#Originalfiction

[cryptidsofwakemoor]

Chapter 7 - Chillin

With the arrival of winter comes new challenges. Now armed with a blanket and pillow to help fend off the cold, Matchstick has started to make a daily trek to the mysterious fish person's house since it's the only reliable source of food... even though he still has no idea why they're leaving food out for him, or if he should even really be trusting it, but hey- beggars can't be choosers, right?

~*~

Mystic

That evening was the fastest Matchstick had ever fallen asleep. The apparatus that hooked him up to the facility wall couldn't compare to the comfort of this plush square of softness.

Time passes.

The weather gets colder.

The miracle cloth rectangle and square of cloud fluff made it bearable, though. He could sleep on the soft dirt of the den floor, wrapped in the blanket and resting his head on the pillow. The best damn sleeps of his whole life. Nightmares didn't come back to torment him when he slept with the soft stuff cocooning him. Must be some kinda magic.

And every day, he'd find a platter of food waiting for him on the steps of that house with the 'bird' feeders. It wasn't always the same food, but it was tastier than 'birdseed' and the sticky syrup from the cylinders.

He saw the fish-looking lady only occasionally, ducking in and out of their house to leave the plates of food, or heading out in their blue 'truck' to go god knows where. He saw the silver forest beast even less, the only signs of its presence being the fresh hole it dug into the earth a short distance away from his current hideout. It didn't leave any other gifts for him, either. Where had it gone?

Spooky

His breath was visible all the time now, even when he was calm. He noticed the people in town, in the times he ventured close, were starting to wear more and more stuff. And more noticeably, something seemed to be wrong with the trees? They were changing colors to something more red and brownish, and they were... shedding. A lot. The entire entrance of his den was getting crunchier and crunchier as the wind kept blowing the tree bits in. He would be lying if he said it wasn't fun to go bulldozing through piles of it, though.

Still, despite his naturally high temperature, the cold wasn't very pleasant. It seemed like the only time he was comfortable was when he was safely tucked away with the nesting stuff the silver beast had given him... So he started taking them with him whenever he ventured out.

He didn't have clothes like the people in town, save for the now VERY ratty and worn form-fitting shorts he'd been outfitted with at the lab... but the cloth rectangle was closest thing he had besides that, especially if he pulled it around his shoulders and over his head. At the very least it helped keep in his body heat and made him feel a little safer in regards to how easily a camera drone might spot him. The bad weather seemed to bring fewer of those, and it probably helped that he didn't actually enter the town in a while. He didn't have to, not when that one building with the pond had food out every day. It may not have filled him up entirely, but the feeling like he was going to die didn't crop up like it did when his food sources were less... certain?

...Part of him still wasn't sure about it, but he'd been going there daily for a while now, and still no ambush of any kind, save for the one time that person leapt out of the pond.

It was weird. He didn't know them, but he'd sort of gotten used to the routine with them. He knew when the food would be left out. Sometimes he'd arrive a little early and hide, watching from the safety of the trees until they went back inside, but it wasn't like they tried to look for him.

....Still had no idea what to do with those little metal things, when those were there. They almost looked like they could be some kind of weaponry- a blunted knife of some sort and a little four-pronged pokey thing- but they seemed kinda flimsy, and probably wouldn't be more effective in combat than the abilities he already had at his disposal... Not really worth the extra effort of carrying with him, so he left it be. Was it a sign of concern to want to arm someone...?

Either way, he would go there, eat, and somewhat cautiously go check on that second burrow on the way back. Still no sign of the silver beast.

...

Soon the day came when he poked his sleepy head out of the burrow, only to see the ground covered in a layer of... dust? No, as he climbed out and it melted around him, he realized pretty quickly that it was a powdery layer of ice. How'd all this get here? He shivered a little and pulled his cloth rectangle tighter around himself. His back stung when he did, but that feeling had almost turned into background noise for him at this point, and he gave it little notice.

The icy ground and dead tree stuff turned out to be a pretty slippery combination, especially since his footsteps melted it a little and made it more wet. Eugh, it was a quick way to make this walk completely unpleasant, though it still wasn't as bad as the days where water fell from the sky. He spent as little time outside the burrow as possible during those days, but would still accumulate mud on him regardless, that would bake in his body heat and come off in chunks.

...Okay, flaking it off was kinda fun, when he was bored. Which was kind of a lot of the time...

As he walked, he glanced over at the other burrow, which remained as quiet as usual. It didn't look like anything had come out of it, otherwise there probably would've been fresh marks of that big spiny tail dragging in the icy stuff. He was starting to wonder if maybe they left, and this had only been a temporary den...

Mystic

....

crnch

shfff

scrnchhh

Something was coming this way.

thnk

A mass of the powder fell from the branches of a tree at the edge of his vision. It lands with a dull whump.

"...hrmf."

The sound of a chain link fence rattling.

scrnch

thmsh

Then- the sound of something big letting out an equally big sneeze.

Spooky

He had been crouching at the entrance of the second burrow, peering into the darkness to see if he could catch a glint of light shining off one of those armor plates, when the sound of something huge slogging and crunching through the ice jarred him from what he was doing. He stood very quickly at the huge sneeze, looking like a kid who'd just been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, and turned around to look.

To his credit, he didn't try to hide this time. He was genuinely surprised to see the huge creature after days and days... How many days was it? A lot of days.

Mystic

He's greeted by the sight of- no surprise- the big silver beast. It's shaking its head back and forth, which... is covered in the white dust, freshly fallen from the tree. Said tree is making subtle vibrations, as though-

-it just ran right into the tree, didn't it.

Shaking its head wasn't doing the trick, so the shaking increased until it traveled all the way down the length of its body and tail. The chain link fence noise returned- ah, so that was what it sounded like when it shook out that pelt of metal plates. By the time it settled, a substantial amount of the white powder had fallen from its back.

At this point, it notices him. Squinting in the bright albedo from the icy coating all around them, they regard the kid, then hang their head, letting out another big sigh.

Stepping into the clearing, the shake off their limbs one by one, like a dog. A low humming rumble passes from their throat. Was that supposed to be a greeting? It didn't sound like words, but it didn't feel hostile.

Spooky

As... kinda silly as it was to witness a huge creature, the size of the trucks he had seen at Aria, go bonking into a tree... it was hard not to still feel somewhat intimidated when it approached him. Something about being near a living creature that enormous made him feel small, and that wasn't a very common feeling for him. At least he didn't feel like he was in danger this time.

It sighed again, he was pretty sure of it. Between that and how it hung its head while trundling along, he sensed it probably wasn't a fan of the cold, or the ice on the ground. Maybe wasn't feeling its best. Made sense though, it was covered in what looked like metal, and that would get really cold when exposed to this kind of temperature.

He stood there in thought for a few moments, then walked over cautiously... and after a few moments of uncertainty, he pulled out the pillow from his makeshift blanket cloak. He'd been hugging it for additional warmth and softness, and he gently pressed it against the side of the silver beast's snoot. It was kind of dirty by this point, but it was warm, very warm, like it was fresh out of the dryer.

"Aa.. hh..."

He'd opened his mouth and sounded like he was starting to try to say something, but his voice was a weak rasp from lack of use, barely above a whisper, and it was mostly lost beneath the sound of the wind.

Mystic

The beast blinked in surprise as- of all things- the kid approached them rather than ran away. It looked even more confused when the pillow is presented.

However, once the pillow is pressed against their cold snout, the frilled ears perk up. Their eyes widen, holding this strange position of mid-shaking a limb while the odd kid in the blanket burrito holds a pillow to their muzzle.

...they let out a snort. The edges of their mouth curl up. That was definitely a smile, and perhaps a laugh.

They enjoy the warmth for a minute or so, before retracting their head. Lifting one forelimb, the silver beast gently places their thick clawed digits over the hands holding the pillow, and pushes them back towards his chest. Plopping back down onto all fours, the beast stretches its back, tail curling into a spiral as they do so. Their tongue flops out as they let out a big yawn, showing off all those big teeth before they close the mouth again, rubbing at their muzzle with the opposite hand-paw from the one that nudged the pillow back.

"Mmmrf," the beast rumbles, the thudding steps continuing once more as it crunches its way through the snow towards the hole in the ground. Crawling through the entrance, it slips down to the base of the burrow, and wraps itself up in its tail at the bottom of the den. Faint shivers run through their chilled body, and they tuck the tail closer around themselves like a pointy cinnamon bun.

Spooky

Wrapping his arms back around the pillow, he felt himself smile a little as well, watching the big creature crawl into their den and get comfortable. Sure, the pillow was small, but he still felt like he helped, if only a little bit.

Also... it was weirdly kind of a relief to know they weren't gone.

Remembering why he was outside, though, he turned and walked back along the usual path he took to the food building. Curiously, as he walked along, he could see the big path in the snow the silver beast had taken to get to their den. Seemed they also walked this way. Actually... huh! He slowed a little, his eyes following the big footprints and lines where the tail dragged. It kinda looked like it swept its tail back and forth in some places, but for the most part...

He hopped from footprint to footprint as he followed that instead of the usual path, since it seemed to be running pretty parallel. It was kinda fun, though he cut it out when he slipped on some leaves and fell on his ass.

Ow.

Okay, had to be more careful walking in this stuff.

Still, it was strange... The trail was visible through most of the walk, but he lost sight of it somewhere around the time he was approaching the food building. Guess it was still a mystery where the silver beast had been... Oh well.

There was the white disc in its usual place on the steps, though the food seemed like it had been out for longer than usual. There was a very thin dust of ice on the two pieces of bread with meat and stuff in the middle that had been left out for him. No little stabby things this time, but whatever, he would've left them anyway. Maybe the person was in kind of a hurry this time.

Weird, though, their truck was still here...

Didn't look like they were inside, either. The windows were dark.

Mystic

The food, even though cold, was still delicious. It must have been sitting outside for a while. A few hours, maybe.

Sitting on the porch, wrapped in the blanket, he's able to sit back and take in the peaceful scenery. Despite the thick coat of white powder and ice on everything, the cylinders of food for the 'birds' (and ambitious fluffy rodents) were still out on their hanging hooks- with the exception of the sticky syrup ones. Those were put away somewhere he did not know. The tiny buzzing birds that used that feeder- which gave him a heart attack the first time one flew by his head- were absent once it got too cold outside.

...huh.

That was odd. There were scrape marks in the snow here, too. A lot less noticeable, due to the jumble of bird feet stamps around feeders, and snow mostly being replaced by thicker ice on the black stone path, but they were there for sure once he paid close enough attention. They looked like- scratches. Had a scuffle taken place here?

To the side of the house, on the small juncture of black path where the blue truck off-and-on rested, the scratches were deeper, and more numerous. Some wooden structure he couldn't fathom the purpose of had broken planks in the center, as though pushed by great force.

A small corner of something colorful poked out from underneath a haphazardly placed box at the side of the house.

Spooky

The pond was too frozen to drink from, so he scooped up a handful of snow into his mouth, letting it melt into water as his eyes traced the path of the scratches to the strange structure. Huh... he'd never really noticed that thing before. Mostly because there weren't any tubes by it, but the corner of something bright and colorful stood out like a beacon among all the white and gray and muted brown.

Soon, curiosity got the better of him, and the signs of damage and scrapes were concerning... He got up and moved closer to the box to investigate, too curious to just leave it be. What happened here...?

Mystic

The colorful thing was a piece of fabric, sticking out from under the edge of the box.

Removing the box entirely revealed it to be-

…a tattered shirt. It had been torn asunder, but even he would recognize this article of clothing from the shredded remains.

It was the fish lady’s shirt, the one she wore almost every day on her trips out of her house. Blue strings hung off the edges where something sharp had rent the once-whole article of clothing into many, many pieces. Most of those pieces were shoved under the box, and some were caught under the edge of the wooden porch.

Spooky

Realizing the implications of what he was looking at, he dropped the box in shock, eyes wide. The claw marks, upset snow and broken wooden structure- signs of a struggle, and now a torn piece of clothing, looking like it was hidden... And the fact that the trail seemed to lead back here...

Did the-

...Did the silver beast EAT the fish lady?!

There wasn't any blood, was the weird part, but maybe it swallowed them whole?? ...Minus the shirt? Somehow? It tore off the shirt, and then ate them?

Shit... Why didn't it just eat the food left out for him instead? It was a little cold but that's no reason to eat the person that made it!

Mystic

What was he even supposed to do, now? If the beast did eat them, his reliable food source was gone. He’d have to go back to swiping from trash cans as his primary method of scavenging. And on top of that, the bird feeders would be left empty, too- not only was he getting shorted on bird seed, but so were the birds!

If big silver animals ate people, how was one so close to town? And- why didn’t it eat him, then, when it found him trapped in that hole? Maybe he was saved by the trash smell- but then, it didn’t eat him earlier, and he was a bit less stinky now after a few rain showers. The beast never seemed hostile or territorial- or hell, even hungry.

…

Was that house just- going to be empty, now? It felt sad, in a way he couldn’t place.

Spooky

He paced anxiously in the yard as he tried to make sense of it all. If this happened- if the fish lady was... dead... there was nothing he could do about it, and that upset him even more. For the first time, he ventured up to the windows and peeked inside in hopes that he was wrong, but the place was indeed dark and empty.

...This was awful. He'd never really gotten to know this person, but... To feed random creatures outside even if they weren't people, just because they could...

Man, he didn't trust people, as a general rule... but this one seemed different. And they were gone now.

He sat on the porch for a while, staring blankly at the snow. Finally he got up, went back to the box, scooped up the tattered shirt remains, and marched all the way back to the silver beast's burrow. While it might have been a dangerous idea to confront it... It looked like he was gonna have to start risking his life for food again anyway. And he wanted some fucking answers!

~*~

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[scioneeris]

Hey guys!! If you’ve wanted to get into The Dragel’s Song, but didn’t know where to start your Dragel adventures—the first five episodes are FREE for this month as part of the @smashwords Annual Summer/Winter Sale! Find plenty of cool reads at https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos/

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The dragel’s song is written in episodic format and currently at sixteen episodes.

Enjoy the read!! (And feel free to share 😏).

[shaelashaela]

The King's Curse, ch. 7

[cw] drug use [reading time] 9 mins.

A howling wind whipped the snow into a frenzy all around me, buffeting my body despite my best efforts to pull my cloak tight around me. Lines of citrine threads ran along the thick cloth, and an alchemical invocation upon them helped to keep me warm, but I wondered for how much longer. I lost the means to recharge it along with my satchel. I pulled the hood tight around my face to keep the cold out, but I really should’ve brought a scarf. Even with thick gloves and boots, my hands and feet were numb.

I expected to spend more time scaling the mountain’s slopes, but the land at the top of the cliff featured a gentle grade instead, with a clear path cut through the rocks. Despite the pleasant surprise, I immediately fretted over the Queen’s words. Would the next challenge be another physical one? Or would I face something more sinister? The snowstorm already felt unnatural to me, and I supposed the Winter Court could and would set up just about any sort of trap on the side of the mountain.

The intense climb left my arms and legs exhausted. With each step, my feet sank into the snow, and I had to exert considerable effort to pull them back out again. I wasn’t certain that I would make it much farther, especially if the storm refused to break.

My hand drifted to the pouch on my belt, fingers lightly caressing the leather. Dare I…?

I shook the thought from my head. No, I simply needed to persevere. I wasn’t exactly athletic, but I could make my way through this. How much further could it be? Surely this black crocus didn’t grow on the very summit, right?

Come to think of it, there was little in the way of vegetation outside of some scrubby evergreens. No signs of wildlife, either. I wondered if this area ever saw a season that resembled spring. Doubtful.

The path suddenly cut in two directions, one to the left that led further up the mountain, and the other to the right. I looked over with some disbelief. Not far down the righthand fork was a little cave opening. Shelter and a bit of rest were just what I needed! I all but dove headfirst into the cave, though that was likely unwise. Briefly I hoped I wouldn’t wake a hibernating bear, but it was a bit late for that.

Thankfully, there were no bears to be found. The cave itself was really more of a nook in the mountain, barely large enough for two or three people to huddle in. It was enclosed, however, and protected from the wind. I was also not the first person to shelter there. I walked in and sat down at the remains of a campfire.

Whomever made this certainly would have brought the wood with them; there were no trees outside. I sifted through the black ash. It was long cold, maybe even years old, but I discovered that a few small chips of unburnt wood remained. My heart jumped with excitement. If I piled them up, I might be able to start a small fire.

I removed my gloves and reached in my pocket for my flint—luckily, it was not in my satchel. My striker, however, was. Gathering a handful of dead plants from the mouth of the cave, I attempted to use my belt buckle as a makeshift striker to light them. After a dozen fumbling attempts with my rimed hands, I almost gave up, but finally a small spark flew, and a flame ignited.

I let out a heavy sigh that coiled in the cold air like smoky dragon’s breath. The little bits of glowing coal would never be enough to warm me up completely, but maybe I could get some blood flowing to my hands again. I held them close to it, soaking up what little warmth could be had, and I wiggled my fingers, working out the stiffness. Looking at them made me wish I had put on Papa’s rings earlier instead of leaving them in my bag. I had a feeling that I would need whatever alchemical tools I could get my hands on.

Something glinted at me in the afternoon light, nestled in the ashes around the campfire. I didn’t really want to dig in the dirt as it would freeze my fingers again, but I was curious. Carefully, I pried a small object out of the dirt and ash with my fingernails.

I turned it over in my palm and brushed the grime away with a thumb. It was a little golden locket. The leather cord threaded through it disintegrated in my hand. How long had it been here? Despite my icy, protesting fingertips, I pried it open. Inside was a tiny, hand-painted portrait of an elven girl. It was faded and worn, but I could see she had long, blonde hair and a beautiful white gown. I could’ve mistaken her for me if it weren’t that she had blue eyes instead of green. Someone dropped a precious memory here. Perhaps they failed to overcome the mountain and died here. I shuddered at the thought. Would I meet a similar fate?

I pursed my lips. I couldn’t say for certain if I could actually achieve what the Queen asked of me or not. My eyes fell upon a delicate silver bracelet with little crow charms dangling from my left wrist. It was a gift from Rayna. I chided her for spending money on such a gift when I knew she didn’t have much, unintentionally embarrassing her. Humans could be just as proud as elves, I learned. Now I wore it as much out of guilt as appreciation.

If I lived through this, hopefully she would understand. If not, then maybe it would serve as a reminder that I existed to the next person who stopped to rest in this alcove. I unclasped the bracelet and let it fall to the ground, and I placed the locket next to it. A graveyard of precious memories. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was so exhausted. My body gave out, and I fell back upon the stony wall to get as comfortable as I might.

I cried and wished that I could be in her arms.

My pathetic little fire still glowed orange when I awoke, but outside the cave, day had given way to twilight. Blast! I’d slept too long. I had no idea how far the journey was, so I was not of a mind to waste daylight hours. Pushing myself into an upright position proved difficult, and I faltered. Every muscle in my body protested against going further.

“I don’t have time for rest,” I growled at myself.

I gave myself another push and hauled my tired excuse for a body to its feet. I took two steps toward the entrance, but I wavered. Maybe I didn’t have the strength to go on tonight. Would I dare waste time sleeping until morning?

My cheeks stung from a few well-placed slaps to wake myself up. I would continue on no matter what. Rayna depended on me. Every step toward my goal was worth taking. I gathered a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Okay, maybe it was time.

My freezing fingers unclasped my father’s pouch. It contained mostly alchemical reagents for a variety of purposes, but there was one vial that could help me right now. Carefully, I plucked it from the band that held it fast and lifted it up to the dwindling light. The glass tube contained a bit of purple-grey powder that sparkled in the firelight. I didn’t like to abuse glitterdust, but right now I was low on options. I popped off the tiny cork and put the vial to my nostril, inhaling deeply.

A bolt of lightning shot through my face, and then it spread quickly through my eyes and ears, followed by the rest of my body. Within seconds, I felt clearer, more focused, and the nagging pain I felt across the whole of me faded into the background.

I pulled my gloves back on and stepped out onto the mountainside. Ice and snow pelted my face, but it would not hinder me now. I focused my eyes up the path and pushed through, one heavy footstep at a time.

Enough evening light remained that I could see my destination in the distance. The trail I followed continued onwards for maybe a hundred metres more, and then it crested a small hill. The terrain looked like it might be more flat beyond that. With that goal in my brain, I found it easier to push my way up the slope.

After a couple minutes of steady progress, I reached the top of the hill. Just as I suspected, the rocky outcroppings gave way to a small valley nestled in the bosom of the mountain. More shocking to me, however, was that I saw light. The storm threatened to obscure everything with snow, but I could clearly see square lights, as if from the windows of a home. Eagerly, I ran through snow as fast as I could between my weak muscles and the shin-deep powder.

I laughed. It wasn’t an illusion! As I grew closer, the outline of a tiny cabin emerged from the dark and snowy backdrop. Light streamed forth from glass panes. Maybe the occupant would let me shelter there. They might even share some supplies with me. I brimmed over with hope.

The front door rattled with strikes from my fist. I waited. One breath, two breaths, three breaths. I heard nothing within. Was anyone actually home? I knocked again. One breath, two breaths, three breaths. Still nothing. Surely they wouldn’t mind if I stepped inside while they were away? I tried the handle, and it turned without resistance. Shameless, I pushed my way inside the tiny cabin and slammed the door shut behind me to keep the cold out. I turned to face the interior.

“Sorry, it wasn’t locked—what the hell?”

I looked around, mouth agape. The light was much warmer than it appeared from outside, dim and cozy. My nostrils immediately filled with the smell of burning, acrid chemicals, and I could hear the bubbling of a beaker. Tools and papers filled every wooden table and shelf. I knew this place. I knew it well.

A deep, male voice filled my ears. “Sylvie?”

Slowly, I turned to my left to face the man who addressed me. He was taller than me, with closed-cropped dark hair. His musky cologne smelled familiar to me. Tears fell down my face without hesitation.

“Papa?”

He strode forward in a swirl of brown silken robes, and he placed his hands on my shoulders briefly before placing a kiss on my forehead. “Good morning! You slept in. I was afraid you might miss your lesson.”

My eyes darted back and forth. Was this really happening? “Lesson?”

“Yes. We were to pick up where we left off yesterday, with the powdered sulphur compound I showed you.” He wiped the tears from my cheeks with one knuckle. “Are you feeling well?”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure. Just a little disoriented is all.” I grabbed him about the waist and squeezed him tight. “Papa, I love you.”

His hand touched the top of my head, and he tousled my hair. “I love you, too, Evening Star. What has gotten into you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I laughed. “I’d love to learn more from you.”

There was a soft knock on the door. Was someone else out here on the mountain? The door opened, and I let Papa go so I could see who entered. My jaw dropped again. It was Mama! She wore her usual dark pantsuit and had her long hair tied up with a ribbon. Mama always tried her best to blend in with human society, unlike my father. She held a tray of tea and biscuits in her hands, and she used it to push some clutter out of the way so she could set it down next to me.

“Good morning, Shaela-Shaela,” she cooed. “I knew you would both be very busy today, so I brought you some tea.”

“Thank you, Mama.” I didn’t know what else to say.

She smiled and turned back to the door. “I am off to take care of some things for the day. Good luck!”

I watched her exit, and beyond the door was not a snowstorm but a hallway, one I’d seen thousands of times. I was back in the house I’d grown up in, far from the fey realms and the Winter Court. Was it all a bad dream? Did I imagine the ugly business with Ixion and King Oberon?

But then, maybe that meant I imagined Rayna as well…

Before I could put more thought into it, there was another knock at the door, this one more firm than my mother’s. Who else was with us? The three of us were the only ones who lived here.

Papa fussed with one of his apparatuses, not even removing his eyes from it. “Sylvie, darling, get the door, would you?”

I nodded dumbly, both curious and dreadful. What if I walked back out into the snow and lost it all again? I swallowed my fear and reached for the handle, then pulled it as slowly as possible. The door swung inward, and there stood an elf who nearly made me jump out of my skin. He was tall and had an angled face, not unlike my father’s, but his dark hair was still long and spilled over his shoulders like a cascade of water.

He smiled, but to my surprise, his teeth were unsharpened and normal. “Good morning, Shaela-Shaela! Certainly taking your time.”

Without a word, Ixion—or was it Nox?—strode into the workshop, and my father grunted a friendly greeting at him.

My voice shook. “What are you doing here?”

They both looked at me with incredulity in their eyes. Nox spoke for them. “Is this a jest, Sylvie? I work with your father, you know that.” An uncomfortable laugh escaped his throat.

I touched one hand to the back of my head and blushed. “Oh, yes, sorry.”

My father and uncle proceeded to discuss some sort of alchemical minutiae, ignoring me for the time being. Maybe this was real, after all? Maybe this was how it was supposed to be all along? I looked down at my left wrist. The silver bracelet with crows was gone. Maybe I just made up Rayna? Maybe it was all a dream?

I watched them work. They definitely looked like brothers, and, to my relief, Nox wasn’t trying to kill Papa. Papa was still alive! What a horrible nightmare I had lived! And yet… something felt off.

No, this was very wrong. Papa was dead. I knew that for certain. I held his ashes at his funeral and placed them in the family tomb. No matter how much I wanted it to be a bad dream, it wasn’t. Nox was gone too, and there was something important I needed to do. This was all fantasy, another challenge conjured by the mountain to stop me.

I reached for the door one more time, and I put my hand on the latch.

Nox’s voice carried across the workshop, clear and bright. “Where are you going?”

Papa chimed in as well. “Did you forget something?”

Briefly, I looked over my shoulder at my father. Oh, how it broke my heart to leave him. “Yeah, I think I did. I love you, Papa.”

I opened the door, and once more the snow raged in front of me. Bitter cold stung my nose and lips. I took one step outside, and behind me I heard a more characteristic roar of anger from Ixion. Something slammed into my back and shoved me out into the cold.

[saffron-rays]

“I miss home”

Lelieu x Freid (original characters)

Leliu misses the serenity of the rolling dunes and the richness of the fresh water spring of her homeland. She misses the simple life she had before the war, before her city was raided by Militia officers (those who belong to the traditionalist regime) after suspected affiliation with “the resistance”. After letting her frustration get the best of her, Freid took Leliu to a quiet place to allow her to feel all that she has told herself to suppress.

[knittingnightgaunt]

Yesterdays word count ended around 63k words, with an definitely entirely normal old woman who you can be certain is not secretly the Grandmotherly death god because she is very friendly and sells Jam.

Everything is fine.

She's very sweet.

[syphoncontinuity]

Coming Friday: Cameron finally gets to work, and it's a bit...distracting. Also, I have do some pondering what how easily it is to clock a woman writing a male character, and whether the tools for doing it are outdated.

Read the book now at syphoncontinuity.substack.com.

[k1m-bail3y]

FlashFictionFridays #1 "Inheritance"

FlashFictionFridays #1 “Inheritance”

Hi everyone! I’ve decided to start a new project on this here site. It’s called, as seen above, Flash Fiction Fridays! I’m not very good at flash fiction, as evidenced by the fact that every story I write is very long no matter how much I try to cut it down, so I want to try my hand at getting this right. I hope you won’t mind and bear with me. To start this off, I’m posting the very first piece…

[quillrosetellsstories]

Her Falling Star

Content Warning: self-inflicted violence

Estrella refused to look away from the sky, especially once she made her last wish on the star that shot across. She waited for another. Too late; her breath quickened. Starlight streamed down hollow cheeks. Estrella refused to take her eyes off the sky, even after the trigger was pulled.

[gemsofthegalaxy]

Watching a YouTube video about BookTok books and which ones to actually consider reading lmao

.......I don't even know who Colleen Hoover is.........

In fact the only book ive recognized so far is The Song of Achilles. Which i guess is fair because ive only really gotten back into originalfiction in the past year or so

[thepixiewitch]

READ IT HERE

Ig: @hmsmithpoet

#originalcharacters #originalfiction

[pinkchaosart]

Blood and Thorns

Okay guys, I did something I haven't done in a LONG time - I wrote a book. And it's a whole-ass Original piece of work.

DO YOU WANT A JANE AUSTEN-INSPIRED STORY BUT GAY AND WITCHY?

DO YOU WANT A STORY ABOUT A NONBINARY WITCH FALLING IN LOVE WITH BISEXUAL GOLDEN RETRIEVER FEMBOYS?

DO YOU WANT A STORY ABOUT GAYS FALLING IN LOVE?

DO YOU WANT A STORY ABOUT NONBINARY WITCHES FALLING IN LOVE WITH BISEXUAL GOLDEN RETRIEVER FEMBOYS?

DO YOU WANT A STORY WHERE BUTCHES ARE ALLOWED TO BE LOVING AND TENDER BUT ALSO CAN SMACK A BITCH?

DO YOU WANT A GAY STORY WITHOUT HOMOPHOBIA?

DO YOU WANT A STORY WHERE RICH PEOPLE ARE ASSHOLES?

Then you might wanna read Blood and Thorns :) Please go check it out, I spent so much goddamn time on it.

Updating every Monday ;)

[shaelashaela]

The King's Curse, ch. 3

[reading time] 5 mins.

Overhead, the sun beat down upon me, making for a strange combination of sensations. As I travelled east, the air all about me grew colder, and the grass crunched under my boots. But the sunlight was harsh and burned my skin. Knowing the weather would be chill, I brought a heavy cloak with me, but I constantly took it off and put it back on again as my body temperature oscillated. I hadn’t even made it to the Queen’s court yet, and annoyance already soured my mood.

I shielded my eyes with my hand and lifted my face towards the mountain. Throughout the day it had steadily grown closer to me as I moved east, and now that I was nearly at its foot, I could see it was not as tall as I imagined. Still, it was impressive and solitary among the fields of snow. It felt unnatural to me.

Thirty-seven, I counted, passing by a small stone stump. Worn with age, they were possibly some sort of road marker at one point. What exact pictograms or letters they once bore was unclear, but they led me in the right direction, fulfilling their ancient purpose as landmarks.

Most of the journey crossed a vast plain, but now as I entered the mountain’s shadow, the path cut through rock, hemmed in on either side. Twists and turns obscured my line of sight. From here on out, I would be quite vulnerable to ambush. I didn’t like it one bit, and my breath shortened. What might go wrong in there? If I ran into some random dark elf, would they kill me before I even reached my destination?

For a long time, I stood on the road, unable to urge myself forward. Wintervale suddenly felt far more inhospitable than it had that same morning.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

I heard but could not see. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze in place. Where were they?

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

My head turned every which way, desperate to find the source.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

Before my very eyes, shadow coalesced and gave form to a black stallion, its hooves clacking on the rough cobblestones. Slowly, the darkness gathered, rising like smoke, and before long, the horse gained a rider. At first I saw only his greaves of black metal, twisted and bent like some great hand crushed them on to his body. Then his breastplate appeared in a similar gruesome fashion. Finally, his face, ashen and stern, came to rest upon his shoulders. Pale blond hair draped over his shoulders, wild and clumped together with sweat.

His steely eyes lanced my very soul. “State thy business,” he said plainly, his voice deep and even. The rider’s dialect was strange to me, unlike any Elvish variant I’d ever heard.

Nothing in the world could have compelled me to move or speak in that moment. My legs shook, and I feared my body would fail me completely.

“State thy business,” he repeated. “Or begone.”

Knowing that he didn’t intend to murder me right away returned some of my senses to me. I managed a soft reply. “The Queen has summoned me.”

His demeanour was inscrutable. “Thou art the one known as Sylvie Shaestari?”

I nodded dumbly.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop. The fearsome black stallion stepped closer to me, and his rider leaned forward, offering me a gauntleted hand. “Allow me to escort thee.”

Not knowing what else to do, I took his hand, and he hoisted me up so that I could climb into the saddle behind him. Once I was in place, I quickly withdrew my hand from his grip. My skin burned.

“Ow! Are you wearing iron?”

He urged his steed to turn and head eastward. “My apologies. ’Tis my burden.”

I dared not ask what he meant by that.

“My name is Nepenthe. I am bound to Queen Morrigan, and I will bring thee before her.”

“You have my gratitude.”

It was a genuine thanks, as I didn’t want to proceed deep into Wintervale without an escort. Still, his demeanour confused me. I looked down and noticed he carried a whip as his weapon—a long, coiled snake at his hip crafted from a series of vertebrae. I shuddered and hoped they weren’t elf bones.

The horse carried us deeper into the mountain pass, all featureless and grey. There was so little sign of life here. “Where is everyone?”

“We shall come upon a settlement anon. My men also ride with us.”

His men? I looked around, but saw nothing. They must also know whatever magic he used to remain completely invisible. I shuddered again. I didn’t like the thought of people watching me when I couldn’t see them myself.

Nepenthe’s steed jostled me, and I tried my best to hold on without touching the rider’s armour. I felt odd in that moment, as never did I imagine I might one day ride through Wintervale while having a perfectly civil conversation with a dark elf. Actually, I had to ask myself at that point: was he a dark elf? I narrowed my eyes and scrutinized him, but to my surprise, he had no aura of magic about him at all! What could that mean? Was he disconnected from the land entirely?

“Something troubles thee, m’lady.”

I jumped. How did he know? I was behind him. “I realize now that I know so little of the Winter Court. All my life I was told it was the domain of lunatics and hedonists. My one and only experience with dark elves before today reinforced that.”

He must’ve smiled. I could hear it in his voice. “Do I disappoint, m’lady?”

“Sorry, I meant no offence.”

“Thou didst not offend. In truth, thou remindest me of mine own daughter. She was quite inquisitive.”

“Oh? Maybe I could meet her.”

“Nay, m’lady. She is dead two centuries.”

I pursed my lips together and cursed myself for walking into a sensitive topic. I briefly considered apologizing, but decided it would be better if we completed the ride in silence.

My curiosity got the better of me, though. Something didn’t add up. “How… how old are you?”

“Over four hundred winters, m’lady. Forgive me, but I cannot recall with precision.”

What? I never heard of an elf living past two hundred fifty, save for the monarchs. How quickly I learned that I knew far less about my own home and people than I realized.

Deeper into the east we rode, and it felt to me an eternity. The sun sank lower behind us, though there was still some daylight left. My escort wasn’t overly chatty, but he did point out some landmarks to me along the way. True to his word, we also passed through a city, or a town, I wasn’t quite sure. Dozens of little grey houses flanked the road, but the populous ducked into their doorways as we wandered through. I couldn’t get a good feel for how many elves lived there.

“Why do they hide?”

Nepenthe paused briefly before answering, the first time he hesitated in our conversations. “They considereth me an ill omen, m’lady. I cannot fault them. I am the Queen’s hound, after a fashion. A demon to them.”

“Oh? You seem perfectly polite to me.”

“Thou art kind for saying so, m’lady. Let us hope thou remainest in Her Majesty’s good graces. I would loathe to hunt thee.”

Now I regretted asking. I still did not know what to expect of Queen Morrigan, and I had no doubt that if Nepenthe put his mind to it, he could end my existence without breaking a sweat. He was far too serious and straightforward to take lightly.

We reached the edge of the town, and the road ended at the foot of a hill. Stone steps ascended it to the top, where I could see a series of magnificent marble columns, but no roof. Halfway up, green grass gave way to powdery snow. Was this where the Queen held court? Out in the open?

My escort brought his steed to a full stop. “This is where we part ways, m’lady. The Queen awaits thee at the apex.”

He dismounted first with little effort despite his heavy iron armour. Then he reached up and took me by the waist, setting me gently on the ground. It felt weird to be handled like a princess, but I was thankful that I did not need to touch his gauntleted hand again.

I bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you, sir knight.”

He took his horse by the reins and headed back the way we came. “I am no knight, m’lady. Remember that.”

What an odd set of parting words. I felt pity for him, though I couldn’t say why. Despite his even tone, he sounded sad to me. Perhaps he was also a victim of the Queen? Either way, I shook those thoughts from my head and turned to look up the multitude of stairs that were now the only thing between me and destiny. Briefly, I prayed I would see Rayna again someday before planting my foot on the first step.

[knittingnightgaunt]

Still chugging along with Rebel NaNoWriMo to try and finish my book The Fox Eater:

I have breached 60k words! My end goal is closer to 80 but it partially depends on the story. I mean NGL there is just something about silly little digital badges that makes my gremlin writing brain pleased.

I have not managed to do Par every day so far, but still, that's not even the point. I don't need to WIN I just need to make progress.

Even if in this case part of today's progress is Shavn having an heartfelt conversation with an irritated Mule who really wants to stop for a while and have a snack and not deal with ridiculous humans running their mouth in his direction.

[syphoncontinuity]

Just a little look back at the start.

[k1m-bail3y]

A little Caribbean detective story.

[scioneeris]

www.books2read.com/bloom2

Enjoy the read! 🌸

At Next Bloom is book 2 in the cozy plant shop series, Hidden Blooms and features more of our soft dragels, Kei and Loren. Currently available in ebook. Paperback edition pending approval.

SYNOPSIS: Kei is now a guest at Loren’s cozy little cottage tucked away in a place where no one can quite get to them. Except, maybe, the grumpy Gheyo overseeing his witness protection detail and some very determined water sprites.

Between Loren’s generous hospitality and his own overflowing emotions, Kei is drawn even closer to him, unable to help but find Loren a steady grounding presence in his changing life.

Is there actually something there? Or is he just imagining it?