#psinorism

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

What is your favorite aspect of the world you have built?

i wanted to make sure everything surrounding the answer to this was exactly how i envisioned before answering, but hands down my favorite thing about novaxiom has to be the magic systems. now i can confidently say they’re both such a chaotic, yet fascinating mess in their own ways.

sonoric sorcery is so raw and complex, but still holds the quality of depth—it’s all about sound and vibration, shaping reality in real time. it’s purely the essence of the aųrolis: loud, unpredictable, still holding its beauty while it teeters on the edge of disaster. screw it up? sonorians are not just risking a spell not working—they’re essentially risking life as they know it as they could end up silencing themselves.

which goes into on the flip side of that—psinorism, which couldn’t be more opposite. it’s subtle, deliberate, and rooted in silence and taciraia’s absence. psinorians don’t care about sound—they work with the void, the stillness, and the spaces left behind. it’s haunting in a way, but also deeply introspective. using it isn’t about noise; it’s about the intent and thought, and that contrast to sonoric sorcery makes it all the more satisfying.

but then there’s the forbidden shit: mortiphonustry. even the name feels cursed. it’s not about creation or destruction—it’s about defiance. it spits in the face of novaxiom’s natural order, ripping apart the Frequencium and twisting it into something grotesque.

the mortals who use it aren’t just breaking the rules; they’re rejecting death itself. and the results? horrifying. fractured souls, broken bodies, and whispers that haunt the edges of novaxiom’s world for eternity.

what i love most, though is how none of them stand alone. they each clash, overlap, and spark conflict with one another at every turn, reflecting everything about the world itself—messy, dysfunctional, but deeply human. magic to them isn’t just power; it’s their identities, cultures, and philosophies. every choice tied to it feels personal, and that’s what makes writing it ssoososo fun 🥰

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

Have you as a writer ever experienced the 'I often forget that it is my story and thus I can write anything I want" syndrome?

i’ve definitely felt that way before, especially in the earlier stages of novaxiom. hell, just the other day it felt like i was building the world with invisible boundaries i didn’t even realize i’d set for myself.

i stopped and took a second to read it over as i started watching some world building video on yt and then it hit me—this is my story. i can do whatever the hell i want with it.

so, i stopped limiting myself and went deeper into the research, reaching out to other writers and asking questions about what novaxiom could be instead of what i thought it had to be.

i expanded the magic systems, redefined the cultural dynamics, and gave more space for regions like the euphopolaric expanse to feel alive and integral.

there’s this balance between sonoric sorcery and psinorism that ties into the world’s larger conflicts, and even the gods like aųrolis and taciraia feel more grounded in the story.

i’ve even pushed the main mortal characters (i’ll do intros for them soon) further, strengthening their connections to the magic and the world now feels more personal and meaningful.

so i’m taking my time with the writing itself because i want it to do the world justice, but honestly? i love where novaxiom is right now. i think when people finally get to read it, they’ll see how much care and thought went into shaping it. it’s been worth letting go of those self-imposed limits to create something that feels whole.

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

the new year’s tarot cards found me first…

i wasn’t sitting down with some grand plan, no carefully crafted intention, no deeply worded question that needed answering. it was just me, shuffling the deck without thinking, just to hear the sound of it—because sometimes, the shuffle is all you need to fill the silence you’ve been drowning in. no ceremony, no ritual. just movement.

then the deck got impatient… and two cards jumped out.

and i didn’t even realize it at the time. i wrote this journal out in my actual notebook. i couldn’t figure it out for it to make it make sense 🤣 face-down. on my kitchen floor. byeeee

i simply froze… uh because what was i supposed to do with that? it wasn’t planned, it wasn’t neat. it was messy and chaotic, like the universe had decided i was taking too long to catch on. i stared at the cards, just sitting there, daring me to flip them. i’m used to like cards jumping out when I’ve been doing my readings, but it was just you know the timing the day it was and you know i just couldn’t help but feel that inkling of like oh ok. these are gonna be impactful, but here’s the thing—i didn’t flip them. not right away. kyle

it wasn’t even midnight yet. it wasn’t time. i wasn’t about to let two rogue cards pull me into some overhyped, new-year-new-you cliché. i told myself, you’ll turn them over when you’re ready. don’t make it about the clock. don’t make it about the moment. only… i wasn’t being honest with myself 😭 i did make it about the moment and couldn’t pull myself to flip them when the time came!

midnight passed. then a whole day. the cards sat there, waiting. i walked past them, glanced at them, felt their weight pressing through the tiles like they weren’t just paper and ink but something more.

something that knew me better than i knew myself. it wasn’t fear that kept me from flipping them. it was the knowing. like, deep down, i already understood that whatever those cards were, they weren’t here to tell me something i didn’t already know. they were here to make me see it. eventually—two days later, after sitting in that weird liminal space between avoidance and anticipation—i gave in.

i flipped them over. the high priestess. and the three of cups? what polar opposite right?

yet the second i saw them, something inside me locked into place with a satisfying feeling. like they’d been waiting this whole time for me to catch up. they weren’t revealing anything new—they were confirming what i’d already been circling around for months.

because the high priestess? she’s silence. stillness. the kind of quiet that isn’t peaceful, but weighted. heavy. like standing in a room where all the air’s been sucked out, leaving you to sit there and feel the ache in your chest without distraction. her energy isn’t loud. it doesn’t demand attention. it’s just there, lingering in that breathless space where no sound can reach. and the only way to meet her is to stop moving and let her come to you.

and the three of cups? she’s the exact opposite. loud without making a sound. vibrant, buzzing, energy spilling out of her edges like a party that’s already in full swing. she’s movement for the sake of movement. chaos just to see what will happen next. she’s what happens when you shake the world and let the pieces fall where they may.

in my interpretation; they weren’t opposing forces, though. they weren’t fighting for space. they both just sat there, fully present, refusing to yield. silence didn’t bow to sound. sound didn’t drown out silence. they both just were. and then it hit me, hard, because i’ve been writing this exact tension into my world-building for months. without even realizing it. i thought of novaxiom!! my world of sound and silence magic!!! like what!

how i viewed it was: the high priestess is psinorism incarnate—the kind of sorcery that deletes vibrations, strips reality down to absence. and the three of cups? sonoric sorcery, through and through. reckless, chaotic, ripping through existence with nothing but raw vibration, bending reality just to see what it can twist into.

and then there’s the new magic system i’ve been playing with—preservation/consumption of sentience magic. and again, there they are. preservation is high priestess energy. magic locked away, held too tightly, never allowed to change or move for fear it’ll be lost. and consumption? the three of cups turned feral. a hungry, gnashing force that pulls everything into itself, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left untouched.

i sat with that realization for a long time. because it wasn’t just about my world-building—it was about me. where i’m standing, creatively and personally. the cards weren’t telling me to start thinking about balance or to seek some resolution.

they were saying, you’re already here. you’ve been here. now, embrace in it.

and that’s exactly what i’m doing going forward. sitting dead center in the unfolding tension. holding and portraying both sides—silence and sound, preservation and consumption—without bending or giving in to either. because it’s not about choosing one or the other. it’s about living in that chaotic middle space where they both exist at once. these cards didn’t offer me a clear path forward. no easy answers. no neat resolutions. but they did confirm something i needed to hear. that i’m already walking the right path. that the tension i’m holding? it’s part of the process. and that the universe, in its own strange, chaotic way, was giving me a little nod. keep going. you’ve got this.

so here i am. writing it. feeling it.

holding space for both forces crashing through me, trusting that somehow, they’ll shape something beautiful because the cards? they found me first and now i’m ready to listen.