After the devastating attack on the People's towns, young mage Enkarini and her friends, Soris and Caiara, travel to the mysterious village known as Dragon's Teeth. They plan to spend some time among the experienced and powerful mages there, learning more about their abilities. Enkarini especially wants to find a way to control her own shadow magic, something she has grown more uneasy with since her father's death.
Their plans go awry, however, when they discover the Mayor of the town has placed blood bonds on them all, keeping them from leaving. Learning takes a back seat as the three find themselves caught up in the village's internal struggles.
thanks for the tag @willtheweaver :) these are from Haven's Release, fresh off the keyboard today!
“I’m sure you can imagine the effects on a living body. The Spectres’ weapons are already imbued with this magic, and a few of their upper ranks can now do as Ki-Sin here showed you, casting directly from their gauntlets.” Thompson’s icy gaze swept the table. “The most recent disarming operation required the use of these weapons on the elven soldiers. We have photographs of the remains, if anyone here still needs convincing?”
Blake swore under his breath. “As if the Spectres weren’t frightening enough. Michael, I think you and His Majesty need to sit down with the Empress and work out an agreement that we will never piss Nakata off again.”
~~~
I'll tag @writingingraves , @the-golden-comet , @eli-t-spoon and open tag!
this is a snippet from Haven's Release, if anyone has any feedback or comments I'd appreciate them (•‿•)
Alaric sat nursing his latest injuries, brooding over the latest developments. He didn’t like brooding, it didn’t suit him, but there was little else he could do for now. Nightbreeze and his flunkies had been prepared the last couple of times they had gone to one of his secret underground bomb factories, and this time they had lost too many in the process. Not all had been killed then and there, true, but taken prisoner was almost a worse fate.
They hadn’t heard from Akemi in nearly three months. He hoped she was just lying low somewhere, safe but unable to contact them. A dark, despairing voice in the back of his head said otherwise, and tonight it was harder to ignore it.
He had gone into this thinking it would be… not easy, exactly, but not this real. He had imagined his own involvement being a larger scale, more useful version of the prank schemes he had run at university; a little disruption, mayhem and ultimately fun, while helping other people in the process. He had assumed that all his friends would come through unscathed and laughing, victorious at the end.
Reality had a brutal way of making itself known.
Kester’s house had become a crowded infirmary over the last few weeks. Sickly escaped prisoners, their own injured, and a couple of too-quiet pallets in the back room, covered in sheets and awaiting what final dignity they could manage to give.
He missed the days when it had been the five of them, complaining about their coursework, holding drinking contests and lewd puppet shows, throwing glitter and leaflets from dorm rooftops. Even when this was over, when the dust settled and Elena came back, when Akemi managed to find her way out of wherever she was stuck (because she was not dead, not dead, not dead), when Kester returned from his wander in the wilderness, the group would never be whole again.
Jonno had never been this quiet in his life.
“You stupid bastard,” Alaric muttered, throwing a glare at the limp red hair poking out from under the too small sheet. “You could have got out of there, but no, you had to be all noble. Had to go all ‘let’s save everyone’ and get yourself killed instead. What am I supposed to do now? We were supposed to have each other’s backs, Jon. We were supposed to get each other through this, be a safe place for Akemi to come back to, throw a huge party when Nightbreeze was gone. What am I going to tell your parents? What do I tell Akemi and Kester?”
He paused, waiting for an answer that would never come.
~~~
taglist (ask for +/-): @eli-t-spoon @write-with-will @keeping-writing-frosty
thanks for the tag @theeccentricraven ! another catch up tag game from ages ago lol
Rules: Follow the prompts for one of your WIPs. You can change them around if you'd like.
One song from your WIP/OC playlist:
Broken Souls by Blacklite District
Two tropes featured:
found family and secret identities
Three words to describe your WIP:
home changing irreversibly
Four lines that are your favorite:
Koli sat upright at that. “Hey, hey, you can’t just take it apart! It’s a very delicate magical device, and you don’t know what you’re doing! You’ll end up triggering the defense spells.”
Five feelings from/about your characters:
love
frustration
satisfaction
excitement
nervousness
I'll tag @keeping-writing-frosty , @agirlandherquill and @write-with-will , plus open tag!
thanks as always to @agirlandherquill for the amazing prompts, which you can find here! (I may be grabbing a second one from today's list for a whole other story lol)
this story is set a little before the main novel run, and follows Kandrina and Enkarini's mother before her disappearance and presumed death.
here's the prompt I used:
She whispered to the dark, until it finally whispered back.
The house was dark and silent. Despite her husband sleeping in the next room, her two older children in their own rooms down the hall, and her baby cradled in her arms right here, Meradina felt alone. She had felt alone for months, ever since her dreams had turned to nightmares and the once-familiar corners had begun to echo with whispers.
Harndak had tried, in his way, to calm her nerves and reassure her that things would be fine. They had already had two children, after all, and managed as well as could be expected. A third shouldn’t be too much trouble, he had said yesterday.
She had smiled, pretended to relax. If her worries had solely been about raising little Enkarini, it would have been much easier to find solace in her husband’s support and love. Deep in her heart and soul, she knew that something far greater than a mother’s anxiety threatened her little family, and she was the only one who could stand in its way.
The tales had been passed down through her family for generations, mother to eldest daughter, ever since the distant ancestor she herself was named for. Tales of the cruel goddess they had once served, and her wicked brother imprisoned in the Great Forest of the West.
With a soft sigh, she gently kissed Enkarini on the forehead, and set her back in the crib. Better to do this now, before either of those ancient horrors turned their attention to Kandrina, before Enkarini was old enough to miss her mother. She stepped out into the garden, dew-glazed flowers nodding in the light of the moons, and drew in a deep breath.
If she was completely honest with herself, she had always known something like this was coming. Her life had never truly been her own, and now the only choice she had left was whether to use that life to protect her daughters, or to offer them up. With the tepid summer breeze curling around her, she whispered to the dark, until it finally whispered back.
“Come to me, Meradina. Find me in the Forest. Join me in the fight against your Mistress.”
The twisted face of the fallen god seemed to float in the air before her. “I have a condition.” She stared it down as she would with any other who tried to harm her family. “Take me, and me alone. Spare my daughters, and I will serve you eternally.”
“Very well. I give you my word, I shall not seek out your daughters as long as you remain loyal.” The face wavered and drifted on the wind. “Now come to me.”
Meradina felt her body move without her instruction, walking through the silent streets of Manak, seen by none but the moons. Before her mind fled entirely, she sent a prayer to Aikra-Lora, goddess of children, to watch over her three little ones and protect them from harm. Her bargain tonight ought to keep this one danger at bay, but the world was full of others, and she would no longer be there to guide her children.
~~~
tagging some writer moots: @desastreus @write-with-will @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @leahnardo-da-veggie @eli-t-spoon
I'm back with Luke and Theresa for the fourth day of writecamp (*^‿^*) it turned out pretty long, so it's under the cut
thanks again to @agirlandherquill for running this! you can find today's prompts here if you want to join in
the prompt I picked was:
A starless sky
Tents burned, the flames fighting against blasts of water and ice conjured by desperate, depleted mages. The cries of injured and frightened people rang through the roar of fire, a counterpoint to the metallic clang of blades further away. This was a brief lull, rather than an end to the attack, the scant moments between the last magical assault and the next physical one.
Luke stared through the faint pinkish haze surrounding the healer's retreat he had been carried to earlier. He had been at the forefront of the fight once again, using whatever means he could to beat back the soldiers of the Celestial Regiment. One had caught him from behind as he fought two others, delivering a heavy blow to the back of his neck with a mace. Things were a little vague for a while after that, until he registered the concerned face of one of the Reid sisters hovering over him.
They had managed to heal the damage before it became irreversible, but there was only so much they could do for each of the wounded. There was only so much power they could use before they were unable to heal anyone. The five of them had been working miracles for the last week, and nobody wanted to lose them so soon.
Without warning, the lingering sounds of battle ceased, and a heavy silence spread through the battered camp. This could not mean anything good. Luke pulled himself upright, gathering what shadows he could, preparing for whatever was coming.
Through the smoke and ash, the voice of a Cardinal rang out. "Surrender, mages. It is your only hope, your only salvation.”
Luke spat blood. “They seriously think we’re going to roll over and let them win after this?” He stood, staggering, still weak from his injuries. Mary Reid tried to pull him back to the pallet. “Mary, leave it, I’m fine. Go find Astrid, Theresa and Livilda, tell them I’ve got a plan.” His own shadows would be able to hold him together until this was over. Any time spent sitting around healing was time they could not afford, if there were Cardinals about.
Mary conjured three small pink butterflies and sent them flying through the destruction. “Until they get here, you sit your backside down. Collapsing won't do anyone any good, Mr Miller.”
Luke knew better than to argue with a healer in their own infirmary, even a makeshift one like this. He sat, though didn't lay back on the pallet again, waiting for the three he needed.
Within minutes, they arrived, dishevelled and sporting various small injuries but alive and ready to fight.
“What's the plan?” Theresa asked. “How do we fight them off this time?”
“We're going to steal their precious stars from the sky.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, broken by Livilda’s soft gasp. “Oh, you brilliant boy, Luke.”
“How, exactly, are we going to do that?” Astrid asked, her head tilted to the side.
“Liv and I combine our shadows, making them cover a wider area than either of us could alone, and we blot out the sky with them. Resa, we'll need you to create false stars that fall from the sky, disappearing into the ground. Astrid, I want you to get some dramatic rumbles and quaking going underfoot, knock them down if you can. Make it seem like the earth is splitting open to swallow the stars as they fall.” He looked around at them. “We don't have much time to act. Are you in?”
Theresa was the first to nod. “I'm with you, always.”
“Count me in,” Astrid said with a smile. “I can't wait to see their faces when we kill their gods.”
Livilda already had her shadows out, swirling around her like so much smoke. “Let's do this.”
Luke stood, supported by their confidence. Once outside of the healers wards, the stench of blood and smouldering canvas filled the air, nearly choking them. The sounds of suffering and war were much closer now, but he refused to falter.
Shadow whirled around the small group of four, hiding them from view as they put their hasty plan into action. Astrid sat on the ground, legs crossed loosely, hands dug into the charred soil as she connected with the world beneath them. Theresa was already surrounded by dancing points of false starlight, which spiralled upwards under the cloak of shadow Luke and Livilda provided.
Cries of shock and horror came from all around, and he didn’t have time or energy to spare wondering if they came from the temple’s people or their own. With Livilda’s hands firmly wrapped around his own, together they directed their shadows up and out, covering the sky, masking the stars from view.
Theresa’s lights twinkled in the darkness for a few seconds, before she called them back down to earth. The ground shook and groaned, sending several people tumbling. Luke spotted the Cardinal he had heard earlier, red robes trailing on the ground where he had fallen to his knees, staring at the plummeting stars with wide, frightened eyes. The soldiers, who had been shoving their way through singed and half-collapsed tents, dropped their swords and looked to their Cardinal for orders that never came.
When the false stars had returned to Theresa, seeming from outside to vanish into the shadows around them, Astrid let her magic drop, exhausted. Theresa turned her attention to healing the young girl, and Livilda took over holding up the blanket of shadow covering the sky. “Go, my boy. You’re the one with the plan. Make them leave us in peace,” she whispered.
With nothing but darkness overhead, the only light coming from the burning remnants of what had once been a refuge, Luke stepped out of the cocoon of shadows and stopped in front of the red-robed man. There was no room for him to second guess himself, no time to hesitate over wording. He had once thought to travel the world as a performing actor and musician, put on grand shows in every town, and this would have to be his greatest.
“You see that, Cardinal?” He pointed to the starless sky with a flourish. “Your sacred stars have left you! They answer to our command, nothing more than light and warmth! If you want us to return them to their place in the sky, you will gather your men and leave this camp in peace.”
There was a pause, as the Cardinal slowly shifted his focus from the empty sky to the young man before him. “I do not yet know how you have done this, mage, but I will find out, and I will make you pay for this blasphemy.”
“Maybe.” Luke grinned without humour, knowing that a smile would unsettle the man more than a snarl of fury. “So, are you going to let us be? Or would you rather explain to your worshippers why their gods are no longer there?” There was no way they could keep up the charade for very long, but this Cardinal didn’t have to know that.
“Give me your word that you will return the Holy Stars.”
“Once every one of your soldiers is gone from our home, I swear the stars will return. If you attack us again, we will take them away again.”
The Cardinal nodded, once. “Very well, mage. You have your way for now.” He stood, called for a retreat, and swept away without looking back.
After a short while, the call came from the outskirts of the camp that the soldiers had left, vanishing through one of their portals, and Luke breathed a sigh of relief. It had worked, at least for now. They would, with luck, have a few days to regroup and find a new place to take shelter.
Theresa cast more pinpoint lights upward, and Livilda let the shadows drop, revealing the sky once more. From the few who had been near enough to see what had happened, there were scattered mumbles and a couple of bursts of applause. Luke knew he would need to explain this to the rest sooner or later, but that would have to wait. The battle had taken its toll on him, and it was all he could do to stumble back to the healers’ wards and collapse on the nearest pallet. Just before he passed out, he could hear Mary Reid tutting at him.
~~~
tagging some writer moots: @write-with-will @theeccentricraven @keeping-writing-frosty @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @eli-t-spoon
thanks again to @agirlandherquill for running writemas, and for these amazing prompts! today's story is kind of the other side of yesterday's, and at least partly inspired by the concert I was at last night ♪~♪ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ ♪~♪
the prompts I picked were:
A misted moor
The endlessness of air
It was the first time in decades he had revisited the lands of his birth. So much had changed since then, the people, the villages, even the roads, but the wild and rolling moorlands had not. It almost felt as though he had found a kindred spirit, something as everlasting as himself.
This early in the morning, before the sun had fully risen, a haze of mist still hung over the land. Sprawling heather and gorse lay heavy with dew, and birdsong rung through the air, a muted call muffled by the fog. If he shut his eyes and breathed deeply enough, he could almost make himself believe the world had not changed. That he had not changed.
Far away from any human life, the endless expanse of wild land and clear air seemed all there was. Here he could let go of all pretence, drop every mask and false name he had worn, and once more be Luke, the travelling mage and minstrel, with nothing in his heart but a song.
The antique lyre on his back felt too heavy for the maplewood frame and silken strings it was made of. It had been far too long since he had even thought of playing, but on this day, he wanted to mark the occasion.
Seven hundred years ago to the day, he had first met Theresa. Today, he needed to let her go.
He breathed in the cool, foggy air, and plucked at the strings, refamiliarising himself with the notes. It took him a while, his skills rusty after all those years, but he warmed up as the sunlight crept over the moors.
The birds nearby slowed, picked up his melody, built on it in their own way to create something more beautiful than he could have alone. Music flowed through the air, coming back to him with the wind. It seemed to go on forever, becoming part of the endless place, overlapping with itself as though another played along with him.
He sang in the old tongue, the one they had all invented together, another layer of protection against those who had persecuted them. Words of loss, of joy, of grief and love. It had grown easier to carry as the time wore on, but had never truly left him. The improvised song was his last letter to them all. A goodbye, an I love you, a good riddance. When he ran out of words, ran out of notes, he allowed the moor to fall silent.
For one short moment, the last fading echoes of his music drifting on the wind, he let himself feel it all. Then, he let it go. He donned the mask once more, recalled his latest name, and left Luke behind in the endless, empty air.
~~~
tagging some writer moots: @eli-t-spoon @leahnardo-da-veggie @charlesjosephwrites @oh-no-another-idea @the-golden-comet
