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prettylittlelyres · 1 month

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Violins and Violets - Series - WIP page

1784: Katharina Schmidt and her brother Hans grew up composing and performing music for royalty all over Europe. Now they are adults, only Hans is allowed to pursue his music, while Katharina's father tells her it's time to find a husband and settle down. Katharina's attempts to do as she's told only convince her that it's not what she wants to do, and she must decide how far she's willing to go to keep making music.

Hello, friends! It's been a minute since I updated the links on my blog, and I have just seen that I still have the "Beta Readers Wanted" post linked to the "Violins and Violets (WIP)" button... from the draft I finished and started querying in 2019 / 2020!

Things have... changed somewhat since then...

"Violins and Violets" is now a series, of (I expect) five books. None of them have titles yet, so I'm just referring to them as "Violins and Violets 1," etc. I thought it was time to make a new WIP page.

Book 1 tag - WIP page - first draft completed in December 2023, working on second draft in March and April 2024. (Earlier titled "Ladies Don't Write Music" - but this may be a better name for Book 2.)

Book 2 tag - first draft completed in January 2024, hoping to write second draft in November and December 2024.

Book 3 tag - early planning stages, hoping to create outline in May 2024, with a view to writing the first draft in June, July and August 2024. Hoping to redraft in 2025.

Book 4 tag - hoping to plan and draft in 2025.

Book 5 tag - hoping to plan and draft in 2025 or 2026.

Series tag - all posts made about "Violins and Violets" since I realised it needed to be a series, no matter what book I'm talking about.

Everything "Violins and Violets" - the whole story, right from the beginning, when I started writing the first draft of a single book for Camp NaNoWriMo in April 2018.

One-Shots - short stories that I've written for the "Violins and Violets" world.

"Vogeltje" - another novel that takes place in the same world, and features some of the same characters.

I'm trying to bring each book in somewhere around 75,000 words, taking three months to write a first draft, and two months for each subsequent draft. I find it easier to focus on the story proper when I write quickly and regularly, so when I have a draft on the go, I try to write every day. Between drafts, I am trying to take whole months off writing, so that I can rest my creative muscles, as it were.

You can follow my progress here on my writeblr, and on the NaNoWriMo website.

Characters:

Katharina Schmidt - musical prodigy and composer who performed for royalty as a child, but is no longer allowed, because she's a woman. Disguises herself as "Sebastien", and flees Salzburg to start a composing career in Prague

Hans Schmidt - brother of Katharina, who is also a musical prodigy and composer, but is allowed to pursue his music as an adult.

Franz Schmidt - solicitor; father of Katharina and Hans, who wants to see his daughter married well enough to put silly ideas of music out of her head.

Julia Schmidt - lady of leisure; mother of Katharina and Hans; wife of Franz, who loves to make tapestries and knitted garments; wants the best for her children and is willing to let Franz decide what this is.

Barbara Kirkmann - housemaid to the Schmidts, Katharina's closest friend and confidante.

Elisabeth Meyer - daughter of Franz' boss, Katharina's first "acceptable" friend, and the oldest sister of many siblings; keen to get married and start a life of her own.

Miléna von Tritten - Elisabeth's best friend, and daughter of one of the Meyer firm's wealthiest clients, Baron von Tritten; expected to marry a noble, but totally absorbed in Johann Schneider.

Johann Schneider - training to be a magistrate, under pressure to get married, but totally uninterested in... anyone? All the ladies want him; none of them can catch him. Absolutely tone-deaf, but loves to watch musicians play; friends with Katharina.

Louisa Schneider - Johann's younger sister, also tone-deaf, but keen to become a musician under Katharina's tutelage.

Magdalena Fialová - an opera singer who wants to get more young women into music; one of "Sebastien's" first and best friends in Prague.

Miklós Kovács - a fellow violinist who persuades the management of the Malá Strana Opera House to give "Sebastien" an audition. Best friend of Magdalena, and very close with "Sebastien".

Background:

Yes, Katharina Schmidt is based on Maria Anna "Nannerl" Mozart, who deserved a much better life than she got. I have always wondered what would have happened if she had defied her father when he told her to stop composing. Would she have known as much fame as her brother?

Yes, Katharina Schmidt is a lesbian. That's because she's only based on a real person; she isn't actually Nannerl Mozart. I have no idea what Nannerl Mozart would have called herself, or how she felt, and I think it would be rude for me to try to guess. This part of Katharina's character is inspired less by history than by my own experiences and desire to see more representation of Queer people in historical fiction. (She's not the only person in the series who isn't straight! Who are the others? You'll have to read the books to find out... or just follow here; I'm yappy about it.)

#writeblr #blog #violins and violets #violins and violets series #historical fiction #amediting #sapphic #histfic #scrivener #wip page #wip masterpost #writeblr wip #work in progress

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vanessaroades-author · 1 year

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🌺 Sign up for ARCs here! 🌺

Scroll through the images for the full blurb! Full list of content warnings are on the ARC sign up page.

I expect to send out ARCs via email in the first week of May. Honest reviews are greatly appreciated~

If anyone wants a slow-burn exploration of warring religions & gods told through mortal elves with so...so many issues, I’ve got you covered. (I hope.)

#wip: deep roots #wip: realmweaver #ARC books #advance reader copy #advance review copy #writeblr community #fantasy writeblr #writeblr wip #queer fantasy books #lgbt fantasy books

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theboarsbride · 10 months

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WIP Intro - Temperance & Mr. Wyrm.

Title: Temperance & Mr. Wyrm

Genre: Body horror, romance, magical realism, drama, historical fiction (1980s), fairytale/folklore retelling (Prince Lindworm), novella.

Status: Second draft/revisions

Themes: Shedding skins - literally and figuratively - to grow into a new person; temperance (in regards to self-restraint and suppression against impulses); survival and faithfulness of love.

Content Warnings: General body horror, snake imagery, ableist language regarding autism, general socio-political norms of the 1980s (though I will keep this to a minimum as I feel like I don’t need to stick 100% true to the period. However, given how illness and healing is the core plotline, the whole being “afraid of AIDs” will make a brief appearance).

Synopsis: Two people try to navigate their unorthodox romance in spite of an arcane, snake-like infection that affects one of them.

Temperance Cavell, a six-foot tall autistic woman living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, lives a quiet, unexciting, and demure existence running a convenience store with her mother. But despite her mother's overbearing nature, the nonstop caring of her ailing grandmother, and her near-nonexistent social life, she cannot complain. This life is quiet, she’s (somewhat) in control, and nothing is unexpected…

That is until Jack Turner, the motorcycle-riding kleptomaniac with a heart of gold, bursts into her store one Saturday afternoon, and between them a romance reluctantly blooms. That is until such love is swiftly threatened to shatter when Jack’s body begins to betray him, contorting him into something that is completely, and utterly, non-human.

WIP Pinterest Board

***

would you still love me if i was a wyrm?

just a redo of this WIP intro for TAMW because the old one was slightly outdated and I wasn't a huge fan of it lmfao

The tag for this story is #WIP : temperance and mr. wyrm if you're interested in learning more about this story!

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loveguts · 1 year

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this is one of my favorite things i’ve written i think

#my writing #my wip #writeblr #writeblr wip #horror writeblr #writing community #gore cw #blood cw #saturn’s son

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leebrontide · 1 year

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WIP Intro: Names in Their Blood

Title: Names in Their Blood

Format: Novel

Series: Second Sentinels. This is book 2 in the series. Book 1 is currently free as an ebook, or for actual money in paper or audiobook.

Genre: Near future scifi/ low neon cyberpunk/ superheroes/ small town mystery/ little bit Midwest gothic?/ YA into NA. Trust me it all works together I swear.

Status: Release date set! July 4th, 2024!

Themes: Disability, bodily autonomy, identity, queerness, ethics

Tropes: Missing people, secret identities, found family, meetcute, meetugly, the monster within, dodgy government body, reunions

Synopsis Four queer teens on the fringes of the superheroing world head to a small town in Minnesota for what’s supposed to be a month off. Officially, they’re there for some stressful family reunions and to use the only full hospital for genetically altered people in the US. But, when they realize that the government beuro that gives the Sentinels their missions has been hiding the disappearances of missing alterds for years, it sets them in the path of a mission that has them questioning who they can trust.

Meet the characters under the cut, and/or leave any kind of comment to be tagged in future posts about this project!

Characters

(Age 18)

Opal hadn’t realized when she came to Chicago to join the Sentinels that she’d be joining an extremely complicated family. She certainty didn’t plan to start dating the former team leader’s fierce but fragile daughter. But how can she feel like she belongs here when she can’t pick a superhero name, every effort she makes to reform the corruption in superheroing blows up in her face, her superiors are mad at her, and her girlfreind is holding resentments Opal doesn’t understand? At least she finally gets to stay in a fancy, romantic Victorian manor house.

(Age 18)

As the non-superpowered oldest child of legendary hero LodeStar and medical technologies magnate Dr Melissa Tillman, Issac’s born the brunt of much of the worst of growing up embroiled in the world of superheroes. That’s included kidnapping, threats of torture, and losses he doesn’t know how to cope with. Now, he’s trying to set aside his resentment and focus on being a good adoptive dad to the world’s first feeling, sentient AI. But it’s hard to prove you deserve custody of such a powerful kid when you’re struggling to cope with a new disability and you technically have a felony hanging over your head for developing illegal brain-altering nanites.

(Age 17)

The middle child in Sentinel Plaza, xe may call a different superhero xyr father, but has always considered Issac and Jamie xyr siblings. Now that xe knows that some survivors of the genetic-engineering cultist that built xyr father’s first family are still alive, xe has to contend with the fears, connections, and obligations xe’s inherited. The worst injury of xyr life so far, and a growing fear that xe's a danger to the people around xyr isn’t making competing loyalties any easier to deal with.

(Age 17)

After years of very temporary fostercare placements it’s almost a relief to live full time in Coldwater Clinic Hospital, where nobody is paying that much attention to her anymore. When she met a retired superhero, and they saved each other, she counted herself lucky. But now that heroes old family are in town, with very mixed feelings about the new teenager in their lost family members life. Between the 7ft superhero trainee giving her palpitations and the potentially evil scientist suddenly hanging around her defacto home, her secrets- and her heart- might be in danger.

(Age 17)

Now that she’s no longer the youngest in the family thanks to her AI nibbling, Jamie wants to let go of her bitterness for all the ways she’s been left behind, and think about her future. It’s nobodies fault that she didn’t inherit her dad’s superpowers, even if she did get his temperament, and she knows that while Opal may appreciate her acerbic sense of humor, bitternes isn’t going to help her keep the girlfriend she doesn’t really think she deserves. When she gets an offer that would put dreams she gave up long ago within her reach, she has to choose. Will she follow in the other Sentinel's footsteps- all the way to her own self-destruction?

Comment to let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! Also, my askbox is always open to questions!

ADDED: Playlist on Spotify

#WIP intro #Writeblr #ya books #scifi #Writeblr WIP #Second Sentinels #Names in Their Blood

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your-absent-father · 13 days

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This is the prologue (or at least part) of False Gods)

FALSE GODS DOCUMENTARY SCRIPT VERSION 2

[It should start in a complete darkness]

LOVE BRADLEY (V.O.):

We all need something to believe in. Some of us find that satisfaction in God itself, or some god in some religion maybe not many believe in. That belief though, doesn't always have to be towards anything that we usually connect spirituality and belief towards. More than ever these days, we connect that blind belief and connection towards some other person, or group that feels bigger than human, almost like False Gods old testament warned us from.

[Revealing headlines and photos of False Gods and their accolades, contrasting with snippets of articles about the False Gods scandal.]

LOVE BRADLEY (V.O.):

We act as though the idols, actresses… singers, are more than humans we worship for giving us comfort in bad times, or happiness when we don’t get it from anything else. Well, till they show how human they really are.

[Cut to me, sitting behind the cluttered desk full of research, looking directly into the camera.]

LOVE BRADLEY:

Today on Love and Murder, we delve deep into the False Gods scandal, and the trial of Beatrix Jones, one that has now become a media frenzy. What makes a human want to say yes to a deal of fame and crime? Who really are the quartet behind False Gods? And most importantly, who really is Beatrix Jones, the woman in the center of all of this?

[Flashes of news clips, courtroom footage, and photos of Beatrix Jones and the other members of False Gods.]

LOVE BRADLEY (V.O.):

My name is Love Bradley. Welcome to Love and Murder: False Gods and True Prophets.

#writeblr #writing #wip #writing snippet #snippets #snippet #wip: fg #writeblr wip

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kahvilahuhut · 9 months

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🔭 wip intro: cynosure

(please note that this is a temporary intro)

When discovering other neighboring civilizations and teaming up with then, humans gained access to technologies they never though they could have - quick space travel, way to send messages to planets in different systems, and terraforming. While most are keen on exploring the new worlds, some on the Earth still haven't forgotten one of their biggest goals. Terraforming Mars.

It's been ten years since the first group of settlers arrived to Mars. While the terraforming technology, construction robots, farming robots and a few specialists from other planets have already made it a habitable little colony when they arrived, there are still problems. The leaders have divided into groups based on what industry they want Mars to concentrate on, where should they live and, most importantly, how to keep the big, bad caring Earth happy with progress.

Quinn has dreamed of leaving Earth, partly to escape some things in his life and partly to see the world. But dealing with lots of aliens on other planets seems like a step too big for him to take. Joining a fresh colony on Mars, on the other hand, might work well. He thinks of all the opportunities there will be, as he sneaks into the ship with a stolen ID from one of those chosen for the second group of colonists, who might have gotten a bit too drunk in the bar. Quinn did leave him an apology letter, though.

🔭 --------------

Genre: sci-fi POV: 1st person Type: Mix of novel and graphic novel Includes: Politics & societal problems of a new colony, Mars (<3), space criminals, some slice of life and many more Status: brainstorming

🔭 --------------

Taglist (reply/write in tags if you want to be added!):

@odysseywritings @graveyardescape @void-botanist @kingkendrick7

#writeblr #writeblr wip #writeblr wip intro #wip intro #wip introduction #writing community #writers on tumblr

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mxxnlightwriting · 7 months

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A Spark of Magic — A WIP Masterlist by mxxnlightwriting

— Logline —

After Isaac's life is turned upside down due to turning into a merfolk every time he comes in contact with water, he needs a witch's help to get his life back and this situation under control. The problem? The only witch available can't stand him and refuses to help him. Thankfully, Isaac isn't one to give that easily.

— Details —

— Features —

unexpected friends, dislike to lovers, witches, merfolk, shapeshifters, werewolves, made-up folklore, magical abilities, teenagers being teenagers, the weight of decisions you're not 100% sure of, family, identity, friendship, small town in the woods vibe, and more!

— Index —

All Posts

About

Character Profiles

Inspiration

Excerpts

Moodboards

Playlist

Tari's Note: When I feel like procrastinating on a WIP, I focus on another one. This was the chosen one! I have had it on the back burner for a long time, and with the spooky season right around the corner, it felt right to bring it back. You can join this WIP's taglist by dropping me an ask, a comment or reblog letting me know you're interested! That way, you never miss a post, and you get tagged on all the news related to this WIP (including when I start posting it on Wattpad).

#writeblr #writeblr wip #wip intro #amwriting #wtwcommunity #writers on tumblr #wip introduction #new writing project #creative writing #writers community #fantasy novel #fantasy fiction #low fantasy #urban fantasy #fantasy writing #original writing #original fiction #original story #wip: a spark of magic

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karolinarodrigueswrites · 1 year

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Updated wip intro made on canva with images from stock photos and windswept picrew by Elena-illustration.

A poly fake dating romance with a "golden retriever", a "heartless heiress", a "beauty to beware of", and an "all bark and all bite bastard" -- and, yes, the fake dating does happen as a polycule, not just between the possible individual pairings.

#kr writes #cft wip #writeblr #wip intro #writeblr wip #writers on tumblr

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writerfae · 1 year

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Sonntagskind - A Short Story Collection 🕯️

„Die Menschen lieben die Dämmerung mehr als den hellen Tag, und eben in der Dämmerung erscheinen die Gespenster." (Goethe)

Born on a Sunday, the young seamstress Marie was blessed with a special gift. She can see ghosts, the wandering souls of those who once were.

When Marie discovers her ability after an eerie experience in her new hometown, her life is never quite the same again.

Strange encounters with the other side soon become as familiar to her as needle and thread and sometimes the ghosts of her little village seem as close to her as the villagers who live there.

✢ Short stories ✢

Totenmesse

…

✢ Characters ✢

Marie

Emilia

🕯️

*If you’re interested in being tagged in this let me know!*

(tagging some people who seemed interested: @avrablake @saphoblin @abalonetea and @bluehourskyeli)

#fun fact: Marie wasn’t just born on a Sunday but on a Totensonntag so a day dedicated to honoring the dead #also she actually rediscovered her ability #writer speaks #writeblr #wip: sonntagskind #writing #my writing #writeblr wip #new wip #short story collection

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araavib · 1 month

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CHAPTER ONE

In the quiet void of Ellowyn's consciousness, a hazy awareness began to merge. Colors, distorted and unfamiliar, bled into focus. A forest loomed around her, a sinister performance of nature's serenity. The trees, stoic guardians, were not the verdant pillars of life but solemn shadows clad in blackened bark. They stood tall, their branches like gnarled fingers clawing at the bone-white sky that cast an eerie, pallid light upon the landscape.

Beneath her, the ground cradled her form with an unfamiliar softness. Beige grass, gentle as a sigh, cushioned her every movement. It was a peculiar hue, caught between the melancholy of forgotten dreams and the muted glow of a realm caught between reality and unreality.

With uncertainty knotting her brow, Ellowyn took a cautious step forward. The air, thick with an otherworldly hush, carried the scent of ancient moss and distant whispers. But her movement was met with an abrupt intrusion—a deafening cacophony of rushing water assaulted her senses. In panic, she clutched her ears, a reflex against the assault, and a startled yelp escaped her lips.

As abruptly as it had begun, the deafening deluge ceased. Silence enveloped her once more, save for the mournful howling of the wind that now seemed to dance with greater intensity. Ellowyn's breath hitched in her throat, her pulse racing as she dared to look around. The sky, once bone-white, had intensified into a blinding brightness, an unnatural glare that illuminated the ominous forest with a ghastly sheen.

With each step, the world around Ellowyn seemed to shift, its very fabric manipulating her senses. A haunting trickle of water, like spectral whispers, danced around her ears. Her heart pounded like scared prey, forewarning of the impending torrent. And then it came again, an unrelenting roar that stole her breath, leaving her grasping at her chest, throat constricted in a phantom grip.

She became aware of the chill seeping through her skin, realizing for the first time that her body was damp. A pale gown, once dry and pristine, now clung to her like a second skin, and her tousled blonde hair stuck to her face in damp tendrils. The forest seemed to weep with her, drops of water hanging like mournful tears from the blackened branches overhead.

She shivered, not just from the wet chill, but from a bone-deep confusion that wrapped around her like a constricting fog. The ground beneath her, once a comforting embrace, now felt foreign and uncertain. She looked down at herself, fingers tracing the damp fabric of her gown, a simple reminder that nothing here made sense.

And then, like a distant memory, a voice shattered the strange serenity. “"Ellowyn!” The scream cut through the air, agonizing and mournful, a plea laden with desperation. For a fleeting moment, it felt like the echo of a time long gone, a familiar chord striking a dissonant note in the symphony of the unreal. But as quickly as the cry had come, it vanished, leaving only the eerie stillness in its wake.

Confusion etched across Ellowyn's features, her brows knitting together as she nervously scanned the bizarre landscape. The trees stood silent and unmoving. There was an unsettling quiet, broken only by the persistent howling of the wind.

A sudden, thunderous roar shattered the fragile calm. Ellowyn's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in awe and trepidation. The trees ahead of her parted like curtains drawn in a grand revelation. And there, bathed in an ethereal white glow, stood a colossal tree—a living monument.

It stood at the heart of the forest, an ancient giant bathed in a radiant white glow that shimmered like ethereal moonlight. Its trunk, colossal and gnarled, bore markings that seemed to shift and writhe like living tattoos, telling stories of ages long past. Branches, thick and sinewy, extended outward, their tips adorned with ghostly, luminescent leaves that danced in an unseen breeze.

She hesitated, uncertainty playing across her features. The invitation hung in the air, palpable yet intangible. It beckoned her forward, whispering promises of answers to the questions that swirled in her mind like the restless wind. Ellowyn swallowed hard, the weight of the unknown pressing against her chest. And though fear clung to her like the dampness on her gown, she felt an inexorable pull. A breath escaped her lips, a mingling of fear and a strange exhilaration as she dared to approach the colossal trunk.

As she neared the tree, its roots sprawled wide and vast, like ancient serpents slumbering beneath the earth. Some were thick as barrels, their surface etched with strange symbols that seemed to shimmer and shift, telling tales of forgotten epochs. Ellowyn navigated the tangled maze of roots, some rising like colossal walls that forced her to clamber over, their gnarled surfaces cool against her touch.

With each step closer, a strange sensation coursed through her—whispers, fragments of voices, a disjointed chorus of memories that flickered and vanished like ghostly phantasms. Her heart raced, a mixture of fear and exhilaration pounding in her chest. The voices felt familiar yet distant, leaving her breathless as they teased at the edges of her consciousness.

The tree itself was a marvel. Its colossal trunk stretched skyward, adorned with twisting, sinewy branches that arched overhead like skeletal fingers embracing the heavens. Leaves, ghostly and luminescent, shimmered like flickering stars caught in a perpetual dance.

As Ellowyn finally reached out, her fingers grazed the weathered bark. An electric surge jolted through her, a symphony of images flashing before her eyes—a kaleidoscope of memories and whispers that left her gasping for air, an intoxicating rush of familiarity and uncertainty.

The scenes unfolded around her—a vivid mosaic of places and faces, each glimpse leaving a lasting impression on her soul. Familiar voices echoed in her mind, laughter and conversations intertwining with secrets and promises. Shadows danced on the forest floor, casting cryptic patterns that seemed to echo the enigmatic symbols adorning the tree.

As Ellowyn touched the glowing tree, a cascade of memories enveloped her, pulling her into the recesses of her past. The first vision that surfaced was of Marlowe, the sister who had raised her and shared the weight of their parents' absence. She stood in Ellowyn's mind like a vivid painting—a doll-like figure with light brown locks that framed her round face, her eyes a piercing green that sparkled with warmth and mischief. The memory of her sister's laughter echoed through Ellowyn's thoughts, a comforting melody that had always been a balm to their shared sorrows.

Another scene flickered before her eyes, a memory of their modest room where Marlowe, as a teen, sat at the edge of their bed. With nimble fingers, she sewed away at one of Ellowyn's raggedy dresses, her words a steady hum of encouragement. “Beauty runs in the family,” Marlowe had said with a grin.

The warmth of Marlowe's presence lingered in the room, a cocoon that shielded Ellowyn from the harshness of the world outside. The texture of the fabric, the rhythmic sound of the needle piercing through, and the comforting touch of her sister—all merged into a delicate facade.

Yet, another memory unfurled—a shared evening by the fireplace. Ellowyn and Marlowe sat on either side of Ms.Sontez, a woman who’d saved them from the streets or worse. The room flickered in the warm glow of the flames, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The three of them huddled together, Ms. Sontez reading tales of saints and folktales from a worn, bound book.

In the memory, she felt the crackle of the fire, the comforting weight of the book in her hands, the texture of the rug beneath her fingers. Marlowe's voice joined Ms. Sontez's, her curiosity ringing clear as she questioned the stone face woman. “But they're beasts?” Marlowe had asked, pointing to the creatures in the story.

“Humans can be beasts too,” replied Ms. Sontez, her words hanging in the air like a revelation.

A stinging pain cut through Ellowyn like a lash, a searing sensation that snatched her breath away. The once-vibrant tree erupted into chaos, a symphony of roars and creaks, its branches snapping like brittle bones and crashing to the forest floor with resonating thuds. The very ground beneath her shook as if protesting the violence above.

Her gaze darted upward, and dread coiled in her chest as she beheld a grim transformation—the tips of the once luminous branches, now tinged with an ominous blackness. The radiant glow that had once enchanted her now dissipated into a murky haze, an unsettling mist that enveloped the canopy above.

Panic surged within Ellowyn, a wild fluttering in her chest as she cast her eyes downward. The roots, once lifelines anchoring the colossal tree, had transformed—a creeping darkness, like a sinister ink spill, slithered along the once vibrant roots, inching closer to where she stood.

Confusion etched lines across her face as fear took hold, gripping her tightly. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as the stinging pain lanced through her, triggering an onslaught of memories that cut deeper than any physical wound.

New memories flooded in, but these were ones she’d forgotten, ones she’d wish they'd remained as so. She felt the heat of flames licking at her skin, a terror that gripped her soul as she recalled the day fire consumed her home, Nivia. The screams of people in agony echoed in her ears, the acrid scent of smoke suffocating her senses. Panic clawed at her chest, stealing the air from her lungs.

One particular memory stabbed through the chaos—Marlowe's ten-year-old face etched with fear and determination. Ellowyn remembered how her sister had shielded her from the horrors, dragging her through the chaos, stumbling over bodies in a desperate bid to escape the relentless onslaught. The image of Marlowe's frightened eyes, her trembling hands trying to shield Ellowyn from the devastation, haunted her like a relentless specter.

It was a harrowing choice—surviving while being forever haunted by the tormented memories or succumbing to the terror and anguish, forever buried in the tragedy.

Amidst the chaos of the giant tree's groaning and the shuddering forest, a voice—clear, crisp, yet oddly serene—whispered in Ellowyn's mind. “If death were my friend, it'd forgotten me,” it said, accompanied by the distinct sound of a coin being flipped. She could almost feel the metallic ring as it spun through the air.

As the cacophony of the colossal tree continued, the voice persisted but now outside her head, behind her. “Amidst the fray where innocence did fade,” it intoned, cutting through the turmoil with a poetic cadence. Ellowyn pivoted on her heels, and there he was—a young man, not much older than herself.

He stood with an air of nonchalance, catching the coin in midair and flipping it onto his palm. “Saints,” he muttered to himself, glancing down at the coin with intrigue, then whipping his head up in surprise as if discovering something unexpected.

The young man's appearance seized her attention. His hair, a cascade of black waves that fell in artful disarray, curled at the ends as though reluctant to conform to order. Light brown eyes, a captivating hue, held a glimmer of something indefinable—perhaps curiosity, perhaps mischief. Two birthmark dots adorned his right cheek, a subtle mark that added to the enigma of his presence.

His attire, a testament to refined taste, bore the mark of careful craftsmanship—a tailored suit that draped him in sophistication, accentuated by the cloak's intricate designs. The fabric whispered of secrets, a realm where elegance met obscurity. The patterns seemed to shimmer, each thread holding a pinch of gold.

The young man's sudden appearance, his cryptic words, and the effortless grace with which he handled the coin left Ellowyn bewildered. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting the next act in this play.

As the young man surveyed the surroundings, his eyes moved with a sense of wonder and intrigue. They scanned the heavens, the ominous blackness of the forest, and finally settled on the giant tree, its once radiant glow now fading, its branches withering in a silent demise. Ellowyn watched, a silent observer in this surreal encounter, waiting for him to break the uncanny silence that enveloped them.

He navigated the tangled roots with a deliberate grace, echoing her own path moments earlier. “Interesting,” he murmured to himself as he closed the gap between them.

Her eyes lingered on the giant tree, a behemoth that seemed to fade into darkness. Gently, she withdrew her hand from the trunk, a silent question forming on her lips. “Am I—”

Before she could finish, he interjected with an unexpected certainty, “Dead? Yes, my condolences.”

She stood there, lips firm, in a moment of shock. Even as his hand reached out to touch one of her wet strands, studying it with wide eyes, she remained rooted in place. His lip curved upward ever so slightly, a small sign of amusement or perhaps intrigue. She tried to steady herself, studying him with the same scrutiny he had applied to her.

But as the young man's fingers danced through her damp locks, a steadiness settled within Ellowyn. Her gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes betraying neither fear nor curiosity, instead silently contemplating the strangeness of the encounter.

A shift in the air caught her attention, drawing her gaze past the young man. The encroaching darkness seemed to slow, the chaos around them retreating into an eerie stillness once more. It was an uncanny phenomenon that held her transfixed, an inexplicable pause in the otherwise tumultuous scene.

Her focus then shifted to his fingers, still lightly toying with her wet hair. “How?” she questioned, her voice a whisper amidst the unsettling calm that enveloped them. He released her hair, gesturing with a wave of his hand toward the surrounding strangeness. “With the help of a Tuerji, clever beings,” he explained with a chuckle.

Ellowyn's head slightly shook in disbelief. “Are you death?” she ventured, her voice trembling with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. His response came with a smile, revealing small canines. “I'm no saint. I'm sure you know Onereh to have the head of a vulture,” he mused, gesturing toward his own face. “This one is all mine.”

In a weary gesture, Ellowyn pushed the young man's hand away gently, a question burning in her eyes. He sighed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants, leaning back and casting his gaze up at the dying giant tree, then shifting his attention back to her. “I'm here to bargain,” he declared with an air of weightiness.

Bitterness seeped into Ellowyn's voice as she lazily stretched out her arms. “If you can't tell, I don't have anything to bargain with.”

The young man responded with playful disbelief, his tone carrying a hint of intrigue. “Oh, I wouldn't say that,” he retorted, pointing towards the tree. “You're about to step into your next life. Perhaps you'll be an animal, free from the complications of what it is to be human. Or maybe you'll be born into riches, with a mother who'll dress you in fine silks and a father who'll pamper you. Or the one that many dread, born from dirt, starving away and filled with too much hope to bear.”

Ellowyn contemplated his words in silence as he continued, his tone now carrying a hint of significance. “All that is a gamble. But I have one last promising thing I can give.”

With narrowed eyes, Ellowyn challenged him, “Which is?”

He tilted his head, a cunning smile gracing his features, reaching out his hand for her to hold. But she made him wait, refusing to give in immediately. “I can promise you your sister's life. As we speak, she's been promised the gallows,” he stated, a heavy weight dropping in Ellowyn's heart.

“I'll bring you back to save her, but in exchange for something,” he stated firmly, his eyes locking onto hers with unwavering determination.

Without hesitation, Ellowyn stepped closer to him. “What?” she demanded, her voice steady, though her heart pounded like drumming echoes.

He seized her hand, drawing her into an intimate proximity. Leaning down, he revealed the terms with a conspiratorial whisper, “Kill me a King.”

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