted. Mingled. Reforged.<\/p>\n

History entangled. Futures built.<\/p>\n

The work I\u2019m creating now carries every failure and every success\u2014the birth and death of civilizations, kettles and war machines.<\/p>\n

And someday, when the fire and force become too much for you\u2014if you\u2019re willing to step up and do the work\u2014you might earn the right to swing the hammer.<\/p>\n

Letter from Mareen to Richard<\/h2>\n

I have visited you here every year on our anniversary. Gods\u2026 fourteen years.<\/p>\n

Usually, Sara and I sit together by your headstone. I tell her about you \u2014 your curly red hair we could never tame, and that smile that never failed to tame me. I think of her as our child because I like to believe you made one of your crazy deals\u2026 this time with the universe\u2026 to bring her and me together. That would be you.<\/p>\n

Caring for Sara is the only thing that lit my darkness and kept me from following you into the heavens.<\/p>\n

Today I am here alone. And surprise \u2014 it isn\u2019t even our anniversary. This week marks twelve years since she arrived. We\u2019re calling it her eighteenth birthday.<\/p>\n

I wanted to tell you more about her. I assume you already know, but what do you know, Richard?<\/p>\n

You would have loved her. From the start, she was all quiet eyes and steady hands, watching everything. A week or so after she came to us, one of the chapel cats had a litter. We went to adopt one. There were only three left. She gathered all three against her chest and said they were family, and now they were her family too.<\/p>\n

I let her keep them, of course. I remember thinking, even then, that she loved too much to separate them. And maybe she understood separation better than most, even if no one \u2014 not even her \u2014 could say who she had been taken from.<\/p>\n

She eats like you did. Too much, too fast. I don\u2019t know where she puts it. The baker still brings up the time she ate three honey twists before anyone else had even gotten theirs. She laughed so hard she sprayed the table with chewed-up pastry. You would have loved that\u2026 her laugh, I mean \u2014 the way she doesn\u2019t hold anything back.<\/p>\n

Lately it feels like she\u2019s holding something back, and I can\u2019t quite place it.<\/p>\n

It was around that age that she started asking questions I couldn\u2019t answer \u2014 about time, about space. About why we have no stars, but everyone Ilra meets seems to have their own. I swear on the Seven Children, Richard, everything she does seems to have its own kind of math built into it.<\/p>\n

Sister Tephra is a math genius, and she seems to understand the things Sara asks about. So I brought her to the chapel, hoping someone who spoke her language could give her the answers I couldn\u2019t. She did. Sara has been studying under Tephra ever since. I hope it was the right thing to do.<\/p>\n

She has always been fascinated by how things are made, and how they become part of something new. When she was about nine, she told me once that the iron in a nail might hold pieces of a ship \u2014 and a sword \u2014 and another nail. She said it like she could see it happening right there in her hands. She was nine years old, Richard. Nine!<\/p>\n

I\u2019m worried about her. Our daughter. Sometimes I find her staring at a candle, a flower \u2014 anything, really. When she snaps to, sometimes she\u2019s emotional\u2026 angry, sad, happy. But she says she doesn\u2019t know why. She doesn\u2019t remember anything at all.<\/p>\n

She spends so much time training with Sister Tephra. And yes, she\u2019s still odd. Like you said, she is preparing for something big. Whatever it is, let\u2019s hope it never happens. But Sara has learned so much about things I can\u2019t even imagine.<\/p>\n

She asked me to keep this a secret, but I feel like you won\u2019t tell anyone. She found a hidden library in the chapel. She said it looked like someone had tucked the door away and had forgotten to remember it \u2014 for decades, maybe more. She said the library is filled with books about mathemagic, old science. Richard, there are books about time travel.<\/p>\n

Actual time travel.<\/p>\n

Doesn\u2019t it seem odd that she is so fascinated with these things? She is the only person The Moment has ever given us. She is smart and creative beyond anything you\u2019ve seen.<\/p>\n

And Tephra.<\/p>\n

Sometimes I think it wasn\u2019t really my idea for her to study with Tephra\u2026 and lately, I\u2019m not sure if that should comfort or scare me.<\/p>\n

Chapter 1: Introduction to The Stitched Sky: An Assembly of Celestial Testimonies<\/p>\n

As recorded by Ilra Wint, village chronicler and seamstress \u2014 a woman with ink and a thread<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

We have no stars in our sky.<\/p>\n

Others do, and some who pass through Gratch Hollow tell stories about skies thick with constellations, their names learned like lullabies. Yet they never seem surprised that ours is empty.<\/p>\n

Perhaps they expected it.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve spent the better part of two decades collecting their accounts: wanderers and traders, bards and priests, even the quiet ones who vanish before morning. They speak of lights in the night sky. Some whisper names. Others draw what they remember. No two sketches are the same, yet close enough that I believe them.<\/p>\n

And always, there are stories.<\/p>\n

Chapter 2: The First Time I Died<\/strong><\/h2>\n

As told by The Stranger<\/em><\/p>\n

You prefer the hero voice for my final performance? Then the hero voice you shall have! Let my story reverberate throughout this chamber with its weird purple glow and give the tale of my untimely demise the drama it deserves. You\u2019re still paying me in silver, yes? Excellent.<\/p>\n

Let me tell you the tale of the first time I died. At least, as far as I knew.<\/p>\n

Honestly, coming to consciousness was the first thing I remembered at all. My life before? A complete blank. No childhood. No career. Nothing other than language and knowledge, if you can imagine.<\/p>\n

So the axe splitting my skull may not have been my first death at all. But given the usual mechanics of death, I would enthusiastically argue it\u2019s a strong candidate.<\/p>\n

Oh, the axe! Picture it: the itch on my scalp, pressure in my bladder, cold air against my skin\u2026 the unmistakable smell of pig-shit. These are my very first memories, by the way.<\/p>\n

Well, those and the voice taking the shape of a deathly scream. Hatred and murder were clearly its motivation. If a nightmare could be cast as one man and a sound effect, this one would pass the audition. And I personally might have skipped the production altogether.<\/p>\n

Somehow I had a sword, and somehow my hand knew to reach for it, which it did, fairly gracefully, I must say, but only after being released from some kind of paralysis.<\/p>\n

I managed to open my eyes to my first clear vision. It was also, for the moment, my last: an axe blade descending quite painfully upon my skull.<\/p>\n

The next time I died? Oh, you\u2019ll love this one.<\/p>\n

The Day I Dealt Death a Damning Defeat was the same day I died the first time, but this time I caught Death unaware.<\/p>\n

The darkness receded once again, and this time I was prepared. The scream took its place. The curtain of stench rose before me. I ordered the darkness to unhand me and seized my sword by the hilt. Solid. A deadly thing, no doubt.<\/p>\n

I drew it and caught that axe blade before I could even open my eyes. For the first time, I saw my weapon clearly: an awkward thing that looked more like a stage prop than a sword, except it was flat-black, solid, and deadly.<\/p>\n

A girl stood there, stricken\u2026 but clearly impressed. And who could blame her?<\/p>\n

She had a friend, too: a pig-man. I was surprised at the time, naturally, but he would not be the strangest creature I encountered that day. And the axe-mad little lunatics seemed bent on making him bacon.<\/p>\n

I saved them both, of course. Well, I had a little help.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t look at me like that. I did die\u2026 just a little\u2026 on the inside.<\/p>\n

Heh. I wonder if he ever went by Chris.<\/p>\n

Chris. P. Bacon.<\/p>\n

\n

<\/h2>\n

They say the stars speak. That gods live among them, that monsters were slain there, that the sky remembers things so that generations never forget.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Chap<\/strong>ter 3: Thaliriel, The Uninvited Mare Who Refused to Yield<\/strong><\/h2>\n

From the Archive of Divergence History, kept in the MisArsesDol\u00e9 cavern libraries beneath Bralith University of Mathmagics and Technomancy. <\/strong>
\nRead by Archivist Fr. Thed Crelith<\/strong><\/p>\n

Greatness handed down is empty.<\/em><\/p>\n

When earned it is divine.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2014 Author Unknown<\/p>\n

Thaliriel is known for her legendary stand: the mare who would not bow, the uninvited who fought to be seen, the one who claimed her place through defiance.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Those born divine were handed their stars and space. But for her it was a choice.<\/p>\n

They named her Last of the Sky-Beasts. Last but never least, earned and not bestowed. Her wings she forged for a climb through headwinds no god had need to face. Her horn she formed in defiance of those who would deny her stars and space.<\/p>\n

So when you see her light know this: she is not there to carry you. She\u2019s not there for you at all. But let her brilliance remind you:<\/p>\n

What is bestowed may fade. But what is earned cannot be denied.<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\"\"<\/a><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n
\n

 <\/p>\n

Some say the stars slowly wander across the years. Sometimes I wonder if they are not merely lights, but souls.<\/p>\n

If the constellations are memories in formation\u2026 And if the ghostly visitors we glimpse during The Moment, those flickering souls who vanish before breath or word, are on their way to join the sky and become stars themselves\u2026 then maybe our village, quiet, watchful Gratch Hollow is the seam between two worlds.<\/p>\n

Maybe The Moment is the stitch. Maybe the heavens require a pattern. And maybe, just maybe, we are the thread.<\/p>\n

Chapter 4: The Day the Stranger Nearly Got Me Killed before Breakfast<\/strong><\/h2>\n

As told by Sara, the Girl Who Stayed<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGood to meet you. I\u2019m Sara. Pardon the voice. I was up really early, and Mareen says I sound like an old man before coffee.<\/p>\n

The day the Stranger showed up? I was nineteen. It was morning\u2026 first light\u2026 but the people in Gratch Hollow were mostly still asleep, even if I wasn\u2019t. But the equations I had been studying had gotten under my skin. And Pip, here, wasn\u2019t making it easier. He was upstairs\u2026 in Mareen\u2019s room\u2026 thumping a mouse. Right. Above. My head. As cats do.<\/p>\n

My little hunter\u2026 so I took the hint from the Universe\u2026 yes, and you too, Pip: coffee time! I decided I wanted to try using the resonance stones Sr. Tephra made, to manifest my time-recursive equations\u2026 big concept, I know, but not important to this story. Not yet anyway.<\/p>\n

So I ran into the chapel and grabbed the stones. And when I stepped back out: I saw four of them, standing in the field. Like they appeared out of nowhere.<\/p>\n

The Cult of Swillborn. Armed. They didn\u2019t see me, thank the Seven Children, so I ducked behind the door, while Tansi\u2026 Tansi thinks she\u2019s a tiny panther, crouched in the grass, ready to protect me from the death cult. Too many cultists around those days. I should have connected the\u2026 well\u2026 you know\u2026 the stories.<\/p>\n

And I despise the way they twist Brinna Swillborn\u2019s work. And for what? Power? Some unholy math scam? Who knows. No one\u2019s ever sat one of their vicious little asses down for a chat over tea\u2026 or a biscuit\u2026<\/p>\n

From what I could tell they were mostly around my age. But there was one sitting in a wheeled chair. I assume he was their high priest. He had a heavy-looking black collar around his scrawny little neck. It had a huge, something like a purple gem. Which seemed familiar\u2026<\/p>\n

His voice croaked out Brinna\u2019s High-Mathemagics, spoiled with foul forbidden variables that twisted into some kind of dark prayer. Then the others repeated it back. Like a chant. \u201cIt\u2019s as if poison could become holy\u2026 if you only drank enough.\u201d As Mareen would say.<\/p>\n

Those kids\u2026 No. It wouldn\u2019t be the first time good people were grifted into a \u201choly truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

The tallest one lifted a ceremonial axe, real over-dramatic, like. Seriously, I think it glinted\u2026 it was etched with dangerous Old-Swillcode Symbols. I guess they needed the instructions.<\/p>\n

And Jon! Gods. Jon meandered! He meandered along, humming, and squealing away, so happy with himself, like a pig in\u2026 you get the point. He had a flowerpot. Probably a sprout had come up\u2026 it would be the only miracle that mattered to him. He lit up when he saw me, snout snorting, squealing with glee, probably dying to show me his little plant. I tried to wave him away. But instead, he waved back. Not quite what I was going for.<\/p>\n

I looked back over at the Cult, afraid Jon had caught their attention, gods know what they would do to us. But there was someone new there\u2026 The Stranger. He wasn\u2019t flickering like they do during The Moment. You\u2019ve seen it. He just appeared. When I wasn\u2019t looking. He was solid. Armed. His armor looked\u2026 normal. Except the color. That same dull black as the High Priest\u2019s collar. And the wall surrounding Gratch Hollow. You see what I mean.<\/p>\n

You know, if I wasn\u2019t \u201cThe Girl Who Stayed,\u201d it might have shocked me. Then\u2026 the scream that I will never forget\u2026 the terrible shivers up my spine. The axe fell, splitting the morning in two like a fruit, and I thought the Stranger\u2019s skull would split in two too. But\u2026 no. A giant clang practically tore the air wide open. It echoed even around the top of The Hollow\u2019s wall. The man blocked the axe with his sword. But just barely.<\/p>\n

Jon squealed, dropped his little pot, and bolted, ears back, curly tail straight as a stick. And then, the Stranger, Prince Valiant, starts screaming at me: \u201cYou! Girl! Get help, help, help.\u201d Smooth, right? Well, that caught the attention of the high priest\u2026 He sent one, a woman\u2026 well, girl after me\u2026 I froze\u2026 I just froze.<\/p>\n

Jon was running over to protect me, fastest I\u2019ve ever seen his hooves move. Gods, she\u2019d have butchered him on the spot.<\/p>\n

Her blade began to swing. I was sure I was dead\u2026 at 19 years old. But! Out of the chapel, along comes Sister Tephra\u2026 my mentor. Precise as a clock. Staff in hand, graceful, balancing every step like one of her equations.<\/p>\n

Each blow struck precise. Her staff and body moved together like gears in a watch, calculating time in perfect blunt force trauma.<\/p>\n

And then it was over. Brother Halvor came out of hiding and we prepared the bodies for burial. Those kids\u2026 they never had a chance. You don\u2019t leave the Swillborn cult. Not alive.<\/p>\n

There could never be another Sister Tephra. She solved the problem elegantly, like she already knew the solution. Of course she did\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I see truths in the stories, and in the faces that flicker\u2026 glimpses of who they were, a moment ago. Perhaps their final moment.<\/p>\n

So I record everything. I sew pages like cloth, each connected to the next by a thread I long to untangle.<\/p>\n

If I cannot follow the thread, I will at least hold the needle.<\/p>\n

And if any souls get lost along the way\u2026 if one of them, like our precious Sara, chooses to stay\u2026 then let them find what I\u2019ve gathered. Let them study these scraps, sketches, and stitched-together skies.<\/p>\n

Under Sister Tephra, Sara is learning more than I ever could.<\/p>\n

Maybe she will see the pattern I\u2019ve missed. Maybe, one day, she will help the souls of The Moment find their way.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Written, performed, and produced by Shawn Fitzmaurice<\/em>
\nVoiceover Nerd Productions, Inc. \u00a9 2025. All rights reserved.<\/em>
\nVoiceoverNerd.com<\/em><\/p>\n

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Dear Listener, fear not. A chorus entwined throughout space and time is never resolved at first echo. \u2014 Author Unknown The Blacksmith Foundation and Forge Iron was born in the heart of a star, fused from lighter elements in fires hotter than any forge\u2014creation beyond any alchemist\u2019s dream. Stars died […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":17,"featured_media":34980,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"audio","meta":{"episode_type":"audio","audio_file":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/WTPP-Season-1-Episode-1.mp3","podmotor_file_id":"","podmotor_episode_id":"","cover_image":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/44848277-1776356501829-69d0ab5f39e81-3998270507-scaled.jpg","cover_image_id":"34980","duration":"23:24","filesize":"42.83M","filesize_raw":"44914348","date_recorded":"2026-10-04 23:46:27","explicit":"","block":"","itunes_episode_number":"1","itunes_title":"What The Pig Promised Season One - Episode One \u2013 Skies as Empty as Promises","itunes_season_number":"","itunes_episode_type":"full","footnotes":""},"categories":[567],"tags":[188,442,628,629,630,745],"qtserie":[568],"series":[550],"class_list":["post-35020","post","type-post","status-publish","format-audio","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-the-ocadecagonagon-theater-group","tag-comics","tag-drama","tag-best-audio-drama","tag-strangers-in-paradise","tag-terry-moore","tag-comedy","post_format-post-format-audio","qtserie-the-ocadecagonagon-theater-group","series-the-ocadecagonagon-theater-group"],"episode_featured_image":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/44848277-1776356501829-69d0ab5f39e81-3998270507-scaled.jpg","episode_player_image":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/44848277-1776356501829-69d0ab5f39e81-3998270507-scaled.jpg","download_link":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/podcast-download\/35020\/what-the-pig-promised-season-one-episode-one-skies-as-empty-as-promises","player_link":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/podcast-player\/35020\/what-the-pig-promised-season-one-episode-one-skies-as-empty-as-promises","audio_player":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/podcast-player\/35020\/what-the-pig-promised-season-one-episode-one-skies-as-empty-as-promises<\/a>","episode_data":{"playerMode":"dark","subscribeUrls":{"amazon":{"key":"amazon","url":"","label":"Amazon","class":"amazon","icon":"amazon.png"},"apple_podcasts":{"key":"apple_podcasts","url":"","label":"Apple Podcasts","class":"apple_podcasts","icon":"apple-podcasts.png"},"castbox":{"key":"castbox","url":"","label":"CastBox","class":"castbox","icon":"castbox.png"},"google_play":{"key":"google_play","url":"","label":"Google Play","class":"google_play","icon":"google-play.png"},"google_podcasts":{"key":"google_podcasts","url":"","label":"Google Podcasts","class":"google_podcasts","icon":"google-podcasts.png"},"owltail":{"key":"owltail","url":"","label":"OwlTail","class":"owltail","icon":"owltail.png"},"player_fm":{"key":"player_fm","url":"","label":"Player.fm","class":"player_fm","icon":"player-fm.png"},"podbay":{"key":"podbay","url":"","label":"Podbay","class":"podbay","icon":"podbay.png"},"podbean":{"key":"podbean","url":"","label":"Podbean","class":"podbean","icon":"podbean.png"},"podchaser":{"key":"podchaser","url":"","label":"Podchaser","class":"podchaser","icon":"podchaser.png"},"rss":{"key":"rss","url":"","label":"RSS","class":"rss","icon":"rss.png"},"spotify":{"key":"spotify","url":"","label":"Spotify","class":"spotify","icon":"spotify.png"},"youtube":{"key":"youtube","url":"","label":"YouTube","class":"youtube","icon":"youtube.png"},"iheartradio":{"key":"iheartradio","url":"","label":"iHeartRadio","class":"iheartradio","icon":"iheartradio.png"},"itunes":{"key":"itunes","url":"","label":"iTunes","class":"itunes","icon":"itunes.png"}},"rssFeedUrl":"https:\/\/twotruefreaks.com\/podcast\/feed\/podcast\/the-ocadecagonagon-theater-group","embedCode":"

What The Pig Promised – Season One – Episode One \u2013 Skies as Empty as Promises<\/a><\/blockquote>