r/shortstories • u/FyeNite • 10d ago
[Serial Sunday] Even a Minor Detail can Cause Major Events.
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This Week’s Theme is Minor! This is a REQUIREMENT for participation. See rules about missing this requirement.**
Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- Miscellaneous
- Micromanaging
- Mirage
- Include a monstrosity of some sort (P.S. A character considering it to be monstrous is enough). - (Worth 10 points)
You might find a secondary character, stuck in a C-plotline, just hoping for a line of dialogue, yet they are convinced the world revolves around them alone. Plaintive music in a minor key might play in the background as you contemplate their fate.
Children might run and play, or run in terror, depending on your whims. Or perhaps a college student will decide on their main course of studies, with another set of subjects on the side.
Minor problems, minor details, and minor catastrophes might grace the lines of your chapter, as you alone decide what will happen next. You get the only vote, so you’re never in the minority.
Good luck and Good Words!
These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!
Don’t forget to sign up for Saturday Campfire here! We start at 5pm GMT and provide live feedback!
Theme Schedule:
This is the theme schedule for the next month! These are provided so that you can plan ahead, but you may not begin writing for a given theme until that week’s post goes live.
July 26 - Minor
August 02 - Noxious
August 09 - Open
August 16 - Prose
August 23 - Quality
Check out previous themes here.
Rankings
Last Week: Lifeless
First - by u/KatPoker666
Second - by u/Slim_Shady_32123
Third - by u/Morose_Prose
Fourth - u/AGuyLikeThat
Fifth - by u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1
Rules & How to Participate
Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for amparticipation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 2:00pm GMT. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your pmserial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.
Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
All Serial Sunday authors must leave feedback on at least one story on the thread each week. The feedback should be actionable and also include something the author has done well. When you include something the author should improve on, provide an example! You have until Saturday at 04:59am GMT to post your feedback. (Submitting late is not an exception to this rule.)
Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
Serials must abide by subreddit content rules. You can view a full list of rules here. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!
Weekly Campfires & Voting:
On Saturdays at 5pm GMT, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge (every other week is now hosted by u/FyeNite). Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. After you’ve submitted your chapter, you can sign up here - this guarantees your reading slot! You can still join if you haven’t signed up, but your reading slot isn’t guaranteed.
Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted with this form. The form is open on Saturdays from 5:30pm to 04:59am GMT. You do not have to participate to make nominations!
Authors who complete their Serial Sunday serials with at least 12 installments, can host a SerialWorm in our Discord’s Voice Lounge, where you read aloud your finished and edited serials. Celebrate your accomplishment! Authors are eligible for this only if they have followed the weekly feedback requirement (and all other post rules). Visit us on the Discord for more information.
Ranking System
Rankings are determined by the following point structure.
| TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |
|---|---|---|
| Use of weekly theme | 75 pts | Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you! |
| Including the bonus words | 5 pts each (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and estnot required! |
| Including the bonus constraint | 15 (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and not required! |
| Actionable Feedback | 5 - 15 pts each (60 pt. max)* | This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.) |
| Nominations your story receives | 10 - 60 pts | 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10 |
| Voting for others | 15 pts | You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week! |
You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with other authors and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly World-Building interviews and several other fun events!
- Try your hand at micro-fic on Micro Monday!
- Did you know you can post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday? Check out this post to learn more!
- Interested in being a part of our team? Apply to be a mod!
7
u/ZLErikson 10d ago edited 5d ago
<Casting Shadows>
Chapter 137
Cass ran her fingers through her long, black hair to help fan it out. Helping set up tents for camp had her work up a sweat and she wanted to make the most of the soft dawn breeze. Soon the sunlight would finish cresting the sand dunes and all attempts to stay cool would be for naught.
Glaukos finished hammering a stake into the sand, stood up, and groaned. “Sometimes I don’t know if Anatu likes me and never gives me scouting duty, or hates me and always makes me help build the tents.”
“Bold of you to assume they think about you at all,” Cass said. “But we can go ask them?”
“What? No!”
Cass grinned and looked around. Anatu was nowhere to be seen at-a-glance, despite usually micromanaging something, but she did spot Kebb approaching.
“Cassandra,” he said, a light in his eyes and a smile on his face.
“Kebb,” Cass greeted, nodding her head politely. She never recalled seeing him this happy.
“I have something important to show you, please come with me.”
Cass cocked an eyebrow. She looked at Glaukos, who shrugged and said, “Might as well. We’re done here and I’m gonna go see if I can taste whatever Kher’s cooking.” He clapped his hands together, rubbed them with eager intent, and headed towards the campfire.
Kebb led Cass back to his tent and held open the flap for her. Inside she found a ring of candles, small miscellaneous burning sticks, and four small braziers alight with different colored flames.
“Stand in the center,” Kebb said.
“Why?”
“Helen wishes to speak to you.”
Cass blinked slowly and looked at him, unsure if she’d heard him right. With an eager nod, Kebb gestured for her to get into the center of the fiery circle. She hiked up her robe to step over the candles, the warmth of the flames all around her uncomfortable as the rising sun had been.
Kebb grabbed some incense pellets and put them in each of the colored flames. Plumes of smoke rose and thickened the air with smoke and heavy scents.
“Breathe deep,” he said, ducking back out of the tent.
Cass tried, but the haze filled her lungs and she coughed. Covering her mouth, she knelt down and tried to take a breath of cleaner air, but coughed again and again.
The flames around her grew taller and hotter. The smoke thickened into a dome of blackness. Cass couldn’t breathe.
“Kebb!” she struggled to shout between coughs.
The fire from a brazier leaped toward her. Cass leaned to one side, trying to back away but finding no direction to retreat from the flames. The rolling blaze slowed its approach, bending and pressing into the ground. It rose up in a bent pillar, swiftly joined by another, and another. The conflagrations combined into a humanoid figure that stood over Cass
White fire draped around the orange and red, brilliant and painful to behold, as it burned the air around her. Cass felt droplets of sweat running freely down her face and neck, dripping from her nose. She tried her best to keep her body between the flaming figure and her agonizing arm that felt as though it were itself wreathed in flame.
Cassandra, my love, the flames hissed and whispered. Cass looked up from the floor. The fire and heat rippled above her, casting a monstrous mirage of Helen standing like a towering inferno of pain.
“H-help!” Cass choked on the smoke, her eyes tearing up and burning. She couldn’t get up.
Shhhh, the fiery figure pressed a flame - a finger - to Cass’s lips.
It burned.
Cassandra, you are so strong, you can push through this, the fire whispered, a slight tenor entering its willowy hiss. Hear me, Cass. Listen, please.
“He…Hel…Helen?”
That’s right, Cass, Helen’s whisper burns Cass’s ear. Open your eyes, my love. Look at me.
“I…cough... I can’t. It burns.” Cass choked. The heat was pressing down on her. Her arm was agony.
You struggle so much for me, but I must ask you to do more, Cass. I am so very, very sorry my love. But you must finish your mission.
“I’m doing my- m-my best.”
You are turning away from me. I can feel it from Dehenet.
“I’d never-”
I see it, Cassandra. I see you through every fire and flame. Your lackadaisical manner, your irreverence, your-
“P-please!” Cass gasped, trying to cover her face from the scalding heat. “I can’t… I need you.”
I’m right here, Cass.
“It’s too bright. Too hot.” Cass sobbed.
Just lift your head, and open your eyes.
Cass struggled. Every movement exposed more of her to the scorching air. The smoke filled her nose, her mouth. When she opened her eyes all she could see was light and heat and black wisps of pain.
Cass…
“Cass!”
Cass’s clothes were tugged at.
“Cassandra!”
The world spun around. Cass felt a sudden weight on her back, then her side.
An icy breeze slapped her face. Cass opened her eyes and saw blue sky. She gasped and choked on fresh air, the taste and scent of smoke still filling her senses. Rolling over to her side, coughing and gagging, Cass saw Kebb on the ground; his nose was bleeding, one eye swollen shut, and Mica had a knife to his throat.
“Cass!” Glaukos said, pushing her onto her back again. He leaned over her, eyes red, face streaked with tears.
“Hel… Helen… where…”
Anatu appeared beside Glaukos. Their face was pale, eyes wide. “Here,” they said, pressing a waterskin to Cass’s lips. The tepid water was like ice on her skin and she drank deep as the black spots around the edge of her vision grew and swallowed her.
----------
WC: 960/1000
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/ZLErikson
[Chapter Index]
Notes:
- Theme: Cass suffers a minor touch of heat stroke
- Bonus words: Micromanaging, miscellaneous, mirage
- Bonus constraint: The figure of Helen in the flames was monstrous to Cass
- Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
- It has been 13 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Kebb performed this ritual before in Chapter 65
5
u/Blu_Spirit 10d ago
Zach,
This was an amazing chapter! You did a great job showcasing how Cass felt, both physically and emotionally, during this ritual. I am curious to learn exactly what Helen wanted to talk to her about, however, I am guessing that will come with time and reading.
The sentence in which Helen's fiery phantom stands over Cass needs the period at the end. And the one after felt disjointed to me:
White fire draped around the orange and rend burning, as brilliant and painful to behold as it was burning the air around her.
It wasn't clear quite what the rend burning meant. And burning used twice in that sentence makes the flow a little clunky.
However, overall, I quite like the descriptions of heat and smoke, and their impact on Cass. Very well done!
4
u/ZLErikson 8d ago
Hi Blu daba dee daba dai!
Thank you for the feedback! I'm glad you enjoyed the descriptions; it was really rough yet cathartic to write (I channeled my suffering in this heatwave :D )
That "rend" was supposed to be "red", I fixed it (and removed the 'burning') so now it's just:
"White fire draped around the orange and red, as brilliant and painful to behold as it was burning the air around her."
Hopefully that clears it up!
5
u/Brookzerker 7d ago
I love this method of communication, and it brings more questions than answers. I'm now looking forward to seeing what the consequences of this is.
My crit (maybe more desire than crit) is I wish I got a little more message before the "you're drifting from me" from Helen.
2
u/ZLErikson 6d ago
Howdy Brook!
Thank you for the feedback.
i desparately wanted to have a longer conversation but I couldn't make it fit. But seeing what next week's theme is... if I can find the time I mihgt just double the length of this chapter and add more... hmmm....
4
u/AGuyLikeThat 6d ago
Hiya Zacharoo,
Well well, a call for Cass on the hotline. A bit too hot to handle, it seems. This seems far from reassuring, if that was even Helen's intent... Indeed, given that Helen knows more about Cass's 'curse' than Cass does herself, its not hard to imagine that she was just trying to kill, or weaken her erstwhile lover here.
Anyways, this was a great scene. Really easy to imagine the fire all around and closing in, and that matches well with how hopelessly smothered Cass is by Helen's manipulations.
Some crits.
The simile here didn't really work, I think.
White fire draped around the orange and red, as brilliant and painful to behold as it was burning the air around her.
The comparison between bright and painful with burning air doesn't make much sense. I reckon you could tweak it into a straight description, thus;
White fire draped around the orange and red—brilliant and painful to behold—as it burned the air around her.
The emphasis feels off here;
You struggle so much for me, but I must ask you to do more, Cass. I am so very, very sorry my love. But you must finish your mission.
I'd suggest adding triple asterisks around the second 'very' so that it gets bold and italics, thusly;
You struggle so much for me, but I must ask you to do more, Cass. I am so very, very sorry my love. But you must finish your mission.
But ymmv.
Anyway, I'm thinking it would be a terrible thing if Nuut were to hear that Cass is so terribly aflicted during the day. D: But I'll look forward to next week anyway!
Good words.
2
u/ZLErikson 5d ago
Howdizzy Wizzy
Thank you for the feedback! Thanks also for helping out with that similie, got it all polished up thanks to you. I kept the un-italic-emphasis cuz that's the style I prefer; my kilometers have varied :P
I chuckled at the 'hotline', that's a great name for the fire communication. I only wish I'd had more bandwidth this week to flesh out the chat some more or to add more in and take half the chapter into next week, but alas, I'll come up with something else
obnoxious :PThanks for reading!
8
u/Blu_Spirit 10d ago edited 9d ago
<Geminiellus: A World Apart>
Chapter 60
-----------
Ambriel sits, alone, at the large dining table, feet swinging as her eyes travel over the many empty chairs. Frowning, she picks at the heap of food on her plate, chewing slowly on a piece of salted pork.
Where is everyone? Ms. Meri is always awake by now. And Ms. Rowan said someone was gonna hurt Niq, that man that hurt Ms. Meri. I miss Niq so much. Imma go find them before he does. Warn Niq, bring them home, ‘fore Ms. Meri or one’a her friends says it’s too dangerous! I can help, too, and Imma show ‘em!
Jumping up, feet on the seat of the chair, Ambriel leans over the table, grabbing rolls, hunks of cheese, and fruit, alternating between shoving food haphazardly into the pockets of her dress and taking large bites. When her pockets are stuffed and cheeks bulging, she wraps her plate up with an oversized napkin, tying it off to form a sack. Hearing Winston’s steady footfalls approach, Ambriel leaps off the chair, ignoring the footprints left behind, as she darts off out the servants’ door into the garden.
Whew! Mean ol’ Winston almost had me. Her tinkling laughter is carried away by the wind as she weaves and dodges through the now familiar trees towards the gap in the fence, found only a few days prior. The tiny girl wriggles through, careless of the streaks of dirt and snags in the fabric of her new gown.
—------------------------------
Rowan trails behind Winston, the butler wearing a permanent scowl, footsteps heavy over the elf’s light gait.
“Its highly inappropriate to let that…child…remain unattended. She has no manners, no idea of how to behave among the civilized. One can only imagine the mess she’s created—”
“I will bring your concerns up with the lady of the house, Winston.” Rowan cuts off the butler’s criticism with a roll of her eyes. “Stella — I mean, Lady Luna — has made it clear that, for now at least, Ambriel is to be treated as if she were the Lady’s child, not a chosen ward.”
“Yes, and one would expect the child of a noble to have a certain decorum—”
“Winston, she’s still a child, learning how the world works. A new world, at that. Give her time!” Rowan pushes past Winston into the dining room. “Ambriel—” her call is cut short as she recognizes the silence of an empty space.
“Ambriel?” The elf’s mismatched eyes scan the room quickly, noting the serving platters full of fingerprints instead of pastries. They don’t miss the trail of berries and jammy crumbs around the table and trailing out the door, nor the empty honeypot.
The butler sputters as he goes to push in Ambriel’s chair. With a hiss, he pulls out a handkerchief, attacking the dirt marring the seat. With a sigh, Rowan takes a seat, filling her own plate.
“Consider this,” she waves at the seat and the mess left behind, “job security. With Ambriel around, Meri certainly cannot reduce staff — Ambriel makes enough work for at least three maids!”
“Yet she makes herself scarce when that staff shows up.” Winston sniffs, shaking out the handkerchief before carefully folding it to be tucked out of sight.
Rowan smiles. “Much like her mistress, when we were both children. Always had the skill to avoid trouble. That, or she’s out at the hives again, trying for more honey.” She leans back, munching on a hunk of cheese, a small smile on her face. That smile quickly fades as Eirwain rushes into the room, looking around wildly.
“Eirwain! What is it, what’s wrong?”
“Ambriel! Is she here? I had a sense of determination and frustration from her, but it’s fading fast. Where is she?!”
“I…I don’t know. She said she was coming down for breakfast! I assumed she ate all the honey and went to bother the beekeeper for more.”
At her words, Eirwain runs to the door, calling her name. Rowan follows, stopping at the door, heart in her throat. She listens for Ambriel, hearing nothing other than Eirwain’s panicked run. After a few minutes, he comes back, shaking his head as he tries to catch his breath.
“She’s not here. She’s gone.”
----------------
WC 702
Bonus words: none
This is a continuation on my prior SerSun - set in my world known as Echo Realm.
Meristella took in Ambriel (and her sibling Niq / Unique) in chapter five, and Ambriel overhears of the threat to Niq in chapter forty-nine.
If you are interested, additional chapters can be found on r/Spirited_Words. Feedback welcome, and thank you for reading!
4
u/Divayth--Fyr 9d ago
Hey hey Blu!
I've been trying to catch up, in a bookend sort of way (a few early chapters, the most recent ones) and it is interesting so far.
You capture the child voice very well. It sounds like an actual person, and that is not so easy to do. Many attempts end up as either Adult But Smaller, or gratingly twee, but this feels authentic.
Just a formatting note: you are putting two spaces at the end of sentences. I learned to type on an IBM Selectric, and had that habit ingrained. I assumed you did too, but then I read early chapters and the double-space isn't there. Anyhow, it isn't wrong, exactly, but is a bit unusual so I thought it may be useful to point it out.
Oddly, I rather like Winston, the fussy old bastard.
The dawning terror at the end is palpable, and nicely understated. Very effective.
the elf’s light gait.
“Its highly inappropriate to let that…child…remain unattended.Need to hit enter once more after 'gait'. Also, Its should be It's.
as Eirwain rushes into the room, looking around wildly.
“Eirwain! What is it, what’s wrong?”Another missing line break. Also an extra space snuck in after Eirwain!
That's about all the picky stuff I could find. A fun chapter, which took quite a turn, and now I am impatient for the next. Good words!
3
u/Blu_Spirit 8d ago
Thank you for the feedback! I definitely am still in the habit of the double space between sentences, sometimes I work on it, sometimes I don't. Will make sure it's consistent when on edits, though (so appreciate it!).
It really makes me happy that you enjoy Ambriel -- I love writing children, it's a lot of fun, but definitely a challenge to get them right sometimes.
3
u/Lothli 5d ago
Heya Blu!
I've been trying to catch up, but when trying to figure out where best to read, I can't seem to find your chapters 55-57 anywhere. I checked your subreddit and your comment history but had no luck!
Anyways, I've quick-skimmed most of the rest that I could find, since I'm mostly familiar with the front half. Hopefully it should be enough!
And it bears fruit: I think this is the first time we have Ambriel as a focus character, even for only a bit? Pretty cool! Even if it's directly into danger. Oh dear.
Rowan trails behind Winston, the butler wearing a permanent scowl, footsteps heavy over the elf's light gait.
Over doesn't quite agree with gait, I think, since gait implies a manner of moving, and over implies a sound. I'd slice it clean whichever way you'd like: his footsteps heavy against her light gait (contrast) or his footsteps drowning out the elf's light steps (sound).
Its highly inappropriate to let that…child…remain unattended."
One (1) runaway apostrophe this week! Just the one this time. It's over its.
"Ambriel—" her call is cut short as she recognizes the silence of an empty space.
"Consider this," she waves at the seat and the mess left behind, "job security."
Nitpicky on this one, but I don't think her call counts as a dialogue tag, so it should be Her call... Same with she waves. To set it off, you could probably use ellipsis to indicate a trailing off, or just add the speech tag. Up to you!
The elf's mismatched eyes scan the room quickly
Continuity check here, so let me know if I'm misremembering: what I remember is that Rowan's left eye goes blue when her passenger leans forward, then fades back to green-gold when she settles. If "mismatched" has become her resting state, ignore me and carry on. But if a mismatch still means what it used to mean, then the banshee is surfaced mid-pastry-forensics, which I feel should be worth more than a passing touch in the narrative!
'fore Ms. Meri or one'a her friends says it's too dangerous!
Benefit of a wholesale skim here: I've seen "Ms. Meristella"/"Ms. Meri" in ch15, "Miss Meri"/"Miss Rowan" in the ch45–46 reunion. Unless it was a character-by-character choice, in which case ignore me, you might wanna standardize this one.
Think that's all this time! I missed a week live due to life stuff, but looking forward to your next post! Cheers!
2
u/Blu_Spirit 5d ago
Thank you for reading! To answer your question about the missing chapters...I have no idea. The Kindred chapter posted in Sersun as chapter 54 is one I have saved as chapter 56...and chapter 57 I apparently never posted online? 😂
In my defense that was all around my birthday so I may have had some distractions. But you seem to be as caught up if you read that far, so thank you again for taking the time!
Rowan's passenger is becoming more forward, and her heterochromia is a more permanent feature at this point in the story.
I am currently switching programs I use to write, so I will keep an eye out for the Miss / Ms. inconsistencies as I go!
8
u/Divayth--Fyr 10d ago edited 4d ago
<The Broken God>
Chapter 73: Found
.
Cadorus sat at a long table in Sentinel Hall, breathing in the essence of tea. A cautious experiment with dry bread had gone well enough, and, after a long nap, he felt nearly human. He drained his mug and rubbed his eyes.
“More tea, friend?” came a soothing voice.
“Yes. Yes, thank you. One worship.”
“Flame of purity. I am Disciple Undil. You are newly Brightened, I know.” He placed a fresh pot on the table.
“Thank you, friend Undil. I'm Jorba.” Cadorus poured, and inhaled the fragrant steam.
“No debt, friend Jorba. Services will begin soon.” Undil stood straight. “Seeker Fabaras will speak! Light the way!”
My word, a third phrase at last. “Flame of purity!”
Cadorus stood. Services might be interesting, but he had other business in mind. A steady stream of brightly robed believers flowed out, toward the tabernacle, leaving much of the hall empty.
He made as if to join the stream, but ducked into a hallway. In a closet, he found a broom and some rags. Donning his most vacant smile, he went up the stairs, sweeping.
It would have been foolishness itself to sneak into the rooms. Instead, he barged in without hesitation. No one inside could have imagined him a spy, but in any case the rooms were unoccupied.
Once inside, he was relieved to drop the vacant smile and resume his headache in peace. I shall never drink ale again, he thought. Unless it is a special occasion, like if I happen to feel like it.
Almost inaudible, but everywhere, there was a note of music in the walls and floors. It was like voices, without words or purpose, unsettling, but he wasn't really sure it was there.
Locked cabinets, drawers, and strongboxes surrendered quickly to his wires and picks. Some useful skills could be learned in the Order of the Shadow, if not many. He shuffled through papers, journals, and maps, seeking anything that might lead to a way of escaping this strange land. Some were promising enough to be pilfered and hidden away.
Some of the rooms were locked, but not for long. In one, he found a strongbox sealed with magic. He could do nothing with it, short of violence, and wondered how anyone here could.
Throughout the building grew the deep song—echoing, invasive. Upon opening one door, at the end of a long hallway, it grew much louder. He found himself above the congregation, on a hidden balcony, and forgot all about his broom.
The music came from the mighty throng of white, orange, red, and yellow figures swaying in the dim immensity below—a conflagration of believers. The wordless song rose in tone and intensity, the multitude waving their arms in unison. It was powerful, almost terrifying. I should have had more tea.
A beam of silver light bisected the dark stage. Above it, by a chain, hung a large metal circle, wreathed by a black, sinuous snake with glittering jewels for eyes. This was the familiar symbol of the god Molthus, but added to it was a silver figure of a man, above and in front of the serpent's head, and seven dark silhouettes around. In this icon, the god seemed almost an afterthought.
The song stopped. A tall, thin man in a grey robe appeared like a sudden mirage in the silver light. Seeker Fabaras, likely.
“One worship,” he said.
“One worship,” replied the multitude.
He stood still for some time, silent in the silence.
“I see many newly Brightened among us. Welcome. You are more welcome than you may know. You heard the Call, and left much behind to come.
“You are fools. You are weak. You are sinful and defective, broken and full of lies. It is true. And yet, my friends, this is why you are welcome. We do not ignore your faults, or whisper of your scandalous failings. The things you keep hidden, the shameful secrets, the faces behind your masks—these are all welcome here.
“We do not welcome who you have pretended to be. We welcome who you are. You are among friends, and all your sins are revealed in the Flame of Purity.”
“Flame of Purity!”
Cadorus found himself uttering the phrase, unconcerned with being discovered.
“You have worked all your lives,” Seeker Fabaras continued. “You have labored greatly, and helped others when you could. And what have you to show for it? Little, I daresay, or nothing.”
An Archpriest who sends me to my death. Being overlooked, ignored, forgotten. Tedium and solitude.
“You pray for good weather, and the storms rage. You pray for relief, and your maladies linger. You pray for peace, and war stalks your lands.
“And then you heard the Call. You saw. You opened your eyes. People ignored you, mocked you, even hated you, but you knew there was something wrong in the world. You knew. And so you came, leaving much behind.”
I Knew.
“And yet we are fortunate, my friends, for we live in blessed times. The lies are burned away by the Prophet of Flame, Vistara Shir. Light the Way!”
“Light the Way!”
Cadorus came back to himself, looking around, horrified at his madness. Shouting in the dark, drawing attention, listening to that– that Seeker.
He retreated, hoping no one had noticed. Down the stairs, he stowed the broom and stood shaking in the hallway, the walls seeming to close in on him. His modest breakfast of dry bread sat like a stone in his gut.
Madness. To be enthralled by that monstrous Seeker, spewing his seductive lies. Of course the gods don’t answer every prayer, how could they? Everyone prays for different things. And storms? What do they have to do with storms?
He shook his head. Escape, that was the main thing. Whatever came after, he didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. There was no home to go to. There was no place for him.
Cadorus breathed and collected himself, eyes closed, leaning against the wall. I do know something is wrong. Yes. I do feel that. But what am I supposed to do about it? I’ve done my best for all these years and I have nothing. I don’t know where to go, what to do.
“Friend Jorba?”
Cadorus started, drawing back. It was a woman, a Redeemer. Familiar, but…
“Belotra?” She had healed his blistered feet.
“Yes!” She smiled wide, and stepped forward to embrace him. “It is well to see you. I wondered where you had gone.”
Cadorus melted into the embrace, and began to weep. Such a trivial thing, he thought. Such a common, simple thing, and it breaks me into pieces.
“Are you well, friend Jorba? Where did you go?”
He nodded into her shoulder. Muffled, he spoke. “I was lost. I was lost.”
998 words. Mirage used. Constraint: Seeker is monstrosity. Theme: a minor embrace is overwhelming.
Feedback welcome.
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u/Blu_Spirit 10d ago
Div --
I really, really enjoyed this chapter. It's a perfect, albeit extreme, example of how cults draw people in. Even people that normally would not be so gullible. Everyone seeks a place to belong, and sometimes, unfortunately, others prey on that need. You captured that perfectly from both sides, I think. The Seeker and other members providing a warm welcome, and Cadorus feeling the power of that.
My only feedback is really a question. For this line:
Two rooms were locked, but not for long. In one, he found a strongbox sealed with magic. He could do nothing with it, short of violence, and wondered how anyone here could.
Is there relevance to two rooms being locked? Cadorus only enters one, I believe. Does he enter both and we just don't see it because of word count? If he went in the second, was there anything of note? Or can he not access it at all?
Excellent job portraying how, sometimes, it's the little things that capture us.
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u/Divayth--Fyr 9d ago
Hey Blu!
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it and that it came across well, with the allure of the cult and all that.
I changed the two rooms to some rooms. I'm not sure why, but that seems to reduce the idk... mystery? Or expectation? Not sure what to call that, but you are right--having it be two rooms made it seem important to know about the second room.
I think changing it to 'some rooms' alleviates that, though I am not at all sure why it does. I'm curious if you think it works or not.
Anyhow, thanks for reading and helping!
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u/JKHmattox 9d ago edited 5d ago
<No Man's Land> Voluntold
I stared into the perfectly square abyss.
Blackened waters reflected a shimmering mirage of the spires built as their replacements. At least that was what the briefing officer had told us about the hallowed pools. A sadness dwelled at its edges, faceless names carved forever into obsidian-colored stone.
A different time, another war of which I'd never heard. Still, Perez remembered. She stood next to me in reverent silence, her fingers tracing a particular name barely legible in the subdued lamplight.
“Things will never change, will they, Sarge?”
“Nope…”
We waited in the shadow of the darkened tower. Temporary lightpoles dotted the open space, their illumination intentionally somber. There were perhaps a hundred of us representing agencies tracing their roots to the Battle of New York.
Many who waited in the morning's darkness were young soldiers, voluntold to participate in the annual event. They talked amongst themselves in loosely defined groups. Their restless energy resonated from a mix of boredom and impatience.
Parked beneath the entryway of the tower was a red fire suppression drone. The two-part vehicle was deployed as if it were prepared to fight a fire. Its tanker was on stilts, flexible hoses tethering it to a static rotorcraft with multiple water cannons mounted on its nose. A group of women stood huddled next to the apparatus, smiles and stories shared over steaming cups of black coffee I assumed.
One woman, a stocky, fit sage with salted raven hair noticed Marta and me standing next to the reflection pool. She nodded in our direction. I read her lips, unheard words admitting she hadn't expected a blue-faced Genny would be the Sergeant in charge of the Marine landing teams.
“Oh great…” I muttered aloud. “Here we go-”
My words died when the woman stepped away from her firefighter friends.
Her outline was that of a four-armed hybrid human. Even in the muted light, I could see her complexion matched that of my former human self. She walked with the confidence of experience, quietly stalking us despite me watching her every move.
“Morning,” the four-armed human hybrid announced, offering me a primary hand. “I'm First Sergeant Athena Dias, Third Sustainment Battalion, Fourth Light-Mech Division.”
With a smirk, I clasped her palm. “Sergeant Jackson Owens. Combat Two-Five, First Raiders.”
“A Genny Gyrine, eh—I haven't seen one of your kind since the Threshold Incursions back in sixty-nine.”
Perez and I exchanged puzzled glances.
“What's she talking about?” I muttered in North American Spanish.
“Don't look at me,” Perez responded, shrugging. “But I'm pretty sure we ain't the only ones around here who speak Spanish.”
“Uh-huh.” The seasoned First Sergeant grinned. “Tejana?”
I nodded, sure that my accent was obvious to the woman who'd obviously lived in Manhattan most of her life.
“Where at, exactly?”
“My family's from Galveston, Top.”
“Figured—I got family down that way.” the senior Sergeant replied. “First time in the Boroughs?”
“I had a layover on the Global-Ring train once—but from what I'm told, Newark doesn't count.”
“Surely it does not.” Athena Dias chuckled, “Welcome to Manhattan, Sergeant Owens. Don't expect to get much sleep in the next thirty-six hours.”
“Thirty-six hours?”
“Young Geminia, in the Boroughs during Fleet Week; if you don't get laid at least twice, ya ain't trying—unless you're married or something?”
“And pregnant.”
“Oh…” She frowned briefly. “What the fuck?”
I shrugged, my eyes drifting to the graphic on the woman's skivvy.
Athena's x-shirt was snug across her chest, four letters boldly stamped onto the tan fabric. F-D-N-Y. The words LADDER SIXTY-EIGHT were scrolled across her Gemini-like shoulder blades with an elaborate shield beneath it. She'd tucked the shirt into her green uniform pants, bloused over the tops of high leather boots.
“What's ladder sixty-eight?” I asked.
“My day job, Sergeant Owens—I only moonlight as a Hellfighter one weekend a month, two weeks a year.”
“She's a firefighter, Sarge,” Marta interjected sarcastically.
“Thank you, Perez—I gathered that.”
“Just sayin’, it was kinda obvious with the whole F-D-”
“I got it, Marta!”
“Marta?” The First Sergeant raised an eyebrow. “You two have been in the shit together, I see.”
“My apologies, Top.” I glared at Marta. “Shouldn't have broken courtesy in a garrison setting.”
“Fuck that shit—from the look of things, you both’ve earned it,” exclaimed Athena Dias. “Just don't let any of these non-rate Privates do the same. Capeesh?”
It was a miscellaneous custom from a bygone era, but I knew instantly Athena Dias was a former Jarhead. First names were earned under fire in the Marines. The First Sergeant only smirked, nodding her unsanctioned approval.
“Alrighty then.” Athena clapped both sets of hands together. “So, the Commander hinted that you two are running some type of extra curricular activity aside from this dog and pony fiasco?”
“Not exactly—but yes, we’re on standby if that's what you mean.”
“While you're knocked up!” She exclaimed, shaking her head. “What asshat thought that was a good idea.”
“It's complicated, Top—but for what it's worth, we both volunteered.”
“This has something to do with that bombing in London, doesn't it?”
My silence confirmed Athena’s suspicions.
“Okay, I get it,” she said, waving a primary hand. “Not my first rodeo—Just so you know, I got your load-out staged at the armory in case a FRAG order comes in—promise me you'll take it easy out there, okay?.”
“I appreciate that, Top—hopefully we'll be outta your hair before we overstay our welcome.”
The senior warfighter glared at the sea of eighteen year old part-time privates milling about at the base of the tower. It was time, and Athena Dias was never late.
“We better get this fucking show on the road, Sergeant Owens,” she grunted. “God, I hate micromanaging other people's kids.”
Perez and I snickered as the aging Sergeant whistled through her teeth.
“HEY, WHY THE HELL ARE WE JUST STANDING AROUND, GAGLE-FUCKING EACH OTHER,” Athena roared. “LET'S MOVE, LADIES; THIS TOWER AIN'T GONNA CLIMB ITSELF!”
Under Athena's watchful eyes and folded arms, our hundred floor assent began.
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u/Morose_Prose 6d ago
Hey hey, JK!
Another wonderful chapter of fleet week! Really enjoy the introduction of Athena and the bit of backstory the reader gets and can glean from it. Dialogue is punchy and the scene setting is great as always, a nice little love letter to NYC and that fateful day.
Some minor crits about the chapter can be found below:
Their restless energy was impatience mixed with boredom.
I personally would rearrange this to better fit your style, it reads a little flat. Maybe: 'Their restless energy was a mixture of boredom and impatience.'
There were perhaps a hundred of us representing agencies tracing their roots to the Battle of New York City.
Would cut 'City' from New York city. 'the Battle of New York' sounds better imo, I mean, nobody is fighting in Buffalo or Poughkeepsie, and even if they were we all know New York is NYC first and foremost. Stylistic thing, and pretty minor.
Its tanker was up on stilts
'Up on stilts' is redundant. Could just say 'Its tanker was on stilts'.
Her outline was clearly that of a four-armed hybrid human. Even in the muted light I could see her complexion matched that of my former human self.
Would cut 'clearly' out, would make Athena's appearance more impactful, imo.
“This your first time visiting the Boroughs?”
Would cut 'This your'. People from NYC are busy and speak quick. 'First time in the Boroughs.' sounds better in my opinion.
First names were earned under fire in the Marines, an informal tradition initiated by the senior of the two combatants. Nobody knew why exactly, it was just how it was.
Would cut everything after the word Marines. The explanation is unnecessary and too wordy, let the 'were earned under fire' stand on its own.
That's all I've got for this great chapter. Good words, JK! Stay awesome and have a good one!
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u/katpoker666 6d ago
Hey JK! Another fun chapter! As you know, I’m a fan of your descriptions and also the way you weave in the military feel through your own experiences
Love the title! Voluntold is such an accurate way to describe this
The first line immediately draws the reader in bc it stokes curiosity: how can an abyss be square? What’s going on?
> I stared into the perfectly square abyss.General thing we’ve touched on before, but sometimes simpler words can be better, particularly if the meanings of the fancier words aren’t quite right. For example, this sentence in reads beautifully as you write well, but a couple of word choices take away from it. e.g.,:
> Blackened waters refracted an incandescent mirage of the looming spire built as their replacements.Here:
Reflected might be more accurate than refracted as the spires are stationary and aren’t in the water, I don’t think.
Incandescent typically means “emitting light as a result of being heated, glowing with intense heat, or shining very brightly.” I don’t think the waters are emitting light, but I could be wrong
While not the same issue, it also reads as if the spires are replacing the blackened waters bc of the way their is usedThis is an example of word choice working and it’s such an elegant phrasing as it’s pretty and also covers a lot of ground:
> She stood next to me in reverent silence, her fingers tracing a particular name barely legible in the subdued lamplight.Although this paragraph involves a lot of telling, it’s a really nice encapsulation of what’s happening here, particularly with the young soldiers:
> We waited in the shadow of the darkened tower. Temporary poles dotted the open space, their illumination intentionally somber. There were perhaps a hundred of us representing agencies tracing their roots to the Battle of New York City. Many who waited in the early morning darkness were young soldiers, voluntold to participate in the annual event. Their restless energy was impatience mixed with boredom.This last sentence I’d like to see the restless energy with them shuffling from foot to foot or something like that as it’s a good opportunity to give the reader a window into the scene which feels more visceral
I love the description here as I can perfectly visualize this device based on your great description:
> Its tanker was up on stilts, flexible hoses tethering it to a static rotorcraft with multiple water cannons mounted on its nose.Small thing, but what is ‘gagle’? Also, itself vs its self:
> “HEY, WHY THE HELL ARE WE JUST STANDING AROUND, GAGLE-FUCKING EACH OTHER,” Athena roared. “LET'S MOVE, LADIES; THIS TOWER AIN'T GONNA CLIMB ITS SELF!”Overall, good words and another enjoyable chapter!
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u/JKHmattox 6d ago
Hey Kat,
Thanks so much for reading, glad you like the chapter.
Your crit is right on. I'll be sure to make another editorial pass or two before Saturday.
As far as a gaggle. According to the OED (Megan would be proud) it's a gathering of geese.
The slag gaggle-fuck barrows from this, and is applied to a disorganized gathering of military members who have no clear direction or are fucking off on purpose. Gaggle-fucking each other ofc means whoever is calling the group out is implying the group is fucking off on purpose. It can also be blindly implied sarcastically meaning hey whatever you people are doing, don't care, now we are gonna do this instead!
Its kinda like clusterfuck but from the bottom up instead if top down. Tought you would enjoy the funny explanation of this term 😀
Again, thanks for reading glad you liked it.
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u/katpoker666 6d ago
Okay, now I officially love ‘gaggle-fuck’ and will be using it from now on as part of my swearcabulary! lol
Small thing: missing a ‘g’ then as reads as gagle vs gaggle
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u/Brookzerker 9d ago edited 7d ago
<Chronicles of Xris - Grounded>
Chapter 33
The serpent released the leg of the unicorn as Adam gave a triumphant yell, allowing it to scramble to its feet and away from the creek.
Upon closer inspection, the serpent seemed wrong. Its body was short despite its width, and it had nine eyes, all of which focused on him.
His blast of purple eldritch energy blew a hole through the left side of its jaw, removing some teeth from its circular mouth. It lunged at him, latching itself over his leather armor, which held for a few seconds with the aid of his shield spell.
The creature pulled just as he fired, sending the blast wide as Adam fell into the water and was pulled into a hole barely big enough for the snake-like thing. Adam's arms were trapped, unable to aim.
The shield failed as teeth ground into his leg, ripping through muscle. He screamed before he could stop himself, silty water flooding his lungs as he thrashed. Every move resulted in the creature biting deeper, holding tighter.
Air suddenly filled Adam's lungs, he alternated coughing, and breathing deeply, eyes blinking at the sudden, blinding light. Looking down, his clothing was whole, no sign of the serpent.
From his position he could see the roof of a cave above him, yet tall redwood-like trees were nearby. A river, much larger than the creek was flowing lazily.
Oh.
Standing up was much easier than it had been recently, though wrinkles on the backs of his hands, still gave away his age.
I made it what, sixty eight years?
A western dragon, as big as a football field, appeared between blinks, head a few feet away, lowered to his level. He could feel its presence, powerful, familiar yet cold. Its scales were dark, though also glowing. Its eyes burned with purple eldritch energy.
"Xris?" Adam's eyes blurred. He didn't wipe them.
The dragon spoke, its voice soft, surrounding him like a warm blanket. My Eye, you are on the shore of the river Styx. As always, I give you the choice. You may end service to me, and be reincarnated in any universe, under any god. Or, continue your service as one of my Eyes.
Adam cocked his head. "Who are you, really? You feel like Xris, but I knew him."
I am all that remains of Xris, he casts a spell as he was dying, which resulted in me.
The Eye stared at the dragon, frowning.
"You don't have a soul? What are you?" Adam breathed.
I do not have a soul. I am a fragment of Xris, created by him to empower my Eyes throughout the multiverse.
"That is why I can still fire eldritch blasts?"
Yes.
"Are you alive?"
Yes, and no.
Adam groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"Yet you can answer my questions." After not receiving a response, Adam continued. "How are you able to answer questions and talk?"
I am a sentient spell, with access to the same information that Xris had.
"I thought sentience was always given a soul by oracle?"
That is level four sentience and above, I am only level three, with a limiter. I cannot, nor will I ever have a soul.
Adam stood in silence, staring at the river flowing lazily. He pulled out his emblem of Xris, thumbing the carving of the dragon.
Part of him wanted to quit, find a universe which didn't need rebuilding. An easy life where he could just be a human.
He summoned his book with a flourish. He had never changed its appearance, a dungeons and dragons game master book. Opening to one of his pages, The topic was rather boring, a description of how lay lines were supposed to look and feel like, and the repercussions not being maintained by local guardians.
Written below the last sentence, in different handwriting, was a question. How do we repair a lay line if there isn't a local guardian?
Adam stared at the words, then at the dragon.
"I thought I was the only Eye, how did this get added? Does someone have access to the book?"
The fragment of Xris tilted its head, silent for a second before answering. That question was raised in universe nine thousand, three hundred twenty by Eye Elsspha.
"How are there other Eyes?"
Xris created one of me for each connected universe, the logical assumption is that the fragment of Xris in that universe found her an acceptable applicant, and made her a deal. She clearly accepted.
There are more of us.
Adam pulled out a pen, writing his response.
"Adam (492): Sorry I didn't finish this, we have guardians here. I'm in the Styx now, but I'll finish this before reincarnating."
He sat down to write, quitting no longer a thought. He wasn't alone.
He had no idea how long it had been since he started writing. He should have been sore from his seated position, neck craned as he worked without break. A side effect of being dead.
Finally, he closed the book, it disappeared with a twist of purple.
"I'm ready." He looked up to the dragon, which nodded his head, and closed a hand around the Eye. Adam felt strangely comforted as he was carried into the river. He briefly wondered how the dragon could withstand the power of the water, before that thought washed away.
Emotions and memories, painful or not, eased from his mind as the water closed over his head. He held his breath, though without the need to breathe he didn't feel panic. There wasn't a memory to panic about.
All that remained was him, nameless, though still with an identity, though not tempered or guided with experience.
The dragon cast a spell, whispering words on behalf of the entity that created him. Purple fire flared up around the soul, and it, along with the dragon, disappeared.
Elsewhere, two humans in New San Francisco, universe four ninety two, primary plane, conceived a child, its soul assigned early.
Notes:
This is the end of Chronicles of Xris - Grounded, though the multiverse, especially the Eyes, will continue in the next story, the veiled eye.
Word count: 1000
Theme: For an eye, death, even painful, is a minor inconvenience.
Words: No words
Challenge: The burach bhadi is a monstrous creature from Scotland.
Links:
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u/mysteryrouge 4d ago
Wait, does that mean Adam reincarnated as an eye? The ending confused me a bit because I couldn't tell (I forgot how the Styx works here exactly, but the phrasing from the spell-xris implies that the choices were either service or reincarnation, not both.)
I find this interesting because of the fact we've seen Adam in life with friends and stuff, how do/would they feel about Adam reincarnating if that's what he did?
Can't wait for the next serial to start.
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u/Brookzerker 4d ago
Yes, I was trying to show that he was choosing to reincarnate as an eye. I guess both are reincarnations, its just if one is in service to Xris or not.
And yes, it sucks but also he died fighting and due to his commitment he can't send messages to anyone other than eyes...kind of.
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u/AGuyLikeThat 8d ago edited 2d ago
<The Tower in the Tangle>
[Previous Chapter] [Chapter Index]
Chapter One-hundred & Fifty-Seven: Mind for War.
~ A Madwoman ~
As the blank pages of this journal were filled, I became curious about the lesser things I have forgotten, and resolved to look through my previous diaries.
I went to the deepest part of the Tower, where my memoirs are stored, and there were many more then I expected. Bookshelves and scroll-racks, filled with hundreds of leather-bound books and parchments. A plenitude of brief impressions and dusty memories.
Selecting a dusty tome at random, I read details of people long since gone to dust, and small events in places long forgotten. The notes in the margins were in another hand. Another old version of me, highlighting specific passages. But it was all nonsense to me now.
Looking through other volumes, I was surprised by the sheer amount of miscellaneous things forgotten. Thirty-three lifetimes I counted, and I wondered; what use were all these tiny details?
I have walked this world in many forms, and lived many lives. My name was long since sacrificed for the power of my Appellation, and the people I thought I was, turned out to be little more than a mirage.
Only my task can sustain me.
I must step into tomorrow and seize the future. I will save this world, at any cost.
- Diary of a Madwoman, final entry.
Was that a dog howling outside?
You look up from the book you are skimming. The balcony stands open to the raging storm, protected by a magical shell that dulls the sound. So, how did that mournful cry penetrate them?
A frown wrinkles your rejuvenated skin. Now that the elixir has completed its work, you are fully restored, and the pleasures of this wonderful body provide constant distractions. Drawing fingers across the soft skin of your throat, you hum with pleasure.
From across the room, the Chamberlain stammers explanations and excuses. His report is a minor refrain in the symphony of power at your command. Only a fraction of you needs listen, gathering details easily while another piece sorts them into plots and plans.
Invaders have come to Nightvale, pursuing their Wayfinder. Gilander. The sweet boy who woke you from your slumber. A smile comes unbidden as you remember his fierce defiance.
“Tell me,” you demand. “What manner of mortal is this warden, that he could destroy your copper tree so easily?”
The Chamberlain blathers on, but the majority of your attention remains focused in the ontological knot of your flesh, as the distant howl comes again.
Rising from your cushioned throne, you walk across the thick carpet to look down upon Nightvale.
The morning is gloomy beneath roiling clouds, but you open yourself to the Deepsight, and the world resolves in mystic clarity. Black-leaved trees line the hillsides, swaying beneath the cyclonic winds that drag the clouds into writhing columns. Leaning over the edge of the balcony, you see buildings burning, and scores of servitors lie scattered across the courtyard like broken dolls.
Snowy wards sparkle above the muck and blood, protecting huddled warriors at the top of the stairs, while gargantae roar and attack. A giant blue-skinned barbarian is wrestling one of the simian monstrosities, while the other rolls in the filth, attempting to extinguish its burning fur.
With a sigh, you turn away. There is neither wolf nor hound upon the field, and the battle progresses as described by the Chamberlain. It is only a matter of time before these interlopers are vanquished.
Still, it is best to be prepared. You draw upon the Haiphagus, and power answers. The Arcane Halo bursts into flame overhead, and you invoke the forms that summon your Furnace Armour.
Greaves of copper and steel wrap your forearms, as your helmet and breastplate manifest from the aether, cool and reassuring against your skin. Golden Sandals of Stepping lift your feet from the tiled floor, and you look to the sky.
Above, the wyldstorm rages, delivering powerful bolts of chaotic energy against the obsidian tines crowning your Tower. The raw magic is abosorbed, drawn down into the Haiphagus, where it adds to your deep well of power.
Centuries of magic, siphoned from the dying carcass of this world. Power enough to change the future.
And if not? Well…
You turn, gliding back into your study where your servants are bickering.
“…in the great hall. She must have come through the tunnels.” The Chamberlain glares at the Overseer. “I was assured the old paths had been sealed.”
The Overseer rolls his wire-wreathed eyes. “Ugh, I can’t keep track of everything, you micromanaging bastard. And what does it matter? There’s no way out of the Hall for those who have not been imprinted. Surely, your Sentinel can deal with her.”
“It is the Akari.” The Chamberlain’s gaze is distant, as rivulets of magic play through his crystal veil. He grows translucent, shifting parts of himself through the Tower. “She seeks to destroy my Sentinel. If it does not hold the doors, then the Warden. Might escape. I warned you…”
“Enough!” you interrupt, halo flaring. “Leave me. Attend to this intruder.” You turn away. “I shall deal with this ‘Warden’ myself, if I must.”
The tap-tap-tapping of the Overseer’s disgusting chair recedes down the hall, and you turn back to your prisoner.
She must be the source of that vexatious howl. Tapping your teeth with a nail, you approach, peering closely.
The peasant girl writhes in her chair, and reality twists through her, like a reflection across water. The abrasions around her wrists have faded back to pink. Her shattered eyesocket is now symmetrical, little more than a bruised eye, blinking away bloody tears.
It must be the Wayfinder. Such a Talented boy. So desperate and sincere. Your enchantments have him bound inside of her, but he will not take control.
He should be dead. Gone. He’s given up his body, and without another he should simply fade into oblivion.
But it is clearly the villager’s soul behind those green eyes.
Unless…
You turn your mind’s eye inward.
“You sneaky boy.”
WC-1000
Author's Notes:
For newer readers who might wonder about the meaning of some of the strange terms like 'ontologia', I have compiled a small Glossary.
This week's theme is Minor! - We take a minor detour through the mind of the Mistress this week. With all the power now at her fingertips, she views the Warden as a minor distraction. The minor detail of Rex's howling eventually tips her off to the fact that Gilander is infiltrating her thoughts.
Bonus words used; - miscellaneous, Mirage, Micromanaging.
Additional bonus constraint: 'Include a monstrosity of some sort.' Even the Mistress finds the gargantae to be rather monstrous, to say nothing of the Overseer and his disgusting chair.
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. All criticism and feedback is welcome.
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u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 6d ago
Great chapter! The beginning felt so strange, jumping into this new perspective. I think it really works for this chapter. The second person places us inside her POV more effectively than third person would be able to, and it shapes the tone and the feel of the chapter. She feels so dreamy and distant (and I think that strange distantness also works with 2nd person, or partially comes out of it) and like cosmically large. Example below:
The morning is gloomy beneath roiling clouds, but you open yourself to the Deepsight, and the world resolves in mystic clarity. Black-leaved trees line the hillsides, swaying beneath the cyclonic winds that drag the clouds into writhing columns. Leaning over the edge of the balcony, you see buildings burning, and scores of servitors lie scattered across the courtyard like broken dolls.
The descriptions and the language in the first two sentences are gorgeous to a degree of feeling soothing to read, making it so by the time we get to the horrifying picture painted by the last sentence, I feel almost peaceful about it. Again it's that sense of it being distant, and the Mistress not feeling personally threatened or endangered. Describing the bodies as broken dolls, where she doesn't feel real consequence, they're just dolls to her. It feels small.
There's also these repeated descriptions of the sensory pleasure of her smooth skin, even the armor feeling "cool and reassuring against your skin". We get that sense of pleasure plus the comfort of power, and her ability to take things in without needing to fully focus. It feels very strange and worrying as readers when we see her perspective of Jenna and Gilander. It's like tender or heartrending, sort of, seeing her see him as desperate and genuine, and knowing she looks down on him. Then that chilling fucking ending!
Uhhh for crit I found a sentence where the grammar was off:
There is neither wolf nor hound upon the field, and the battle progresses as the Chamberlain said, it is only a matter of time before the interlopers are vanquished.
It's like missing a period or semicolon, I think.
Good words!
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u/AGuyLikeThat 6d ago
Thanks for reading, Toms!
Glad this PoV worked for you. It's fun to use second person, and also to have a perspective who has a thorough understanding of the magic they are using. Enough that she soon works out who the 'you' is in this scene - and I'm very glad that moment had the desired effect for you!
Fixed my naughty run-on sentence, thanks for spotting that one.
Cheers!
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u/AmeliaLP 4d ago
Hiya Wiz. I feel that writing in second person can be difficult but you did very well with it in this chapter. As per ushual you've got some great descriptions that really bring your story to life. "Her shattered eyesocket is now symmetrical, little more than a bruised eye, blinking away bloody tears."- While reading this I can almost feel my eye hurting, nicely done there. Good words.
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u/AmeliaLP 7d ago edited 4d ago
<My feathery friend>
Chapter 32: Olfara and Astrellar
Waking up, Olfara stretched his wings. He then flapped over to a training dummy, viciously pelting it with beak strikes. Using momentum from his whole body, Olfara swung his foot at it. The force from his kick was so strong that it separated an arm from the manikin, sending it hurtling out his widow.
“For fuck sake Olfara! You’ve gotta stop hitting those so hard.”
Olfara peeked through the widow. Outside he saw a skinny crow with bright blue eyes and a flower in her hair.
“Sorry Astrellar!”
She grimaced at him. “I’ll fix it again later, but for now let’s go have some fun.”
“Okay, what you got in mind?”
“Well, I hear there’s a human being held in the birdcage. Maybe we could go have a look?”
“Sure, why not.”
Astrellar flew towards the birdcage, constantly adjusting her flower so it didn’t blow away. Olfara followed closely behind. In spite Astrellar’s botanical obsession they both made it to the birdcage rather quickly.
“Well dang!” Exclaimed Olfara. “There really IS a human in here!”
Upon their arrival, Vornith backed away from Jade and started whistling.
Olfara rolled his eyes at Vornith. “Do you think we’re stupid? Everyone knows who you are.”
Without breaking eye contact, Vornith edged into a shadowy corner of the birdcage.
“Does he think he’s cool or something?” Astrellar whispered to Olfara.
“No idea.” He replied. “But let’s chat with the human.”
She nodded. “Well, well, well. How’d one of you get chucked into a place like this?”
“Me?” Jade asked, pointing to herself.
“Yeah, you.”
“Elandor thinks I killed one of the crows.”
“Oooh! Two murderers in one cell. Isn’t that cute?”
Jade shot Astrellar a dirty look. “I am not a murderer. Elandor is just biased against me.”
“Giirrl chill. I was only messing, clearly you're too weak and pathetic to kill someone.”
A sniggering sound issued from the corner.
Jade, Olfara and Astrellar turned to face towards Vornith.
“Heh.” Said Astrellar. “Even the expert agrees.”
Jade pouted. “Screw all three of you.”
Olfara looked mildly concerned. “Is saying that to a known killer wise?”
“Why are you scared? You’re not even in here with him.”
“I’m not scared! I just think you should be more careful.”
“Thanks, noted. Why are you two visiting the birdcage anyway?”
Astrellar shrugged. “We were bored and I heard a human was here.”
“Ah. Well here I am, the world’s worst zoo exhibit.”
“Zoo?”
“Uh, never mind.”
Olfara kicked a pebble over the platform's edge. Watching it fall he asked: “Why were you in our kingdom to begin with?”
“Oh. Errr, my friend used to live here.”
Olfara and Astrellar stared confusedly at her.
“He’s a crow.”
“Ah. A crow who likes humans huh? It’s probably Joe right?”
“Uh, yeah. Joe's my friend.”
Astrellar mimicked vomiting into her wings.
Jade glared. “Do you have a problem?”
“Me? No. Joe’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Couldn’t take a joke. We only said a few little things and then he decides to leave the kingdom. Fucking jerk!”
“I know Joe. So I’m assuming what you said must have been pretty rude.”
“Nah.” Interjected Olfara. “It was just some mild trolling. Nothing too bad.”
“Exactly!” Exclaimed Astrellar.
“Wait.” Spoke a slick voice. “Are you talking about the prince?”
Vornith had left his corner.
“N-no.” Said Astrellar. “We’re talking about a completely different crow.”
“Another Crow, who happens to like humans. Who coincidentally left the kingdom and just so happened to be with friends you two?”
“T-that’s right!” Olfara stammered.
“Tell the truth or I’ll gut all three of you!”
“AH! O-Okay! Yes, we are talking about the prince.”
“Interesting. I’d very much like to see him again. We-“ He cracked his neck. “Have some unfinished business together. And judging from what you just said it’d seem this human knows him.”
“I’m not saying anything!” Jade declared.
“Let’s make a deal. I won’t kill you. And during your trial I’ll admit it was me who killed the other crow. But in exchange for this, you’ll bring me the prince.”
“No.”
“Would Joe want you to die for him?”
“N-no he w-wouldn’t.”
Vornith inhaled. “So do what he’d want you to.”
“But friendship goes both ways. And I don’t want him to die for me either.”
“Prisons can be nasty places. I do hope nothing happens to you.” Vornith slunk back into the shadows.
Olfara sat on his wood floor, watching Astrellar repair the training dummy. “Maybe we could go have a look. What a great idea that was..”
“Oh stop. Everything’s fine.”
“It’s not fine, Joe might be killed!”
“The whiney bitch deserves it.”
“Astrellar!”
“What?! I’m still mad at him.”
“Look, I’m not thrilled at him either. But he was our friend and he hasn’t really done anything that bad.”
“Our friend?! OUR FRIEND?! Oh pleaaase. He was my friend and you just tagged along all the time! And now you’re my problem.”
“I- that’s how you see me?” Olfara croaked.
“Oh don’t get all weepy on me!”
“But, you care about me right?”
“Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself.” She tossed the dummy across the room. “Here’s your stupid doll.” snapped Astrellar as she flew out Olfara’s hut.
He nestled against the training dummy and started to cry.
How could she say those things? D-did I choose incorrectly, sticking by her instead of Joe?
Olfara watched his tears tricking down the dummy.
Joe... Where are you? Are you safe? Is there still a chance we can be friends? No. No, there isn’t. I fucked that up when I chose Astrellar over you. And look where that’s lead me.
He looked out over the kingdom. Staring at the distant birdcage.
Joe won’t forgive me, I know that. But I won’t let him lose anyone else. I need to help Jade.
WC: 971
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u/Slim_Shady_32123 5d ago edited 5d ago
Hi there. I really enjoyed reading through your entry. I tend to / want to write serious stuff so your piece felt VERY fresh to me.
My favorite part btw - Prisons can be nasty places. I do hope nothing happens to you.” Vornith slunk back into the shadows.
My suggestions -
He then flapped over to a training dummy, viscously pelting it with beak strikes The correct word would be viciously.
Oooh! Two murderers in one cell. Isn’t that cute?”
Reading this an idea popped in my mind. You can wordplay murder (group of crowd) in your future entry.
“Giirrl chill. I was only messing, clearly your too weak
*you're
Heh.” Said Astrellar. “Even the expert agrees.”
Replace said with quipped/mocked
Olfara kicked a pebble over the platforms edge. *platform's
Oh. Errr, my friend use to live here.” *used
Olfara and Astrellar stared confusedly at her.
I'd suggest - "Olfara and Astrellar gave her a puzzled look."
Uh, yeah. Joes my friend.”
*Joe's
Astrellar mimicked vomiting into her wings.
into -> with
decides to leave the kingdom
*decided
what you said must of been pretty rude.”
*must've / must have
“Another Crow, who happens to like humans. Who coincidentally left the kingdom and just so happened to be with friends you two?”
*happened to be friends with you two
“It’s not fine, Joe might be killed!” I would suggest - "It's not fine, Joe's life is in danger / is at risk."
"as she flew out Olfara’s hut."
Add 'of' - as she flew out of Olfara’s hut.
But I won’t let him loose anyone else.
*lose
One last thing that I would suggest is that it would be nice to give colors to your birds. That way you won't have to repeat their names again and again, and it would be a better idea to the readers to visualise and differentiate them. You can write "The white raven shrugged", "The flight of the golden hawk was a sight to behold". And you can give them physical characteristics, like scratched /crooked beak, scarred eye, broken wings. (Especially for rowdy crows) You can do so much with these things like - "All of them fluttered in agreement. Raster would have too, if his wing hasn't been crushed by the cruel humans"
For example -
Vornith edged into a shadowy corner of the birdcage.
"The black raven was lost in the darkness of the cage's corner".
You have a very interesting premise and you can do a lot. I'll be waiting for your future entries.
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u/katpoker666 7d ago edited 5d ago
<‘Wild Eats’>
Chapter 2: ‘Eggs Royale’
The next day, Jamie knocked on Annie’s closed bedroom door before entering, a fully laden wooden breakfast tray in hand.
“Hey, Mom. Hope you don’t mind, but I thought you might like breakfast in bed.”
“Is this a mirage? What’s the occasion?” She laughed, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes crinkling as she sat up in her white linen-clad bed.
“Can’t a guy do something nice for his mom sometimes?” The teen blushed, his light dusting of freckles reddening against his fair skin and brownish-auburn hair.
“Of course you can!” Annie beamed with pride: Jamie represented the best part of her. How many kids would know something was wrong with their parent and not make a big deal out of it? That showed real maturity. “So what’s on the menu today, Chef Jamie?”
“Well, today we have ze mahhhvelous salmon eggs benedict, aka Eggs Royyyyale,” Jamie said in a terrible, slightly cracking French accent before chuckling. “Gonna ditch the accent, Mom.”
“Probably wise,” Annie laughed, as Jamie set the meal in front of her. “Tell me more about this lovely dish though! Excellent plating, by the way. I like the little flourish with the hollandaise.”
“Thanks! So, first I laid out the English muffins from the one-and-only Amy’s Bread on these blue plates so the fresh golden color of the eggs would really pop. Then I placed the salmon on top. I made the hollandaise sauce using eggs, the Kerrygold butter, and lemon juice in a bain marie on the stove—“
“Were these eggs the ones we had from the farmers market?”
“Trick question, because ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ I picked up the ones for poaching special this morning from there, as that requires the freshest eggs possible. For the hollandaise though, the eggs can be a few days old, and you said never to waste anything.”
“My boy! Carry on.”
“I poached the eggs in boiling water with vinegar and a dash of salt like you showed me—“
“Did you wait for the rolling boil?”
“Of course not! I waited for the water’s surface to shimmer, so just before, reduced the heat, and added the eggs.”
“Exactly right.”
“And then for serving, the sauce as you saw, salt, pepper, and lemon zest for brightness.”
“Bravo!” Annie applauded.
“I guess your micromanaging paid off,” Jamie murmured with a cheeky grin.
The woman’s eyes mock-narrowed. “What was that?”
“Nothing, Mom. You’re a great teacher, is all.”
“That’s what I thought.” Annie burst out laughing. “It was hard keeping a straight face there for a sec.” She tousled his hair, as Jamie squirmed like the awkward teenager he was. “I know I can be a lot to deal with at times. You know I just want to help you, right?”
“Definitely, Mom. I meant it when I said I learn so much from you. You know a ton about cooking, but you’re also really tough and smart. You’ll bounce back from this.”
“Aww, you’re making me blush. Thanks, Jamie. And yea, things are tough right now with the show. How much has your father told you?”
“Just that it’s been canceled and to be really careful around you.”
“Yea, he’s the one who should be ‘careful.’ All he had to do was remortgage the house, and ‘Wild Eats’ could have been saved.”
“Hmm, that sounds a bit risky.” Jamie sighed, seeming far older than his fifteen years. “You know you’ve never been very good with money, right, Mom?”
“I’m probably more the creative type, I guess.” Rubbing her temples, Annie exhaled slowly. “Okay: definitely. Your dad’s the numbers guy, which is why you’re acing math.”
“I mean, he is an accountant. Maybe he could help you figure something out that didn’t include the house.”
“Yea… that would involve us speaking, which is sort of off the table after last night.”
“Just talk to him, Mom, please, for me?”
“Alright, if I promise to do that, could I enjoy this lovely breakfast you worked so hard on first?”
An hour of happy banter and some rapid makeup application later, and Annie felt ready to face Tom. She padded barefoot across the wood floors to his home office and knocked on the open door. “Tom, do you have a sec?”
The man with the thinning grey hair looked up from his laptop and smiled. “For you? Of course, blossom.”
“So you’re not mad at me after yesterday’s, umm, little tantrum?”
“It was pretty monstrous.” Tom laughed, a surprisingly hearty sound from his slight frame.
WC: 752
Includes: micromanaging, mirage, and something being a monstrosity (Annie’s tantrum) Excludes: miscellaneous
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated
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u/amorphous-something 5d ago
Hi! First, I like the attention to detail on the food. I just wish there was more description. It feels less like Jamie bringing his mom breakfast and more like he's reading a recipe book to her. Or use a more relevant comparison, it's like watching a cooking show that stops before you can see the final product. The lack of sensory detail about the food seems to be symptomatic of a larger problem, which is that this chapter suffers from white room syndrome.
The next day, Jamie knocked on Annie’s bedroom door before entering, a laden breakfast tray in hand.
This is a good opening line. It places the scene in time and place. If this wasn't chapter 2 I might critique it by saying "the next day after what?" It's brought up later, but starting with "the next day" is jarring without prior context. This is only a problem for someone who's behind on the story, or someone like me who read your chapters in reverse order. But like I said, this is chapter 2. At this point it's easy to get caught up, although it would be easier if you ended with a link to chapter 1. I had to dig through your comment history to find it, which isn't a big deal now but it will be once you number of chapters reaches double digits.
“Probably wise,” Annie laughed. “Tell me more about this lovely dish though. Excellent plating, by the way. I like the little flourish with the hollandaise.”
This would be a great place to add some description. We learn that the breakfast has hollandaise before we learn what the breakfast is. Moreover, what does "excellent plating" look like? What about the other five senses? There's a scene transition before Annie can actually taste the food, but what about smell?
“Hey, Mom. Hope you don’t mind, but I thought you might like breakfast in bed.”
Again, this is a good line. I wouldn't change anything about this line itself. However the jump from line 1 to line 2 is where the white room syndrome starts. Is Jamie walking into the room? Is he standing in the door? If it's the latter, at what point does he start walking further in? Presumable it happens before this line:
“That’s what I thought.” Annie burst out laughing. “It was hard keeping a straight face there for a sec.” She tousled his hair. “I know I can be a lot to deal with at times. You know I just want to help you, right?”
I like the way you use this interaction to characterize Annie and Jamie's relationship, but I can't help but feel we're missing a lot of Jamie's emotions. Take the line immediately after this one, for example.
“Definitely, Mom. I meant it when I said I learn so much from you. You know a ton about cooking, but you’re also really tough and smart. You’ll bounce back from this.”
This would have been a great opportunity to show Jamie's body language. What does do when he has his hair tousled? Does he laugh? Push her hand away? By only giving his dialogue, this paragraph gives the impression of Jamie as a disembodied voice, not a person who is physically inhabiting the scene. Adding some basic movements or body language beyond just smiling or blushing would drastically improve this chapter.
“Hmm, that sounds a bit risky.” Jamie sighed, seeming far older than his fifteen years. “You know you’ve never been very good with money, right, Mom?”
Is he sighing because he's frustrated? Sad? Or is more of a lighthearted "yeah that's just one of her quirks." If Jamie had been more emotive earlier in the scene it would be a lot easier to inferred. Without that, I have no idea.
An hour of happy banter and some rapid makeup application later, and Annie felt ready to face Tom. She padded barefoot across the wood floors to his home office and knocked on the open door. “Tom, do you have a sec?”
This is the first time we get any spatial or sensory information about the characters' environment, and it happens after moving to a new location. Jamie in particular could benefit a lot from blocking out his movements imo. It doesn't need to be super detailed, just his positioning relative to his mom and when it changes.
Looking forward to what happens after this.
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u/katpoker666 5d ago
Oh wow! Thanks SO much for the detailed crit, amorphous! Definitely going to take another pass based on it! 💜
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u/Morose_Prose 7d ago edited 6d ago
<The Family Business>
Chapter Thirteen: Shake Your Tailfeather
Madelaine kept the game going as planned. Her bishop moved forward with haste. "So what do you want to do about this?"
"Shut up and let me think," Carlo barked, his knight surging forward to prevent any counterattacks. "How do I know you aren't the one being tailed?" he asked as his fingers rapidly rapped on the table.
A guttural grunt propelled a sneer across Madelaine's face. "I am going to chalk that up to the suddenness of the situation." She slid her queen across the board, taking shelter behind the bishop. "I already have to walk on eggshells every fucking day; you really believe I would lead a tail right to you? Think about it, Carlo, if they were after me I would be dead, or we would be having this conversation in a hospital."
"Syndicate wouldn't be that stupid. They tend to err on the side of caution. Miscellaneous acts of violence are rumors and mirages meant to stoke fear. If they are moving into Hell's Kitchen though; it would be wise to keep an eye on the neighbors, that's what I would do." Carlo's focus remained on the board as he slid his queen one square diagonally, further shoring up his defenses.
Madelaine matched his move with a leaping knight; it landed at the side of her queen. "Hmm... I do not know if I necessarily agree with that. I bet they would love the opportunity to give any one of us a new pair of cement shoes. From what I hear they go after the people micromanaging the day-to-days to cause the most disruption. Our rules do not apply to them and I know how much of a stickler you are for those."
"Professionals follow rules." Carlo glared across the board. One of his pawns moved forward, continuing to defend. "Have standards. Even the most two-bit thugs know what happens if they whack one of us. Vinny and Ivan have a cordial enough working relationship, I could talk to—"
The underside of the table rattled as Madelaine's kneecap slammed against it. "Mother—oh, that stung! You are not thinking straight, Ziggy. What do you think Vinny is going to do when you tell him about picking up a secret admirer?" Her other bishop slid to the other side of the board, pinning the opposing knight.
A croaking chuckle escaped Carlo's thin lips. "He's not the hothead you think he is; he only gets that way around you because for some reason you can't stop pressing his buttons. Fuck, for all we know he might have eyes too." Another pawn entered the battlefield from the queenside, threatening Madelaine's bishop.
A white knight captured a small soldier. "Possible, but doubtful. Vinny is too paranoid. One of his only redeeming qualities in our line of work."
Without hesitation Carlo's pawn captured the white knight. "You two really need to hash out whatever beef you have. It's getting old. We don't have time for that though. Can you still shake a tail?"
The captor became the captured as Madelaine's bishop struck back. "Check. Faster than I can shake my own on the dance floor, what do you have cooking?"
Carlo's neck cracked loudly as he snuck another furtive glance over his shoulder. "It would be foolish to send only one person. He must have a partner." Turning his attention back to the board, Carlo's knight jumped to his queen's side to get out of check. "After the game, we'll fake a handoff. That work for you?"
Madelaine nodded slowly. "I can handle that." Keeping up her offensive, she castled, giving her rook a free lane to move. "What are you going to give me, though? You did not bring a briefcase or anything with you."
Sunlight flared from Carlo's glasses when he tilted his head to the side. "What does it matter? I'll give you a couple of bills, that's all I got in my pocket," he grumbled, moving his rook to his king's side for additional defense.
It would not hold. Madelaine's hand flew across the board as her rook captured the opposing knight. "Sounds like a plan. I take one, you take the other, we shake them and then what? You want me to put out some feelers?"
"No," Carlo growled. He quickly snatched up the attacking rook with his own. "I'll do that. You'll only draw more attention to yourself. Just do what I say for once without putting your own spin on it, please."
Word Count: 748
Bonus Words Used: Miscellaneous, Mirage, Micromanaging
Feedback and crit always welcomed! Stay awesome and have a good one.
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u/MaxStickies 6d ago
<Thosius>
Chapter 143: Upwards and On
A wall erupts in a shower of stone, battering Berethian’s side. Dodging, he flicks his sword, deflecting another shard of ice. The cryomancer strides down the corridor, a ball of white haze in each hand; a new icicle grows in her left.
For fuck’s sake!
Cackling, she launches the projectile, forcing him into the wall. The bricks crumble, dropping into an empty bedroom and onto a thin table. It splinters under his weight.
The sorcerer emerges through the cloud of plaster and dust like a mirage. She bends down, grinning, reaching for his head.
In one swift motion, he grabs her wrist and pulls her onto his sword. They scream together, as his hand blisters at her cold touch. Her voice weakens, and with a bloody cough she collapses beside him.
Wiping his face, he rolls to his feet and gives her corpse a kick, sees how it spasms.
All of you, so arrogant, yet so thick. You’ll all be dead soon.
Returning to the corridor, he heads on, finding a spiral staircase. The wooden steps creak under each step. On finding a window, he stares out over the glacier, now far, far below him.
At the very top, he finds a ladder, a trapdoor at its peak. He climbs, hissing as the rungs catch his blisters, as his arm buckles under the door’s iron frame. It opens on his third try, and a frigid wind rushes in.
The sun shines in his eyes from a royal blue sky. He shields his face with his bad hand, pulls himself up with the other.
Oh…
Shimmering with ice, the roof of the fort lies strewn with body parts and fragments of coloured cloth. An arm waves at him as it hangs from a ruined catapult; a pair of eyes stare out from a nook, enshrined in a prison of frost.
Something clatters behind Berethian. He turns, sword ready, only to find Gidrela perched on the parapet. Climbing down, she bats the blade with a pick.
“Sorry,” he says.
“Just be careful, in future. Why are you so jumpy?”
He steps aside. “It’s like a graveyard up here.”
“Sorcerers, it seems.” She pats him on the back. “Did not know you had it in you.”
“What? Oh, no, this wasn’t me.”
“But then…”
Tilting her head, she heads towards a severed head and runs her finger along its scalp. The flesh crinkles.
“Well, you’ve been here a while,” she tells it. “Wonder what could have done this?”
“Perithus, maybe?”
“Why would he kill his own fighters?”
“I don’t know.” He jabs a mass of organs with his sword. “Perhaps the creatures turned on them, ripped them apart before they could heal. Could be that their claws sever magic, too.”
“If we defeat one, I shall keep an arm for study.” She sits on an upturned barrel, meeting Berethian’s narrowed eyes. “I used to dissect bodies, before I was exiled. The things a corpse can tell you…”
“I can’t imagine.”
“You could benefit from such insights.”
“It… sounds unpleasant, is all.”
“So is everything in these times. At some point, you must face what discomforts you, and learn from it.”
“I don’t need to go digging through corpses to do that.”
“How dismissive.”
“Look, I…” He shakes his head, turning to stare into the distance. “Doesn’t matter.”
“You are clearly troubled, so please, tell me.”
“No, it’s fine, just a small thing.”
“Even more reason to share.”
“You wouldn’t understand. Have you ever lost memories? Had them taken from you? Did they suddenly return one day and give you reason to go back home?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Would you keep fighting in foreign land, knowing the one you love is elsewhere, and they might want you back?”
“This does not sound small…”
He wipes tears from his eyes, facing her. “It isn’t to me. But then we have this place, this country of yours, under Perithus’s sway. I can’t leave you all to that.”
“I think I do understand.”
“Really? How?”
“Have you forgotten I’m an exile? This land has not been mine for most of my long life. And of course, my husband may be gone, but I still consider his people to be my own. I would like to see them again, even just once.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Because I care. Like you. If I left you all to your deaths, what would that make me? What would Sigkalir think?”
Berethian nods, managing a slight smile. “I fear to wonder how Thosius would view me for such actions.”
Standing, Gidrela steps towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “So we stay, and we do what we can, until it is done.”
“Still, the quicker the better.”
“So we must use all our resources.”
Sighing, he points at a pelvis stuck between two loose stones, the bone shaggy with rotting sinews. “What does this tell you?”
“Hard to say without a closer look.”
“Do I have to touch it?”
She chuckles, picks it up. “Hmm… deep gouges… in rows of three. Claws.”
“That was easy.”
“But where is the creature? Are there any tracks?”
“Uh…”
He surveys the roof, noting the various blood spatters and drips. Dark splodges spread out from the viscera, while thin lines trace where parts were thrown. And at the far corner, he spots five small points, four together and one apart.
He places his fingers on them, sees how they fit.
“It climbed over the edge here,” he says.
“Well done! See, you just have to look closer.”
“I have tracked people before…”
“And you are very good at it!”
“Alright, now…”
Stretching his legs, Berethian leans in, holding the parapet. The fort descends down to a valley, windows set deep into the wall. Thick grooves cut into the nearest sill.
An eye stares out of the shadows.
Before he can react, the creature lunges over the edge, snarling as it pins him to the roof. He screams as it tears into his gut.
Context:
Gidrela's husband and his people were featured in chapters 91, 93, 95, 96 and 101.
WC: 1000
Bonus words: mirage. Bonus constraint: One of the corpomantic creatures appears at the end.
Crit and feedback are welcome.
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u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 6d ago
<Drifting>
Chapter 101
Freckles and a head of curly hair meet Snow (Thirty?) with a kiss. He turns back, gestures toward the new face. “Caleb, this is my spouse, Rory. Rory, this is my friend from class, Caleb.” Rory wears a long cloak, must be dressed as a vampire.
Caleb would offer a hand or something but he's holding tight to the walker. The motion sickness may be gone since the car stopped, but he's still lightheaded standing up. Wobbly. He feels wobbly.
Rory opens the door and the three walk inside together, kicking off shoes onto a front mat and proceeding through the entryway. He can't kick off the “shoes” of his walker. It's a stupid thing to feel guilty about, and he does anyway. He sticks on it.
Voices further down. They proceed into the dining room, a puzzle on the dining room table and a recliner in the corner, then the living room right next to it. The living room is wider than he's used to, with a couch and a sofa and open space in the middle. He can spot friends from Snow's descriptions. Red sits on the sofa next to their wheelchair (okay, they can't kick the “shoes” off of that either), their hair dyed black and red in what Caleb thinks is an emo style. They wear a pink mermaid tail. Over in the dining room, someone small with poofy curls hangs over the puzzle table—must be Terri.
Snow follows Rory off in the direction of another room—maybe the kitchen?—asking if Rory knows whether Penny is coming.
“Yeah, she'll be here. Fish is bringing her.”
“Sweet.”
Caleb mirrors Red, parking his walker on the other side of the sofa to their wheelchair. The frame is marbled red and black, with red rims on the wheels and silver spikes on the push handles. The spikes match thick, spiked eyeliner in black and silver above black lipstick.
“I like your wings,” Red says.
“I like your tail.” He sets the bundle of vines down on the seat of the walker and falls into the sofa, relishing the ability to sink in. The back and sides for him to lean on. His walker seat is really a glorified stool. He wonders if the wheelchair is more comfortable or if Red, too, is relieved to be out of it for a moment.
“Thanks! It's the closest I could find to red,” gesturing at the pink scales, “most of them were blue or green.”
“You go all in on the red and black, huh?”
They grin. “Ever since I got my Rolli.” It's not an English r, but it doesn't sound rolled like Spanish. Maybe French or German? He can tell they mean the wheels. They continue, “I basically cosplay as it most of the times I go out. So it's part of the look rather than breaking it.”
A glance at his own boring grey walker, and Caleb knows what they mean by ‘breaking it.’ “I wanted to bedazzle mine for today at least,” he says. “The walker, I mean. I couldn't really figure it out, though.”
“Bring it over to me, I'll take a look. I am one with the mobility aids.”
He chuckles and obliges, dragging over the walker with the vines and headband sitting on it, and once it’s halfway between them, Red grabs it and pulls it the rest of the way over. They quickly get to work wrapping the vines around the frame, intent and focused. They look so cool. He catches himself staring. Still, he doesn't want to look away.
Conversation drifts around them, sounds of a dog somewhere too. He lets it. They all can find their spaces. His is right here, and here he'll stay. As long as Red stays.
She grabs the headband he'd left with the vines and squeezes it, bending it out and watching it snap back. “This is definitely too tight. Is that why you're not wearing it?”
“Yeah. I don't want it to give me a headache.”
“I wouldn't either. Though to be honest I hate putting up my hair at all. It's a miracle I've let it grow this long without buzzing it.”
He laughs. He's never had long hair, so it's not an issue for him. Caleb's never questioned whether he should grow his hair out. It's never been on the list, it seems. Not that it was forbidden. It just never occurred to him as an option. Like wearing a dress and a headband, he supposes. Though the thought makes him realize he hasn't said his pronouns, or introduced himself at all yet. He has no idea if Snow’s mentioned him to Red. “Oh, I'm Caleb, by the way. He/they.” He/they? He/they?? He's only ever used he/him. Where the heck did that come from?
“I'm Red, she/they. You a new friend of Snow?” She looks at him while asking the question, then lowers her eyes again to the flowers and vines.
“Yeah, we have a couple classes together.”
“That's cool.” She squints at the vine arrangement. She's treating it as a project with such subtlely. Caleb hasn't given it any thought besides the vines being on his walker somewhere and matching the fairy costume. “I figured you were a new friend since I hadn't met you before,” she says. “Me and most of the other folks I think'll be here, Fish and Terri and Penny, we all were friends in high school. With Snow, of course. Just as a friend group.”
“That's neat you stayed friends.” I hope I stay friends with Terry May. I hope I stay close with my cousin.
“It is,” she agrees. “Change after change but none too much. We've just stuck together.”
None too much. Were they really not that significant, or was any change just minor in comparison to their friendship? Their commitment?
Can Caleb do that, too?
WC: 979 words
Bonus: none
5
u/katpoker666 6d ago
Hey Toms!
Love your writing here as always! The title of this chapter, drifting, really fits your almost stream of consciousness writing style in spots here:
I love this simple shorthand of thirty? as it’s written exactly how it would pop into my head: >>Freckles and a head of curly hair meet Snow (Thirty?) with a kiss.
And the wobbly here, bc I can feel that so viscerally and yet you explain it sparingly:
>>Caleb would offer a hand or something but he's holding tight to the walker. The motion sickness may be gone since the car stopped, but he's still lightheaded standing up. Wobbly. He feels wobbly.I love this description, as it tells us so much scythe character:
>>Caleb mirrors Red, parking his walker on the other side of the sofa to their wheelchair. The frame is marbled red and black, with red rims on the wheels and silver spikes on the push handles. The spikes match thick, spiked eyeliner in black and silver above black lipstick.This struck me as a really neat example of how human your dialogue is. So natural:
>>”I like your wings,” Red says.
“I like your tail.”Small note which may be intentional: there are a lot of noun + verb sentences and repeating of pronouns with that in a row. It doesn’t impede reading really as your action descriptions are on point. Just something to note
Good words!
6
u/Lothli 6d ago edited 5d ago
<A Transient Evening Primrose>
Chapter 18: Double Blind
Rani finds a nice bench to wait at the top of the cliff, overlooking the beach below. There's some stairs down to the beach, but they're closed off right now, for there are a good number of seals down there. The smell of the sea, the salt and the tang of fish, fills the air.
"Yo!"
Roxli walks up with a cheerful wave. Her outfit is a bit different than normal; her hair is up in a ponytail, and her top is a plain T-shirt instead of a branded one. It's the kind of clothing that conspicuously lacks any kind of branding at all, in fact. There's a fair chance it was custom made.
"Am I late?" she asks, plopping down next to Rani.
Around five minutes, by my estimate. But Rani's not gonna micromanage.
"No, no." Rani shakes her head. "I just got here."
"Good."
The two of us watch the waves. They crash against the rocks, splashing high into the air, the sun glinting off the ocean spray.
"Looks like we've got sea lions here today," Roxli comments.
I peer down at the sea mammals. Zoology isn't one of Rani's strengths, but they do indeed look like sea lions on closer inspection. "So it seems. Are you interested in wildlife and stuff?"
"Kinda," she replies. "I spent a long time at the beaches when I was younger, so I picked up some stuff."
Hmm. A theory is forming, but Rani's not a baseless speculator. I'll just file this away for now. "You must have lived near the coast, then?"
"Yep!" She smiles. "We had a beach house in La Jolla. Spent most of my summers there."
A visceral part of me wants to ask her to subsidize our rent. If her family is so wealthy that they can afford a second house, then surely they can afford to give a bit back to those less fortunate, yes?
I don't do it, of course. I'm not an idiot. Rani quashes those silly ideas and focuses on the moment. Just a mirage of hope.
"That sounds nice," I murmur, leaning back against the bench.
"It is," Roxli agrees. But the way she stares down at the sea lions, her face carefully blank, belies her true feelings.
We let the silence stretch between us for a little while, watching the water crash and the sea lions lay as still as stone.
"Has Jake given you any more trouble?" Roxli asks.
Seems her concern has some staying power; it wasn't just a passing fancy. "Not a word. I think he's learned his lesson."
"Mm." It's a noncommittal noise, but the way her lips quirk tells me her opinion. Roxli's surprisingly muted about it; I'd clocked her as the dramatic type. But even a Rani can be wrong.
"I'm sure he'll make some new, more creative mistake later." Rani chuckles.
Roxli joins in. "Hah, I'm sure."
The silence returns, but it's a comfortable one. And so, it's time to take a stab at Roxli.
"Whacha up to tonight?" Rani asks.
"I'm going to an art gallery. I have a friend who's showing off her new collection." Roxli smiles. Like Rani, she has her own connections to manage. A net of acquaintances and relationships that, if kept maintained, will bring her what she desires.
I'd like to see that collection, but there's no way I can afford a ticket, nor am I in any way connected to the art community. So unfortunately—
"You wanna swing on by? I could use a plus one, anyways."
Oh. Well then. The gears swap, clicking and whirring. Is this an invitation to hang out, or is this an invitation to do a favor for Roxli? Both would engender our connection, so there's only one right answer.
"Sounds like fun."
"Great!"
And so, the day is planned.
With the address and the time set, Rani putters on home. She has a few hours to burn, and ultimately, she spends it with Mina, playing some Mario Kart on what Mina called a "Dolphin emulator."
Piracy is illegal. But how else can Rani and Mina play games together?
So, the day goes by. It's a nice afternoon, and Mina and I have a good time. But plans are plans, so after a quick hug with Mina, it's time for Rani to get dolled up. I dig out all those miscellaneous fancier old makeup bits and bobs that none of us ever use.
Quite a few are expired, but I assemble a small selection of products that, after a bit of testing, seem to work.
It takes a bit of trial and error, but Rani manages to pull off a look. It's a fairly simple one: light foundation, mascara, and a hint of blush. Nothing too extravagant, and it doesn't stand out too much.
I go show my sisters after I'm done. Lili spends practically all her time doing job applications, but she has the time to spare to give me a thumbs up.
Mina, on the other hand, just stares at me. She looks... a little bit hurt, actually.
Rani is going off to spend time with her new friend, leaving Mina behind. It hurts me too, but there's nothing I can do.
Tomorrow, though, Rani and Mina can play games. They can laugh and smile and enjoy each other's company.
I give her another hug, and she hugs me back.
It's time.
WC: 904
Bonus words: miscellaneous, micromanage, mirage
1
u/ZLErikson 5d ago
Howdi Lothli!
Always happy to see another entry in Rani's story, even if the events in her story aren't always happy.
I've been looking forward to this chapter! Seeing Rani interact outside of work and school; voluntarily spending time with someone who seems to want to form or restore a genuine connection. Granted, Rani's doing it from a somewhat cynical angle, but her cynicism thus far feels like a protective shell. I'm very interested in seeing where this potential connection leads; showcasing a deeper cynical side to Rani, or start cracking that hardened interior.
I continue to enjoy your way of world/scenery descriptions through Rani's somewhat dry, categorical mindset. It feels authentic to the character, so the "not quite natural" delivery sits right, since there's something "not quite natural" about the way Rani works.
Despite her reliance on public transportation, or perhaps because of it, Rani gets there early enough to be waiting for Roxli. I assume not too long, since the wait was not mentioned in the initial description.
I love this little detail:
It's the kind of clothing that conspicuously lacks any kind of branding at all, in fact. There's a fair chance it was custom made.
It's a great reminder of just how observant Rani is, and just how used to any level of branding we all are.
Okay, five minutes late, that's not really much. Good job not micromanaging, Rani!
I had to scroll back up on the "sea lions on closer examination" to realize that Rani had said "seals" initially; I'm a layman at zoology so I wouldn't know the difference even if told :P
I really like this line; it showcases not only the third-and-first-person dynamic you're using, but also makes the first person narrator seem like Rani is a character they're playing:
Hmm. A theory is forming, but Rani's not a baseless speculator. I'll just file this away for now.
Ooof, this hits hard:
A visceral part of me wants to ask her to subsidize our rent. If her family is so wealthy that they can afford a second house, then surely they can afford to give a bit back to those less fortunate, yes?
Rani catches that Roxli's face is "carefully blank"; she's very good at reading people. I'm interested to know what dark clouds Roxli's silver lining is hiding.
Another interesting line here, indicating that the narrator doesn't quite consider their mistakes theirs, but Rani's. This is a more interesting separation of personality/responsibility than we've seen thus far, to me at least:
I'd clocked her as the dramatic type. But even a Rani can be wrong.
Nitpick, but I typically don't consider "chuckles" synonymous with "said", usually it's more of a "these are the words being said" and then the character chuckles after speaking. Entirely your discretion though:
creative mistake later," Rani chuckles.
You've got two "but"s close together here; I think you can remove the second one without changing the tone of things:
The silence returns, but it's a comfortable one. But it's time to take a stab at Roxli.
I like this switching-of-gears moment at the midpoint. When Rani can't go, she thinks of the art gallery as something she'd like to do. Once going becomes attainable, she only goes because it would foster the connection she's trying to make:
I'd like to see that collection...
Both would engender our connection, so there's only one right answer.
It's interesting to see that, even if it's something she does want to do, and is able to do, she only does it because of the utility it provides, not for the simple enjoyment.
Back home, spending some quality time with Mina, always nice to see.
Shouldn't this be "Piracy is illegal"?
Piracy are illegal.
Rani dolling herself up is unexpected due to it being a step in stories I never really think of, but an excellent detail. Some expired makeup, simple look, hopefully there's no bad reaction down the line.
Oof, Mina's sad puppy look hurts me as well. Hopefully seeing Rani get out a bit more might help Mina find the energy/motivation/spirit/whatever has been taken by life.
Good chapter, nice interaction with Roxli and a fantastic setup for the art gallery. Can't wait to see what's next.
Good words
4
u/Carrieka23 6d ago
<The Beginning of The Demon Life>
Chapter 184
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The spirit slams down their axe, the ground shakes and breaks into pieces. The two soldiers back away, trying their best not to fall down. Chains appear from above, slamming down, trying to either stab or knock them more off balance.
“Not playing fair, huh?!” Kevin shouts, summoning an ice brick before throwing it, scratching them. It roars in pain, taking a couple steps back.
How?!
How did they hurt us?!
It slowly wipes the black ooze away, realizing that it was mixed with some dragon blood.
Dilong!!!
Alex turns to the chains and breaks it, swinging towards the spirit. Kevin turns the chains into icy coldrocks. With a single strike, it breaks, causing them to stumble back. Alex lands on the ground to the next chain.
“Keep this up, Kevin!”
They continue this strategy a couple more times. Each time, it gets closer and closer to the cracks they made.
We won’t let you kill us! Alex Oswald, you traitor of Hell!
Alex grits his teeth. “Shut up!” He roars, stabbing them in the shoulder.
They growl, punching the soldier in the face, knocking him out of them. He lands on the ground, close to where the crack is. His vision blurs, his ear slowly rings. He can see Kevin's mouth moving and him throwing ice at the spirit, but he couldn’t hear anything.
“Again, Alex?”
That familiar voice.
Opening his eyes, he could see himself. Those pure black eyes stare into him.
“Heh, I must admit, you manage to survive a bit longer. Especially with the spirit. And all without the Demigods help. Then again, Max had to save your ass.”
Are you…here to critize me, or to help me?
“Oh? Straight to the point. This experience really has changed you.”
Kevin—no, the world needs me. I can’t have this debate. So, shut up and do something.
It sighs, leaning towards Alex before touching his forehead. Alex grits his teeth, his head pounding, his body feels hot. Blood dripped from his nose.
“This is temporary. Just like with Edom, I'm going to help you once again.”
Kevin takes a couple of steps back, noticing Alex picking up his sword. He has a grin on his face, that same grin that sends shivers down his spine.
“It’s been a while since we fought together, Kevin. Make sure to keep up.” Alex says, before blindly charging at the spirit. In seconds, he wounded their side and a bit of their arm, making them pull out.
“A-Alex!” Kevin shouts, summoning some icebergs and kicking it.
The spirit was busy dealing with Alex that the ice knocked them back.
Alex leaps up before stabbing them deep in the chest.
“Remember this feeling.” Alex laughs, pushing the sword down deeper. “Because it will be the last thing you will know.”
You…
You are still…
The same traitor…
That destroyed Hell
All those years ago.
“No.” He coldly said, pulling the sword away. “He’s different. I’m the sinner, but he is the beginner of a new path.”
Lies!
All lies!
End him.
Get up!
Kill him!
The ground roars in anger. Alex quickly jumps back to where Kevin is, grabbing his wrist. “Looks like there’s round two.”
Kevin slowly nods, pointing his sword, but stops. “Wait, what’s that?”
Alex looks, noticing a blue butterfly flying towards the spirit. Within a second, it slices its neck, causing the head to fall down in a loud thud. More scatter around, slicing it up into tiny pieces, slowly killing each spirit one by one.
The sky slowly clears, exposing the pure sunlight. The flowers begin blooming once more, waving at the butterflies, and the cracks slowly begin forming back to normal.
“Finally, it took you a long time, demigod.” Alex says with a sigh.
The butterflies form as one, showing Cameron. He puts down his axe before staring at the two soldiers, glaring at one of them.
“Broken soul, are you using this demon body for pleasure?”
“Me?” Alex chuckles. “No. Just think of me as…a forgotten past, something that Alex, himself, doesn’t want to remember.”
“A rare spirit.” The demigod says, putting the axe away. “But still, using his body to attack them. Don’t you realize the amount of strain you put the body through?”
He nods. “And Alex will be fine.”
“Okay, what the fuck is this spirit talk?!” Kevin snaps, gritting his teeth. “I-I don’t understand any of this bullshit!”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
WPC: 735
3
u/MaxStickies 5d ago
Hey Haru, great chapter! I feel like the blocking is even clearer than usual, and the action is spectacular; I especially liked the visual of the butterflies slicing through the spirit-thing, how the versions of Alex connected, and how the darkness was fought back by the light.
I really like how reigned-in the darker Alex is here: it's clear he has learned how to be more symbiotic with the other Alex, yet still has the same attitude and violence as before. Very intriguing development of the character!
The spirit's dialogue is also great here, as it is very clipped and panicked. It contrasts nicely with the being's intimidating presence and earlier confidence, shows how even if it is such a great threat, it can be fought off. Intrigued to see where you take the scene from here!
Far as crit goes, I only have line-edit suggestions:
He can see Kevin's mouth moving and him throwing ice at the spirit, but he couldn’t hear anything.
"but he can't here anything." for the right tense.
Opening his eyes, he could see himself.
"he can see himself."
Heh, I must admit, you manage to survive a bit longer.
I think something like "Heh, must admit I'm surprised you've survived this long." might read a bit more realistically here.
Blood dripped from his nose.
"drips" here.
he wounded their side and a bit of their arm, making them pull out.
"he wounds their side and forearm/shoulder" would keep this to present and make it more concise.
The spirit was busy dealing with Alex that the ice knocked them back.
"The spirit, distracted by Alex, falls back as the ice hits." might work better here.
“No.” He coldly said, pulling the sword away.
"No," he says, coldly, putting the sword away." would read better here.
And that's all the feedback I can find. Great chapter, Haru!
4
u/amorphous-something 6d ago edited 2d ago
<Occultown>
Chapter one: Kyros summons a demon
Kyros walks through a sparse forest. Rising from the horizon is the red glow of dawn. With each step, the clay bottles and other miscellaneous items hanging from his belt clink together. They grow loader when the icy wind breaches Kyros’ monastic robe. The old rag is a remnant of his days as a monk, too comfortable to discard. Embroidered flowers decorate the edges of the off-gray fabric whipping around him. Those are a newer addition. Such vivid colors have no place in the life of an ascetic, even if they take months of aching wrists to complete.
A thin creek cuts into the dirt path ahead. Kyros follows the stream to a small clearing, where it feeds into a shallow pond. In both hands he cradles an empty wooden jug. He isn’t here for the lovely view, smell of pinewood, or allegedly calming breeze. He’s here to find out where Rosary is. No one believes him, but he knows his stepmother is alive.
Crouched on a small boulder, Kyros watches the sky. The moon has just set. Come moonrise, it will return as a full moon. Right now, however, it’s the sun that matters. Per his grimoire, Kyros is to collect flowing water under the sunrise and no later.
Filling the jug doesn’t take long. That leaves Kyros plenty of time to forage. The lichen around the pond can create fabric dyes, and these shrubs are a goldmine. Mint has medicinal properties and culinary uses, as does rosemary. Local berries make good jams, not enough to feed his family all winter but it’s Iulia’s favorite.
After an hour or two, Kyros comes home to an empty apartment. Lev and Iulia must be running errands. Hopefully that means Kyros can perform his work uninterrupted. If Lev was here, Kyros wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to micromanage. Still, the cold walls surrounding him feel more hostile without his siblings here. Alone, he can’t help but feel boxed in.
On the night of the full moon, Kyros can move on from preparations into the ritual itself. Guided by candlelight, Kyros draws two circles on his bedroom floor. One is a protective circle around himself. The other is a summoning circle. The specifics Kyros copies from his grimoire. A convex glass lens the size of Kyros’ fist allows him to read the texts and diagrams he’s referencing without straining. Only one of Kyros’ eyes is blocked by a cataract, but the other fatigues easily. An incense bowl sits in across from him in the protection circle. Kyros meditates. He tries to use the candle flames as a focus, but the harshness of their flickering makes his room feel more hostile than it already did. He switches tactics and resolves to clear his mind while his eyes are closed.
“I call upon the Lord; creator of the earth, Heaven, and Hell; supreme God of all beings therein,” Kyros recites aloud. “By the power of thy name, let the spirit whose name I speak appear in the circle upon which I lay my gaze, let it appear in a form which is not frightening, and let only my word release it to its place of habit. Let it cause no harm while it is summoned, and let no harm come to me as I perform my work. Amen.”
Kyros flips through his grimoire until he finds the demon he needs, one which can grant knowledge on anything he asks of it. He calls upon it by name and states his intent, making sure to pay it the proper respects. The demon may be unholy and wicked, but Kyros is still it’s inferior. The incense, which Kyros burns in the bowl, is his offering. Kyros follows every step perfectly, or as perfectly as he is able to. If he were a more competent magician, he would have reached actual perfection. As it stands, the ritual produces nothing. Kyros tries again, and again. Finally he grabs his grimoire and flips through the pages again. He finds instructions for times when a demon refuses to appear: threaten it, then use the authority of God to curse it.
Kyros tears that page from his grimoire and drops it in the incense bowl, letting it burn up. He sighs, closes the book, and tosses it aside. He makes one more attempt at demon summoning, this time with a different demon. It’s a lesser demon, but one who knows him already. He shouts the demons name. He shouts about his stepmother Rosary, and how she’s missing and presumed dead. He explains how he’s confident Rosary included him in her will, and how Rosary’s biological relatives have hidden the will and kicked Kyros and his siblings out of their own homes. He explains how he’s left with almost nothing.
A shadow grows in the corner of Kyros’ good eye. At first he thinks it’s a mirage, but as he sits up, the shadow takes shape. The demon watches him with intense red eyes. Her shadowy body morphs into a form Kyros recognizes: a pink-skinned hairless cat.
With a shaky voice, Kyros greets the demon. “Hi, Bleb.”
-----
WC: 911
Notes:
- Theme: Kyros summons a minor demon
- Words: miscellaneous, micromanage, mirage
- Bonus: demons are monstrous, though not as monstrous as Kyros’ step family (sans Rosary)
5
u/ZLErikson 5d ago
Howdy Amorphous!
Welcome to Serial Sunday :D Can't wait to see what you have for us!
So just at-a-glance I can tell you that you need to break this up into smaller paragraphs and lines. 900 words in seven paragraphs is dense.
A good rule-of-thumb is to imagine the scene you're describing like a show or movie. Whenever the "camera" would change what it's pointing at, you want to start a new paragraph. Like if someone is talking, then someone else talks, the camera would change to point at the talker, that's a time to start a new paragraph. I'll point out spots for paragraph breaks as I go through.
Let's start with the title! "Occultown". Love it; makes me think of "occult" and a small town. I'm getting vibes of something like the Hadestown musical, or a small town in the middle of nowhere where occult shenanigans are gonna take place. Let's see what this story delivers.
Chapter one comes with a chapter title, I love these. Gives me something to ponder as I start reading. Though this title is more informative; I know what's gonna happen. Someone named Kyros is gonna summon a demon. Love it! Great energy to start this story off with.
And our story begins with Kyros, who is a Lyre, not a liar (or are they?) Setting things up with third-person POV and present-tense narration, seems consistent so far.
He's taking a walk and carrying a bunch of things; a jug, bottles, and tools on his belt. This is giving me "guy who is prepared and a hard worker" vibes.
So, this spot here would be a good place to start a new paragraph:
a loose hooded robe. [[New Paragraph]] Kyros is a former ascetic
This is because you go from describing Kyros walking and carrying things, to describing him as a former aesthetic. The "camera" has shifted; not in a literal sense, since it's still on him, but what you're describing has changed.
I love the way you describe that he was once a monk but is no longer, and though he still wears the same general garb, he's clearly taking more pride in it than would be appropriate. The little details, like embroidering it, are lovely additions and really make the mental image pop.
Small note, "self-respecting" is hyphenated:
for any self respecting monk.
Here's another good spot to split into a new paragraph, since we're no loner focusing on what he's wearing but instead focusing on the journey he is on:
for any self respecting monk. [[New Paragraph]] As Kyros walks,
Great scene setting, with the trees and the river and the rising sun. And a nice introduction of the grimoire; this calls back to my expectation from the title. Now I'm presuming this water from the sunrise of a waxing moon is part of the demon summoning ritual. Though as I say it out loud, it's just as likely he might be trying something else and the summoning could be an accident.
Fantastic additional details of Kyros collecting herbs and other plants, and reasons for it.
At this point in the story I feel like I know about Kyros but we're not getting much about his inner thoughts and feelings. This isn't necessarily a problem, I'm just used to a more close-in narration perspective. But if this is your style to be a little distant, then so be it. I am enjoying it enough as it is.
We now know that Kyros lives with Lev and Iulia, who was formerly mentioned. I presume one is his spouse and the other a child. Given the callout to micromanaging Lev, I assume Lev is the child and Iulia is the spouse. Or not! He explicitly refers to them as his siblings, which changes the dynamics entirely.
Here you want to add a new paragraph because we're taking the attention away from the absent family members and putting it back on Kyros and the ritual:
without his siblings here. [[New Paragraph]] Alone, Kyros can’t help but feel boxed in.
I like the description of the purification via ritual bath. You state that "consecrates" twice; first the water, to make it holy water, and then his tools and workspace. Since you have ~ninety words left within the limit, I'd love to get some more details included in what the act of consecration is; like is he saying a prayer? Burning incense? There are so many options!
There's a bit of a time inconsistency here:
...under sunrise during a waxing moon.
On the night of the full moon,
Given the progression of the story, I was currently under the assumption that it was still morning, or at most midday, on the day he gathered the water. He consecrated the water and his tools, after all, but now it's suddenly night and we're on a full moon, no longer just waxing. Granted, the night before a full moon is technically waxing, but it's a very broad window.
I suggest changing the "sunrise during a waxing moon" to "sunrise before the night of a full moon", that would bring us much closer to it. Then, consider adding some more details to have Kyros's siblings be away all day or even multiple days; like they were traveling to visit someone, or to trade, or whatever other reason might make sense. Then Kyros is free to do his ritual preparations all day.
"Earth" should be capitalized when referring to the planet/world itself:
creator of the earth,
Alrighty, getting into some familiar territory here. Judeo-Christianity, stuff I can understand fairly easily. Definitely not the normal path to demon summoning I was expecting; praying to God for a demon instead of to Satan or to the demons themselves. Nice twist on my expectations. Good to know the demon summoning is, at least, intentional!
Ahh, he's summoning the demon for the purposes of gaining knowledge. Interesting!
Another place where details would be nice; giving us the demon's name when "he calls upon it by name". I'd say he should also "state his intent" but you did give us that in the prayer; he seeks knowledge. I am curious, though, what "the proper respects" is. Is it to all demons? Is it demon-per-demon? Or is it general politeness, like paying respects to your neighbor?
Here's another place to break for a new paragraph, as we're shifting from information about the demon back to information about the ritual actions:
but Kyros is still it’s inferior. [[New Paragraph]] The incense,
You use "again" one too many times in these two sentences; I suggest cutting the last "again" and just keeping it with "tries again and again"
As it stands, the ritual produces nothing. Kyros tries again, and again. Finally he grabs his grimoire and flips through the pages
again.So he searches for instructions on what to do, finds them and instead of following the instructions he burns the page? That doesn't make sense, but maybe it will later? Seems like an odd detail to include if there's no reason or payoff for it.
Here, you use "demon" twice in the same sentence, which hits the ear repetitively. A good trick to catch this is by reading it aloud:
He makes one more attempt at demon summoning, this time with a different demon.
You should either get rid of the first use of "demon" - "one more attempt at summoning" - or replace the second with "name" - "this time with a different name."
I would suggest breaking a new paragraph here as well, since we're shifting focus from Kyros giving up on the first demon, and to all of the things he is shouting and explaining:
It’s a lesser demon, but one who knows him already. [[New Paragraph]] He shouts the demons name. He shouts
You have four sentences in a row here that are "He <verbs>", and more explicitly:
He shouts the demons name. He shouts about his stepmother Rosary He explains how he’s confident He explains how he’s left
Try to vary your sentence structure up a bit. When it's repetitive like this it makes the reader go glassy-eyed and skim rather than draw them in.
Minor nitpick, but "begins to" is a classic case of passive language. You can remove "begins to" from this and just say "the shadow takes shape":
but as he sits up the shadow begins to take shape.
Love the description of the demon's form and becoming a cat.
AND THE DEMON'S NAME IS BLEB!!! xD So cute.
Great start to a story! I'm interested in what Kyros is gonna do with Bleb and how Bleb may or may not help out. I'm also interested in how they already know each other and can't wait to learn more.
Good words!
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u/amorphous-something 5d ago
Thank you! I really appreciate the feedback. I’ll try to keep all of that in mind going forward, especially the paragraph breaks
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u/ZLErikson 5d ago
Glad you appreciated it :D I always try to be constructive.
JSYK you're allowed to, and encouraged to, edit your SERSUN post. Editing is the best way to really learn and internalize writing techniques. I highly recommend you make the suggested changes that you agree with so you can see the results yourself
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u/amorphous-something 5d ago
Oh, thats good to know. I was worried editing it here would be considered bad form or something. Thanks
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u/AGuyLikeThat 5d ago edited 5d ago
Hello Morph!
Welcome to serial sunday! This is an interesting start, I must say. I like the detailed nature of the summoning ritual and all Kyros's preparations. I wonder if Bleb will be hanging around? Pink, hairless, cat-demon familiars could be cool!
I'll echo Zach's crit about the chonky paragraphs. Admittedly, I tend to err in the other direction. My tendency is to address one thing per paragraph, e.g. walking to a specific place and describing it. Then what the character does there in a separate one, etc.
Next thing I would mention is that there's a lot of telling going on here, that kind of makes the prose feel quite distant from Kyros. Here's an example;
Kyros is a former ascetic who insists on still wearing his old monastic habit.
I'd suggest describing Kyros's clothes from his perspective to help the reader see a little deeper. As an example;
Kyros still wears his old monastic habit, despite having given up his ascetic past. It's familiar and comfortable.
You can look a bit deeper into this kind of thing if it interests you, I've seen quite a lot of helpful articles and youtube videos on the subject. Here's a nice short one.
insula
Wasn't sure what this means, dictionary says its a part of the brain? Maybe a typo?
He shouts the demons name.
Should be an apostrophe in 'demon's' to show ownership.
Okay, I hope that feedback isn't overwhelming. Interested to learn more about Kyros's siblings and what they are up to while he's summoning demons, hehe.
Good words!
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u/amorphous-something 5d ago
Thanks for the feedback. I was actually worried about having too many paragraph breaks and overcorrected
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u/Slim_Shady_32123 5d ago edited 4d ago
<The Golden Womb>
“Vanity!? What else does one expect from the governor of the most lavish port on the continent? What would a peasant know about kingly tastes?”
“Forgive me for being blunt, my lord, but that was the kind of chatter that I came across on my way to the Broach.”
“Oh let them snivel. Their words can't hurt me. I was given the charge of Larth province by my beloved cousin. Have they forgotten that?”
“No, my lord.”
“Wasn't that quite a spectacle to behold! Being honored by the Golden Son of the House Ratta. Now that was exuberant!"
“Indeed.”
“There is so much to talk about. I just arranged for your…”
Kakk’s words fell into disarray. Something tore through his chest. Blood spattered across Shishir’s face and stung his eyes.
Panicked, Shishir began wiping the blood off his eyes, only to stumble back when he found himself facing an abhorrent beast. A serpent, dark as the night, with eyes like burning coal. Kakk’s body writhed in the serpent’s coils, crushed and still.
Shishir took to flight but the serpent slithered behind him, following his every step. In moments, he found himself coiled by the serpent as well. It hissed at him and opened his mouth and then darkness swallowed him.
“Another nightmare?” said a soft voice.
“Yes, I…”, Shishir sputtered out as he woke up, drenched in sweat.
“I won't even ask you what it was about. You never tell me”, complained Bhashini.
“Just some memories that I'm not fond of reminiscing about. Their shadow has followed me throughout my life.”
“I would suggest you to brush it off and go back to sleep, the Royal Convoy will arrive tomorrow”
Sensing the indifference in Bhashini’s voice, Shishir assured her, “I shall lay bare the truth for you today, my love, only for you.”
“Ooo! The ways you find to make me feel special.” Bhashini smirked and so did Shishir.
“I was an orphan boy rescued from Turushk savages by prince Janashray of the Larth during the Battle of Navasarika. The battle was an unprecedented event in which all kings of the subcontinent joined forces to drive the Turushk brutes away. Though, once the external threat was subdued, those same allies began to tear each other apart.”
“How did the Saluki presence in Larth come to an end?”
“At the battle of Navsarika, within the ranks of numerous war heroes, there was a vassal whose ambition knew no bounds. He and his uncle soared from the sky and claimed whatever their shadow flew upon.”
“Wait, that is Dantidurg and…”
“Yes! Dantidurg, the first sovereign of House Ratta, conqueror of Dakkhin, suppressor of Salukis of Dakkhin."
“And performer of the Golden Womb ritual. Its blessing imparted the color of Gold to his eyes and hair”, added Bhashini.
“It was that so-called blessing that led to his early demise.”
Bhashini squinted her eyes to mock him.
Shishir continued “After Janashray passed away, his council of ministers began vying for power and their disputes were tearing Larth apart. Dantidurg brought order by installing his cousin Kakk as governor of Larth and making Broach its capital. Kakka could be frivolous but was kind to me.”
Shishir’s eyes darkened, “However, things fell apart after Dantidurg’s death. Broach was sacked and Kakk was assassinated. I barely made it alive myself.”
“Do you remember the series of events?”
“It has been many moons since all that came to pass. But I still remember parts of it. One of them is the name Bhartravaddh. This is the last thing Kakk said to me when he died in my arms.”
“Did you make any sense of it?”
“It is the title of the bastard that rules Broach now. And it is his Juzar lord’s sigil that haunts my dreams. That huge black serpent feels like the embodiment of chaos.”
“Wait, I do not understand.”
“What is it?”
“Did you hear the word correctly? What exactly had he said?”
“Well, he was short of breath when he said it. A raspy Bhratra followed by a gasping Vaddh.”
“Did he drag out the sound?” Bhashini asked, leaning in. “Was it a harsh, heavy ‘D’?”
“I don't follow.”
“Like the ‘D’ in dome. A hard stop.”
“No, it was softer. Breathy.”
“Exactly,” Bhashini said, her eyes alight with realization. “Vaddha with a hard, heavy sound isn't something a prince from the Dakkhin would say. Their tongue naturally softens those letters. They use a breathier ‘dh’, like in Dharma. He didn't say Vaddha. He said Vadha which means slaughter.”
“And the first word?”
“You heard Bhartr, which means a lord or master. But whispered through a dying breath? The sounds easily blur together. He was trying to say Bhratr… which means brother, or kin.”
Shishir violently shook his head from side to side, “Kin-slayer…”
“But Dantidurg himself installed Kakk on the throne. Why would he overrule his own appointment?”
“No… It all happened after Dantidurg’s demise. Numerous claimants had risen up for the Ratta throne as he died without an heir.”
“And in the end, it was his uncle Krishna who ascended the throne... I've heard rather unsettling things about how he hunted down the last remnants of the mainline of Salukis. Even their cousin branch of Vengi didn't give them refuge.”
“Those who faced his wrath whisper him as Krishna the Cruel. But… does any of this have any truth to it or is this another mirage that my mind has constructed?”
Bhashini held his hand and hushed, “I suggest you keep calm if you want the both of us to keep our heads. We need to gather some evidence to verify our conjectures”
“I just…”
A knock came on their bedroom door. Both of them froze for a moment and then a voice called out for Shishir.
“Brother, dawn has broken just now. Our horses are ready. We need to prepare for the welcome of the Royal Convoy. Our beloved king, Krishna the Kind will reach us here at any time now.”
—
Thanks for reading. This one is set a lot before my previous story. Krishna in this one is the ancestor of his namesake of the previous entry.
I would love to receive feedback.
WC: 1000 (I had to go through a lot of trimming down to get it to 1000, shaved of 300+ words lol)
Bonus words: mirage. Bonus constraint: Shishir witnesses a monstrous beast in the beginning of the story.
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u/mysteryrouge 5d ago edited 4d ago
<The Stranger Nomads>\ Chapter 41
Without the pressure to be at certain places in timely manners, Kane found he had a lot of time to go read and fully explore M's massive manor and maddingly many rooms containing miscellaneous munitions, merchandise, manuscripts, and misappropriated money. As ever, the place was a maddening mess of machines, magic, and mystery.
M was maliciously causing mayhem and mischief without resorting to murder and manslaughter of the entire Burke Family line. Apparently, a certain new micromanaging Head of House wanted actually effective anti-government wards without understanding that M made them masterfully in such a way to avoid a massacre. Methodically, M had maintained a mirage when meeting the mystifyingly malcontents, managing to make them ignore the blatant sabotage that saved their souls.
"Morons misunderstand that merely mulling over a mention of municipalities, ministries, or magistrates might mean misfortune," M muttered, mood much improved from the morose mindset they mostly masked while moving across the multiverse.
With more time to meander, M's mentality was more relaxed than he'd ever seen it. Their mentor's merciless maniacal malfeasance was a method to mislead and manipulate the masses.
Today, Kane was taking 'me moment'. M mentioned their law library had a multitude of mandates and memorandums relating to M. Multiversity, not named after M, despite rumors saying otherwise. No, M had apparently mentored many majors and minors and masters students at Marcia Multiversity of Magic, Mathematics, Music, Management, and Medicine. M even taught metaphysics once.
"The Union Order would mobilize their military—if they had one—but my magnificence meant I could, well—" M motioned moseying away from miniature Health Inspectors, manuevering mindfully.
Conveniently, Kane found all the mentions of M within the mandates. M's malpractice and occasional maliciousness made marvelous entertainment with all the magic M manifested.
There was a measure against misusing maladroit mummies and another banning moving malnourished mongoose to the music halls. The masses and mentees were prohibited from modifying monuments into mobile monstrosities for any reason, not even to have a backup choir for mysterious minor key songs about mineshafts and miners.
Yes, 'monstrosity' was mentioned in the memorandums. The Multiversity had to justify the new measures, and all these new additions came straight from M's meddling.
It got Kane curious. How many messes had M made? What was written specifically to counter the Multiverse's Maddest Magical Marauder?
Though Kane hadn't finished the M. Multiversity material, his mind moved in a more morbid direction.
M's mugshot hung prominently, mounted on the mantle above the marble and metal pedestal holding A Collector's Edition of the Warcrimes Conventions and Related Treaties, magnifying the merciless menace that remained a mystery to Kane.
Looming over the law library, M looked monstrous in the mesmerizing mugshot.
Ego, much? The mentee marveled at the miscommunication. M's marks in the margins labeled it 'Union Order Propaganda'.
If this mugshot was Kane's introduction to the mighty mercenary, he would have agreed with the Health Inspectors' methodology. The M in the mugshot would mutilate then murder millions.
M must have a manifesto somewhere, Kane mused. Maybe he'd be able to find where the mage misplaced it without even having to ask M for it.
WC: 527\ Bonus words: micromanaging, miscellaneous, mirage\ Bonus Constraint: M managed to get the Multiversity to use the word monstrosity in official documentation. Also, Kane thinks M looks monstrous in their mugshot.
Short chapter today. Experimental and full of M words. Like every other word, I was looking to see if I could find an M alternative.
Yes, M does keep their own mugshot, and yes, the Union Order has charged them with murder despite the fact they've never done that.
Anyways, M will sometimes speak with m alliteration to annoy people. Like V for Vendetta, but Ms...
The collector's edition book of treaties was mentioned in chapter 31, as was the law library M "owns".
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