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gayregis · 4 years ago

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Hello, I've been following you for a bit and have grown to like and understand your opinions with the witcher in general and decided to finally send you an ask, you seem really sweet so might send you multiple if you don't mind :) Anyway I have recently come into possession of the last wish book and I can't wait to read it. I was wondering what you're favorite part is? And how much you like the book in general? You've probably answered similar questions but couldn't hurt to ask for myself :)

thank you for the ask!! im so happy for your new acquisition! i personally really like the last wish and i think it’s one of the strongest witcher books. it sets all of the world and characters up really nicely for the sword of destiny and for the saga later on. ciri doesn’t make an appearance, but a question of price sets up her storyline nicely. every character has a very interesting and in-character debut scene which gives them something to grow from later on in the series as they develop more.

i don’t have just one favorite part, i have many... but here we are:

dandelion’s debut scene in the voice of reason 5 ... i love how it sets him up as geralt’s best friend, as an educated idiot, vodka enthusiast, flirt, etc... his character just seems very strong in this, and i love how his introduction comes as a kind of relief as his presence makes geralt less tense and anxious, geralt laughs genuinely in this scene for like one of the first times the audience has seen, and since we read from geralt’s perspective, this is very welcomed... when geralt gets so upset, it makes me upset as a reader trying to get into his mind... and i like how dandelion isn’t shy to rebuke geralt and tell him what for, i mean that’s their relationship in general, but this is the first time we’re seeing it. he levels with geralt and provides some advice but doesn’t coddle him and doesn’t shrink from him. he’s introduced as an equal and he stays an equal. maybe i like this scene more now due to twn, but it sticks in my head.

geralt and calanthe’s conversation in a question of price ... i think this scene really demonstrates what sapkowski is capable of with dialogue, how everything sort of turns back on itself and comes full-circle with being an “interesting dinner companion” ... and also, i love the urcheon/duny’s reveal, how calanthe is so clever to get him to reveal himself and take off his helmet! i love dramatic reveals of monster/inhuman/etc characters as i say in the next point, but it’s steeped in such courtly intrigue that it puts an interesting spin on it, because they have to (or at least try to) contend with official and legal manners of dealing with things

the fight with vereena in a grain of truth ... really great poetic writing in a combat scene from sapkowski here. i love how things become kind of disembodied towards the end, i feel the pov shifted to vereena as she died, with elements such as “floating, floating, floating...” and “there are fewer and fewer monsters? and i? what am i? who’s shouting? the birds? the woman in a sheepskin jacket? the roses from nazair? how quiet! hoe empty. what emptiness. within me...” ... it’s extremely haunting. in addition, i love the beginning and middle of the combat scene, too, i love how vereena just communicates in slight nods, a growing smile on her lips, until she smiles so widely she bares her fangs, geralt is taken by surprise and barely has time to yell before she screams him down, and how she transforms into a bat and slaps him in the face, how geralt casts heliotrope but is seeing spots in his vision anyways, how a slash which should have sundered the beast in two only produced a thin little red sliver which was healing already... its soooooo epic and it just demonstrates that even though geralt is a witcher, he is not powerful at all, and nivellen actually has to step in to save him.

torque’s reveal and the reading of the great booke in edge of the world ... maybe it’s just me but i love this silly goat. and i love how it’s dandelion’s arrogance that gets them into trouble with him, and how a small little sylvan can scare off two men with just some iron balls. and then they find out the villagers armed him with the iron balls themselves, and geralt and dandelion both slip into the archaic dialect of lower posada... it’s just funny ... just “careful, it’s contagious...”

yennefer’s debut in the last wish ... i like how yennefer doesn’t entertain geralt, doesn’t bow to him, and when he uses sarcasm she just electrocutes him with lightning from her hand. i love how her character is just sincerely not giving a fuck about anyone around her, especially because of how she develops later on.

geralt’s debut in the witcher ... it’s only a few pages, but i love his descriptions and dialogue, how he speaks “as if unsure,” how his leather jerkin is old, his boots are dusty, how no one carries a sword on his back except for him, and how he gets into the fight just because people fear and despise him for no reason besides he exists, it’s really heartfelt to also see him speak later in the short story and in the rest of the book, because we see how intelligent and funny he can be, that he’s no dangerous brute, but people see him as one.

all nenneke moments ever in the voice of reason. i love how she tells geralt “im not your mother” but she really is fulfilling a kind of motherly role to him, i love how she gives her opinions on yennefer and dandelion, i love how she threatens falwick and the knights with the jar...

honorable mentions, scenes i think are well written but they’re just not personally my favorites:

the ending of the last wish ... really great writing from sapkowski here, it’s very poetic, it’s sexual, but not graphic at all, it seems to dwell on the concept of love and what it means to be loved and to be vulnerable rather than the very specific sensation in the moment that geralt and yennefer experienced. it’s a sex scene, but it’s not pornographic, if that makes sense.

the conversation between geralt and filavandrel in edge of the world ... geralt is so eloquent and filavandrel is too, geralt describes how he has been othered but how he has to live with it, it is a conversation not between two characters, but it becomes more universal, a conflict that relates to the real world.

also sorryyyyy i dislike the lesser evil because it depresses me, as does the witcher... it’s basically the tower of the swallow of the short stories as it dwells on so much abuse and dispair of girls, it makes me uncomfortable to read. but they’re good stories, they just bum me out so i can only read them once or a couple of times (and not over and over again like with the other stories). so much death.

#the last wish #the witcher #moonlights-ordinance #ask

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lostinfantasies38 · 5 years ago

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5 Questions for Writers

Thanks for this wonderful writer tag @serial-chillr ! Tagged by @pikapeppa, @theaiobhan, @fandomn00blr

Sorry this took me so long to answer. I had to scour all my work to answer a couple of these.

1. Do you have a favourite character to write? Who and why?

Shit, this is hard. I love writing so many characters, but Alistair and Sirra are my favorites.

Sirra is unique with her dwarven perspective, and that tends to bleed into the rest of her life. She isn’t hardened by any means, but her worldview is admittedly different, though she always tries to save as many lives as possible. The last thing she ever wants to be is the callous Carta bitch Orzammar labeled her. But she is scrappy and feisty, an absolute badass in battle, and Ancestors help anyone who touches her friends and family.

Alistair is fun to write because he is sarcastic and witty, a fierce warrior who will wreck shop on the field, but he’s so insecure. His uncertainty and need for validation make him approachable and real. I have so many feelings about this man - it's absurd.

2. Do you have a favourite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

GIVE ME ALL THE TROPES!! I’m not sure if I have a favorite, per se. I love them all and I am liberal with them, as anyone who has read my work will attest. But I do love “friends to lovers,” “they were roommates,” and everyone’s favorite, “there was only one bed.”

Obviously, now that I am looking at these, I think this speaks to my need for fulfillment in proximity within my own life. There is intimacy inherent in sharing space with someone on the daily like ‘friends’ and ‘roommates’ and anytime you share a sleeping space with someone, even platonically, you form a bond. How far that bond progresses is up to both parties, but it doesn’t remove the foundation that now exists for something more to grow upon.

I write the things I lack, the things I want, the things that make me happy. Because let’s face it - we all live vicariously through our characters.

3. Share your favourite description you’ve written?

Fuuuuuck, this is hard! I am a very descriptive writer. But probably my Varric prompt that @somniaran sent me. You have to read the whole thing, but it’s too long to post here, so I’ll link it. Titled “Careworn.”

But here is a portion of Alistair’s memory of the fight with the Archdemon, from my Alistair/Rylie Trevelyan WIP. In this story, Elissa made the Ultimate Sacrifice.

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Lips crashed together and he pulled her as close to him as their armor would allow in a desperate final plea with each other. Elissa leaned out of the kiss and stared at him with her pale blue eyes that reminded him of whitecaps on the ocean – washed out sapphire ringed with gray, wholly unique and captivating.

“Goodbye.”

Alistair opened his mouth to argue with her again, but her thumb pressed against the pressure point in his neck that Zevran taught her during her assassin training. His knees buckled and his vision darkened from lack of oxygen. When he sank to the ground, Elissa finally removed her thumb, staring at him with a heartbroken expression before spinning on her heel to face destiny.

He was so weak that he could only watch as the Archdemon lifted its head in a final challenge to the woman barreling down on it. Alistair raked a hand along the gore-covered stone towards her and yelled hoarsely when she snatched a nearby sword. She slid under the dragon’s neck with sword tip raised and cleaved it in half. Elissa rolled out from under the mighty Archdemon and without hesitation slammed the blade through its head with an anguished shout.

Blinding light and heat filled the center of the tower, rapidly expanding to encompass the whole of the building. Alistair could barely see her in the white-hot halo, but his tainted blood located her directly in the center. She was the center. She was the light. A high-pitched keen rent the air, growing in intensity until it abruptly stopped. All sound in the city was extinguished and an eerie silence descended. The light shattered without warning and the shockwave of searing heat sent him flying across the tower, knocking him unconscious from the force of his landing on the stone.

4. Share your favourite dialogue you’ve written?

I have so many favorites!! But most of them are spoilers of WIPs and I don’t want to give too much away on them. So here is my favorite snippet from Sun Touched. Apologies if you are reading the story on AO3 and already know this segment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who are you? I specifically told Carroll not to let anyone cross the lake. We are dealing with a delicate situation here. You must leave immediately.”

Sirra bristled and took a bold step forward. “No. The mages are obligated to aid the Grey Wardens during a Blight. I didn’t come all the way here to be denied men for the scourge that threatens us all.”

The Templar narrowed his eyes, but didn’t speak. He simply appraised the dwarven woman whose fuse was as short as her stature. “The Circle is lost. Abominations and demons roam the halls. We were overrun and not prepared for such an onslaught. We’ve barred the doors to keep them out and are waiting for reinforcements from Denerim for the Right of Annulment.”

Alistair groaned and Leliana gasped at his pronouncement while Sirra huffed impatiently with her hands on her hips. "Oh, for the love of all the Paragons! What does that mean?”

Alistair snorted softly at her dwarven curse and murmured in her ear. “The mages are probably already dead. The Right allows for the Templars to kill everyone inside to prevent abominations escaping and any mages that might be alive from becoming possessed.”

Sirra reeled back in shock, staring at the older Templar, as fury bubbled within her. “They are mages! They have magic! They can’t all be dead! You locked them in there and left them to their fate like cowards!”

A hush descended on the room and he opened his mouth to refute her and regain his authority, but she cut him off with a slashing motion of her hand, glaring at him in defiance. “I’m going in and I will save them, which is what you should have done! And when I return you will aid me against the Blight or so help me, you won’t be begging the Maker to spare your life, you will beg me. Is that understood?”

“I assure you abominations are nothing to scoff about.” The Templar closed the gap between them and stared down at her imperiously, attempting to intimidate her.

Flicking her throwing knife into her palm, she tossed it casually in the air, catching it by the hilt with ease, a murderous glint in her dark gaze. “Do I look like I’m scoffing to you? I have confidence in my abilities. You really should thank me for doing your damn job, but if that’s below you then at the very least, get out of my fucking way. I have people to rescue.”

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

I have a few AU ideas, which would allow for some interesting scenes/scenarios, but I’m keeping them close to my chest right now. I don’t know that they will ever come to fruition, but if they do, I want them to be a surprise.

Thanks for tagging me, friends! Tagging forward to @bigfan-fanfic @ginnyq @darlingrutherford @ranawaytothedas @somniaran @jacklyn-flynn and anyone else who would like to play!

#writer tag #tag game #dragon age

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imwithmars · 6 years ago

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Flaunt Magazine 2004 interview

David Fincher – “It goes kind of like, ‘How can you tell when Jared is lying? His lips are moving.’”

Rock & Roles –

Flaunt Magazine, by Shari Roman

December 2004

“This is fantastic,” murmurs Jared Leto as the relentless Moroccan sun sears destiny into his bronzed, bare skin. He is sweating under his tight armor. His dark horse, Mateo, quivers beneath him and paws the ground nervously. A signal is given.

Leto howls a great animalistic yowl straight from his belly to the ears of the gods. There is another howl, then another. Thousands of voices fuse into one animal cry. A legion of alpha males surges forward to meet the enemy, Leto, blond hair hair streaming past his shoulders, muscular thighs gripped bareback on his galloping horse, rides hard into the thick of a bloody combat. His sword cuts through all who oppose him.

This is the filming of Oliver Stone’s Alexander and the legendary battle of Gaugamela, Alexander’s greatest victory over the Persians - a turning point in his conquest of the known world. Stone’s sweeping historical saga charts the life and the legend of one of the greatest figures in world history. The story is an epic that is a daring and ambitious as its subject, a relentless conqueror who, by the age of 32, had amassed the greatest empire the world hade ever seen.

Through the clouds of dust, Leto can see Colin Farrell as Alexander the Great, his massive blade slicing into flesh and sinew. There is the director, Oliver Stone, shouting, moving rapidly behind the camera line. There are hordes of men bellowing, bleeding, bodies everywhere. On the fringes lurks famed military trainer and Stone cohort, Captain Dale Dye. Today, the Captain isn’t wearing his favorite T-shirt emblazoned with the motto: “Pain is weakness leaving the body,” but Leto needs no reminders.

Leto has always propelled himself into physical extremes to live inside a character. As the champion runner Steve Prefontaine, he bled his feet to the bone. In the drug-fueled Requiem For A Dream, he reportedly swore off sex (with then girlfriend, Cameron Diaz) and lost 28 pounds to play a junky. Then there was Fight Club (he’d been recommended for the part his friend, fellow pretty boy, Brad Pitt.), in which he begged to have his angelic face beaten to a pulp by a jealous Ed Norton to prove his fealty. Suffering, pain, causality, creation through transformation. Leto has pledged himself above and beyond to those epithets years ago.

“Killing people face to face for a living, that was their job,” explains a laidback Leto a few months later from a low-key restaurant in Southern California. It’s early afternoon. His clothing is relaxed and he looks pleasantly tired.

“It’s not jet lag. I’m over that. I just couldn’t sleep.” It’s not due to time spent with his (purported) new, luscious It-girl Scarlett Johansson. He’s been concentrating on working on some new songs for his band, 30 Seconds To Mars, taking meetings between rehearsals before he heads off to New York and South Africa for three months to play another aggressor of sorts - an arms dealer - in the film Lord of War, with Nicolas Cage and director Andrew Niccol (Gattaca).

He is still pretty tan, making those pioneering blue eyes even more startling. His long, blonde warrior-god locks are gone now, dyed and clipped into a light brown Erik Estrada-style shag for the new movie. But there is still a trace of the Irish lilt he took on for Alexander. (Aside from gearing it toward Farrell’s natural tones, Stone’s rationale for the accent was that historically, the Macedonians were to the Greeks what the Irish have been to the English.) Most of the 15 pounds of muscle weight that he strapped on for the six-month shoot has slipped from his slim frame. Even so, the intensity of that experience is still on his mind and in his body.

“The film has plenty of f***ing and fighting and killing and death and blood. My job was to murder people and stand by Alexander.” who, according to history, was his best friend since childhood, and his lover.

“Hephaestion, the character I play, and [Alexander] have a really special connection. It’s a strong, strong relationship. I don’t think there is a term we have today to define their relationship,” he says, deliberately muddling around the oft-asked erotic question.

Farrell says, “There was no term for 'bisexuality’. It was just the way society was. People made love to men and women. It was only later on you had to pick one side of the fence.”

“But I promise you, in the film,” Leto teases, despite the magnetic charms of Farrell, and costars Rosario Dawson and Angelina Jolie, who play Alexander’s wife and mother, “the only kiss I gave out was to my horse. My one true love.”

He takes the tape recorder and places it gently against his chest, which holds within it the soul of a man who many have tried to reveal before. “I always tell the truth. What else do you want to know? What do people really want to know? What is the truth?” His face is a pure cheeky choir boy dare. “When have I ever not told you the truth? How can you tell that I’m lying?”

I remind him that the last time we met, he told me he owned three Uzis, that the first girl he kissed was a 47-year-old tranny named Jorge, that he was 19, raised by circus performers, and that he studied art at the American University of Paris for a semester, but was booted out when he wouldn’t give in to the attentions of the headmaster. And he wouldn’t back down to any of those “facts”.

He laughs. “Really? As Ronald Regan used to say, 'I have no memory of saying such things.’ ”

Says producer/director David Fincher, who worked with Leto on both Fight Club and Panic Room, “When it comes to his acting, he is beyond method. He gets into this whole image of his character. It is interesting how that kind of pain and sacrifice can translate. I mean, look at Requiem. I wish I had 100 Jareds working for me. He was amazing.

"Jared definitely strives not to be a victim of his genetics. On the films we did together, he was the guy who is constantly curious, the one you couldn’t bottle up. The one who wouldn’t hit his mark. He was like, 'Hey, I’m living it! Over here!’ But he does like to tell stories. It goes kind of like, 'How can you tell when Jared is lying? His lips are moving.’ ”

Leto, who prefers to see his playful fibbing as a way to keep his private life private, was born the day after Christmas, 33 years ago, in Bossier City, Louisiana. His mother was an artistic soul, and with his father out of the picture, he and his brother, Shannon (who is also in 30 Seconds To Mars), traveled a great deal while they were growing up. After a stint at New York’s School of Visual Arts, he says, he came to Los Angeles around 12 years ago with a couple hundred bucks in his pocket, no friends, and nowhere to stay. For awhile, he slept on Venice Beach. Then kaboom! a role on television’s My So-Called Life (opposite Claire Daines) and for the next few years, he reigned as a teen pinup - a tag and a look he has been successfully living down ever since.

According to Leto, “Luck is the residue of destiny.” It’s a phrase he’s heard which he likes very much. He feels it means that we can get caught up in so many things, but the world has what it has for us. That, in our natural state, everything is the way it’s supposed to be - free and joyous - and that our own insecurities get in the way of all that. It’s an idea which could be applied to his early life.

“When I was young, all that traveling was exciting,” says Leto. “You do develop an ability to read people more quickly. You have to learn to adapt to whatever comes along, to survive. Maybe the way I grew up is why I’m drawn to acting, to different characters. From film to film, I’m constantly finding myself, reaching different places outside and inside myself. I want to change, to morph into something else.” To be able to do that for Oliver Stone is a gift, says Leto. “He is one of my f***ing heroes. He is a great man. Present, connected, very physical. I find his way very endearing.”

To work with Stone, he traveled to Morocco, where the oncoming sunset had turned the world orange, into the color of dark rust. But the sky was growing dark, the golden scorpions were scuttling under the rocks, another sandstorm was moving toward the camp, fast.

Within moments, Leto, wearing his usual training gear - a T-shirt, tight shorts, boots covering his calves - couldn’t see two feet ahead of him. The sand whipped raw against his skin as he made for his tent. Inside, he tightened the flap and listened to the wind howl. He had switched off his cell phone, his e-mail. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in the U.S. for months. Apocalyptic fantasies crowded his brain. Many in the cast had already been horribly sick. There was a virus in the dust. His tent was next door to the latrine and he could hear cast and crew heave by the dozens.

One night, Leto got so sick, he thought he was going to toss a spleen.“I lay in bed for a couple of hours staring at the stars, just breathing really slow, willing it away. I fell asleep dreaming strange, surreal dreams. When I woke up, it was gone. That’s the desert.”

Says Dawson, “It was beyond primal, all those men bonding - horse training, fighting, all buffed up wearing nearly nothing. And as soon as a woman came on set, the energy was so damn erotic.

"One time Jared came to visit the hotel [where women stayed]. He was so happy to be there. He got to take a shower, have some proper food.So he’s talking, sitting there, and just sort of adjusting the package, not sexually, but in this slow, languorous way, like there was no one else around.It was all suited to his character, but I was like, 'Hey dude…’

"And he was like, 'I’m sorry! We’re out there in our underwear and boots all the time… maybe it’s got us a little too relaxed.’ Maybe. But it was all good.” She bats her eyes.“It was wonderful being around that kind of really masculine environment.”

“Oh, Rosario,” responds Leto, “she is so beautiful. Such a great woman.” He drops his head, smiling, not exactly asking for forgiveness.“Working on Alexander was an amazing experience. It’s all about connectivity. There is an old saying that the greatest leader is the servant of them all. Meaning, you are the most powerful when you are giving.”

“I think that as an artist, in any kind of expression of creation, that you must have to be in love with the process. It is the most exciting part of the work, and that if you have a desire for greatness, you will have to be willing to f***ing bleed. I think it’s true for me.That’s what drives me.”

He claps his hands over his face. “F***. People are going to read this and think, 'What the f***? Is weirdo Leto on crack? Hitting the old acid tab again.’ But honestly, it’s what I believe. One of my favorite things about getting older is that my intuition is often wrong.To me, it means I’m uncovering something new about the world.

#flaunt magazine #jared leto #2004 #interview #did i ever post this?#he used to give great and funny interviews

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coffeewithreviews-blog · 7 years ago

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From the Earth to the Shadows by Amanda Hocking + GIVEAWAY

The epic conclusion to the thrilling Valkyrie duology by New York Times bestselling YA author Amanda Hocking, From the Earth to the Shadows. While dealing with dark revelations about her life and her world, Malin finds herself with new allies--and new enemies. Her quest for the truth leads her to places she never thought possible, and she's never been one to shy away from a fight. But for all her strength and determination, will it be enough to save the world before it's too late?

Review:

From the Earth to the Shadows follows our badass main character, Malin, and her equally badass group of friends. The story picks up immediately where Between the Blade and the Heart (review for book one here) left off. This conclusion has everything, from romance to magic to action! Like I mentioned about the first book in this duology, it combines mythologies from all over the world to create an epic setting for the story to take place. This book has a more of a focus on Norse mythology, but it was great! Malin ventures deeper into the magical world that surrounds her. Friendships are strengthened, love is found, mysteries are unraveled, and destinies are questioned. The climax till the end of this story had me at the edge of my seat!

Unlike book one, the pace of this book is a bit slower. It takes a while for the story to build, but once it does, you won’t be able to put this one down! Keep in mind, the author spent a great deal of time describing the enticing world that she has built. She’s paid attention to every detail of her world. If you’re into very descriptive fantasy, then this is the series for you!

Just like Between the Blade and the Heart, From the Earth to the Shadows is gripping and riveting! The cast of characters is racially and culturally diverse and there is also LGBTQ+ representation!

Great world-building, dynamic female characters, and representation! What could be better!

Does this series sound awesome or what? If you haven’t read Between the Blade and the Heart, you can read Chapter 1 here. If you have, and you’re dying to find out what Malin and the gang are up to, here’s a sneak peek:

ONE The air that fogged around me was thick enough that I could taste it—earthy and wet, with a trace of salt. It stuck to my skin, which was already slick with sweat, and that only seemed to attract more insects. They buzzed around me, leaving burning little bites in my flesh. I wanted to swat them off, but I couldn’t. I had to stay perfectly still, or the Kalanoro would spot me too soon. The oversaturation of green in the jungles of Panama had been a strange adjustment from the smog and bright lights of the city. Out here, it was an endless emerald sea: the plants and trees, the rivers, were all varying shades of green—even the sky was blotted out by a thick canopy of leaves. This wasn’t where I wanted to be, crouched motionless in the mud with a giant millipede crawling over my foot. Not when Asher was still gone, held captive in Kurnugia by the underworld goddess Ereshkigal and her mad centaur boyfriend, Gugalanna. Not when the fate of the world felt heavy on my shoulders, with Ereshkigal attempting an uprising that would unleash the underworld on earth. It had only been three days since I’d gone to the Gates of Kurnugia, along with Oona, Quinn, Asher, and Atlas to aid me. I’d wanted to avenge my mother—and I had killed the draugr that had killed her—but all of that may have set off a chain of events that would bring about the end of days. And I had lost the guy I … well, not loved. Not yet. But I cared about him. All I wanted to do was rescue him. But I couldn’t. There was too much at stake. I couldn’t let my heart get the best of me. I had to hold it together, and follow my orders. After Gugalanna had pulled Asher down into the underworld where I could not follow, the rest of us had gone to Caana City in Belize. It was the safest city near the Gates of Kurnugia, and Oona needed medical intervention to survive. She was on the mend now, and that’s why I had left her behind, with Quinn and Atlas. I didn’t want to risk losing them the way I had Asher, and I was on a special assignment, coming directly from the Valkyries’ highest authority—Odin. Odin had found me outside of the hospital where Oona was being treated. I had never met him before, and, like most of the Vanir gods, he changed his appearance to suit his needs, so I hadn’t recognized him. He towered over me in his tailored suit, with his left eyelid withered shut. He had a deep rumble of a voice, with a softly lilting accent, and a grim expression. His large raven, Muninn, had been watching over me, but when I tried to press him for a reason why, he had told me that there wasn’t time to explain. “I need you to go deep into the heart of the jungle, where no man dares to live,” Odin explained, as we had stood in the eerily silent parking lot in Caana City. “You must retrieve something for me.” “Why can’t you retrieve it yourself?” I asked bluntly. I wasn’t being rude, but the reality was that Odin was a powerful god, and I was just a young mortal Valkyrie-in-training. He had far more knowledge and power than I could ever hope to have. “I’m not allowed to meddle in the affairs of humans or any of the other earthly beings,” Odin clarified. “But…” I trailed off, gathering the courage to ask, “What is this you’re doing now, then? Isn’t directing me to get something for you the same as meddling?” A sly smile played on his lips, and he replied, “There are a few loopholes, and I think it’s best if I take advantage of one now. If you want to save your friend, and everyone else that matters to you, you need to act quickly.” “What is it that you need me to get?” I asked, since I didn’t seem to have a choice. “The Valhallan cloak,” he explained. “It was stolen centuries ago by a trickster god—I honestly can’t remember which one anymore—and he hid it with the Kalanoro of Panama.” “The Kalanoro?” I groaned reflexively. Having dealt with them before, I already knew how horrible they were. If piranhas lived on land, they would behave a lot like the Kalanoro. They were small primate-like creatures, standing no more than two feet tall, and they vaguely resembled the aye-aye lemur. The biggest differences were that the Kalanoro were tailless, since they lived mostly on the ground, and they had razor-sharp claws on their elongated fingers and a mouth of jagged teeth they used to tear apart the flesh of their prey. “What is the Valhallan cloak, and how will I find it?” I asked Odin. “You’ll know when you see it. It’s an oversized cloak, but the fabric looks like the heavens. The rumors are that the Kalanoro were attracted to the magic of the cloak, though they didn’t understand it, so they took it back to their cave,” Odin elaborated. “They apparently have been guarding it like a treasure.” “So I have to go into the treacherous jungle, find the man-eating Kalanoro, and steal their favorite possession?” I asked dryly. “No problem.” Which was how I ended up in the jungle, alone, in the heart of Kalanoro country—at least, that’s what the nearest locals had purported. In front of me, on the other side of a very shallow but rapidly moving stream, was the mouth of a cave. The cave I hoped was the home of the Kalanoro, but I was waiting to see one for official confirmation. Sweat slid down my temples, and a large dragonfly flew overhead. The trees around me were a cacophony of sounds—monkeys and frogs and birds and insects of all kinds, talking to one another, warning of danger, and shouting out mating calls. Back in the city, beings and creatures of all kinds lived among each other, but there were rules. The jungle was not bound by any laws. I was not welcome, and I was not safe here. I heard the crunch of a branch—too loud and too close to be another insect. I turned my head slowly toward the sound, and I saw movement in the bushes right beside me. Tall dark quills, poking out above the leaves, and I tried to remember if the Kalanoro had any quill-like fur. I didn’t have to wonder for very long because a head poked out of the bushes, appearing to grin at me through a mouthful of jagged fangs and a face like an alien hyena. The leathery green skin, mottled with darker speckles, blended in perfectly with the surroundings, with a mohawk-like row of sharp quills running down its back. It wasn’t a Kalanoro—it was something much worse. I found myself face-to-face with a Chupacabra. TWO The Chupacabra—much like dolphins, dogs, and quokkas—had the uncanny ability to appear to be smiling. Unlike those contemporaries, there was nothing adorable or friendly about this Chupacabra’s smile. It was all serrated teeth, with bits of rotten meat stuck between them, and a black tongue lolling around his mouth. “You don’t want do this,” I told the beast softly, even though he probably didn’t understand English. I kept my gaze locked on the Chupacabra, but my hand was at my hip, slowly unsheathing my sword Sigrún. The name came from my ancestors, as had the blade itself. It had been passed down from Valkyrie to daughter for centuries. Sigrún was a thick blade made of dark purple crystal, so dark it appeared black, but it would glow bright brilliant purple when I was working. It was short and angled, like it had been broken off in battle. Maybe it had—the full history of my blade was unknown to me. But the handle was a black utilitarian replacement. It had been my mother’s gift to me on my eighteenth birthday. Her final gift to me, well over a year ago. The Chupacabra stared at me with oversized teardrop-shaped eyes and took a step closer to me, letting out a soft rumble of a growl. Valkyries weren’t supposed to kill anyone or anything they were not specifically ordered to kill. The one exception was self-defense. Since I was on an unsanctioned mission into territory I had no business being in, this would all get very messy if I had to kill a Chupacabra. But the hard truth was that I was beyond worrying about my career as a Valkyrie. I would do whatever I needed to do. When the Chupacabra lunged at me, I drew my sword without hesitation. Since this wasn’t an official “job,” my blade didn’t glow purple, but it sliced through the leathery hide as easily as I knew it would. I didn’t want to kill the creature if I didn’t have to—after all, he was merely going about his life in the jungle. So my first blow was only a warning that left him with a painful but shallow cut across his shoulder. He let out an enraged howl, causing birds to take flight and all sorts of smaller animals to go rushing deeper into the underbrush. From the corner of my eye, I spotted several Kalanoro darting across the stream back toward their cave. They had been watching me. The Chupacabra had stepped back from me, but by the determined grin on his face I didn’t think he was ready to give up yet. He circled around me, and I turned with him, stepping carefully to keep from slipping in the mud. “This is stupid,” I said, reasoning with the animal. “We should both go our separate ways, and you can go back to eating … well, I think you mostly eat the Kalanoro and birds.” Apparently growing tired of my attempts at talking, the Chupacabra snarled and jumped at me again. I dodged out of the way, but he kicked off of the tree behind and instantly dove at me. I didn’t move quick enough this time, and he knocked me to the ground. Fortunately, I fell on my back, with one of his feet pinning me and his claws digging into my shoulder. I put one hand around his long, slender throat, barely managing to hold him back as he gnashed his teeth. With one of my arms pinned, he was too strong for me, and I wouldn’t be able to throw him off. As his thick saliva dripped down onto me, I knew there was only one thing I could do if I wanted to survive. I drove my sword up through his breastbone, using all my might. He howled in pain, but only for a second, before falling silent and slumping forward onto me. I crawled out from underneath him, now covered in mud and his thick green blood, along with my own fresh red blood springing from the wounds on my bare arms and shoulder. In the mouth of the cave across from me, two dozen or so beady little green eyes glowed. The Kalanoro were crouched down, watching me. So much for the element of surprise. My hair had come free from the braid I’d been wearing, and it stuck to my forehead. I reached up to brush it back, and the Kalanoro let out a squawk of surprise, and one darted off into the woods. That’s when I realized the Kalanoro were afraid of me. I glanced over at the Chupacabra—the Kalanoro’s number-one predator, and I had left it dead and bleeding into the stream. They were right to fear me. I tested my new hypothesis and stepped closer to the mouth of the cave, and the Kalanoro screeched and scattered. Most of them ran into the woods, but a few went deeper into the cave. My fight with the Chupacabra had left them far more skittish than I had anticipated, and I doubted that I would need my sword for them, so I sheathed Sigrún. I unhooked my asp baton from my hip and pulled my flashlight out from my gear bag. I took a deep breath and walked toward the cave, hoping that this wasn’t a trap where they would all pounce and devour me the second I stepped inside. As I walked into the cave, I heard them chittering and scurrying, but it reminded me more of a rat infestation than man-eating primates. Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I shone the flashlight around the narrow cavern. The beam of light flashed on a few pairs of eyes, but they quickly disappeared into the darkness. The entrance of the cave stood well over eight feet, but as I walked, the ceiling height dropped considerably. Very soon I had to crouch down to venture farther. The ground was slick with Kalanoro droppings and bat guano, and it smelled like a musty cellar that doubled as a litter box. Tiny bones of partially digested meals crunched underneath the heavy soles of my boots. My flashlight glinted on something, and I crouched down to inspect it. It was an old pocket watch, the face broken and the gears rusted, but it had once definitely belonged to a human. Near the watch was another trinket—an old walkie-talkie. That’s when I realized it was a trail of treasures, piling up more as I went deeper into the cave. Old car parts, a titanium hip replacement, and even what appeared to be a wedding band. The Kalanoro apparently loved hoarding shiny things. On the ground a few feet ahead of me, I spotted something particularly sparkly. It looked like stars, shimmering and glowing from a puddle on the floor. By now I had to crawl on my knees, since the ceiling was so low. As I reached for those stars, a Kalanoro leapt out from the darkness. Its rows of teeth dug painfully into my right arm, and I beat it back with my asp baton. It took three hits before it finally let go and ran off screaming. I grabbed at the stars, picking up a satiny fabric. The way it glimmered, it looked exactly like the night sky, and I now understood what Odin meant by looking “like the heavens.” This had to be the Valhallan cloak. I hurriedly shoved it into my gear bag. The Kalanoro couldn’t be happy about me stealing their treasure, so I had to get out fast. I raced out of the cave and gulped down the fresh air. Around me, the trees had changed their tune, from the normal song of the jungle to something far more shrill and angry. I could hear the Kalanoro growling and screeching at each other, sounding like high-pitched howler monkeys. They were enraged, and they were chasing after me. It was a ten-kilometer hike downhill, through thick forests, to the nearest village. There I would be able to clean up and catch the hyperbus back to Caana City. Back to meet Odin. The Kalanoro were now alerting the entire jungle to my presence, and even as I hurried ahead, deftly moving through the trees, I could hear them following me. I ran down the hill, skittering through the mud and branches, swatting back giant bugs and the occasional surprised snake. My legs ached and my lungs burned but I pressed on, running as fast as I could. I had to make it to the town before dark, because I doubted the Kalanoro would let me out alive. Copyright © 2018 by Amanda Hocking in From the Earth to the Shadows and reprinted with permission from Wednesday Books.

Amanda Hocking is the author of over twenty young adult novels, including the New York Times bestselling Trylle Trilogy and Kanin Chronicles. Her love of pop culture and all things paranormal influence her writing. She spends her time in Minnesota, taking care of her menagerie of pets and working on her next book.

Author Website: http://www.worldofamandahocking.com/

Twitter: @Amanda_Hocking

Facebook: @AmandaHockingFans

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