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Heart of the Empire

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 23:58:03 GMT

Title: Heart of the Empire - Chapter Seven
Genre: Galactic Fantasy
Overall Rating: 16+ (some parts 18A)
Comments/Warnings: The story overall contains some mature language and situations, including sexual content. This preview is rated G.

Summary: The story's summary can be viewed with the Chapter One preview. In chapter seven, Daenan decides to visit the temple after being plagued by nightmares since her father's cremation. This is a controversial decision for her, as Daenan does not believe in the goddess and does not get along with Zai'al, the High Priestess.

Be careful. A storm is coming...

Daenan walked through deserted streets, lost. Wind howled and twisted around the buildings; the sky overhead boiled with ash grey clouds. All around the horizon was red, angry and burning. She could smell smoke and charred flesh.

"Where is everyone?" she called out. Her voice sounded distorted and slow. "Hello?"

She turned and suddenly the city was gone, the landscape replaced with a vast, ruined plain of hard earth which looked as if a hand had reached down from the heavens to rake its fingers through the ground. Where it was torn up the soil had been scorched black; save for a few scattered stumps burnt to charcoal, with their roots splayed to the sky like the ribcages of some animal carcass, the land was devoid of any sign of former life. Destruction and decay stretched away from her in every direction.

Thunder rumbled, but the sound came from near her feet. Looking down, she saw the earth heave and split open as if something were pushing up from beneath the surface. Frightened, Daenan backed away. A scream strangled itself in her throat as something emerged from the ground, stinking and putrid, flesh half burned away and rotting organs barely held behind yellow-brown bones exposed to the air.

It raised its head. "Daenan," it croaked, "Daenan, don't let the empire fall to ruin..."

She screamed then, burying her face in her hands and closing her wings around her to block out the sight. "No, no...!" The undead corpse had the voice of her father and she could feel him reaching for her, clawing for her from the beyond. "No!"

Cackling, maniacal laughter split the air. Daenan swung her wings aside and looked: in the distance, perched atop a pillar of stone ripped from the ground, stood a figure silhouetted by the angry sky. The figure raised its hand and a line of lightning erupted from the clouds, striking down Maekoh's twisted corpse. In that moment Daenan thought the saw the face of the figure on the stone pillar—was it the Grand Advisor, Veovis?—but the features were blurred and distorted, so Daenan couldn't be sure. In the next moment, her father was annihilated and the figure on the pillar had changed. Yellow robes and green hair billowed in the wind. The cruel laughter changed to match; Daenan found herself faced with the High Priestess.

As the prior figure had done, Zai'al raised her hands to the sky. An aura of light surrounded her and the clouds overhead began to churn and twist into a cyclone. Daenan shrank back; the High Priestess was channelling the power of the temple's goddess, the power Daenan didn't understand.

Be careful...

Beams of light, solid and streaming, sliced through the clouds, tearing them asunder and slamming into the already broken ground, which shook and nearly sent Daenan's feet out from under her. A great wail swelled up all around, as if the planet itself were screaming.

"Stop, stop!" Daenan cried as everything around her began to break apart and fly away into oblivion, but the light beams grew ever larger and numerous, and Daenan was swallowed by their destructive heat.

She woke from the dream with a start, shaking and gulping for air. Slowly her surroundings came into focus: she was safely in her nest, in her room in the depths of the palace. Sconces on the walls burned low, casting warm but gentle firelight into the semi-darkness; the palace walls were dimmed but not completely dark. Outside, thunder rumbled and rain hammered against the window, but it was just a summer storm like any other and not at all threatening.

Daenan disentangled herself from her blankets, which were wound tightly around her limbs and soaked with perspiration. The nightmare came back to her as lightning lit up the sky outside, lit up a tapestry on the wall depicting her family.

Her throat was tight but she steeled herself against it and pulled herself out of the nest, reaching for the clothing she'd discarded before going to sleep. Slowly, the walls brightened, the palace sensors reacting to her increased movement. Quickly dressing, Daenan also pulled a long cloak from her wardrobe and wrapped herself in it, folding her wings down her back to allow the long garment to conceal her appearance. She drew the cloak's hood over her head to hide her face in shadow.

The door to her room dissolved soundlessly and she stepped through. In the antechamber, another nest lay partially concealed behind a screen, and in it Ran'ek was sleeping. She could just hear his gentle breathing.

The walls here began to brighten as well. She stepped forward, padding silently towards the opposite door.

Instantly, Ran'ek was awake. "Halt, or I'll shoot!"

Sighing, Daenan turned and slowly drew the hood away from her face. "It's only me, Ran'ek."

Firelight from the sconces glinted off the gun as Ran'ek snapped his aim away from her, pointing the barrel at the ceiling instead. "Highness!" He couldn't help the growl in his throat. "Why must you always—? I could have shot you!"

She look at him with sad eyes. She often had sad eyes these days, and now he regretted snapping at her.

"I just need to go out for a little while, Ran'ek," she said.

The gun clicked magnetically to his hip as he holstered it. "You shouldn't go anywhere alone, my lady. Especially not in the middle of the night. It's...it's not safe."

She saw his panicked look. "Why isn't it safe?"

He opened his snout to explain but the words choked him. Veovis's voice snarled in his head: "A good leader, you say? Let's find out then, shall we?" The moment Ran'ek had burst into Nirell's dorm room in response to Daenan's wails of horror, only to learn of the emperor's death, Ran'ek knew then Maekoh hadn't simply been suffering from ill health.

"Ran'ek?" Daenan prompted quietly. "Why isn't it safe?"

Ran'ek drew a shuddering breath. Because there's a predator out there and I don't know when he intends to strike. He wanted to say it but couldn't. He wanted to tell Lady Daenan everything, tell her that the Grand Advisor had been slowly poisoning the emperor over many years, and that it was he, Ran'ek, who finally pushed Veovis to kill Maekoh. Because of a careless comment! He didn't know how the Grand Advisor had done it, but he knew he had. One of the rooms in Veovis's manor was dedicated to chemical and biological experiments, and Ran'ek had no doubt Veovis had been able to concoct the untraceable poison there.

But there was no proof. None, anywhere, except that one conversation that night, but it was doubtful anyone would be able to find a record of the transmission. Veovis was a ghost, moving in the shadows to attend to his plans, leaving no trace behind, and if Ran'ek tried to accuse him, the Grand Advisor would not be found guilty, and shortly after, Veovis would ensure Ran'ek disappeared, permanently.

With no evidence to give, Daenan was not likely to listen to him, either.

"You are empress now," he said instead, "leader of our people. By its very nature, the position has enemies."

Her sad eyes narrowed bitterly and she scowled at him.

After a moment of silence, she said again, "I just need to go out for a little while." He heard the unspoken command: You will not accompany me. There was no room for argument with her now.

Ran'ek took the gun from his hip and offered it to her. "Then take this. And tell me where you're going?" She gave him another look so he said, "Lady Taiamar decreed I am to be your bodyguard, but if I'm to be prevented in fulfilling my duty I should at least know where you are."

The gun disappeared into the folds of her cloak. Daenan knew she was being unreasonable and Ran'ek was right, he should go with her. But just now, she didn't care. She wanted to get out of the palace, she needed to be alone. She felt suffocated, small, vulnerable. The dream frightened her; it had plagued her since the cremation and each night grew worse. She felt like she was rushing headlong and out of control towards something not quite within her grasp and needed to know what that something was.

"I want you to do your duty," she said, a slight quaver in her voice. "But I need to be alone this time." She turned to leave. The outer door dissolved and she stepped through.

"My lady, where are you going?" he called after her as she disappeared from view.

Her response was nearly lost among the sounds of thunder and rain from outside.

"The temple."

This chapter is still in-progress. A member account is required at Incyanity to view the full chapter once it is posted.

Doon

Fri, 23 May 2008 06:17:53 GMT

Title: Doon
Genre: Fantasy
Overall Rating: PG in the beginning to R by chapter 8
Comments/Warnings: This story contains strong language, violence and adult situations. Viewer Discretion Advised. The Chapters are located at my deviantart account.
Summary: After being in exile for over a 1,000 years, Sidhe ex-Captain, Doon O'Connor, returns to the place of his birth, Tir Na Nog, to do one last penance. The task? Steal a certain cup from the Human world for his Queen, Morrigan. Doon does so. However, he learns that the cup isn't an ordinary vessel but the Holy Grail. Morrigan intends to use the power of it to enslave Humanity and bring back the ways of the old gods.

Hearing this, Doon takes the cup and flees. Now with the help of two Human girls and a living key amulet that allows them to go all over the world as well as all through time, Doon must find a hiding place for the cup. If he fails everything he has grown to love in the Human world is doomed.

Chapter One - Taking the cup, Doon opens a portal and flees Tir Na Nog. Queen Morrigan tells General Cathal to follow him.

Chapter Two - Doon finds himself in the Mirror Realm. He flashbacks to his last day in London where his closest friend, Marcus, tells him how to navigate the Mirror realm. Remembing how to open an exit, Doon leaves. He lands in Virginia and over two weeks in the past.

Chapter Three - Ruth and Lupe are introduced. They find Doon in Ruth's bedroom. Ruth beats him up. Both girls touch the cup and are tainted. The mirror that Doon used as an exit starts to glow. Someone one is coming. Doon takes the girls and escapes using another mirror.

Chapter Four - The trio is in the realm of mirrors. Doon opens another exit. Turns out using the living key amulet has a price. They land in a Las Vegas dressing room eight years in the past. Doon doesn't know how to get back to the future. Ruth and Doon fight. Lupe calms everyone. Doon tells them they have to leave the dressing room.

nineteen forever

Wed, 07 May 2008 15:32:53 GMT

Title: Nineteen Forever
Genre: Fantasy/Drama/Action
Overall Rating: R for continuous foul language and graphic detail.
Comments/Warnings: Overall for the story in full, there is graphic detail with death scenes. This preview and chapter isn't so bad, though.
Summary: When Emily's family is killed in an attack by a pack of wolves, her life completely changes. She's now faced with living with her grandparents in New Hampshire, having to cope with the death of her family, starting over in a new place... and this weird guy who saved her that night who tells her the truth about her parent's death, and claims she could get her revenge.

In a second, the woman was at the bottom of the staircase with us. She was absolutely beautiful. She too, naturally, had pale skin, long curly strawberry blonde hair, and dark eyes as well. Her hair was pulled into a scrunchy, messy ponytail that tied at the lower side of her face so her hair was flipped over her shoulder and hanging down her front. Her lips were full and red with lipstick, and her voice was soft and sweet. She reminded me of a woman out of a romantic forties film.

“I see you brought company. Hello dear, I’m Abigael, Dante’s elder sister,” She introduced, holding out her hand for me to shake.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Emily,” I replied, taking her hand to shake and I almost jumped back. Her hand felt like a block of ice, no exaggeration necessary. I had to remember, these… people were dead in a sense.

“Mmm, yes, I’ve heard a lot about you,” She said with a kind smile.

My eyebrow rose a bit. So did she know I knew about her? Or, them?

“Really?” I asked, turning my head to glance at Dante, who in turn was looking away.

“Oh yes, you’re the girl Dante found and saved right? He hasn’t shut up about you since then.”

“Heh, yeah…” I nodded once.

“My dear,” Abigael’s eyes suddenly widened, her hand placing over her mouth before it rested on my shoulder. I could even feel the cold through my coat. And her chipper tone went down to a sorrowful one, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, I’m taking it one day at a time,” I really didn’t know what to say to those things. It’s okay? Thank you? I cleared my throat, preparing to change the subject. “Dante’s mentioned you as well, and someone else…”

“Oh, Jackson!” She smiled again, then placed her hands on her hips, eyebrows scrunching together in wonder. “Where is he anyway? Jackson!”

“Yah?!” I heard a man call out from another room, then watched him enter the living room and walk over to us by the staircase. “Meat is almost done thawing. Oh, company?” He asked when his dark eyes laid on me. He moved over to Abigael, his arms slipping around her waist. It was pretty obvious then who he must have been. Jackson had brown, shaggy hair and his torso seemed a but muscular, from what I could tell through his large black, baggy sweater, and boy, did he have a smile that could kill alone. “Hello there, I’m Jackson,” He too stuck his pale hand out for me to shake, and once again it was ice cold. “It’s nice to meet you; we normally don’t have much company around here. You are?”

“Emily,” I replied, and his smile faded. Here we go again.

“Oh, Emily, I’m so sorry…”

“Thanks,” I muttered, again turning to look at Dante who looked a bit apologetic. He then looked back to his sister and Jackson, changing the subject for me this time, thankfully.

“So Emily is going to spend the New Year with us,” He stated. The other two smiled with a nod in response, Abigael leading us more into the living room.

“Well we’re happy to have you with us tonight,” She commented.

I hadn’t noticed the High Def flat screen television that was mantled on the opposite wall facing the couch the last time I was here. Rich vampires.

“Are you hungry, Emily?” I heard Abigael ask as I took a seat next to Dante on the large, leather sofa. My eyes widened a bit in shock, they had real food? Then I remembered, Jackson said something about meat. “We have some venison thawing.”

“Oh, well I’m actually a vegetarian,” I realized then I never mentioned this to Dante, which would have been a great comeback when we argued about my becoming a vampire. “The other day at breakfast, my grandparent’s seemed to forget and put bacon and sausage on my plate. They think I’ll get over it or something…”

The other two were silent not really showing any expression about it, while Jackson began to chuckle at my confession.

“Dante, you expect this girl to drink blood?” He finally remarked, causing Abigael to elbow him in the side and he instantly stopped laughing.

“Oh, so you know he-“ I began to ask.

“Yes, there are no secrets here, Emily. Our family is important and secretive, but Dante seems to trust you, therefore we do as well. He thinks you’re special,” She sat down next to me and placed her hand on my shoulder again, looking at me like I was a delicate prize or something. She seemed so sincere about everything. I could see Dante on the other side of me, sucking in his bottom lip and folding his hands together in his lap.

“What Abbie is trying to say is, you two have a big thing in common. We’re great with senses, and we know you’ll keep our secret. If you wish to join us, that’s up to you. Just don’t spill about our existence is all we ask,” Jackson added in, then he moved closer with a laugh. “You should’ve seen my reaction when Dante first told us he brought you to hunt and told you about us, I was going to knock him-“

“Jackson,” Abigael hissed through her teeth and shot him a stern look, he immediately stopping once again.

“We’re happy to have ya,” Jackson forced a smile before moving to sit in a large, cushioned chair in the other corner.

Abigael turned back to look at me, her sweet smile returning. “We know Dante is smart and the only person he ever met and told so far is you,” She reached her hand up to brush my hair with her boney, white fingers and gave me a reassuring smile.

I guess there really wasn’t anything to worry about with them.

Just keep it all a secret.

“Thank you for trusting me,” I nodded, forcing a bit of a smile.

Never did I think my life would wind up like this.

Full Version Here (It's friends only but feel free to add!)

nineteen forever

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 02:16:13 GMT

Title: Nineteen Forever
Genre: Fantasy/Drama/Action
Overall Rating: R for continuous foul language and graphic detail.
Comments/Warnings: Foul language and description of a death scene. If you read previous chapters it makes a lot more sense.
Summary: When Emily's family is killed in an attack by a pack of wolves, her life completely changes. She's now faced with living with her grandparents in New Hampshire, having to cope with the death of her family, starting over in a new place... and this weird guy who saved her that night who tells her the truth about her parent's death, and claims she could get her revenge.

Shouldn’t some things just stay fictional?

I closed the door behind him, and then sat down on my bed with my arms crossed over my chest. My face was stern and unwelcoming, with my eyes narrowed at the freak of nature that was also now leaning against my box-filled desk. He picked up a snow globe that sat upon it, something my grandparent’s had given me when I was probably four. Inside was a young girl that somewhat resembled me, and surrounding her were a bunch of deer sitting upon the snow. When you flipped it over, which he did, flakes would move all over the globe and around the girl and her deer friends. Dante smiled at the picture, then sat the globe back down on the desk and the fake snow continued to settle.

“Cute. Looks a bit like you,” he stated.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked him, ignoring his statement purposely.

Dante swiftly walked over and sat in front of me on my bed, and in response I moved a bit further away. He noticed and shook his head at this.

“Stop fighting me, Emily.”

“I’m not. I’m just a little cautious about hanging around blood-sucking creatures, thanks," I replied in a very smartass tone.

His eyes narrowed at that. Apparently vampires are offended when it comes to being called blood-suckers or something along those lines.

“I’m not going to kill you, Emily. If I really wanted to, I could have the night I found you. I don’t feed on innocents.”

My eyebrow raised in confusion. He didn’t say humans, he merely said innocents. Uh…

“So what, you feed on criminals?” I asked.

“On the extreme rare occasion I would come across a fugitive sure,” he rolled his eyes, an obvious sarcastic remark. “I usually feed at night. If I go in the sun, I don’t exactly burn or turn to dust, but it still does it’s damage. I tend to lurk around clubs and the college area. You’d be surprised to find just how many young, impure souls there are.”

My jaw dropped a bit. I knew he was a vampire that fed on blood and all… but to hear about how he sat around clubs and colleges looking for dirty students just made it all more real.

“They have it coming to them. I was hanging around a dorm party once, blending in with the crowd and I accidentally stumbled into a room where a young man was taking advantage of a girl that had been drugged and out cold. So, I kept watch on him, followed him home and well,” he tilted his head with a slight smirk, “you know the rest.”

My mouth dropped. Maybe those people were wrong. Maybe they did deserve something in return, but death? To be brutally killed by a fucking vampire, to have their blood drained from their bodies? Why not let the police take care of it and have him sentenced for however many years?

“Dante,” I sighed and moved even further away from him, clutching my fingers around the edge of the bed. “I don’t care what those people did or if they had it coming to them. It’s not justifiable to hunt down rapists simply because then you feel you have a reason to feed off of them.”

“What about murderers?” He said in a simple tone.

I sighed, and then he continued.

“About thirty years ago in the late seventies, I used to only feed on animals. I couldn’t bear the thought of feeding off human life. During the night I would go out into the woods and feed off wolves, deer, and any other sign of wildlife I came across. The other two I live with; they do the same still, as well as taking blood from hospitals,” he shook his head, realizing he was getting off track. “Anyway, moving on, one night while I was hunting deep in the woods, I found a dirty man, probably in his late forties raping a young girl. She was screaming for help and he was in turn beating her, hard and brutally to make her shut up. I had no idea what to do. I wanted to help, and I knew that I could have, but I was afraid. Afraid of having ourselves revealed and showing we exist,” he looked down, and it was clear of the guilt in his eyes. How sorry he was for not doing something. “I can still see the images of her. Her struggling bruised body on the wet ground, her torn clothes surrounding her and the pain in her face. I began to turn away. But I heard an even louder cry. I couldn’t leave her, and I began to run back but it was too late. He had stabbed her in the chest,” Another pause. He licked his lips, and ran his hand over the back of his head and through his blonde, shaggy hair. I was dead silent the whole time. “Without even thinking, I grabbed the man and forced him to the ground. My strength was much too powerful over him; it was hardly a fair fight. Within seconds, he too was lifeless and my hunger was filled. That, I do find fair.”

My face had fallen. I sat there dumbfounded. I wanted to retaliate, but I had nothing. Was it possible I was slowly opening up my mind to his side of things? I didn’t want to. Maybe for the sake of debate or something, but how could I argue with that? When he put it that way… who wouldn’t want to give this guy what he deserved? And to think, how many times does this happen around the world? How many times do you hear of rape victims or murder in the news? Almost everyday.

I slowly began to open my mouth to say something, not knowing what, but just something, anything.

“I… I had no idea you had such an… interesting past.” Quite interesting, actually. Feeding off of rapist murderers, having super strength and God knows what else he does.

“I’ve lived for almost eighty-three years, so I hope I do,” he chuckled in a sort of cynical manner.

My face scrunched up for a moment, for when he put his age that way, it was kind of gross. I never even thought of that. To me, he seemed nineteen, but when it came down to it, he had seen so much more than I have. He really is much older than I am, and that creeped the hell out of me when I really thought of that to be honest.

He placed his finger beneath my chin to tilt my face up and smiled.

“So will you come to my place to ring in the New Year, or what?”

Full version and previous chapters here.

Crusade

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 10:42:10 GMT

Title: Crusade (Prologue)
Genre: fiction, history
Overall Rating: G
Comments/Warnings: -
Summary: Santiago di Flaviari remembers his first impression of Emerick when they were children back in Italy.

It’s excruciating how the human mind manages to represent and save the very first memory and event in our lives, without choosing that moment for its importance and meaning. We don’t pay attention to it sealing somewhere deep in our mind until years pass – something awakening that memory to re-appear without a trace of significance. Most times it makes us smile, because often that memory is a childhood memory, the very moment your eyes open to the word, capturing it in one specific image you carry with you to the end.

the rest here at roteszimmer

Heart of the Empire

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 23:08:13 GMT

Title: Heart of the Empire - Chapter Six
Genre: Galactic Fantasy
Overall Rating: 16+ (some parts 18A)
Comments/Warnings: The story overall contains some mature language and situations, including sexual content. This preview is rated G, though the rest of the chapter is rated 18A.

Summary: The story's summary can be viewed with the Chapter One preview. In chapter six, Daenan is forced to deal with the public impact of her father's death. Later in this chapter, Veovis and Zai'al have a surprising encounter.

The trip home was a blur. Daenan had vague recollections of Ran'ek packing her things, of Nirell holding her. Mostly it was tears, and pain, and disbelief. She wasn't sure how she got from the party to the ship, or how much time passed in between. She remembered Ran'ek had seemed particularly pale and shaken.

She also remembered wide-eyed, shocked faces turned in her direction and the way realization slowly crept across them: where, only minutes, hours, days ago she had been a classmate, a comrade, a friend...now suddenly she was empress. In a moment that flashed like lightning, the world had changed.

News of her father's death spread like wildfire through the empire and beyond. The common people wept openly in the streets, travelling to the palace from the farthest reaches of Maekoh's domain to pay their respects and give tribute to the emperor. In less than a day the wall surrounding the palace was overflowing with flowers and gifts. Temples all over the empire were packed with mourners seeking guidance and comfort from the Dragon Mother and her High Priestess.

Daenan sat alone on the bench below Shirito Falls, watching the water cascading over the cliff. The low rumble of the falls drowned out the roaring in her head. She felt numb today, that strange numbness where she nonetheless ached inside. It was horrible.

Her thoughts were distracted by the water, which kept her from dwelling too long on what she needed to face. The stream running by her feet was clear, its water sparkling in the morning sun. She caught glimpses of fishes flicking past; her lips twitched at the sight of enterprising dragonflies perched precariously on moss-covered stones at the water's edge, eagerly waiting for an opportunity to snatch up an unsuspecting minnow from the shallows. But the pool below the falls, large and deep aquamarine, flashed unnaturally, like lightning inside a storm cloud.

It fascinated her. The flashing had only just begun after she had settled in on the bench and become quiet. It was not a wholly unusual sight; Madora's oceans flashed in the same fashion, with brilliant light arcing great distances through the water so as to be visible from space on the shadowed side of the planet. Daenan had seen it many times herself. It was a fantastic tourist attraction, the only of its kind in the known galaxy. The cause was a mystery, as well as why the phenomenon only occurred in the oceans. .At least, that's what everyone had believed, as no one had ever witnessed the flashing in any freshwater body. Until now.

She wondered if anyone else had witnessed the pool flashing but then thought anyone who had would surely have said something to someone.

Another mystery, she thought. Shirito Falls were said to be enchanted: When the moons were full and the listener of the right sort, the fable said the falls would sing, granting the listener good fortune. Her father had told her the story many times as a child. It was her favorite spot in all the vast gardens around the palace.

Tears suddenly stung her eyes. Memory was sometimes a cruelty. She closed them and breathed deeply, willing the sorrow to pass. I can't do this now, not today. I must be strong today.

You are strong, child.

She gasped and her eyes flew open. The tears spilled unnoticed down her face. Her hide prickled; the air felt charged with energy and, distinctly, she could hear a voice humming. The song was beautiful, but not one she knew.

"Who's there?" she whispered.

Be careful. A storm is coming...

Glancing around, Daenan looked for the source of the voice but saw no one, save Ran'ek, who remained a respectful distance away down the path, just within sight of her. He noticed her startled expression and came running.

"Are you well, my lady?"

Quickly, she wiped away the tears. "Did you hear anything, just now?"

"No." Ran'ek surveyed the area and sniffed the air, testing for the scent of a hidden foe. "What did you hear?"

"I thought... I thought it was—" She looked back at the pool. From where Ran'ek had been standing before, he wouldn't have been able to see the flashing water. Now, with him standing beside her, the water was dark, the light gone. All around, the only sound was the rumbling water and the twittering of birds and dragonflies. Had she imagined it? She bit her lip.

The shadow of a Madoran passed overhead, clipping off the sunlight passing through the trees. Ran'ek tensed and growled, flaring his wings to block Daenan from view and drew his gun, following as the newcomer dove feet-first through the branches and landed neatly on the path downstream of the falls. Only when he clearly saw the newcomer's face did Ran'ek relax and draw away. "My lord," he said respectfully in greeting.

Nirell nodded to acknowledge Ran'ek and approached the bench where Daenan remained sitting with her back to him. She was very still, her wings held rigidly off her shoulders, her tail tensely coiled below the bench. Only the light breeze stirred her hair and rippled the thin membranes of her frill.

"Daenan," he said quietly. "It's time."

She winced. "No." In her lap, her hands clenched painfully around a silver tiara, smooth and shining. She only wore it for state functions. Somewhere in the city, craftsmen were working on a new one for her, more elegant and adorned with jewels. That one she would soon be expected to wear much more often.

Nirell sat beside her and tried to pull the tiara free from her grasp.

"No, I don't want to wear it. I don't want to go." The tiara swam before her, blurred and smeared. Tears dropped from her eyes, leaving dark wet spots on the fabric of her clothing. She was dressed formally, wearing the dark blue imperial garb he'd last seen her in at the High Priestess's Ascension.

Nirell wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She buried her face against his shoulder. "You've been raised for this, working towards this every day since you were born," he said.

"But not so soon! I'm not ready!" She clung to him. "He had so long to live still, so much to teach me... Why did he have to die? Why couldn't they find out what was wrong with him? He's gone Nirell, gone..."

"I know. Hush now, it's all right."

"No it isn't," she replied bitterly. "I should have been there. I should have been there with him, and my mother. Not...not partying, like some commoner."

They sat in silence for a while. He waited awkwardly, stroking her hair, unsure what, if anything, he should say, until her sobs calmed to sniffles. Finally, her hands went limp. He pulled the tiara free and maneuvered it single-handedly into her hair.

She sighed heavily, and he knew she had worked through it like she had done before when the sorrow overwhelmed her.

Daenan sat up and cast her eyes again to the falls, wiping away the last tears and adjusting the tiara. "I know this is what I must do. It's just...hard. And complicated. I wish it didn't have to come at the expense of my father's life. He did so much for me. For all of us." She looked to Nirell.

He stood and took her hand. "I understand. But it is time. Let's go say goodbye."

Read the rest! (A member account is required at Incyanity to view the full chapter.)

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 06:28:26 GMT

Title: It's All Relative
Genre: I'm going to go with fantasy, but it has elements from different genres.
Overall Rating: PG-13
Comments/Warnings: None
Summary: It's All Relative is a serial web light novel (a light novel is basically an anime/manga in prose) for the 15+ crowd. It follows the misadventures of Sora Kainomori and her friends. She has no time to save the world between midterms, finals, boyfriend issues, parties, and everything the average college student has to deal with. Her friends aren't really into the whole saving the world thing either. But as darkness threatens to cover the world, will our heroes rise to the challenge and restore peace to the world? Hell yeah they will. Or they might...maybe after finals...
Don't worry if it's confusing... We'll get through this together.

Here's Episode 1
http://itsallrelative.weebly.com/episode-1.html
It All Begins

Child of Ashes: Outcast (Chapter four: Wielder's Duel)

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 03:42:31 GMT

Title: Child of Ashes: Outcast (Chapter four: Wielder's Duel)
Genre: Fantasy
Overall Rating: Oh, I'd say G/PG.
Comments/Warnings: There are some other things that I made note about in the entries as far as my concerns about each chapter goes.
Summary: Cesarina Vardin was punished and banished ten years ago for a crime she knows she didn't commit. But when she hears a knock on her door, she finds the chance of being exonerated and set free once and for all.

Chapter Four
Wielder’s Duel

Despite the wishes of her friends, Cesarina had decided to go back into the city with Casden and Rais by her side. She knew that her brother would never consider talking to either of her friends and that he would need to hear their plea coming from her.

Brother, she thought. It seems so strange to think that I have any living family, and yet I do.

Casden’s informants had told him that Orbin wandered around some of the alleyways in the ‘darker,’ more dangerous part of the city, so it was there they were heading first.

Cesarina’s green eyes looked around for any signs of her brother as they approached the first alleyway. At first, there was nothing; but then she held a hand up, telling her friends to stop, and she slowly turned down an alleyway that was to her left.

“Orbin?” she called. “It’s . . . me. Cesarina.”

Silence answered her. She frowned in disappointment; her brother wasn’t there. She walked back up the alleyway and shook her head at Rais and Casden, telling them he wasn’t there. They then walked further down the street, watching those they passed while looking for any sign of the Catcher.

“I don’t think he’s here, Cesarina,” Casden said.

“Wait,” she replied. She stopped, listening carefully. She heard a groan of pain coming from her right. She turned and saw another alleyway that led to a dead end.

Lying in the alley against the wall was Orbin. He held a hand against his stomach with his blood stained palm pressed against it softly. Another groan, and Cesarina felt her heart lurch.

“Orbin?” she called. She walked quickly down the alley and toward where he lay. “What happened?”

Orbin raised his head to look blurrily up at the woman before him. “Cesarina?” he croaked. “What are you . . . doing here? It’s dangerous.”

“I came looking for you,” she replied. She put a hand on his arm, trying to catch a look at the wound his hand was covering. “How did this happen?"

Chapter four is located here at scribedenigma, a members/friends only community.

Table of Contents.

preview; in your skin

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 07:00:45 GMT

Title: in your skin

Author: Jady (wickedsome)

Rating: R

Warnings: sexual issues, language,(self mutilation mentioned)

W/c: now ~4000

Summary: Mila is 22-year-old girl, who has many issues and problems. Story tells how she sees world around her and what’s going on inside her head.

I walk towards the coffee shop where my friend Ann is supposed to wait for me. I can see through the window that she sits at our regular table. She is talking on the phone, probably with her mom, which makes me smile, because she always has the same look on her face when her mom calls. They don’t get along that well. I look around and some guy comes and opens the door for me. “Thanks” I say to him, and he smiles and looks at me. I can see what he’s thinking, but I ignore it and head towards the table where Ann is. Smiling, I sit next to her and she mouths “wait a second” and I don’t say anything to her, only nod. I rest my elbows on the table and drop my head on my arms. I’m little tired, but I promised to hang out with Ann today. I just hope that she doesn’t want to go bar to night. I don’t think I want to.

She hangs up with her mom and looks at me smiling “hi sweetie” she says. I smile and answer her “yeah hi, was that your mom?” She rolls her eyes and huffs “ that hag calls me all the damn time and guess what?” she asks, I just smirk back “no, what?” she laughs, I don’t know why. ”she told me to visit her and she wants to introduce me to her friend’s son.” Now I know why she laughs and I listen her bitching about her mom “ like I haven’t told her that I don’t like boys and god, she knows that I have girlfriend” she huffs, I just shake my head and smile, what can I say, that her mom’s is stupid? She just continues bitching, I really don’t know how she can put up with her mom. I’m lost in my thoughts when Ann pokes me in the ribs. “What?” I ask, I know I sound little annoyed but I can’t help it. “look Mila” she says and I turn to look a where she points. Shit, some guys just came into the coffee shop and Danny is with them, and I really don’t wanna see him. “what the fuck he’s doing here” I whisper to her, she just shakes her head. Ann’s phone rings again and she answers it. It’s one of her other friends, who I don’t know. She says sorry before she answers.

(read more)

Prologue

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 07:48:44 GMT

Title: The Ebony Apprentice (working title)

Genre: Steampunk(ish)

Overall rating: M/MA?

Comments/warnings: None at this stage

Summary: Quorum is a city on edge, resting on the backs of a dissatisfied slave population. While Damasus Caius struggles to overthrow the ruling Archonate fo a utopian dream, his best friend Phyn finally discovers the secret behind the High Archon's mask. While this secret alone could destroy the Archonate in a single swoop, Phyn lends his support to Marlowe Archon in a desire to avenge his own suffering and see Marlowe reject the world that has forced him to live in complete secrecy and isolation. This pits the two friends against each other in a fight to either destroy the Archonate or establish Marlowe's dystopic vision of rule across the Empire.

There was a clattering outside, the clangour and grinding of gears and squeal of steel ropes. Dawn, as yet, was a mere pinking of the sky, a gradual bloodying of its dark skin: shivering to life over the low battered roofs of Whoresbane, creeping its hungry fingers over the harbour, the clouds of mist and steam ships, to the white and sand villas on the hills opposite. The boy roused himself slowly, shuddering awake as young boys do, wiping sleep from his eyes. He yawned and sat up as the cage reached the very zenith of High Clock Spire, and his father stepped out, flanked by guards.

Marlowe was on his feet in an instant, dragging on his tunic and pants, fingers glancing over the awkward weight of his collar as the man waited. His gaze shifted to the guards: Lightless youths, their eyes, blue and brilliant, catching the last of the fading moon. Was it possible to look on them, on their passivity and acquiesence, without some remnant sense of guilt? Marlowe shuddered and lowered his face, studied his hands: translucent as fine stone, the blue of the veins beneath so visible as to make him seem frail, a boy kept out of the sun, a boy with the ravages of some cancer.

“Archon,” he said, and bowed so low his hair almost swept the ground.

The old man looked at him steadily, giving away less than his slaves. Looking at him, Marlowe could not help a familiar sense of wonder stealing over him. His father, his blood.

*

“The man who made you this,” Marcus whispered, pale eyes trained with warrior intensity on Marlowe’s face, searching for something, the thing Marcus always wanted. Marcus’ hands were on his face, his light, murderous fingers caressing along the line of his jaw. “Only think, my lord, how fine you would be had he not forced this on you.”

*

Even at fifty, Erebus Archon, High Archon of the Quoreem Empire, retained the firmness of youth, the rigid posture of the man who defeated half a hundred disparate tribes, who brought the warriors and bandits of Hishan Tarif to their knees. Erebus Archon who conquered the Lost Isle and brought back a captive paramour, the queen of a world withered and decaying, casting its remnant, diseased seeds to the winds and fate.

“I have no sons, yet I grow old, like all other men.” His voice was a deep, quavering bass, jaw clenched hard. “I wonder now how I thought it would be different.” He paused as though ashamed of this old man’s reverie, and fixed Marlowe with his gaze. “How many years do you think I have left in me?”

*

Marlowe thrust his long, pale hands into the basin, shivers crawling their way along his arms, beneath the swathes of concealing black. Outwardly he looked as he ever did: intent, direct. The water turned pink to rose with the motions of his hands, stinking of iron and sweat and the peculiar smell of an old man lost to his fear.

“My wife is dead. And where was I?”

Dottore’s voice: steady, empty. Marlowe stood still, hands plunged in the water, the room utterly silent behind him. Behind him Marcus stepped forward and Marlowe, sensing turmoil, straightened, turned to them.

“My condolences, Doctor, but sometimes it is a bitter thing to serve your lord. We have built something stronger, for your service tonight.”

Silence, in which Marcus remained cool and still, ready to spring should Dottore’s next words be one of treason. Dottore, his face immobile, mouth hidden beneath his thick black moustache. Eyes dry.

“Perhaps the Faith is right,” Marcus drawled at last. “A life for a life. Be glad, at least, that the boy survived. God does, after all, appear most just.”

“God is not just!” Dottore howled.

And Marlowe held up his hand, silent, tasted power and influence. Marcus stilled as Dottore clenched his fists, closing his mouth in the sharp, audible click of teeth.

Marlowe gazed down into the bowl, weighted with blood, with life itself. High Clock Tower struck 1am.

If I am human, he thought, really human, this should trouble me.
He found it did not.

*

“Many, my lord, you have many years left to you.”

Because that is what these people wanted to hear, wasn’t it? That they were eternal when they were not, when only he, Marlowe, unworthy and untouchable, would remain impervious to the passage of time: at least for longer than these frail creatures.

The Archon gave a snort. “With luck, but then…who to follow? The right of rule has lain with this house for a thousand years, since we first brought justice to the barbarians. Since we…” he shot a sideways glance at Marlowe, and pressed his lips against a sentence yet to come. “How can I let it fall, to untrained, unknown, perhaps even unrestful hands?"

Erebus turned to the broad windows and stared out over the city, his face drawn as if with sorrow, gaze taking in the docks, the market squares, the purpling hills of the Twin’eads. “The slaves: they whisper, they are practically a people of their own now, a race, a dangerous race, growing in our city. Bearing children, children who wonder why they are not like the other boys who go to the Academy, or the girls taken in by the Grandmother.”

Marlowe reached up, fingering the golden collar at his neck, twisting it: warm and familiar now as though it were part of his skin. The memories of weeping over it, of having it cut, refitted, nothing so much as vague ghosts of a hurt long past.

“Your blood is poison, true, like that of a viper. But it is, in part, my blood.”

*

The nick on his arm bled freely: a rich, dark purple like wine, snaking down his wrist. Marcus, drunk now, pale cheeks flushed and eyes unfocused, laughed and leaned over, capturing his arm.

“Your blood is magic, my lord,” he said, leaning forward until his lips swept through the blood, painting him a pantomime vampire. At Marlowe’s widened eyes he threw himself down against the cushion, licking his mouth and chin, laughing. He reached out for the bottle of wine by his hand and swilled the remainder, eyes so brilliant and soft that he, almost looked Lightless himself.

Movement flickered in the corner of Marlowe’s eye, Dottore sitting up straight, a cigarette still clenched in his mouth. He took it out slowly, more awake, more alert, than Marlowe had ever seen him.

“Your blood, is it magic?”

Marlowe laughed. “Opium has dulled your wits Doctor. I am a man.”

“No, you’re not.”

A chill in the room, like winter wind through an empty fireplace. Marcus glanced up, his giggling over.

*

“I will make you my heir,” Erebus spat the word, coagulate, ugly. “There are no others, Idi is unlikely to bear a child at her age. The people will not like it, not one bit, but the people have no need to know, they have need of food on their plates, hearth slaves, money.” Erebus’ hands masturbated each other. “You will be Archon.”

*

Marlowe hovered in the doorway, one hand sliding over the other sliding over the other. Inside he could hear the moans and choked cries of a woman in her labour bed.

Silence. A cry.

The young midwife appeared in the door. “You have a son, Archon, a beautiful son.”

The effect was immediate. Erebus swept past him, past the hand he stretched out to grasp him, to stop him and ask a thousand perilous questions.

The midwife moved aside, turning her eyes to Marlowe, hovering, a blot in the room, a stain like spilt ink. She frowned, as her eyes scraped his still, impassive face, the frozen, implacable, metallic face that was all Quorum saw of him.

“A brother,” he whispered softly, sound rebounding to his ears, lisped by silver.

His entire world, crushed to dust in the barest instant of blood and confusion.

*

“All you must do, for this to be yours, is keep our faith. An oath, between father and son: no one must know. For my sake, the sake of the city and the Empire.”

For your sake, Marlowe thought, the worded absence hanging limp between them.

“No one will know you exist, that you are not…what you could be. You can move amongst us, but you’ll never be one of us. Remember that, always, I can take it back in an instant.”

He climbed back into the cage, flanked again by those men, those guards, that Marlowe could barely recognise as kin. Erebus turned to him again. “By the way, I am sending you my physician. A useful sort of man. Clever. He’ll assist in creating your mask.”

*

Dottore pinpointed the myriad perplexities of Marlowe’s face: the incurve of his cheeks, the high lines of cheekbones, the delicate ridge of eyebrows, the precise shape of eyes and mouth. Marlowe remained still as the doctor worked, measuring here and there, mapping him, creating the model, the prototype for the smiths.

*

It is impossible to implore metal.

Marlowe ensured Erebus learnt this the hard way.

Chapter one lies This-a-way. All posts Friends locked so please comment to/add clockworkpoppet.

The War Breather (Preview)

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 01:45:20 GMT

Title: The War Breather (preview)

Genre: Historical Fiction/Fantasy

Overall Rating: Probably a hard PG-13, but the preview is PG.

Comments/Warnings: Um...slight mention of nakedness? Basically, it's just "....bare skin....". If that offends anybody...wow.

Summary: Thalia, the headstrong daughter of a prominant Greek statesman, is desperate to get out. She continuously defies both her father's law and the social standard time. But when she is forced into the position of the Oracle at the Temple of Delphi, she will have to learn to trust in more than just her logic and intelligence. Will her newfound faith, along with the love of her suitor, be enough to free her?

*

I hid my reaction from Theron’s ever-watchful gaze as I slowly stepped into the freezing Castalia Spring. I was tempted to give him a glare through the trees, but the amount of control he held over me was still at the forefront of my thoughts.

I heard him chuckle under his breath as he watched me unfasten the brooch that held my chiton up. I gritted my teeth and let the long swath of fabric fall into my hands. Hanging it on a nearby branch, I forced myself to keep my chin up and now show how deeply humiliated I truly was.

I nearly let out a moan of pain as the cold water in the bathing trough rushed over my bare skin. For early June, the water was surprisingly frigid, and I was determined to get my first ritual bathing done as fast as possible.

To distract myself from the pain that was surely going to come when I submerged myself, and also from the embarrassing fact that Theron was not far, I brought upon a vision.

Closing my eyes, I lowered myself fully into the Castalia.

“Apollo,” I thought, “are you there?”

I was immediately stricken with the paralysis that accompanied my visions, it soon occurred to me that bring one about underwater probably wasn’t the best idea.

I waited, but there was nothing. The pressure in my lungs was building, and I knew I would have to take a breath soon.

“Yes,” Apollo finally answered.

I heard him sigh, and the sound reverberated inside my head.

“Breathe, Thalia,” he commanded, and the paralysis was lifted.

I surfaced, spitting water as I did so. Gasping for air, I made my way to the bank of the river. I chose a semi-secluded spot to lie down, careful to avoid looking at Theron.

Wrapping both my chiton and cloak around my shivering frame, I reclined back into the grass and closed my eyes.

“What will happen to me?”

I was hoping Apollo would respond quickly. I had seen the line of people outside waiting for me, and I knew there were still more purification rites to perform.

I felt the spirit of Apollo lie down in the grass next to me, and I was thankful he was visible to only me.

He propped himself up on a shoulder.

“In due time, child.”

This answer frustrated me to no end, and I could hardly keep the edgy tone from my voice as I responded.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I glared at him. He laughed and shook his head, heckling me even more.

“I know gods are supposed to be vague and everything,” I snapped, “but really? Of all people, I should be an expert in all things vague, and that doesn’t even make sense to me.”

Apollo laughed again.

With an unnaturally graceful motion he was laying fully in the grass again, his mop of blond hair framing his irritatingly passive immortal face.

“I’m sorry, Thalia,” he said, and it sounded like he meant it. “But even I don’t know everything.”

Before I could get my retort halfway formed, Theron’s voice rang clear through the trees, and I was jolted out of my vision.

He sounded angry.

“We’ve got a line of people stretching to the Treasury, and their prophecies aren’t going to deliver themselves,” he called. “Now get up here!”

As I fastened my brooch and chiton, I saw the humor of it all. Apollo’s voice was dim and muffled, but I could clearly make out his laughter.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” he asked, “How he treats religion as a business?”

And for the first time in weeks, I smiled.

Fin.

*

Feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated. You can find more about my novel at my journal. ^_^

Tags & Master List

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 18:14:33 GMT

Our community keeps growing! :D

Everyone who has recently claimed work should have a tag. You can double check that I actually added your tag to the community by clicking here. You can also see how many times each tag has been used. If your tag is missing please let me know and I'll update the list.

Likewise, everyone who has claimed work should be on the Master List. If I missed you, please let me know and I'll get that updated too.

Child of Ashes: Outcast (chapters two and three)

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 15:24:02 GMT

Title: Child of Ashes: Outcast (Chapters two and three)
Genre: Fantasy
Overall Rating: Oh, I'd say G/PG. Chapter three has...what I suppose you could call a small amount of torture (branding).
Comments/Warnings: There are some other things that I made note about in the entries as far as my concerns about each chapter goes.
Summary: Cesarina Vardin was punished and banished ten years ago for a crime she knows she didn't commit. But when she hears a knock on her door, she finds the chance of being exonerated and set free once and for all.
...That's kind of a bad summary, but at the same time it also works.

I haven't been doing a great job of remembering to post here when I post a chapter, so that's why I'm linking to both chapters.

Chapter two

The land of the Levana Empire had changed. It was hardly recognizable to Cesarina, who stood there trying not to let her mouth gape open in shock of how different things were.

The palace of the Empress, which had once had tall, crystal gates, now had black iron gates you couldn’t even see the palace over. The streets that once bustled with people barely had anyone else in them.

“What . . . what happened here?” Cesarina’s voice was hoarse as she tried to speak.

“The Catchers happened,” Rais replied sarcastically. “They’ve scared everyone pretty badly. We should probably head out of the streets before they come. If they find any Levian’s out here, they’ll want to take you for questioning.”

“Questioning? But why-“ Cesarina was cut off.

“Shh,” Casden said. They could hear voices up ahead. “Catchers are coming.”

The group ran down the street ahead of them and turned down another. Casden found the first door he could that belonged to a store and opened it, holding it open until everyone had entered.

Inside, there were lots of shelves filled with glass bottles of all sizes and medicinal herbs.

“Tyvan, are you here?” Casden asked.

To continue reading chapter two, go here. scribedenigma is a members only community, so you'll have to join/friend it in order to read the entries.

Chapter three

The following morning, Cesarina was the first to wake up. She found a set of clothing laid out at the foot of her bed and muttered beneath her breath as she realized the Queen expected her to wear a skirt. Having no other choice, though, due to lack of anything else to wear, she put it on, then went into the living room.

She walked onto the balcony and leaned against the rail, resting her arms as she looked out into the streets below.

“I thought I might find you out here,” came Rais’s voice from behind.

Cesarina smiled softly and turned toward him. “I was, shall we say, hiding? Once the others see that I’m actually wearing something close to a dress, I probably won’t hear the end of it.”

“Why, because they’d be giving you complements? I seem to remember a time where you weren’t so against wearing something like a skirt. In fact, I remember the last time I saw you wear a dress. You look as beautiful as you did back then,” Rais replied as he walked towards her.

Cesarina gave a short laugh as she narrowed her eyes to the balcony floor. She, too, remembered the last time she had dressed up.

It was for a ball the Empress held, just before Cesarina’s banishment. As the group of Moon and Sky Children, they had been given special invitations to attend. Cesarina, as was usual, wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to wear clothes she wasn’t normally seen in at first, but the atmosphere soon helped to change her mood.

She walked into the Empress’s ballroom, staying close to Kelesana. Her hair, which fell to her mid-back, had been pulled off her neck into a bun. She wore a deep blue dress with thin straps holding it up, falling to her ankles.

The two girls made their way over to where the rest of their group was waiting, all looking handsome in their own tunics made of silk with different colors.

The orchestra started playing, and one by one the group went onto the dance floor, either dancing with Kelesana or other girls who were at the ball. Cesarina and Rais stood there silently next to each other as they watched the others dance.

Rais looked away from the dancers and at Cesarina for a moment before following her eyes as she watched the dancers. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, leading her towards the dance floor.

“Come on,” he said.

Cesarina opened her mouth to protest, but stopped as they reached the floor. Rais bowed his head slightly to her and waited until the right moment in the music to lift her hand and twirl Cesarina around once . . .

And pull her back toward him, looking toward her eyes as he let go of her hand.

“That was a long time ago, Rais. We’ve both changed since then,” Cesarina said in a half-whisper.

Chapter three is located here

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