#drenius

After the devastating attack on the People's towns, young mage Enkarini and her friends, Soris and Caiara, travel to the mysterious village known as Dragon's Teeth. They plan to spend some time among the experienced and powerful mages there, learning more about their abilities. Enkarini especially wants to find a way to control her own shadow magic, something she has grown more uneasy with since her father's death.

Their plans go awry, however, when they discover the Mayor of the town has placed blood bonds on them all, keeping them from leaving. Learning takes a back seat as the three find themselves caught up in the village's internal struggles.

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thanks for the tag @willtheweaver :) these are from Haven's Release, fresh off the keyboard today!

“I’m sure you can imagine the effects on a living body. The Spectres’ weapons are already imbued with this magic, and a few of their upper ranks can now do as Ki-Sin here showed you, casting directly from their gauntlets.” Thompson’s icy gaze swept the table. “The most recent disarming operation required the use of these weapons on the elven soldiers. We have photographs of the remains, if anyone here still needs convincing?”

Blake swore under his breath. “As if the Spectres weren’t frightening enough. Michael, I think you and His Majesty need to sit down with the Empress and work out an agreement that we will never piss Nakata off again.”

~~~

the most popular choice gets a lore dump post about the subject!

this is a snippet from Haven's Release, if anyone has any feedback or comments I'd appreciate them (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

Alaric sat nursing his latest injuries, brooding over the latest developments. He didn’t like brooding, it didn’t suit him, but there was little else he could do for now. Nightbreeze and his flunkies had been prepared the last couple of times they had gone to one of his secret underground bomb factories, and this time they had lost too many in the process. Not all had been killed then and there, true, but taken prisoner was almost a worse fate.

They hadn’t heard from Akemi in nearly three months. He hoped she was just lying low somewhere, safe but unable to contact them. A dark, despairing voice in the back of his head said otherwise, and tonight it was harder to ignore it.

He had gone into this thinking it would be… not easy, exactly, but not this real. He had imagined his own involvement being a larger scale, more useful version of the prank schemes he had run at university; a little disruption, mayhem and ultimately fun, while helping other people in the process. He had assumed that all his friends would come through unscathed and laughing, victorious at the end.

Reality had a brutal way of making itself known.

Kester’s house had become a crowded infirmary over the last few weeks. Sickly escaped prisoners, their own injured, and a couple of too-quiet pallets in the back room, covered in sheets and awaiting what final dignity they could manage to give.

He missed the days when it had been the five of them, complaining about their coursework, holding drinking contests and lewd puppet shows, throwing glitter and leaflets from dorm rooftops. Even when this was over, when the dust settled and Elena came back, when Akemi managed to find her way out of wherever she was stuck (because she was not dead, not dead, not dead), when Kester returned from his wander in the wilderness, the group would never be whole again.

Jonno had never been this quiet in his life.

“You stupid bastard,” Alaric muttered, throwing a glare at the limp red hair poking out from under the too small sheet. “You could have got out of there, but no, you had to be all noble. Had to go all ‘let’s save everyone’ and get yourself killed instead. What am I supposed to do now? We were supposed to have each other’s backs, Jon. We were supposed to get each other through this, be a safe place for Akemi to come back to, throw a huge party when Nightbreeze was gone. What am I going to tell your parents? What do I tell Akemi and Kester?”

He paused, waiting for an answer that would never come.

~~~

thanks for the tag @theeccentricraven ! another catch up tag game from ages ago lol

Rules: Follow the prompts for one of your WIPs. You can change them around if you'd like.

One song from your WIP/OC playlist:

Broken Souls by Blacklite District

Two tropes featured:

found family and secret identities

Three words to describe your WIP:

home changing irreversibly

Four lines that are your favorite:

Koli sat upright at that. “Hey, hey, you can’t just take it apart! It’s a very delicate magical device, and you don’t know what you’re doing! You’ll end up triggering the defense spells.”

Five feelings from/about your characters:

love

frustration

satisfaction

excitement

nervousness

thanks as always to @agirlandherquill for the amazing prompts, which you can find here! (I may be grabbing a second one from today's list for a whole other story lol)

this story is set a little before the main novel run, and follows Kandrina and Enkarini's mother before her disappearance and presumed death.

here's the prompt I used:

She whispered to the dark, until it finally whispered back.

The house was dark and silent. Despite her husband sleeping in the next room, her two older children in their own rooms down the hall, and her baby cradled in her arms right here, Meradina felt alone. She had felt alone for months, ever since her dreams had turned to nightmares and the once-familiar corners had begun to echo with whispers.

Harndak had tried, in his way, to calm her nerves and reassure her that things would be fine. They had already had two children, after all, and managed as well as could be expected. A third shouldn’t be too much trouble, he had said yesterday.

She had smiled, pretended to relax. If her worries had solely been about raising little Enkarini, it would have been much easier to find solace in her husband’s support and love. Deep in her heart and soul, she knew that something far greater than a mother’s anxiety threatened her little family, and she was the only one who could stand in its way.

The tales had been passed down through her family for generations, mother to eldest daughter, ever since the distant ancestor she herself was named for. Tales of the cruel goddess they had once served, and her wicked brother imprisoned in the Great Forest of the West.

With a soft sigh, she gently kissed Enkarini on the forehead, and set her back in the crib. Better to do this now, before either of those ancient horrors turned their attention to Kandrina, before Enkarini was old enough to miss her mother. She stepped out into the garden, dew-glazed flowers nodding in the light of the moons, and drew in a deep breath.

If she was completely honest with herself, she had always known something like this was coming. Her life had never truly been her own, and now the only choice she had left was whether to use that life to protect her daughters, or to offer them up. With the tepid summer breeze curling around her, she whispered to the dark, until it finally whispered back.

“Come to me, Meradina. Find me in the Forest. Join me in the fight against your Mistress.”

The twisted face of the fallen god seemed to float in the air before her. “I have a condition.” She stared it down as she would with any other who tried to harm her family. “Take me, and me alone. Spare my daughters, and I will serve you eternally.”

“Very well. I give you my word, I shall not seek out your daughters as long as you remain loyal.” The face wavered and drifted on the wind. “Now come to me.”

Meradina felt her body move without her instruction, walking through the silent streets of Manak, seen by none but the moons. Before her mind fled entirely, she sent a prayer to Aikra-Lora, goddess of children, to watch over her three little ones and protect them from harm. Her bargain tonight ought to keep this one danger at bay, but the world was full of others, and she would no longer be there to guide her children.

~~~

tagging some writer moots: @desastreus @write-with-will @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @leahnardo-da-veggie @eli-t-spoon

I'm back with Luke and Theresa for the fourth day of writecamp (*^‿^*) it turned out pretty long, so it's under the cut

thanks again to @agirlandherquill for running this! you can find today's prompts here if you want to join in

the prompt I picked was:

A starless sky

thanks again to @agirlandherquill for running writemas, and for these amazing prompts! today's story is kind of the other side of yesterday's, and at least partly inspired by the concert I was at last night ♪~♪ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ ♪~♪

the prompts I picked were:

A misted moor

The endlessness of air

It was the first time in decades he had revisited the lands of his birth. So much had changed since then, the people, the villages, even the roads, but the wild and rolling moorlands had not. It almost felt as though he had found a kindred spirit, something as everlasting as himself.

This early in the morning, before the sun had fully risen, a haze of mist still hung over the land. Sprawling heather and gorse lay heavy with dew, and birdsong rung through the air, a muted call muffled by the fog. If he shut his eyes and breathed deeply enough, he could almost make himself believe the world had not changed. That he had not changed.

Far away from any human life, the endless expanse of wild land and clear air seemed all there was. Here he could let go of all pretence, drop every mask and false name he had worn, and once more be Luke, the travelling mage and minstrel, with nothing in his heart but a song.

The antique lyre on his back felt too heavy for the maplewood frame and silken strings it was made of. It had been far too long since he had even thought of playing, but on this day, he wanted to mark the occasion.

Seven hundred years ago to the day, he had first met Theresa. Today, he needed to let her go.

He breathed in the cool, foggy air, and plucked at the strings, refamiliarising himself with the notes. It took him a while, his skills rusty after all those years, but he warmed up as the sunlight crept over the moors.

The birds nearby slowed, picked up his melody, built on it in their own way to create something more beautiful than he could have alone. Music flowed through the air, coming back to him with the wind. It seemed to go on forever, becoming part of the endless place, overlapping with itself as though another played along with him.

He sang in the old tongue, the one they had all invented together, another layer of protection against those who had persecuted them. Words of loss, of joy, of grief and love. It had grown easier to carry as the time wore on, but had never truly left him. The improvised song was his last letter to them all. A goodbye, an I love you, a good riddance. When he ran out of words, ran out of notes, he allowed the moor to fall silent.

For one short moment, the last fading echoes of his music drifting on the wind, he let himself feel it all. Then, he let it go. He donned the mask once more, recalled his latest name, and left Luke behind in the endless, empty air.

~~~