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when comes the dawn monthly update [ June 2026]

THE STATISTICS

the draft → 55,089 words

words written this month → 1,914 words

average word count per session →  383 words

words written this year → 17,344 words

STORY NOTES

Not too much writing this month because 1) I was on vacation with my family at the start of June and 2) act 2 is still kinda daunting to write. Not because it's particularly large or 'action packed' per se, but just because I've changed quite a bit of things from the original act 2 so I'm partially flying blind here haha

Finished Fenice and Charles' letters to each other to briefly bridge the acts together

Fenice in these opening chapters is going to really show the readers wtf is wrong with her lol

Also starting to introduce kyr-Luxana (official first name still pending), the Tempus Praetori.

EXCERPT

But despite seeing it, this ugly and gaping wound her father’s campaign wrought upon this land, Fenice felt no profound sense of shock, or despair, or horror, or…

Maybe if she was not this child of portent and ruin. Not born from war hungry hands and raised with stories of myth and legacy and legend. Maybe if she was anybody else but Fenice vi Aetier, she might’ve felt a shred of sympathy for these poor people. 

Instead, she looked at the kingdom her father carved out of the map, and the people Luxana’s policies were slow to reach in his attempts to turn himself from soldier to courtier, and thought: I could do much better than this. 

Why should she be confined to the pearly shores of Lurs-e-Luran, untouched by the war, when she could be here. Here near the heart of its ruin. Where before her laid a tabula rasa from which she could carve her first marks into history.

The blood of conquerors and kingmakers flowed through her veins. Surely, her father could not blame her for following in the footsteps of those that made her?

TAGLIST

(ask to be +/-)

It feels like forever since I've done one of these, hooray!! :) Thanks for the tag, @memento-morri-writes. (and no, this is not the tag from yesterday, this one is much older and i'm sorry) I'm looking for knock, snow, control, and old, in my necromancer WIP <3

Knock:

Roslyn stretches across the table to reach the butter, and Nikolaos hands it to her without waiting for her to ask, or worse, knock something over. The little one tugs on his arm and whispers in his ear, and he pours more milk into her tin cup.

Snow:

Quintus smiles. He’s like a being of the landscape in the low, harsh light of the moon on the snow – hair black as the sky, smile as bright and gleaming as their icy surroundings. “Of course, you’re taking his side,” he says. “He’s already dead,” Nikolaos says, and thinks, lucky bastard. “Leave him alone.”

Control:

They are talking about it again. Miriam calculates her losses and her victories, and carefully says, “How badly does it hurt?” Quintus says nothing, but his entire face screws up as though he can’t control it anymore. He looks miserable. Miriam can’t help it. “Oh, Quintus,” she says under her breath. He does not tell her to mind her own business. He does not tell her to keep her pity. He does not move.

Old:

“You are a curious woman.” Miriam scrunches into a ball, slides her feet from the blanket. The morning air is cool to the touch, and her skin prickles. “And you are a subject of great mystery,” she replies. “Let’s cease with stating the obvious.” “The mystery grows old after a while.” Nikolaos rolls to his feet, graceful even first thing in the morning.

me:

me: *remembers Tolkien named that ^ slippery bastard "worm-tongue"*

me: yeah we can add more sss sounds

She was woken at 7 on the dot by something heavy planting itself on her chest. “What—” She opened her eyes reluctantly to investigate. “Oh. Hello, Enya.” Enya chirped a greeting, and bounced her tail onto Isi’s stomach. It was unfortunately reminiscent of Enya’s mother’s much heavier, spiked, tail. “Can I help you?” said Isi. Enya made a grumbling noise and snapped at empty air. Then she hopped down onto the floor and gestured with her nose in the direction of the dining table.

the basics: she/her; 34; baby dragon with dark red scales and fan-like frills behind her head <3

Enya summed up: Enya is about the size of a cat and behaves a bit like one. she loves scritches and riding on people's shoulders (usually Isi and Robin), and does not love not being fed on time. she sings sometimes! she also chirps, trills and growls.

role: cutest member of the team and a key part of the inciting incident

Beta Call!

I have finished a decent draft of a new gothic novella, and I'm looking to get some fresh eyes on it before I lock in with detail editing.

The Tower of Briars is a gothic fairytale in the form of a 17.5k novella. I'm looking for general story feedback, though if you are knowledgeable about (very loosely) 1840s England, I would love any extra help improving those aspects.

I'm hoping to have the book out in October, so I'd like to get feedback in by mid-August, to give me time to fix and edit things.

Content warnings for standard gothic elements (death, narrative dooming, incest) apply. This is a work of Romantic Horror.

Legolas having a bit of an existential crisis over just how fast mortals, particularly Gimli, age. Time for him to build his boat.

Kiki’s Delivery Service: takes place in the regular world— albeit at some nebulous point in time— but also magic is real and witches are a thing. Witches exist in this world because it’s fun and we like them. It’s fantasy elements in a familiar setting— essentially urban or modern fantasy.

Porco Rosso: takes place in an extremely specific place and time and contains exactly one fantastical element— Marco’s pig head— which is never given an explanation and is never questioned as a biological impossibility. It’s clearly a metaphor and commentary on a real world issue but it’s also very much literal. This dude 100% has a pig head. No other mentions of magic are made. This is magical realism.