If you like dark fantasy with exquisite prose and luscious descriptions, refreshingly nuanced characters, complex dynamics, chemistry and sexual tension that literally sizzle off the page, and symbolism that perfectly complements characterization, do yourself a favor and pick up When the Stars Alight by @aninkwellofnectar. Easily one of my favorite reads of 2024 so far.
Book Review: When the Stars Alight by Camilla Andrews
Release 16 June 2023
“A maiden of the stars. A monster from the shadows. A collision that rewrites their worlds.“
The first instalment of The Essence of the Equinox, this book tells the story of Laila Rose, the Princess of Soleterea as she venters to the country of Mortos.
The writing for this book is decadent, with extravagant descriptions that paints a vivid and evocative image of the world. The food descriptions in particular are mouthwatering. The third person omnipresent narrator provides a constantly shifting perspective that puts you in the shoes of many characters, allowing the reader to have a wider experience.
The world of WTSA is beautifully developed and so interesting. Soletera and Mortos are wonderfully crafted and distinct, described in striking detail. The symbolism between the two is so well crafted, with the Solarites representing light and life, and the Occasi darkness and death (with light also being shown to be dangerous too). On the face of it, the militaristic Mortos may seem more dangerous, but Soleterea is not without its own power plays.
At the heart of this story is Laila, a wonderfully well-developed character. Someone with a strong moral compass, an idealist at heart, charming and manipulative, a true power player. Much of her character is defined by her mother, Amira, an interesting character in her own right.
Laila’s relationships with the brothers Darius and Dominus are interesting and complex. It’s clear that she has different motivations going into each and different dynamics with each of the brothers. Darius is an absolute fave of mine, I love his intelligence, snarky wit, and ambition. The romantic relationships also add an interesting dynamic to the sibling relationship between the two brothers, exacerbating the existing conflict and jealousy between the heir and the bastard.
This is a book for people who love exquisite prose, magnificent worldbuilding, interesting and complicated character dynamics, and strong female characters.
A fantastic read I would highly recommend. I’d also recommend checking out @aninkwellofnectar‘s blog to learn more about the book and preorder a copy here.
One that has you on the run with no escape in sight, the dead end creeping closer and closer.
You’ve pissed off one of the gangs that rule Renna from the planet’s underworld. And, to make things even more interesting, you’ve just stumbled into the den of the Shooting Stars, Renna’s most infamous thieves, and a certainly dynamic group.
As you attempt to untangle yourself from the vice-like web you’ve found yourself in alongside your impromptu friends, you start to realise the sky just may be the limit - if you can reach it before time runs out.
• Info •
When the Stars Align is an in progress interactive novel following the player as they navigate the criminal underworld of Renna, a small planet within the Kindle system.
The world of Renna is split between the wealthy and the poor, the self-righteous and the disgraced. Meet people from all walks of life as they attempt to survive the cutthroat, deadly city of Icaron and all its hidden depths, and even romance a few.
The world is your oyster, or so it seems, when technology is aplenty and you have allies at your back. But there are just as many people waiting to cut you down where you stand, and soon, not even they seem like the biggest threat.
Can you make it off this planet of secrets in one piece? Or will the stars align in a deadly omen?
• Features •
- A fully customisable MC, in gender, sexuality, presentation, appearance, background, and personality
- A range of choices and story options, including ending variations
- Male, female, nonbinary, and gender customisable ROs, with additional route combinations available
- An action and intrigue filled sci-fi setting, with futuristic and complex tech and culture to explore
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Sorry, baby. I shouldn’t tease you.”
The pet name settles heavier in Adam’s chest than he could have expected. He’s never been called that before.
“If you stopped teasing me, I would worry you’d never make another noise.”
Ronan doesn’t answer. But instead, pulls him in, pressing his lips to his cheek bone, his nose, his chin. Any and all of him he can reach. Adam feels strangely melancholic, to be held and kissed like this. Like pieces of him have turned to stone, waiting to be disturbed by pieces of Ronan that are known to break such stones apart. His loud outbursts. The heady looks he gives him. The sharp lines of his jawbone. The strange and soft creatures that decorate his skin.
Between those misaligned places, Adam finds solace. He feels like a rodent hidden in thorns, safe from the hawks.
Ironic.
Aight aight it’s up y’all
Chapter 19 is a go for Without The Skin Attached.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
---(This chapter of the hellbeast is for @2am-limbo on this day of days <3 keep on keepin’ on)
---(Also thank you to whoever else is still around and wants to keep reading. There will be more later this week after I finish a project for work.)
continuing to spread my long haired Viktor propaganda
(all of jayces clothing smells like the ocean, viktor loves it ;-;)
(the fic that goes with these doodles; Where the Sea Awaits)
AO3 Link * Chapter two: A Stranger and The Fisherman
4600 words * SFW * Jayvik * Selkie!AU
Beta read by @kitcatkim
[[1st chapter of the fic here]]
cw for descriptions of injury/blood
Summary: When Jayce Talis discovers a stranger cast ashore, he can't shake the feeling that the sea itself has intertwined their fates. The steady rhythm of the tides he's spent his life mastering is suddenly disrupted, and as he delves into the mystery of a man seemingly torn from the depths, an unexpected bond begins to form.
The man looked both terrified and fatigued, crumpled into the sand as if the ocean itself had cast him out.
For a moment Jayce couldn’t do anything but stare, his mind racing to make sense of what was in front of him. The stranger’s chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, his naked body trembling with effort as he lay curled on his side. Strands of long, damp hair clung to his face and trailed down his shoulders and back, half-obscuring the sharp and almost otherworldly features. A glint of something dark staining the man’s leg drew Jayce’s attention. His stomach churned when he saw the deep, jagged wounds—torn flesh. Raw and angry, as though something had hooked into his muscle and ripped it apart. The blood seeping into the sand beneath him painted a grim picture of just how long the man had been lying there.
Another cry, roaring over the crash of waves, this time filled with rage and pure distress. Jayce hesitated, frozen in the moment. The man looked both terrified and fatigued, crumpled into the sand as if the ocean itself had cast him out. And yet, despite injuries and exhaustion, the man was trying to crawl back to the waters. There was something so painfully recognisable about it—the pull of the sea, impossible to ignore.
He shifted in place, about to take a step closer to offer help and— oh no.
The man’s head snapped up quickly with the sound. The sudden movement made Jayce freeze in place as the stranger propped himself up on his hands. Sharp golden eyes locked on him and Jayce felt like prey caught in a trap. The gaze was intense, wild in nature, burning with a ferocity that sent a chill straight through the fisherman. The man’s raw and unfiltered fear slowly twisting into something sharper and more dangerous. It was primal, like the man was considering every move Jayce might pull, ready to defend himself—or attack first.
As Jayce slowly was forced to breathe again, so did the other man in the form of a low, guttural growl. His lips curling back slightly as he bared his teeth in a snarl almost feral in tone, eyes growing darker with every wave crashing into the shore. His entire body was taut, trembling under the strain of both fear and defiance, like a cornered animal weighing its chances. Jayce could see the way his thin frame shuddered with every breath, muscles coiling as if preparing to lash out.
The man’s fingers twitched against the sand, curling into a fist before grasping something near his side. A jagged rock tucked close to his hip. His grip was unsteady, shaking with effort but Jayce could still see the white of his knuckles from holding the makeshift weapon so tight. Somewhere in the back of Jayce’s mind he was worried for the stranger’s palm should the rock tear through his skin.
Every instinct told Jayce to retreat, to step back and leave whoever this was to the night and tide, but he couldn’t. Something in those eyes—fierce and filled with terror—rooted him in place. They weren’t the eyes of a predator, not truly. They were the eyes of someone fighting with every ounce of strength they had left, refusing to yield to the crushing weight of weariness and pain.
“It’s okay.” Jayce forced himself to speak gently and quietly, despite his heart thundering loudly in his chest. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The man didn’t flinch, his gaze burning into Jayce to search for the lie. Jayce slowly placed the pot from his mother in the sand before showing the stranger his empty hands. It earned him a snarl, which in his opinion was better than a growl. He remained crouched, keeping a cautious distance from the stranger.
“You need help,” Jayce’s gaze flickered over to the leg. The man acted on instinct as he pulled the injured limb closer to himself, the air between them filling with a sound mixed between agony and anger at the pain. Jayce could see the drag of crimson following after. “Shit- okay- Listen, I just want to help you.”
The man didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on Jayce. He could see the dark colour underneath them, the struggle to focus– Gods, you are so exhausted. Jayce felt his chest ache. How long had the man lain out here? Did Jayce not see him this morning? Or had it been even longer? His eyes fell to the rock again, the whole arm now trembling with the effort of the grip.
“Look, you’re not going to make it far like that.” Jayce said softly. “That wound needs cleaning, or it's going to get worse.”
The man’s jaw tightened as the weight of his situation sank in. His grip around the rock faltered slightly, the tension in his shoulders trembling as fatigue began to overtake him.
Jayce pressed his advantage carefully. “I’ve got some supplies at my cabin,” he gestured towards his home, “first-aid kit, a stove, fresh water, some shelter—please, let me have a look at your leg.”
[[Continue on AO3, tumblr dont let me post the whole chapter :(]]
AO3 Link * Chapter One: I ask for enough and no more
3300 words * SFW * Jayvik * Selkie!AU
Beta read by @kitcatkim
Summary: When Jayce Talis discovers a stranger cast ashore, he can't shake the feeling that the sea itself has intertwined their fates. The steady rhythm of the tides he's spent his life mastering is suddenly disrupted, and as he delves into the mystery of a man seemingly torn from the depths, an unexpected bond begins to form.
“The ocean never takes sides, son. She is not cruel, and she is not kind—she just is. Never think you have tamed her; she will never bend to your will. All you can do is ask for her to treat you fairly.”
The ocean is an entity of ancient powers, never to be tamed and never to yield. It is an odd thing how something so brutal and violent can whisper the softest praise to those who know its rhythm. How gentle the lullaby is carried on a salt-tinged breeze only to coax the unexperienced heart into a false sense of security. For beneath its surface, the weight of storms hibernates. The kind of fury that carves mountains into cliffs and swallows ships whole. Like sharp teeth it gnaws at the edges of land, the jagged scars left behind as an ominous reminder to never step near when it’s thrashing about. It has no mercy, no mind for the lives it shapes or destroys.
And yet, even then, there is nothing like witnessing the sunlight dance on waves. Glittering like broken glass, stretching so far beyond the human eye it simply becomes part of the heavens. The seafoam becomes speckled clouds on an ever-blue sky, floating and twisting as if they join on the dance. It bathes in all the colours of the world, shifting and forever changing, and the very heartbeat of the earth will echo in the waves.
The ocean is alive.
Jayce Talis had spent a lifetime learning to respect it. He knew the tides like the lines on his own palms, heard its murmurs in the sails of his boat before the winds even changed, and felt weight of a promised storm tug on his bones long before dark clouds approached. For him, the ocean was both a master and a companion, it had made him fluent in the language of tides and waves. The rhythm of the ocean was echoing through him, aligning his heartbeat to follow its whims.
He rose every morning before first light, the smell of salt and damp wood filling the cabin he'd built himself along the shore. He’d stoke what little embers were left from the night before and watch as the scruffy cat slipped out from its home in the firewood pile. Whenever the cat allowed Jayce would give it a little scratch behind its ear, almost smiling at the soft few huffs of purr before the cat demanded to be let out. He wasn’t sure when he had gained the companion through the years, but regardless, it was the only creature seeking his company out here.
By the time the sun kissed the horizon, Jayce was already at the docks. The walk from his cabin to the local village was barely half an hour, but it was enough to keep the people there at a comfortable distance. He would always make time to greet his mother as they crossed paths to their respective jobs, sometimes earning him a pouch of cookies and a sandwich. He would kiss her forehead, thank her and promise he would invite her for dinner. They both knew he was lying. They knew as night came crawling so would he to her table, to find warmth in a bowl of stew before continuing his journey home alone. He felt guilty, but not guilty enough to hold his promise.
Sometimes she would follow him to the docks, filling the silence with the latest gossips of the town. More often he would find himself at the docks in silence, the village still waking as the sky broke into dawn. It became a sanctuary during these hours, the world around him still wrapped in a sleepy haze. In these quiet moments, the ocean felt like it was his alone. The soft creak of the dock shifting with the waves, the rush of water lapping over the stony shores—it was a melody he had known his whole life, one that he happily hummed along to.
Just as the first sliver of sunlight spilled across the waves Jayce stepped into his boat. Lungs filled with the salty ocean air, the tide vibrating through the planks of his vessel—this was when Jayce truly would awaken. His shoulders rolled with yesterday’s soreness, his fingers cracking under the pressure of carrying old rope and buckets for today’s catch, and his heart beating eagerly in his chest as the first satisfying cough of the motor woke the seagulls.
Jayce guided the boat away from the docks with steady hands, leaving the village behind to become nothing more than a blur of green and grey in the distance. The open waters ahead of him stretched endlessly. It was calm and quiet, its surface a mirror of gold and blue only broken by the gentle swell of waves. It was an overwhelming freedom that settled into his chest, shoulders lowering as their tension finally released him.
The vessel’s motor slowed down as Jayce reached his usual spot, the currents whispering promises of a good haul. He let the boat drift as he moved to the stern and uncoiled the first net before pausing. Standing there with the familiar weight of rope in his hands he stared into the waters.
“Grant me a steady hand and an honest catch,
Let the waters guide me, and the nets be kind
To the sea, I ask for enough and no more.”
The prayer came as natural as breathing. Old words his father once had taught him when he was young and running around the same old planks he was standing on now.
“Remember,” He had said, net in one hand and his son’s shoulder in the other, “The ocean never takes sides, son. She is not cruel, and she is not kind—she just is. Never think you have tamed her; she will never bend to your will. All you can do is ask for her to treat you fairly.”
At the time Jayce had not understood the weight of his fathers’ words. But then again, he had never seen the waters claim a life. No, that came two years later when he watched the ocean drag his father to its depths, never to release him.
At the sound of his net hitting the water, Jayce started the ritual of his day. Each step, from the casting of the nets to the patient wait that follow, was ingrained in him. There was no rush, no need to chase time out here. The ocean worked at its own pace, and Jayce had long since learned to move with it. Out here he was nothing more than the foam drifting along lazy waves.
The haul of the nets was no different, he would thank the ocean for its bounty before starting the pull. The strain was familiar, almost comforting. Rope biting into his hands, muscles of his back and shoulders burning with the effort, but it was a pain he welcomed. The glint of fish breaking the surface, their scales flashing like silver in the sunlight—it bore a satisfaction he could never find elsewhere. This was honest work, the kind that left him tired but whole.
He worked quietly, the sounds of the ocean filling the spaces where words might have been. As the sun had made its course across the sky, setting fire to the heavens in reds and oranges, he started his trek back to shore. A boat full of fish, hands covered in scales and salt clinging to his hair, the familiar bite of exhaustion crept along his shoulders. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Handing off the haul to the Dockmaster was smooth enough, a transaction done countless times. The owners of the docks, the Kirammans, had always seen that his pockets were filled fairly—whether out of sentimentality or respect for his work, Jayce was not sure.
“Good haul today?” The Dockmaster called, his voice carrying over the water.
Jayce nodded as he eased the boat into place. “Enough.” He replied, tying the boat off swiftly. It took little effort to carry the crates of fish over to the Dockmaster. After a quick and thorough inspection, the man gave him an approving nod.
“All good! Same time tomorrow?” The man asked.
“Always.” Jayce replied.
As the Dockmaster directed his workers to haul the heavy crates towards the market, Jayce retrieved a smaller bucket he’d set aside. The lesser catch wasn’t much but it would make a fine meal, his mother would make sure of that.
Jayce carried the spoils of the day carefully as he made his way from the docks. The warmth the sun had carried was starting to ebb away with the promise of nightfall. Shadows stretched long across the path leading to his mother’s home and with it the quiet of the village. It was a small place, nestled between the cliffs and the sea, its streets winding like vines between clustered houses. The mountains and dense forest laying behind keeping them all sheltered from the world beyond.
As Jayce walked an occasional villager would greet him in passing—a nod here, a wave there, a tired smile. Familiar faces offering simple pleasantries, their voices carrying warmth and kindness. Some just for greetings, others more direct requests.
“Jayce, if you have a moment this week, could have a look at my boat’s engine?” one might say, or, “The pulley systems’ been sticking again; you’re the only one who can make sense of it!”
Jayce always responded politely, his smile easy and his words brief. He knew their problems by heart and hand, having patched, repaired, and coaxed life back into more vessels than he cared to count. He didn’t mind helping, it was one of the many ways he carried on the Talis legacy. His father and grandfather before him had both been fixtures in this village, known not for only their work on the water but also for the care they offered to others. The Talis name was spoken with a kind of quiet respect—earned through years of steady hands, honest work and a willingness to lend those hands wherever they were needed.
The village mourned with him and his mother when his father was taken. Years of gratitude pouring back on the two left behind, wrapping them in a comfort only a family could provide. Jayce was forever grateful, repaying in one of the few ways he knew—continuing his father’s work with the same tools. His hands carried the same calluses, his shoulders the same weight, and when the villagers asked for his aid, he could never bring himself to say no.
Even now, as exhaustion pulled at him and the thought of his mother’s warm kitchen awaiting him, he couldn’t help but mentally sort the requests he’d received along the way. later, he’d make time. He always did.
That was for tomorrow. For now, though, he let the thought of warm food pull him in the direction of his mother. He tightened the grip on the bucket as he approached, light spilling from the windows to welcome him.
The door opened before Jayce could knock, the familiar creak of hinges followed by the scent of rosemary and wood smoke. His mother was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in his appearance.
“Late again,” she said, her tone held more amusement than bite, “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten where you mamá lives.”
Jayce gave her a sheepish smile and lifted the bucket to show it off. “Caught up with work, sorry.” He replied.
“Hm-hmm.” She reached out, taking the bucket from him before stepping aside. “Thank you, mijo. Now, go sit down and we’ll have a meal before you keel over.”
Jayce didn’t argue. He stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around him like a blanket. The small home was inviting as always, every corner touched with his mother’s care. Bundles of herbs hung in neat rows from the beams above, their faint earthy aroma mingling with the rich smell of whatever she had been cooking. The walls lined with shelves, jars of dried plants and tinctures neatly labelled all in her tidy handwriting.
Before he could even sink into one of the chairs his mother had placed a bowl of hearty stew in front of him. Steam rose in soft curls, carrying the aroma of herbs and rich broth. Chunks of tender fish floated among the slices of carrot, potato, and onion. It was the kind of meal that warmed from the inside out, simple but full of care.
“Go on, eat up.” Ximena said, setting down a mug of tea and a thick slice of bread next to the bowl. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the tide.”
Jayce chuckled softly, picking up the spoon and starting to eat. Every bite carried warmth that seeped into his bones, washing away the weariness of the day. His mother joining him, her voice light and easy as she shared the village’s latest happenings. How the neighbours couldn’t decide between goats or chickens, how she had an extra stubborn patch in her garden that refused to grow, how Jarle’s bones said it would be stormy tomorrow.
Jayce knew Jarle was wrong. Tomorrow would be fine.
*+*+*+*+*
By the time they had finished their meal, he felt lighter. The weight of the ocean no longer pulling on his mind but rather a gentle buzz in the back of his head. He lingered at the table, cradling the mug of tea between his hands. His mother cleaning off the table swiftly, giving him a look when he tried to offer his help.
“You could stay the night,” she said, her tone casual but eyes soft with concern. She settled across from him again, hands folding in front of her. “It is getting late, and the walk back isn’t getting any shorter.”
Jayce smiled faintly, shaking his head. “I need to feed the cat.” He replied.
Her brow lifted, lips curving into a wry smile, her affection pulling on her teasing tone. “The one you’ve yet to name after two years?”
Jayce let out a quiet chuckle, taking another sip of tea to avoid answering directly. It was a poor excuse, but it was one that seemed to work. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her—he did, fiercely. The warmth of her kitchen, the sound of her voice, and the way she always seemed to know what he needed before he did—it was a comfort the cherished. But staying meant lingering, and lingering meant facing the silence that came when her stories ran dry and the quiet of the night that crept it. It was in those moments, he felt like a boy again, sitting at the same table with a hollow space where his father used to be. The walls seemed closer then, the air heavier, filled with unspoken memories he wasn’t ready to face.
He didn’t realise he had let his thoughts wander until his mother placed a smaller pot with leftovers and a cloth filled with bread in front of him. She gave him a soft smile and reached out to pet his cheek.
“For tomorrow.” She explained and Jayce felt the warmth in his own smile as he nodded.
“Thank you, mamá.” He took the pot under one hand and tucked the bread away in the pocket of his coat. He lingered for a moment, filling his lungs with a final inhale of comfort before heading to the door.
“You be safe now, Jayce.”
“Always.” He leaned down and placed a kiss to her forehead, the gesture warm and familiar before taking his leave.
The night air greeted him as he stepped outside, cool and crisp against his skin. The lanterns along the houses of the village creating small pools of golden light on the cobblestone. He adjusted his coat and leftovers before making his way towards home.
*+*+*+*+*
As the glow of the village lights disappeared behind him, the sound of the ocean grew stronger. The tide a constant rhythm that echoed somewhere in his chest. The walk back home felt longer than the one he had in the morning, his steps heavy with sleep. Overhead, the moon hung large and low, its silver light spilling over the road ahead, casting the world in soft and muted hues. The shadows of trees swaying gently with the whispers of wind that danced over the forest.
Soon the hum of the village fell into silence too, to be replaced by the symphony of the night. The steady crash of waves against the shore, the soft chirp of insects and the far-off hoot from an owl wove together in a melody Jayce so often found himself searching for.
His cabin finally came into view, a modest silhouette against the vast expanse of the forest behind it. But that was nothing compared to the endless ocean it was facing. The fat moon hanging above the sea, mirroring itself in the small waves as if it were falling in love with its own reflection. The sight tugged at something in Jayce’s chest, a quiet ache he couldn’t quite name. For a moment, he simply stood there, letting the night embrace him.
A cold chill of wind pushed him along, reminding him that the sun would rise whether he slept or not. He adjusted the pot under his arm, gaze sweeping across the water one final time before he made his way to the door. Even the driftwood by the shore seemed to bask in the moon’s light. He made a mental note to haul it up in the morning and carve something out of it—perhaps a trinket or a tool handle, or even a simple decoration for his mother’s home. His eyes lingered on the log before he turned to let himself inside the cabin.
Then it moved.
Not by the gentle push and pull of the tide but a slow, deliberate twist. Like something dragging itself across the sand. Jayce stopped. Eyes narrowing as he tried to make out the shape, the moonlight suddenly wasn’t enough to illuminate the scene in front of him. An injured animal, perhaps? Or a seal caught too close to shore? God, he hoped he wasn’t about to adopt a dog—or worse, be eaten by a wolf.
He hesitated, torn between the pull of his warm cabin and the growing worry tightening in his chest. With a quiet sigh, he turned and headed towards the beach. If it was an animal he could perhaps help, either by putting it out of its misery or giving it a gentle nudge towards the water.
With every step closer the shape of the creature became cleared. It became obvious it wasn’t a piece of driftwood nor was it an animal—not the kind he was used to seeing at least. He walked quietly across the sand; he could feel himself hold his breath as tension rose in his body. Was it a beached shark? A small dugong, maybe? He quickly started thinking through all the ocean creatures he normally came across, but nothing fit what was in front of him.
That was when a heart-wrenching sob echoed from it—no, not it, them.
Jayce stopped in his tracks, his breath catching when the moonlight revealed pale skin glinting faintly under a mess of dark, tangled hair. It spilled over the figure’s back and shoulders, damp and matted, trailing down where thin limbs disappeared into the sand. The longer Jayce stared the less animalistic they looked, as if they were someone dragged up from the depths of the ocean itself, caught somewhere between its cruelty and grace.
Jayce’s chest tightened as the realisation crashed down on him. This wasn’t an animal.
It was a man.
