Tag: romance

About Writing

The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Writing Captivating Characters

Autumn

My Venus is in Pisces, which is the astrological way of saying that I’m the quintessential hopeless romantic. This was not a personality trait of mine that was ever supported during my formative years, and as a teenager I was frequently warned that I was setting myself up for disappointment; I was also told that I shouldn’t expect to get married.

When I talk about romance, I mean the earth-shattering, butterfly-inducing, dizzying, elevating, whirlwind of excitement sort. The kind that we’re constantly told doesn’t exist. That kind.

A major motivation behind reading is to enjoy stories that I can’t hear by simply talking to the neighbors (even if they are sordid and juicy). I like stories that are larger than life and inspirational; I just can’t find books like that.

Most romance novels are about an attractive, powerful, rich guy, and since I frequently indulge in that fantasy myself as a writer, I’m not going to knock it. It’s obvious why she would fall for him, but why does he fall for her? The heroines range from mediocre to psychotic harpies; with heavy heapings of selfishness on top.

That question, ‘Why does he fall for her?’ is often left unanswered, and that kills every chance of deeply capturing the spirit of romance. If I hate the heroine, I’m not going to empathize if she captures the attention of Mr. Mega Hunk. I usually declare, “This book is stupid!” and give it a bad review on Amazon. No vicarious butterflies, no point in reading.

When I write my female characters, I write them as someone that I could fall in love with myself, and I have zero interest in Anastasias or Bellas. Perhaps I relate to novels in the wrong sort of way, but I like to think that’s what differentiates me from the Mary-Sues.

My hope is that if I write a scene that gives me butterflies, others will experience that as well when they read it.

I am a hopeless romantic, after all.

About Writing

The Benefits of Using a Handwritten Binder for Writing

Autumn

I like to work on one novel at a time, as I have found that not only is my focus much better that way, it serves as good motivation to actually finish the story before moving on to the next — otherwise I’d have a million works-in-progress and no endings.

Inspiration, on the other hand, doesn’t follow my schedule. It strikes whenever it pleases. That’s one of the reasons why I prefer keeping a handwritten binder rather than typing on a laptop. My binder is indispensable, always nearby, and never low on battery.

Whenever a new idea hits me, I write a page or two like this:

It’s not beautiful or elegant. In and of itself, it’s too vague to be particularly enjoyable for reading, but it contains everything I need to remember the idea.

Sometimes I don’t know any names, so I write down variables instead, such as “B” or “Z”. Those pages tend to look really weird.

Then it goes into the back of my binder, and waits for its turn. The proximity ensures that I often see it and thus never forget its existence.

When it’s time to start a new novel, I pick the idea that has the loudest voice.

Books

The Bride

Autumn

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My rating: 2/5

I’ve read other books by Julie Garwood that I enjoyed, so I had expectations for this one. However, if I had randomly found this book in a thrift store and read an excerpt from the middle, I very likely would have skipped it.

The main character is your classic Mary-Sue, who is described as being exceedingly beautiful (but naturally she doesn’t know it), possesses a man’s name, and is very intent on telling everyone and their dog that she isn’t a typical woman, before turning around and doing typical things left and right — like a typical woman.

The writing itself feels amateurish, and there are a surprising number of typos and editing mistakes for something that was originally published in the 80’s. However, lets forgive that, in light of the popularity of Harry Potter and Twilight. Everyone’s got to start somewhere.

The characterization was non-existent. Every single last stinking one of them existed solely to praise the main character. They were props, without even a semblance of a personality between the lot of them — even the main male character who served as The Husband. I’m not even sure how many characters there were, because they were all the same cardboard cutout.

And the main character wasn’t even likable.

Overbearing was the word that kept floating in my head, and I died a little inside every time she opened her mouth or did anything. I kept thinking, “Good God woman! Just get off my back already!” and I wasn’t even the one she was criticizing and bossing around.

The plot was non-existent, and everything that happened was obviously a lead up for gratuitous sex scenes, that weren’t particularly sexy — in fact, the obsession with the man’s tongue practically tickling tonsils kind of left me feeling a little gaggy.

To top it off, there were a lot of modernisms that were just plain hoakie, and I’m not even referring to the frequent use of the word “hot”. Despite the fact that the book is set in 12th century Scotland, I don’t think the author researched anything past the word ‘bliaut.’

While it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever read, I still wouldn’t recommend it.

If you decide to read it anyway, then you’ll understand what I mean when I say that the rocking chair was the corniest thing ever.

About Writing, Light Eternal

About Light Eternal

Autumn

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I think that the best way to describe Light Eternal is as a Gnostic romance. Or, as my husband so succinctly put it, I studied up on Gnosticism so I could write trashy fanfiction about it.

I like fantasy romance, and most of my ideas revolve around the simplicity of two people in love. One of my biggest disappointments with the romance genre (and fiction in general) is that very few of them start with marriage, which, in my personal experience, is when I would say the real adventure begins. My novels don’t revolve around the question of “Will they get together?” but rather, “What are they willing to do to stay together?”

I also like magic and larger-than-life characters, so with a touch of amusement I would say that I ascribe to the “One-Punch Man” style of storytelling. The conflict isn’t about how they are going to be strong enough to win, but is instead an almost human interest exploration of what life would be like as the strongest, smartest, etc.

Light Eternal also contains a lot of pagan elements, including soul retrievals and spiritual parasites. The story is about gods and goddesses surrounded by a rich mythology, verging on spiritual fiction. Because there is a strong theme of Light versus Dark, there are a lot of Gothic and horror moments as well.

Finally, it is a novella about trauma, mental health, and dissociation. It illustrates the damage that traumatic events can cause, and the struggle to continue on with life afterward.

It is the best fictional Gnostic romance book out there!

Available for free with Kindle Unlimited

Light Eternal

Light Eternal

Autumn

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A young woman, fleeing a terrible secret, finds herself beset by a supernatural beast which threatens not her body, but her very soul–and the mysterious stranger who saves her claims that he is not what he appears to be… and neither is she.

Before she knows it, the two of them are traveling across the country, fleeing a mysterious threat that seems to lurk beneath every shadow, while her benefactor races to heal her of injuries to her mind and soul that threaten not only her, but himself, the world, and the very fabric of reality.

Now available on Kindle with 50% MORE editing! JOYOUS JUBILATION!

You probably didn’t notice that I yanked down all but the first three chapters that I had posted here and on FictionPress, so I can have the book be provided for free with Kindle Unlimited. Go ahead and give it a shot; it’s short and you have nothing to lose. 😉

Light Eternal

Light Eternal chapter 3

Autumn

Chapter 3

“Where do souls go when they die?” Muriel asked out of the blue; her eyes were focused on her plate in front of her, as she used a fork to pick apart a waffle soaked in maple syrup. They were in the dining room of the hotel, with employees bustling around them to clean up the uneaten leftovers from the buffet table, as the other patrons slowly trickled out. Aion looked at her and carefully gauged the question in his mind, but, before he could answer, she commented instead, “Continental breakfasts always sound more exciting than they actually are.”

“Eating them usually helps make them more exciting,” Aion replied, the empty dishes from his own meal still sitting in front of him – he hadn’t wasted any time in satiating his hunger, then had settled back into waiting for Muriel to finish playing with her food. He was the most patient man that she had ever met, because he didn’t look or sound the slightest bit annoyed; just amused.

“Why don’t you have a home?” Muriel asked, in one last effort to avoid eating, but the way Aion’s face never changed felt unbearably persuasive; it made her feel that they would be there until the end of time, waiting for her to consume something. A patient man, she decided, was not necessarily a good thing. Because Muriel wasn’t too keen on sitting there all day, she finally took her first bite.

“Because I’m not human, and didn’t possess this form until last night,” Aion spoke after Muriel had swallowed and taken another bite. She had waited too long; now, the waffle was soggy and cold. Next time, she would eat right away, since she was sure that her will wasn’t stronger than Aion’s – his face never changed, no matter what she did.

His words make her choke slightly, but, after she recovered, she rolled her eyes at him and sighed in exasperation, then said, in her brattiest know-it-all voice, “Then how do you have money?” For some reason she felt loopy, and wasn’t sure why she was acting that way, but Aion was at ease. Besides, she had the feeling that he couldn’t abandon her, and he was unlikely to react poorly, anyway.

“Law of Attraction.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense,” Muriel scoffed.

Reaching into his pocket, Aion pulled out his wallet and opened it, flashing her with a large number of bills that all sported big numbers. “Makes perfect sense to me.”

Gasping slightly, Muriel’s eyes opened wide. “You’re kidding me! I thought that the Law of Attraction was silly New Age gobbledygook. It really works? Just like that?”

Shaking his head with a slight smile, Aion pocketed his wallet. “I tell you that I’m a non-human creature of Light, and the part that you don’t believe is the wad of cash that I’m carrying around.”

Scowling, Muriel huffed, “If you put it that way …” before stuffing a large bite of waffle into her mouth. Secretly she was glad that he was showing off, because it made him seem slightly more approachable. It was hard to know how to talk to someone who seemed to have mastered stoicism so completely.

“What’s my name?” he asked suddenly.

She looked at him blankly, then laughed softly to cover up the anxiety that had formed a lump in her throat. “I don’t remember.” She tried to sound casual, to make it seem normal that she didn’t know his name, even though that frightened her even more.

“What’s your name?” he asked instead.

“Muriel Gardner.” She leaned back and folded her arms, losing her appetite entirely. Her voice had an edge to it that she hadn’t fully intended, but she didn’t want him to keep asking her questions.

The man, however, was satisfied. “As long as you can remember who you are, then we’re okay.” That caught her even more off guard than the original question had. Even though she was trying to pretend that it was normal to not remember his name, she didn’t want him to go along with her. She wanted him to give her a reason to be defensive, to lose her self-control and sob over how broken her mind seemed to be. She wanted to cry. But instead, he was calmly watching her with unwavering eyes. Something in her face must have tipped him off on her thoughts though, because he slowly and carefully continued, “Do you know what happened last night?”

“It was cold.” Muriel shivered reflexively, remembering the moonlight on the frost and the darkness that enveloped her, so she rushed to finish, “Then I met you and we got a hotel room together.”

Somehow she knew that she had said the wrong thing. Even though his expression remind blank, the man stood up and said, “Come. We’re going to buy a notebook, and you’re going to write in it every day.”

“What for?” Muriel slowly followed him, trembling slightly. She was sure that she had done something wrong, and this was somehow going to be her punishment. Maybe he didn’t actually like her, and maybe he was only there because he had unsavory intentions for her. But he smiled, and Muriel found her heart calming down. She was being unreasonable, she decided, and she shouldn’t entertain such dark thoughts.

“For starters, you can put my name in it to help you remember,” Aion teased as he opened the door and waited for Muriel to walk through. His tone sounded friendly and a bit flirtatious, so Muriel stuck her tongue out at him as they walked down the hallway.

“And what else would I write?” she asked.

“Just journal. We need to know if you experience further soul loss … or worse.”

“What could be worse?”

“You’re susceptible now, and I swore that I would protect you.” Now he was being evasive, so Muriel stopped with a slight stomp of her foot.

“Give me a straight answer,” she demanded.

“Not until you’re capable of remembering it,” he replied.

“I do remember. My soul was taken,” Muriel whispered and looked down, her bottom lip quivering. “After …”

Aion was quick to press a finger against her trembling lips, stopping her from speaking. “That’s good enough. You’re returning to lucidity.”

“What is a Grim, and why did one attack me?” Muriel asked. She suddenly felt small and vulnerable, so she grabbed onto Aion’s arm for fear that a gust of wind would blow her away. She wasn’t sure if she existed anymore or if she lived in Aion’s imagination, and the only way to reassure herself was to feel his solid muscles in her hands. Remembering was too much for her to endure, and she wanted to forget again. She wanted to forget everything, even her own name, but at that moment it was too well established in her mind.

“They are hell-hounds – omens of death. They come from the underworld. I can’t tell you why one attacked you.”

“It wasn’t because …” A tear spilled from her eye and onto her cheek.

“No.” Aion put his hand over Muriel’s. “That made the damage worse, but the Grim being there had nothing to do with it.”

“Do you know everything about me?” Muriel rested her head against Aion’s arm. He felt good to touch, and she wanted to snuggle against him even more.

“Probably,” he replied.

“Are you my guardian angel?”

“I am now.” He wrapped both arms around her and patted her hair, and electric tingles shot through Muriel’s body. As long as he was there, she knew that she was safe.

“I know nothing about you,” she whispered into his chest.

“Do you remember my name?”

Muriel paused. “Aion.” She felt pleased with herself for remembering, and started to grin.

“That’s something that you know about me.” He smiled with her, then took her hand as they began walking back to their room again.

“What sort of name is it?” she asked.

“A big one,” he replied.

“It’s two syllables.”

“I know.”

“What does it mean?”

“We could look it up online.”

“You’re frustrating me!” Muriel hit him lightly on the shoulder and giggled slightly.

Aion winked as he said, “That was the idea.”

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Also available on FictionPress

Light Eternal

Light Eternal Chapter 2

Autumn

Chapter 2

The motel room that Muriel walked into wasn’t noteworthy in any way – it was neither expensive, nor cheap, but still reminiscent of vacationing on a budget – with a slight musty smell and worn carpet – but it was clean and well-maintained. Muriel slowly pulled off her coat, revealing a pink sweater worn over a baggy white blouse, and hung it up on the coat stand near the door. She shivered slightly, hugged herself, and rubbed her arms, then turned up the thermostat on the heater underneath the front window before sitting down on one of the two queen-sized beds, where she opened her backpack. She sifted through it and pulled out a photograph of her parents and stared at it.

She had almost forgotten.

How could she forget?

Burning tears stung her eyes as she crumpled up the picture and threw it away in the small garbage can by the bed; she didn’t know why she had packed it in the first place. Trying very hard to hide any signs of crying, she hurriedly grabbed the bag and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Aion stood straight and tall in the doorway as a frozen breeze blew past him and into the room, taking a moment to look at the garbage can, his face hard and unreadable. In his mind he was weighing something, considering it carefully, until another thought came to him and broke him out of his brooding. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out the key-cards for their room, and put one down on the nearby table, before quietly leaving.

The hot steamy shower reminded Muriel of how cold she had been, and the contrast hurt almost too much to bear. She had to acclimate herself slowly, starting at lukewarm and gradually adjusting the temperature up, wondering when the prickling goosebumps that covered her skin would subside. There was something inside that was untouched by the water and heat, a sort of emptiness that kept her feeling chilled in the center of her bones. She couldn’t remember if it had always been there, but her skin was turning bright red from the heat, so she slowly turned the water off and stepped out of the tub.

After she wrapped herself up a towel, Muriel stared at herself in the mirror, water dripping from her sopping hair. Her face looked strange and unfamiliar, and she felt sure that it belonged to someone else. She didn’t like her hair, which seemed too dark and too short, even though it hung slightly past her shoulders. Somehow, that didn’t seem like her; it didn’t seem like how she would keep her hair. Her eyes were a pretty shade of hazel, but they had a haunted look that frightened her. She couldn’t think of why her eyes would look like that. She quickly turned from the mirror and rummaged through her backpack looking for clothes, but, again, it felt like she was intruding on someone else’s life. The jeans were too big around the waist, and she had to belt them to make them stay up. The blouses were all baggy, bland, and unappealing. She pulled on something pink, because it seemed like the most vibrant thing she could find, and she didn’t want to feel faded.

Exiting the bathroom, Muriel was surprised to see a burger bag sitting on the table next to the mini fridge. She didn’t realize that she had been in the bathroom long enough for the man to leave and come back, but she appreciated that he had thought to bring her food – he must have gone to one of those all-right places, because the clock next to the bed read midnight. Muriel reached into the bag and was shocked to realize that the food was cold; she slowly sank down into a chair, baffled at how that was possible. It had felt like she had been in the bathroom for only a few minutes.

How long had it been? She hadn’t checked the time when they arrived; now, she wished she had. She felt fuzzy and awful; a strange buzzing began in her head, carrying her focus away for a moment.

The door opened and Aion stepped in, pausing to take off his coat, but Muriel stared blankly ahead of her, not responding to his appearance. She looked listless, but he wasn’t surprised. He walked over to her and very carefully took one of her hands, watching to make sure that she didn’t flinch or look frightened.

“Do you remember me?” he whispered.

Her eyes focused on his face and she frowned, trying hard to grasp something that wouldn’t come to her. She knew that she knew him, but the answer of who he was wouldn’t come to her. “I don’t … know,” she murmured.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She paused, alarmed that she didn’t immediately know. Then, with some relief, she found herself replying, “Muriel,” and didn’t give any indication that it felt like someone else had answered for her.

“Where are we?” the man asked.

That one seemed easy. “In a hotel room.”

“Where?”

It wasn’t an easy question after all, and she lowered her head, biting her lip for a moment to repress the urge to cry before muttering, “… I don’t remember.”

Aion gently stroked the top of her head, his fingers sending tingles through Muriel’s scalp and down her neck, seemingly satisfied, despite her inability to remember such simple things. “Go ahead and eat, and don’t worry,” he said gently. “You’re experiencing a fugue state, but it’s nothing to be alarmed about. You’ll grow used to them in time.”

She wanted to cry again, because his gentleness hurt in a way that didn’t make sense. To cover it up, she quickly asked, “How long have we been here?”

“About two hours.”

Muriel nodded and pulled out the burger, peeling off the wrapper before she slowly took a bite and swallowed. Cold hamburgers were not as good as fresh ones; she clung to that thought because it was inane and meaningless – anything to keep herself away from the frozen pain that was trapped inside her chest, hiding just under her ribcage. “What was your name again?” she asked after a moment.

“Aion.”

“Aion,” she repeated softly. “Am I going to be okay?”

“I promise that you will be.”

Muriel leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Aion’s chest, resting her head against him. The warmth from his body felt good, and reminded Muriel that she was still alive. She could hear his heart beating, and it eased tension out of her muscles that she hadn’t realized was there. Her cheeks were wet with the tears that she could no longer hold back, but it seemed safe to cry while hidden in Aion’s shirt. In turn, Aion wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “I’m going to make my failure right.”

Time stopped, and the bond between them was reawakened. Muriel remember that she had known Aion from somewhere, but the truth still eluded her. Her mind felt blocked from her by a black wall that couldn’t be penetrated, keeping her locked in the moment without a past or a future. But her heart still remembered, and she wanted to stay with him forever. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.

After laying her down in bed, and tucking the blanket around her, Aion stood looking out the window, thinking.

His failure.

He had allowed himself to be too trusting, and weak, and that had ultimately prevented him from protecting Muriel like he had promised he would – and she had paid the price. He wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

But he wasn’t the only one who failed on that night. He retrieved the picture from the waste bin, brought it over to the light, and studied it for a moment, before it burst into flames and floated away as ash. They had broken their contract, and they would not escape the consequences.

Light Eternal

Light Eternal – Chapter 1

Autumn

This is my latest novel. I spent some time wondering what, exactly, I wanted to do with it now that it was completed, and decided on publishing it online for free reading. After all, I’m one of those rebellious, individualistic, creative types, so it seemed fitting.

Enjoy.

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Chapter One

Frost covered the dead leaves that lay scattered along the edges of the sidewalk, catching the light from the full moon so that it sparkled and glowed with a blue tint; it was the same shade as Muriel’s frozen breath that hung heavily in the air around her, stinging her lips with every breath.

Muriel wore a gray polyester coat with a pink wool scarf, that only partially protected her from the weather, and faded blue jeans with torn and muddy hems that dragged on the sidewalk and hooked underneath the thick heels of her cheap black boots. She couldn’t remember when her feet had gone numb, and she didn’t know how long it had been since she left home – she had left her cellphone behind to prevent herself from being found. On her head she wore a cabled beanie that she had knitted herself out of chunky gray wool, covering her soft wavy brown hair, and her cheeks were flushed beneath red, teary eyes. Muriel’s hands were bare, and almost purple from the cold, but she clutched the straps of her gray backpack with grim determination to never let go. Everything she owned in the world was inside that bag.

It was going to start snowing soon; she could feel it in the air. Somehow, it seemed, that was the only thing that she could feel.

She had to keep going. She didn’t know where she would stop, but that didn’t matter as much as getting as far away as she could. If she stopped, Muriel felt sure that would be the end of her, and the ache in her chest wanted to keep throbbing for as long as it could. As she crossed the street, she could feel how slowly her numb and tired legs were carrying her, and she wanted to start crying again, but she had to keep going.

An unexpected sound, guttural and unearthly, caught her footsteps and forced her to a halt. She was standing directly underneath a streetlight, and couldn’t make out anything in the darkness beyond the circle of light surrounding her, but the sound sent a different sort of cold piercing through her, hurting her throat and her heart, choking and silencing her. It terrified her more than the possibility of freezing to death out there alone. She couldn’t see the source of the sound, but she knew it was there, watching her. Waiting.

Suddenly, it felt as if her body was being ripped apart, and she fell to her knees, unable to scream out in pain. Did she still know how to breathe? Darkness pulled at everything inside of her, taking her sight, her blood, her voice. Soon there would be nothing left of her.

Then light began flowing around her, lifting her up and encircling her, breathing for her, like a beautiful song, and her heart began to beat again.

Was this death?

It was sweeter than life.

The light receded and the cold crept back in, leaving her lying on her back on the concrete, staring up at the stars twinkling above her. The streetlight above her was dark ghost against the night sky.

“Muriel.”

She turned toward the voice that had sounded like velvet masculinity, and found herself looking into a man’s face that was foreign, yet familiar, with bright blue eyes that was surrounded by white-blonde hair. Slowly and shakily she pushed herself up then asked with a weak and broken voice, “What happened?”

“You were beset by a Grim,” the man replied. “It took a large portion of your soul.”

The words sounded strange and didn’t make much sense. Muriel didn’t know what a Grim was, or what losing her soul meant. “Is that death?” she asked.

“Losing all of your soul is,” he answered, looking into the darkness in front of them for a moment, before continuing, “but souls can fragment. It’s normal to lose a piece here and there from overwhelming events in life; usually not so much.”

“I lost a lot?”

“Yes.”

Muriel’s stomach churned and moved up into her throat. She didn’t know what that would mean for her, and it scared her. Was her life shortened? She felt dizzy, but, although she wanted to cry, she couldn’t find the ability to do so. A dull pain blocked her voice, preventing her from expressing anything.

The man pulled a small knife from his belt and nicked his finger, then drew something on Muriel’s forehead with his blood. “I pledge my life to Muriel Gardner, as her servant and protector, until her soul is returned to her,” he vowed.

“What?!” Muriel gasped, disbelieving what she had just heard.

The man put his knife away and held out his hand to her. “Come, it’s not healthy to lounge around outside in this weather.”

When she didn’t move, he grabbed her arm, and hauled her to her feet, taking a moment to steady her before letting go.

“How did you know my name?” she asked. “Have we met before?”

“In a way, we have. I am from the Light.” He paused, then added, “Like an angel.”

“What’s your name?”

“Aion.”

Muriel shivered, and he gestured for her to follow him. He didn’t ask if she had anywhere to go, and she didn’t say that she was alone. Somehow Muriel knew that her fate rested in the hands of this stranger with the pretty blue eyes and oddly familiar face, so she went willingly and unquestioningly with him. It seemed as if she was watching herself walk with the man, clinging tightly onto his arm for warmth, from somewhere far above them. Behind them the streetlight flickered back on, as clouds began to fill the sky, and small flurries began to fall, and it looked like something out of a dream.

Fade to White

Fade to White – Chapter 26 – FINAL CHAPTER

Autumn

Fade to White

Chapter Twenty Six

Slowly Jerek eased his sword out of Ramo’s stomach, gently laying the body on the floor before standing up and pointing his still dripping weapon at Nosaj. “He died because of you,” Jerek said with bitterness in his voice.

“I am not the one holding the bloody sword. Jerek, how could you? Ramo only cared for your well being.” Nosaj tightened his grip around Tryne, moving a hand to her neck as she grunted in protest. “Even after I spared the life of your girlfriend, and even after I let her keep her virtue, you still slaughter the one person who loved you more than anything else in this world, because he worked for me.”

“Shut up!” Jerek yelled, as tear drops coursed their way down his cheeks. “Just give Tryne to me, and we’ll leave.”

Nosaj yanked Tryne back. “It doesn’t work like that, Jerek,” he said. “I was thinking that I would keep her for myself, and if you protested then I would simply lock you up.”

“It will work the way I say it will.” Jerek began walking toward Nosaj, holding his sword ready. “Give her to me right now.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll kill you.”

Nosaj grinned wickedly, throwing Tryne against the wall and pulling out his own sword from its sheath. “Let’s find out if you can.”

Leaping through the air, Jerek connected his sword against Nosaj’s, pushing against the blades with all of his strength. “You’ve played your game for long enough,” he grunted.

“My game has just barely started.” Nosaj twisted his sword to the side and stepped back, causing Jerek’s weapon to slide off harmlessly. “Even after I’m dead, you’ll never be able to escape me. The only life you’ll be able to live is the one I’ve given you, and it is impossible for you to live any other way. Your hands are stained with the blood of innocent people. Your heart is callous toward others. If you think that you can create a new world for yourself with the girl you love, then you are mistaken. She is finally seeing how harsh you really are!”

Jerek hesitated, looking over at Tryne who was curled up against the wall and visibly shaking. She was frightened. Slowly Jerek started to lower his sword, his heart throbbing because Tryne’s eyes were open wide with fear as she stared at him, her muscles occasionally twitching as if she wanted to run away but couldn’t find the courage.

A sharp line of pain brought all of Jerek’s senses back to Nosaj, and he stumbled away, limping as Nosaj’s sword cut into his leg. “Why? Why did you do that?” Jerek asked. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Because you are my heir.” Swiftly turning around, Nosaj strode over to Tryne and yanked her up to her feet, swinging her so that her hair flew into her face. Pointing his sword at her, Nosaj said, “She is the only other person who will die today.”

“Let her go!”

Sneering, Nosaj moved his blade, poking it into Tryne’s side and causing her blood to slowly ooze out, coloring her shirt as she gritted her teeth and screamed, struggling to pull away from him.

Snapping with anger, Jerek swung his sword around and Nosaj barely had enough time to bring up his own sword to block, but Jerek hit Nosaj’s blade with such force that the metal of his weapon broke into two pieces, while the reverberations in Jerek’s own sword hurt his hands, causing him to drop the sword in pain.

“Finish it,” Nosaj said.

Looking up, Jerek growled, leaping forward to tackle Nosaj.

He didn’t resist as they fell to the ground, and he stayed limp as Jerek grabbed his hair, lifting his head up and slamming it down into the concrete. Jerek did it again and again, using all of his strength each time he bashed Nosaj’s head against the floor, and blood started to spray out as each thud was accompanied by a sickening squelch. Then Tryne screamed.

Jerek dropped Nosaj’s body, backing away as the cloud of anger cleared from his mind, leaving the image of Nosaj in front of him. Nosaj’s eyes were still open, bright red and glazed over, his skull oddly shaped, and the dark crimson liquid that was pooled up around him on the floor was also splattered across the wall. Moving his hand up to his face, Jerek saw that his skin was covered in blood, and a nauseating sickness overcame him.

Still hunched over, Jerek spoke, “He planned that, didn’t he.”

Nodding, Tryne answered, “Yes,” in a feeble voice.

“We need to . . . bury Ramo and him.”

Tryne nodded again, walking over to Jerek and putting her arms around him, burrowing her head against his chest as tears came from her eyes.

“That . . . bastard.” Jerek put his hands on Tryne’s back, lowering his head. “Why did he have to do that?”

Jerek’s eyes were lined with red, but they were dry as he watched the flames and smoke rise into the air, carrying the deep feeling of despair that had clogged Jerek’s mind right after the fight in the castle. He could finally breathe again. Holding onto his hand, Tryne stood beside him looking into the bonfire as well, her glassy eyes reflecting the orange light with moisture.

“What are you going to do?” she asked. “Are you going to accept Ken’s offer to become one of the leaders?”

Setting his mouth into a straight line, Jerek thought for a moment before answering, “I thought that maybe we could see the Ruby Village, then find out where the wind takes us from there.”

Squeezing Jerek’s hand, Tryne smiled. “I love you, Jerek,” she said.

Jerek smiled back at her, murmuring, “I love you too,” before returning his eyes to the blaze before him again. A thought crossed his mind, and with a smirk Jerek couldn’t help but say the words, “Long live Nosaj, the Commander and King of the Twelve Villages.”

Fin.

I’ll be taking the rest of the year off to focus on the holidays. See you in 2018!