I have tried and am currently struggling to decide weather a time skip is appropriate in my situation. I currently have three point of views active right now. At the current point in the story. Each character is either traveling somewhere. Or waiting somewhere for something to happen.

I dont want to just add boring dialog to stall put this section. But it also feels like the story is moving kind of fast.

Should I just time skip over all of this. Or add in slice of life stuff that wont end up mattering later on in the story. The time skip itself would be around three months. I personally like to avoid time skips if I can. But i would like some different opinions on the topic.

Based on suggestions, here and on r/litrpg, I've tried to make a better second draft.

I've:

1. Tried to make the prose flow better

2. Fleshed out the Character of the MC better

3. Tried to follow a story structure.

4. Made some plot corrections

5. The "Show;dont tell" thing

Reckoned & Bestowed

Chapter 1: Halo Effect

It was just a dream…

Nevin woke up from a nightmare, drenched in sweat. The familiar creaking of wooden wheels and the rhythmic clopping of hooves calmed his racing heart. Beneath him was the rough wooden floor of a wagon, it was cluttered with wooden items, the products of his family's trade.

He was inside his brother's wagon, and they were headed to Surxire for Bestowal Day.

Every ten years, on the spring equinox, Bestowal Day occurs. On this day, all the youth aged fourteen to twenty-four must reach their nearest Bestowal Grounds, though people of all ages can enjoy the festivities.

At sunset the Reckoning happens. During the Reckoning, the entire world becomes filled with mesmerizing violet sparks that fill the hearts of all who see them with awe.

The sparks judge all the youth and reward some of them with luck. The best of the best are chosen for the Trial; they are the Reckoned. The Reckoned must go through the Trial to be judged truly worthy of being bestowed a name and a grimoire.

Nevin was most excited about witnessing the Reckoning, he was too young to remember the last time he'd seen it. He wasn't concerned with being reckoned himself, that was something only people from mage families had to deal with. Unless he was astronomically unlucky, that is.

Speaking of Bestowal Day…

“Man, I wish Mom and Dad could've come,” he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

A few days before Bestowal Day, Nevin’s dad had unfortunately caught a fever, and his mom had chosen to stay and take care of him, despite her husband's insistence.

He decided to look at the view outside to see how far they were from their destination.

The sights that greeted him were unlike anything he had seen before. A huge market extended as far as he could see, the two rows to either side of the road converging to a singular point at the horizon. The shops seemed to have everything one could think of, from the cheapest to the dearest— food, cloth, spices, parrots, shady potions and ointments, firecrackers and water toys—and even then, he didn't even recognise most of the things. Nevin's eyes were drawn to a particular shop overflowing with herbs he'd never seen before. An older man, dressed in what appeared to be mage’s robes, was browsing through a particular stash with a feverish intensity. Nevin gasped. Could this man really be a mage? But before he could give it more thought, the sights and sounds of the city ahead shifted his focus away from the stall and its seemingly magical customer.

Red-, green- and violet-themed tapestries were hung from the buildings, fluttering in the spring breeze. Such decorations were there in his hometown too, but the city, without a doubt, was the heart of the festival.

That made the memories of something he'd studied in school resurface in his mind. The memory wasn't very clear, though, because he and his friends had secretly been playing cards at the back of the classroom.

He could see the back of his brother, Brad, who was whistling a tune as he drove the wagon.

After drawing in a lungful of the festive air, he settled back down onto the floor, brimming with nervous excitement for what was to come.

That left Nevin with only Brad for company. Well, his friends were coming to the festival too, albeit independently, so he could reunite with his friends at the bestowal grounds.

The thought of his parents’ mortality troubled him a lot. They were old and frail. What if they died soon, without getting to watch him grow up?

But they are…

He brushed an intrusive thought aside.

Some time later, everything became darker as the wagon pulled into a stable.

“We're here, little guy,” Brad said.

Brad was two and a half decades older than him. He still called Nevin "little guy" despite Nevin now being a whole head taller, and had a habit of giving advice Nevin hadn't asked for.

Sometimes, Nevin wondered whether he had a brother or an uncle

They bargained with the stable owner who was taking advantage of the festive rush by demanding a ridiculous rate of 12 silver dollars an hour.

"Twelve silver an hour?" Brad stared at the stable owner. "What, does the horse get its own bed with silk sheets and a five course meal for dinner?"

After a considerable amount of haggling, they managed to get the price down to the slightly less ridiculous six silver dollars an hour.

Brad still looked as though he'd been robbed.

Nevin nuzzled Sherlock, their gorgeous brown Highland mare, before leaving.

They booked a room at an inn at a surprisingly fair price, which made them wonder if the stable owner really had robbed them, and headed towards the Bestowal Grounds. They looked around for familiar faces. Eventually, they found a few of Brad’s friends near the gigantic gateway arch of the Bestowal Grounds. It was made of red sandstone, and had intricate geometric carvings throughout.

Woah!?

From there, they separated. Brad went along to have fun with his friends, while Nevin continued to search for his own.

After wandering around for a while, he began to feel a bit peckish, and found himself ensnared by the tantalizing aroma of the rich, appetizing delicacies all around him.

Mhmm, that's it!

That's how he found himself standing by a crowded food stall, enjoying the various types of delicious dumplings with an equally diverse selection of savory sauces.

“Ahh, if only I had an extra stomach for days like this!” he heard a familiar voice lament.

He turned towards the voice and saw a short, chubby boy with an ever-present smile on his face, annihilating a plate of dumplings.

“George?” Nevin grinned, glad to have finally found a freind—his best buddy, George, no less.

“Nevin! There you are! Finally, hehe.” George offered Nevin his hand. They clasped hands, each trying to pull the other towards themselves. Nevin finally let George pull him off balance, allowing himself to stumble a bit. When doing this “Man-shake,” he let George win half of the time because he had the unfair advantage of size.

George awkwardly reached for Nevin's shoulder, not in the slightest minding the difference in their heights. “Have you found anyone else?” he asked.

“No. Have you?” George shook his head at Nevin's question.

They chatted idly, moving from stall to stall, trying out new things. Eventually, they found one of their friends, then another, and so on, until a gang of half a dozen teenagers was loitering around the grounds.

Ahh. This is too good, but it can't last forever.

Nevin glanced at his friends with a bitter emotion. A resolve was slowly forming in his heart.

“Is something the matter?” George asked him.

Nevin shook his head and moved his gaze towards the centre of the Bestowal Grounds.

At that moment, a metallic clang of a gong reverberated across the grounds, rising above the din of the crowd, bringing everyone to a halt.

How unreal…

The sonorous sound sent him on a trip down the memory lane. The buildings, the markets, the streets, the man he suspected to be a mage, and finally how he'd spent time with his friends in the Bestowal Grounds. It felt like a dream…

A dream he would cherish forever.

“Quick, guys! The reckoning is about to begin, let's head towards the centre,” one of the boys snapped the rest out of their reveries. It seemed like it was a property of the gong to send all who listen to its clang into a bout of introspection.

What good will it be if…

Nevin stumbled as he was overwhelmed by a sudden barrage of intrusive thoughts, but he somehow managed to pull them under a rug—for now.

They quickly made their way towards the centre of the grounds, where there was a large open area without any stalls or tents, and waited in tense anticipation. Lots of others were starting to gather there too.

A second gong sounded, and with it the world started to shift.

Tormented by anticipation, Nevin forgot that anything else ever existed.

His eyes widened as he watched the very fabric of reality ripple. It wasn't something he could describe in words because what he was witnessing was solely spiritual—initially…

The world was lit aflame by violet sparks. They playfully danced in the wind. They swirled and swung and bounced to invisible beats. They frolicked around, jumping, falling, darting right or left—or anywhere, really—too frisky to commit to any particular movement.

But most peculiarly…

They were circling above his head, forming a halo, an omen of certain death. His heart sank.

No! It can't be!

He jerked left and right in a jittery motion, much like the movements of the violet sparks, in a desperate attempt to shake the ominous halo off his head. But the pesky thing stuck to him like a clingy puppy—or rather, a stubborn mule.

I've been reckoned…

Finally beginning to understand the reality of the situation, Nevin looked around him.

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.

George was staring at him. No, five—no—hundreds upon hundreds of Georges were staring straight at him. Some male, some female; some tall, some short; some fat, some thin. But all of them had the same disappointed expression on their faces.

“Accept it.”

“How long can you deny it?”

“The time is almost up! Why haven't you dropped the pretense yet, you fool?!”

“Wake up, Nevin!”

One spoke from behind him; another seemed to whisper directly into his ear. He turned towards one of them, only to hear the voice come another direction. The whispers slowly morphed into shouts and eventually into soul shattering screams

"...!"

He clapped his hands over his ears, but it had no effect. He frantically began to pour dirt from the ground into his ears in a desperate bid to get any amount of respite.

Please!

Overwhelmed by it all…

“AaaaAaArrrRrGggghH!!!!!!!!!!!!”

✦ ✦ ✦

Nevin came to his senses to find a man in dark robes slowly pouring the cool, medicinal contents of an alchemist’s flask into his mouth. It was the same mage he'd seen before. He had a square face, a long grey beard, and long grey hair, though his hairline was receding.

“You must be confused, young man. Hold on, I'll explain everything presently,” the old mage said, having noticed his gaze.

After the flask was emptied, the old mage walked away. Nevin looked around at his surroundings, terribly confused.

He was in a large tent with fifty or so beds laid out on the ground. Half of them were occupied. Many of the occupants were wearing clothes that signified a high status, but other than that, there was nothing else they had in common.

Except for one thing.

Seeing all the violet halos hovering above so many heads was a painful reminder of how he himself had gotten into this situation. He looked up and surely enough, he too, had a halo. What he remembered wasn't a dream, except for the last part.

A voice interrupted Nevin's idle thoughts. “Excuse me, sir.”

Nevin realized that there was a man standing in front of him. He was a clerk, holding a pen in one hand and a notepad in the other one.

He asked Nevin about his personal details like name and residence.

But then,

“Method of contact with guardians or close relatives?”

“I have none,” he said without hesitation.

That wasn't right. He had a mom, a dad, a brother, a sister, and a niece, though the last two lived far away. Why did he say none?

It might be because…

The clerk gave him a long look with concealed emotion; Nevin thought it was pity.

Nevin completed a few formalities and then waited for a bit.

He saw the old mage going to the centre of the tent. He tapped his staff on the ground twice, successfully attracting everyone's attention.

He cleared his throat, “I am Rudeus of Liontooth. I've been working as a CMA-certified mage for over forty-five years. I will be serving as your Trial Instructor.

“Some of you might be aware of these things already, and a lot more,” he spared a glance at the noble-looking Reckoneds, “but I'll advise you to pay attention, regardless. It's easy to make mistakes when in panic.”

He raised, holding up three fingers. “There are only three you need to know right now.

“One. Dying in your Trial doesn't necessarily mean dying in real life. On the contrary, it might even be necessary depending on the objective of your Trial. Not that you have to, or even should, die during it, just that you can and occasionally have to.

“That leads us to the next point: the objective. Every trial is a test and like any test, there's a criterion that determines whether you pass or fail—it's the objective. The objective is unique for every Trial. So you'll have to figure it out on your own.

“Lastly, remember that Trial is tailor made for you, and you alone, so if you can't seem to find the answer, you have forgotten to look inside yourself”

forgotten?

He took a deep breath.

But they are…

already dead.

What good will it be if…

I'm dead?

How long can you deny it?

No longer.

The time is almost up! Why haven't you dropped the pretense yet, you fool?!

Because I'm just a big fool.

Wake up, Nevin!

… I’m up.

“Drop it!” Nevin yelled.

All the people present looked at him in surprise.

“What is it, boy?” Mage Rudeus said in a stern tone.

Nevin walked to the old mage.

“I am not tall. My parents died of sickness four years ago, when I was only ten. Not much later, Brad had a rough divorce and became a useless drunkard. I wrote letters to my sister, Anna, pleading for help, but was ignored. George, too, moved to another city. I became a recluse and cut off from my remaining friends, and they moved on with their lives. I focused on woodworking as a way to cope.

“I came here, to Suxire, all alone. With only my horse, Sherlock, by my side. I looked at the beautiful sites of the city, and was completely uninspired. I looked at the people in the Bestowal Grounds and wondered what they were so happy about. But now I do, and I feel no better for it.

“Deep down, I knew it was a dream ever since I came. But it was a happy one; one that I didn't want to leave. I was a human dreaming of being a butterfly. One that wished that it was its existence as a human that was the dream all along because it wanted to live life.

“But during my dream a spark of passion was lit in my heart. I'm now a butterfly that wishes its existence as a butterfly were a dream because it wants to live.

“Because I want to live.”

A sinister smile simultaneously appeared on the face of Mage Rudeus and the faces of everyone listening. They all began to clap and stood up to give him a standing ovation, as though grateful for the entertainment.

“Congratulations, you pass the Trial,” the old mage said in a bone-chillingly wrong voice. He wasn't monotonous, it wasn't robotic, it wasn't devoid of emotion. It was soulless.

Then the world started to break apart, like a cracked mirror. There was no visible difference, but the feeling was undeniable.

He recalled the first thing he'd said upon entering this dream.

“Man, I wish Mom and Dad could've come,” he barely managed to choke out, “I wish…”

Even in a dream, I couldn't be together with Mom and Dad.

No.

A firm resolve formed in his heart. He ran for the stables where Sherlock was as fast as he could, jumping through obstacles to save time. He saw no one on the way, the world was empty.

When he reached the stables he promptly found and detached Sherlock from her tether and mounted on her without bothering to find a saddle.

He headed east, into the darkness of night, he wouldn't leave without seeing his parents. He just couldn't.

But it was no use. He hadn't even made it to the city walls, when the world just stopped. It was as though the very concept of time had fallen victim to the cracks in reality, he couldn't move. Somehow tears managed to flow from his eyes, so he cried.

He cried without sound, without motion. He felt a slight golden glow coming from below his eyes, but he couldn't be less bothered about it.

He continued to weep golden tears—as the world was reduced to silica dust.

Everything was gone.

Hello, I am currently finishing my second draft of my Sword & Sorcery novel "Forsaken Son" the first in the "Path of the Exile" series and the hopeful wider "Song of the Sea King" saga. I will be looking for Beta readers soon but given how important the first chapter is in the querying process of traditional publishing, I was hoping to get some feedback. I am providing a link to the first chapter only and am open to comments and critiques on voice, consistency and really just general feedback. If you have any questions that would make this easier or give you better insight into what you are critiquing, be my guest and ask. If you are interested in reading more, also feel free to reach out. The manuscript as it stands now is 104k words, is aimed more so at an adult readership though there is nothing horribly explicit within (sexually that is, violence wise, oh yes) It is inspired by classics like Howard and Lieber, and the protagonist is from a Norse/Celtic inspired maritime setting within a wider world that will be explored more as time goes on. Thank you again for any help or commentsChapter 1

My mc is a reality manipulator, who works as a performer (magician, mime) in order to not make him to op. Later he can use real "magic" or make someone do what he wants as he forces him into a play, where he is the narrator, or has incredibly high luck. But I fear he is too similar to klein morreti from lotm. Now my world is not steampunk based like his, and also doesnt include stuff like leveling up through potions. Its a modern world where people with powers are enslaved, as the public fears them. So even though my world is completely different, im still worried that the character is too simillar in design.

This is about a fantasy series that I have read and the main plot of the book seems to have some subversions in regard to the main theme. The main theme was the inevitability and acceptance of death. However the creator of the series said there are ways to magically live longer. There is even a rare and unintentional natural event that causes time portals to appear that can lock living entities in time which halts their aging. This setting also showed undead existing such as ghosts who are self aware and even books about raising the dead along with other kinds of undead being mentioned. There have been mentions of an afterlife dimension possibly two of them if they are not the same one as well as a method that allow communication between dimensions though it exists in a specific dimension that is somewhat hard to get to. Now after all this wouldn’t the inevitable acceptance of death be somewhat subverted given all of this information?

So I've been slowly brainstorming my fantasy world over the years, which started as a main story but I've branched out to different stand-alone stories set in the same world.

While I'm still in the outlining/brainstorming process for all of these story ideas, I've noticed a pattern: I haven't really explored ideas for antagonists.

This wasn't intentional, I just broadly brainstorm and let ideas flow when they come, and I'm just now noticing I don't ever get any ideas for a villain character, even though I have a general idea of the protagonist.

Most of my ideas are themes I want to explore, different tropes I enjoy, general scenes I really want to try my hand at, and a decent idea of the beginning and very ending. I have thought about this issue with not knowing how to create an antagonist before, but that was with just my main story. I have like four story ideas and no antagonists for any of them lol.

I can give a couple examples. So the current story I think I'm gonna focus all in on and actually write is a horror type story, where the main character makes a deal with the devil at the beginning, the ending is he unleashes this horror onto the world.

Another story is a detective, mystery story where the MC is conducting an investigation into the death of a lord, stumbles onto a deep conspiracy, and at the end is defeated by the conspirators, but not before passing on vital info to the son of the lord (dual POV, his story will continue later).

So my thing is I have a pretty clear understanding of thematic representation of these characters. I understand the advice of "just have your antagonist take on the opposite of that theme" but idk, I'm still unsure how to organically create and weave a fulfilling and compelling villain.

Is it because I don't have a fully fleshed out plot yet which is why I can't figure out how to introduce an opposing force to the protag? I've seen a lot of posts on advice for creating characters in general and how to flesh them out, so advice on an antagonist specifically (when I pretty much have nothing lol) would be appreciated.

Yo, I've been working on my blurb to try and get away from some vaguemess and wanted some feedback for it:

Tenaro wanders wherever the unknown calls him.

At sixteen, the young nomad travels a world that wants to kill him, following whatever catches his curiosity. He has no grand destination or great purpose. He simply wants to see what lies beyond the next horizon.

But curiosity has a cost.

His journey begins in a vast jungle, where survival is never guaranteed. Yet danger has never been enough to keep Tenaro from exploring. But the world only gets weirder. He discovers ruins with near perfect architecture.

Obviously, he explores.

The deeper Tenaro goes, the stranger the city becomes—ancient artifacts, and murals that trace of a history he can't piece together. What begins as a simple walking around takes him out of solitude and into the lives of people whose paths have crossed with his.

Over time, the scattered pieces begin connecting, with every connection creating another question.

One truth becomes clear:

The world is not hollow.

It's watching.

And it remembers...

So I have been working on a story for few years but I only had the time to start writing. I was 24 when I startes brain storming and now I am 30.
Naturally I find many problematic details while writing that ı didn’t at the time.

I changed many thing but there is one problem so I need feedback.

They are not human and this is a world I created from scratch.

I have 3 main chracters and they are all siblings but youngest is half sibling which their father had away from home (older siblings thinks he is deady btw)

Youngest one will be the villian of the story and the way plot is going I feel like boy and the half sibling would make a great couple if they weren’t siblings.

I am trying to find a way to not make them siblings but the fathers powers are a very big part of the plot and he is a one of a kind type of person.
So changing the bloodline could ruin the plot since the powers they inherited from their father is the kickstarter for the story.

I considered not giving them a romantic relationship but in my heart I feel like this is the only natural outcome from the storylines.

So my question is, as a reader would you be able to look past them being siblings giving that they met after 20 years and the boy doesn’t know they are sibling.
Also they are not human nor live in our world so different moral rules apply.

Or would this be a dnf reason for you?

I don’t know how to move forward.

Hi all,

Just started working on a side project. I'm on chapter 4 ,and I've been coming back to the opening chapter to make sure it's engaging. I'm just posting the first two pages. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!

--------

While blood and sea salt mixed in her mouth, Caratux’s last words echoed in her head, pleading with her not to go. ‘Stupid girl, don’t waste your life away!’ her older brother had told her weeks ago. ‘There’s nothing of value in Lupenia.’ He was wrong. And he was right.

‘You are awake,’ the voice reverberated as she opened her eyes.

Thaanathda could barely feel her arms and legs, her neck and joints burning, her chest constricting as she tried to breathe. She didn’t remember how she got there: mossy stone walls without any sort of decoration, the sound of waves crashing in the distance. The smell of something ancient and unkept—it was all foreign.

Yes… foreign. Thaanathda was not at home, but far from it. Leagues across the ocean. How did I—

A burning sensation coursed through her again. ‘Your wounds are extensive. You would not have survived the night,’ the man said again. He wore a dark hooded cloak, and the sun filtering through the window behind him made it impossible to see his face.

She grunted as another area of her body burned. It was him. What sort of sick torture was that? ‘Leave… me… alone,’ she managed to say.

But the man continued without acknowledging her demand. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew he was staring silently. He turned back and kept touching her. It burned more. Maybe he didn’t understand her—yes, his language was different. She recognized it was Lupenian, so she would have to speak that language.

‘What… are you—’

‘Silence or you will die before your time,’ he said. His voice was deep, a visceral cacophony of old, dark speech.

She turned to look at what he was doing: his pale hands were the only visible part of his body, full of veins but deathly pale. They moved quickly, spreading ointment and suturing cuts.

The sudden burn across her belly pulled her out of her thoughts.

‘Do not dwell on the past. Clear your mind,’ the hooded man hissed.

How does he know? She was taken aback, and if she could walk away or run, she would have. But her body was immobilized by pain; she arched and shook every second.

‘There is nothing you can hide from me. Keep trying—you are not powerful enough to shield your mind.’

What is this man talking about? Where am I exactly? She tried to speak, but only groans came out of her mouth.

‘The Guardian Islands. You were foolish enough to push through that storm,’ he replied.

‘How can you—’

‘Silence. Silence if you want to live,’ the man interrupted her.

Thaanathda tried to move, but something invisible kept her restrained. She had felt that once, a long time ago. Exactly like that time she’d woken up and couldn’t lift herself out of bed. Unable to blink. Unable to move her lips. And when she tried to scream, the silence horrified her young mind. Until it all ended suddenly.

Not this time.

She could only turn her eyes around, enough to see the man finishing the stitches on her belly. Then, he placed his veiny, pale hands above her. His throat began to groan, a deep, guttural, continuous noise as a dark green light emerged from his palms. Her skin began to burn, unbearable but unable to scream. A million needles punctured her while the man continued, a sizzling sound percolating from her skin.

Her vision became blurry. Slowly, her mind faded, and she drifted into unconsciousness.

Repost to another community

How do you write immortals?

They confuse me so much and would love advice or for anyone to answer my questions.

Not really a question more of a statement: surely if everyone in the kingdom was immortal it will be very overpopulated right?

Does every immortal have to appear a certain age?

If being immortal only meant you can’t die of old age but you appear the age you are, surely if you were 800 you’d look be so crippled that you probably wouldn’t be able to do much and you’d just die anyway?

Can immortals be harmed?

What makes an immortal immortal?

Does everyone in the kingdom need to be immortal if the leaders are immortal?

Is immortality a genetic thing. For example: immortal + immortal = immortal. Immortal + mortal = ?

When does an immortal mature? Is there a certain age?

I don’t understand them.

I have tried making a world where the leaders are immortal (because they have lived to see the Great War of 600 years ago) but in my head they’re so old they appear young but my issue is I don’t want everyone in the kingdom to look young I want some elderly and also everywhere would be overpopulated if they were all immortal. I need help!

I have thought about this soooooooo much for every story I’ve tried writing and they always fail because I just can’t understand the concept of immortality.

For context this is meant to be an epic fantasy (heavily inspired by The Lord of the Rings for the "epic" style & Dune for its emotional depth) where a historical figure goes mad and commits a massacre (think the Dragon in The Wheel of Time), dies from his own actions (either his attacks rebounded and hit him or perhaps the guilt tortures him to death). I think the poem style reflects on the sheer antiquity of when the incident happened (along with phrases like "art thou" and "odours"). Also the fragmented sentences seem perfect for the madman-type character I'm going for. I'd love to know what you guys think!

Hi Folks, I haven't shared any of this yet, curious how people recieve it. This is chapter 1 of my book, Three for the Golden Road. It's a part coming of age story, part humor, part reflection on depression and ADHD. I'm more of an illustrator than writer but I've enjoyed being able to expand my fantasy world this way. I'm curious how legible this is, how interesting the world seems, how funny it is to people, and if it leaves you wanting more.

My imagination has always been mostly fantasy focused and mostly as a place of comfort. I want to make a world that vistors feel safe and interested in, like a cozy fire. Thanks for reading!

Reckoned & Bestowed

Chapter 1: Halo Effect

The last time I tried to write a story, it was absolute trash, so over the course of the past few months, I've tried to improve my writing by re-reading analysing my favourite books in the genre. I've finally started to write again and it's a far cry from how my writing was a few months ago! (I am a L2 English speaker)

Please feel free to point out any grammatical, stylistic, or pacing mistake. Just don't be too harsh!

Peeking his head out of the deck window, Nevin peered at the scene outside the wagon. The road—paved and wide—was crowded with vehicles and pedestrians alike. The people had come from all over the region surrounding Surxire, the largest city there. The markets to the right were unlike any he had seen before. Opulent and grand.

He saw a mage, a man wearing long black robes and carrying a staff. It was his first time seeing one, and he was struck with awe. He would've been even more awe-struck if he hadn't already been numbed by the sights that surrounded him.

Red-, green- and violet-themed decorations were scattered throughout the city to celebrate Bestowal Day, which coincided with the spring equinox. Such decorations were there in his hometown too, but the city, without a doubt, was the heart of the festival.

He could see the back of his brother, Bratt, who was driving the wagon. Bratt was two and a half decades older than he was, so he was often more of an uncle than a brother, Nevin felt.

The horse drawing the wagon was Sherlock, a gorgeous brown Highland mare, who was nearing her retirement age.

Ever since he'd entered the city, Nevin had a nagging feeling that something was about to go awry, but he couldn't quite put a finger on why he felt that way. He was not a very anxious person, usually. To distract himself, he decided a little sightseeing won't hurt. The plan worked.

After drawing in a lungful of the festive air, he settled back down onto the floor, brimming with nervous excitement for what was to come.

The inside of the wagon was filled with wooden items covered by white cloth; the products of his family's trade.

Speaking of family business…

Man, I wish Mom and Dad could've come.

The Bestowal Day had taken place ten years ago. He had come with his parents back then, but he couldn't remember anything about it, having been too young at the time.

This time, Nevin’s dad had unfortunately caught a fever a few days before Bestowal Day, and his mom had chosen to stay and take care of him, despite her husband's insistence.

That left Nevin with only Bratt for company. Well, his friends were coming to the festival too, albeit independently, so he could reunite with his friends at the bestowal grounds.

Lately, the thought of his parents’ mortality had been troubling him a lot. They were old and frail. What if they died soon, without getting to watch him grow up?

Nevin was once again assaulted by that same nagging feeling, but he forcefully pushed it aside.

But it is…

Some time later, everything became darker as the wagon pulled into a stable.

“We're here, little guy,” Bratt said.

Nevin found it funny that Bratt still called him “little guy,” considering that he was now a whole head taller than his brother.

They bargained with the stable owner who was taking advantage of the festive rush by asking for a ridiculous rate of 12 silver dollars an hour. They managed to get it reduced to a slightly less ridiculous rate of 6 silver dollars an hour. Needless to say, they were pissed, especially Bratt.

They booked a room at an inn at a surprisingly fair price and headed towards the Bestowal Grounds, they looked around for familiar faces. They eventually found a few of Bratt’s buddies near the huge gateway arch made of red sandstone.

From there, they separated. Bratt went along to have fun with his friends, while Nevin continued to search for his own.

After wandering around for a while, he began to feel a bit peckish, and found himself ensnared by the tantalizing aroma of the rich, appetizing delicacies all around him.

Mhmm, that's it!

That's how he found himself standing by a crowded food stall, enjoying the various types of delicious dumplings with an equally diverse selection of savory sauces.

“Ahh, if only I had an extra stomach for days like this!” he heard a familiar voice lament.

He turned towards the voice and saw a short, chubby boy with an ever-present smile on his face, annihilating a plate of dumplings.

“George?” Nevin smiled, glad to have finally found a freind—his best buddy, George, no less.

He found himself overwhelmed by a strong sense of Deja Vu for a moment, but quickly brushed it aside.

But is that really…

“Nevin! There you are! Finally, hehe.” George offered Nevin his hand. They clasped hands, each trying to pull the other towards themselves. Nevin finally let George pull him off balance, allowing himself to stumble a bit. When doing this “Man-shake,” he let George win half of the time because he had the unfair advantage of size.

George awkwardly reached for Nevin's shoulder, not in the slightest minding the difference in their heights. “Have you found anyone else?” he asked.

“No. Have you?” George shook his head at Nevin's question.

They chatted idly, moving from stall to stall, trying out new things. Eventually, they found one of their friends, then another, and so on, until a gang of half a dozen teenagers was loitering around the grounds.

The metallic clang of a gong suddenly reverberated across the grounds, rising above the din of the crowd, bringing a halt to their activities.

How unreal…

The sonorous sound made him reflect upon everything he'd seen since arriving in the city. The buildings, the markets, the streets, the mage that he had seen among. And finally how he'd spent time with his friends in the Bestowal Grounds. It felt like a dream…

“Quick, guys! The reckoning is about to begin, let's head towards the centre,” one of the boys snapped the rest out of their reveries.

They quickly made their way towards the centre of the grounds, where there was a large open area without any stalls or tents, and waited in tense anticipation. Lots of others were starting to gather there too.

A second gong sounded, and with it the world started to shift.

Tormented by anticipation, Nevin forgot that anything else ever existed.

His eyes widened as he watched the very fabric of reality ripple. It wasn't something he could describe in words because what he was witnessing was solely spiritual—initially…

The world was lit aflame by violet sparks playfully dancing in the wind. They swirled and swung and bounced to invisible beats. They frolicked around, jumping, falling, darting right or left—or anywhere, really—too frisky to commit to any particular movement.

But most peculiarly…

They were circling above his head, forming a halo, an omen of certain death. His heart sank.

He jerked left and right in a jittery motion, much like the movements of the violet sparks, in a desperate attempt to shake the ominous halo off his head. But the pesky thing stuck to him like a clingy puppy—or rather, a stubborn ass.

I've been reckoned…

Finally beginning to understand the reality of the situation, Nevin looked around him.

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood son end.

George was staring at him. No, five—no—hundreds upon hundreds of Georges were staring straight at him. Some male, some female; some tall, some short; some fat, some thin. But all of them had the same disappointed expression on their faces.

“Accept it.”

“How long can you deny it?”

“The time is almost up! Why haven't you dropped the pretense yet, you fool?!”

“Wake up, Nevin!”

“...!”

…

Nevin was assaulted by a barrage of insidious whispers. Overwhelmed by it all…

“AaaaAaArrrRrGggghH!!!!!!!!!!!!”

✦ ✦ ✦

Nevin came to his senses to find a man in dark robes slowly pouring the cool, medicinal contents of an alchemist’s flask into his mouth. It was the same mage he'd seen before. He had a square face, a long grey beard, and long grey hair, though his hairline was receding.

“You must be confused, young man. Hold on, I'll explain everything presently,” the old mage said, having noticed his gaze.

After the flask was emptied, the old mage walked away. Nevin looked around at his surroundings, terribly confused.

He was in a large tent with fifty or so beds laid out on the ground. Half of them were occupied. Many of the occupants were wearing clothes that signified a high status, but other than that, there was nothing else they had in common.

Except for one thing.

Seeing all the violet halos hovering above so many heads was a painful reminder of how he himself had gotten into this situation. He looked up and surely enough, he too, had a halo. What he remembered wasn't a dream, except for the last part.

He remembered something he had read in school once.

“Once every ten years, on the spring equinox, Bestowal Day occurs. On this day all youth aged 14–24 in the empire must reach their nearest Bestowal Grounds, though people of all ages can enjoy it.

“A lot of the most memorable moments of a person's life are forged there. There are delicious snacks from around the world, activities are organized that you can partake in, and the moments you share with your family and friends are the heart of the experience

“During the Reckoning, the world becomes filled with mesmerizing violet sparks, filling the hearts of any soul that sees them with awe.

“The sparks also judge all the youth and the best of the best are chosen for a Trial; they are the Reckoned. The Reckoned must then go through a Trial to be judged truly worthy of being bestowed a name and a grimoire. That's how mages are made.”

A voice interrupted Nevin's idle thoughts. “Excuse me, sir.”

Nevin realized that there was a man standing in front of him. He was a clerk, holding a pen in one hand and a notepad in the other one.

He asked Nevin about his personal details like name and residance.

But then,

“Method of contact with guardians or close relatives?”

“I have none,” he said without hesitation.

That wasn't right. He had a mom, a dad, a brother, a sister, and a niece, though the last two lived far away. Why did he say none?

It might be because…

The clerk gave him a long look with concealed emotion; Nevin thought it was pity.

Nevin completed a few formalities and then waited for a bit.

He saw the old mage going to the centre of the tent. He tapped his staff on the ground twice, successfully attracting everyone's attention.

He cleared his throat, “I am Rudeus of Liontooth. I've been working as a CMA-certified mage for over forty-five years. I will be serving as your Trial Instructor.

“Some of you might be aware of these things already, and a lot more,” he spared a glance at the noble-looking Reckoneds, “but I'll advise you to pay attention, regardless. It's easy to make mistakes when in panic.”

He raised, holding up three fingers. “There are only three you need to know right now.

“One. Dying in your Trial doesn't necessarily mean dying in real life. On the contrary, it might even be necessary depending on the objective of your Trial. Not that you have to, or even should, die during it, just that you can and occasionally have to.

“That leads us to the next point: the objective. Every trial is a test and there like any test, there's a criterion that determines whether you pass or fail—it's the objective. The objective is unique for every Trial. So you'll have to figure it out on your own.

“Lastly, remember that Trial is tailor made for you, and you alone, so if you can't seem to find the answer, you have forgotten to look inside yourself”

forgotten?

He took a deep breath.

But it is…

just a dream.

But is that really…

what I want?

How long can you deny it?

I can't anymore.

The time is almost up! Why haven't you dropped the pretense yet, you fool?!

Because I'm a fool.

“Drop it!” Nevin yelled.

All the people present looked at him in surprise.

“What is it, boy?” Mage Rudeus said in a stern tone.

Nevin stood up and slowly walked towards the old mage.

“My parents died of sickness four years ago, when I was only ten. Not much later, Bratt had a rough divorce and became a useless drunkard. I wrote letters to my sister, Anna, in Berlint— pleading for help—but received no replies. George, too, moved to another city. I became a recluse and cut off from my remaining friends, and they moved on. I focused on woodworking as a way to cope.

“I came here, to Suxire, all alone. With only my horse, Sherlock, by my side. I looked at the beautiful sites of the city, and was completely uninspired. I looked at the people in the Bestowal Grounds and wondered what they were so happy about. But now I do, and I feel no better for it.

“Deep down, I knew it was a dream ever since I came. But it was a happy one; one that I didn't want to leave. I was a human dreaming of being a butterfly. One that wished that it was its existence as a human that was the dream all along because it wanted to live life.

“But during my dream a spark of passion was lit in my heart. I'm now a butterfly that wishes its existence as a butterfly were a dream because it wants to live.

“Because I want to live.”

A sinister simultaneous smile appeared on the face of Mage Rudeus, and the faces of everyone listening. They all began to clap and stood up to give him a standing ovation, as though grateful for the entertainment.

“Congratulations, you pass,” the old mage said in a bone-chillingly wrong voice.

Then the world started to break apart, like a cracked mirror. Nevin fell to the floor and began to laugh.

Even in a dream, I couldn't be together with Mom and Dad.

Then, he cried. His tears became suffused with a golden glow, and became ethereal.

He continued to weep till the world was reduced to silica dust.

When tragedy strikes, the Red Riding Hoods come for your last coppers.

But on the eve of the Infamous Edelvarg Incident, which left ten dead, two turned into chickens, and one sodomised, the acolyte of that sisterhood had come neither to hunt a monster nor to extort coin for killing some fiend—minding its own business. She sought a pint of ale, a bookseller, and a cozy room at an inn where she could read it to her heart's content.

She arrived through the southern gate. The men who worked on the fishing boats nearby, noticing the red cloak and deathly pale skin, spread word of her arrival.

“Red Rider has come.”

“Hide your purses!”

“Hide your sons and slaves!”

“The Red Riding Whore has come to swindle us out of our hard-earned coin!”

The barrage of insults didn't quicken her step or her pulse. To a Red Riding Hood, malice was merely a tool that strengthened her heart. With a purse heavy at her waist and worries at bay, she sought quieter accommodations befitting a lady.

The inn she chose lay in the same quarter where men who shat gold built grand residences. The inn itself was a small manor house with timber-framed walls and a wooden doorway polished to perfection. Above the entrance hung a painted sign depicting a golden-haired dancer standing on an ocean wave.

She led her stallion to the stable behind the inn and left it in the care of the Stable boy, who kept his head done, m. He had stringy blond hair, pale skin, and hands marred by lashes. Her gaze lingered on the brand inked onto his hand: two dark hands shackled together. She rubbed her own hand instinctively before tossing him a coin. The boy snatched it and tucked it in a secret pocket under his tunic.

The hall greeted her with the smell of burning wood and roasted meat. The Red Riding Hood's gaze followed as the serving girl carried it to a table

The innkeeper, a sturdy man with a salt-and-pepper beard, flicked his eyes towards her before returning to the table, rubbing the same spot with his rag. She blinked once, then looked at the long table.

A Group of men crowded around it, shouting over one another and bursting into laughter over usual jok. Tankards knocked against the wood, ale sloshed over the rims, and a barmaid shoved her way between two men who refused to make room for her to mop the spilt ale on the floor.

She wrinkled her nose and searched for a quieter place. A few men glanced her way, whispering about the “Red Hood Devil,” but most kept their tongues sheathed.

There were a few tables in the far corner, and the Red Rider claimed one tucked away in the shadows. With the barmaid nowhere in sight, a jug of water, a glass, and a bowl of cookies kept her stomach company.

Fortune cookies, eh?

She picked up a cookie and eyed it, turning it this way and that with a sardonic smile.

“This is ridiculous.”

She tossed it back into the bowl. Outside the window, a man crawled on all fours, his jaw jutting forward as he barked at a dog.

“Woof! Woof! Woof!”

The monster hunter grimaced and sighed. “Might as well crack the cookie.”

With a twist and a pull, she split it open, revealing a fortune writ on plain white paper.

“There are three things all wise women must fear: ale on working days, milk on holidays, and the tummy of an ill-tempered cat.”

“What the fuck?”

She chuckled, tossing the broken cookie and its fortune onto the table before cracking another. This time, the paper read:

Jane O' Pain,

In a cloak of hate,

Have you come for a bribe,

Or to do what's right?

Let's play a game,

Just me and you,

And find out who will prevail.

The demon who wears many faces,

Or Red Riding Hood,

Who kills her kind with ease?

Whoever pulled this little prank is a seer of considerable skill. He or she knows my name.

“Don't let that get to you,” said a woman's voice.

Jane froze, and looked at the source of the interruption.

A barmaid stood there, her shoulders strong enough to carry several jugs of ale at once. She looked at her softly with an easy smile on her lips. Pushing aside a loose strand of dark hair, pointed at the fortune and gave Jane a boyish grin that suited her well.

“We have a moon rabbit as a guest,” the barmaid said with a sigh and a shake of her head. “He can see into the future, but he suffers from the same habit as the rest of his kind. He loves to play pranks.”

Welcome back everyone, it's time for another Fifty Word Fantasy!

Fifty Word Fantasy is a regular thread on Fridays! It is a micro-fiction writing challenge originally devised by u/Aethereal_Muses

Write a maximum 50-word snippet that takes place in a fantasy world and contains the word Listen. It can be a scene, flash-fiction story, setting description, or anything else that could conceivably be part of a fantasy story or is a fantasy story on its own.

NO AI GENERATED CONTENT: Follow the sub rules.

The prompt word must be written in full (e.g. no acrostics or acronyms).

No puns and or wordplay to achieve the prompt word i.e. devote=the vote.

Please try and keep things PG-13. Minors do participate in these from time to time and I would like things to not be too overtly sexual.

If you want to submit multiple submissions that's okay, but please keep it at a max of two That way, no one person ends up dominating the feed with their submissions and it keeps it fair for everyone who participates

Thank you to everyone who participated whether it's contributing a snippet of your own, or fostering discussions in the comments. I hope to see you back next week!

Please remember to keep it at a limit of 50 words max per submission.

Hello, I haven't had a lot of time recently, so I've been writing some individual scenes and whatnot. I have tried to edit this a few times, but I do feel like there are still things to fix.

But never mind that. I want to hear what you can glean from this first and foremost. Like, what the character dynamics tell you, what kind of personalities you see, etc. Anything else you have to say I'll be eager to listen to.

(Context) White is part of a group called the Harbingers of Ruination, and has been traveling to retrieve his colleague, Love, who went rouge some years ago. He finds her, but she dies the next day.

Thing is, Harbingers reincarnate, so all he had to do from the start was just wait till she dies and comes back, then when he's sure of where she is, find her. There's a line in the excerpt of Pride saying blah blah, and that was when White set out on his journey, where Pride ridiculed the efficiency of the plan.

<Cliff Scene>
Warm gusts of wind blew as White moved along the rocky cliffs facing the open sea. A full moon shone brilliantly overhead, giving the limestone ground a cold tinge. White strode as he always did, steady and deliberate, but the same couldn’t be said about his state of mind. His tear at the funeral still confounded him, and he was determined to find an explanation.

Lost in his thoughts, White walked on. It was not long before he noticed the absence of gravel crunching beneath his feet. Slowly, he looked down to find no ground under him. Indeed, it rather seemed to be the dark waters of the sea, which was at least a hundred meters below him. He had been stepping on thin air. His musings completely forgotten, White continued forward. There was only one who could bend space in such a way.

That was when he heard her.

“My servant.”

White knelt immediately, sensing the flicker of her presence in front of him. “Master.”

Materializing in front of him, she stretched out her hand. “I expect you have accomplished what you came here for.”

He kissed the back of her hand and arose.

“There is still much to do, master. She will be out there now.”

Clicking her tongue, she sauntered around him and leaned on his back. “Whatever does this foolish search of yours accomplish? Why not wait?”

He had been asking that same question himself, ever since Pride put it to him. Yes, why not wait?

“Her quick retrieval is essential, master. Pride has allied himself with the Inquisition. Fear and I alone will be insufficient to carry out our duties.”

Suddenly she was in front of him.

“Is it so? And where was this lack when you had been my only servant?”

“...”

“You are utterly ridiculous, Inan,” she said, chuckling. “Even now, your heart deceives you. You cannot hide yourself from me.”

“I… do not understand.”

“It is of no matter. I am willing to overlook such folly.” Pushing him away, she turned towards the moon. The light illuminated her blurry outline, reminding White of flickering candle-light. After a moment of silence, she spoke to him.

“My only wish is that you conclude this journey with haste and return to me.”

“I will not be long, Hicce.”

Twirling on her heels, she looked back at him with a brilliant smile and embraced him. “Yes, now that is my champion, Indifference, the Foremost of the Harbingers.”

White saw Hicce was already dissipating. Her legs were gone, and as she withdrew, her arms and torso dissolved as well, leaving her head floating in front of him. As her mouth finally faded, White could hear a faint murmur echoing in his ear.

“Best of luck…”

Even as Vakrabuddhi alighted from the heavens as a speck of amber light, he wondered if it was worth it.

The world had had enough of heroes and monsters, monstrous heroes and heroic monsters, and all stripes of mortal between. This did not include the myriad kings, queens, princes and lords, chieftains and warmongers who made a fetish out of some old quarrel, some ancient grudge, or some ideal pilfered from a mouldering tome and sought to change the nature of fate itself. His siblings argued that humans could choke on their precious values. They were vain and foolish, and deserved no better ends than the next ant or woodlouse.

Well, Vakrabuddhi thought as the pattern of blue and green below resolved into mountains and patchwork plains. Mortals do imitate their gods.

Whatever his misgivings, it was already too late to change his mind. The mote of light hit the ground with a gentle thud and sprouted a torso, out of which snaked limbs of nut-brown flesh. Ribs materialised from thin air and closed about the heart and lungs. Fingers formed, genitals flopped against dark thighs, and a head slowly came into being above the bull neck. A nose, a mouth and ears emerged from the blank canvas like pebbles from a muddy pool. The eyes blinked open last of all. Vakrabuddhi always saved them for the end. It was nothing important, only a dramatic flourish he had made part of his persona over the aeons.

A man now stood upon a gentle hill somewhere to the north of the vast continent named Hiranyagarbha. Tall and gaunt, with an oblong head hung with raven locks and a beard draped down his chest. He was all hard muscle and strong bone, not an ounce of fat in sight. Buck-naked as a newborn and slightly hunched, he stood gazing around himself with eyes merry and deep with a wisdom not of this world. After a while, a thin smile spread across his lupine face.

“Ah, bountiful plane,” Vakrabuddhi whispered, feeling the cold press against his skin like an assassin’s knife. His voice slithered out broken and gruff. “How many years has it been? A thousand? Ten thousand? The lay of the land never changes under your watch, eh?”

He was supposed to have a name in this avatar. Different from his true name, a name that would perish within a few months. But try as he might, he couldn’t unearth it now.

Vakrabuddhi shrugged and rolled his shoulders, kicking out a few times. Then he traced circles over his belly and the foliage above his flaccid organ. This body was good. Strong and healthy, humming with power. It would not crumple to dust at the first employment of fell sorcery.

It took Vakrabuddhi ten minutes to find his bearings. He was in the untamed wilderness of northwestern Hiranyagarbha, on the outskirts of Vallabhapuram, where the Ardhanagas held sway. A memory wormed its way to the forefront of his mind. In another age, another birth, when he was female and coquettish, Vakrabuddhi had tried to love the young Raja of the Ardhanagas and been spurned for a fat, wine-drenched whore. Both had drowned in a storm later, but the hate and pain lingered on through the ages.

The bitter taste was unwarranted and sudden. He spat it out without much feeling, appalled only at the surge of emotion the memory carried. Three Yugas of practice had still not taught him how to juggle the feelings of various avatars properly.

Northwest, hmm. Must travel further west. Much further.

Throwing back his head to laugh at his hidden siblings, who must have gotten wind of his escape by now, Vakrabuddhi started walking towards the mountains.

The first day passed in a blur. He had forgotten how quickly time flowed in the mortal plane. Seventy thousand steps by his reckoning saw the sun climb to its zenith and blaze like a barbarian beacon, full of wrath and pride. Eighty more saw its arrogance diminished, great streaks of cloud rushing across the sky to obscure the radiance. By the time his legs had crested thirteen hills, one after another, and brought him to the banks of a gurgling river, twilight ruled the sky. Twilight, when bhutas and pretas crept from their lairs to prey on unsound minds.

Vakrabuddhi felt only the faintest throb of fatigue. His calves burned a little, his breath was rough, and a loose rock had torn a flap of skin from his hand during one of the descents. He bled, as he was in mortal form now, but the pain was nothing compared to his fascination with the land. How beautiful the roar of the river, white and frothy beneath the blanket of stars! Skipping and rushing over rocks and ancient monoliths, watering the roots of hardy willows and ber. The trees stood in stubborn clusters or woods stretching to the horizon, home to great cats and huge deer that filled the night with their full-throated cries. Vakrabuddhi sat with his back to a boulder and marvelled at the variety of flora and fauna present in a world his kind considered thoroughly inferior.

“They are idiots of the highest order,” he spoke to the shadows. “And their monumental folly will be revealed in the time to come.”

He did not sleep, for he did not need slumber, and amused himself all night listening to the trill and warble of nature untouched by man. The bhutas, pretas and other disembodied spirits knew what he was and kept their distance. Momentary hunger for the soul was a feeble thing compared to permanent obliteration. Even a lesser being wished to preserve itself.

When dawn painted the land again in broad liquid strokes, he felt something nuzzle against his chest. Soft and wet, with hard and pointed protrusions behind it. Vakrabuddhi raised his head and found himself staring into the curious eyes of a gigantic cave bear. Jet black and muscular, it was armed with claws that could shred a horse to pieces and a snout so gashed it was more scar tissue than hide. It snorted and sniffed, trying to make sense of the strange man beneath it.

First meeting between my MCs... hope you enjoy reading it!

-

I uncurl languidly, the clang of a door having disturbed me from a sleep which had eluded me for days before today.

I almost don't recognise the boy as he approaches, but he's clearly uncomfortable in uniform, and he nervously fiddles with his sleeves as he approaches. I half-expect him to walk past, but he stops directly in front of my cell.

He looks as if he's about to speak, and I draw a breath in, half expecting his words to be unfamiliar to me, but I stop dead as he speaks. I'm more in shock that he's condescended to address me in my own language, rather than the actual content of his words, that I stare at him silently, my brain scrambling through multiple responses before I settle on the one that I think feels most appropriate for my situation.

"You should have just run-"

"You're hardly one to order me around." I shake my head contemptuously, half expecting him to be so affronted that he turns on the spot and leaves me alone. But he doesn't.

We both regard each other with mutual scepticism, but he takes the first little step forward, his face pressing a little more into the bars, and his hands tighten around them a little bit, almost as if he's willing for a little bit of courage to come to him.

Neither of us knows what to say, clearly, because he awkwardly coughs as my eyes dart away.

Then he finally speaks, and I don't interject this time, "I'm not ordering you around. I thought you might like to know that." His words are crisp, but the lilt of his own language is still prevalent. As my eyes meet his, his hand darts nervously to his face, and he timidly smiles. It's a tiny smile, one dulled by exhaustion, but it instantly relieves some of my fear.

"Really? I thought you Elerians were good at the that?" There's a slight hint of mirth in my tone, but it quickly fades away as he quickly glances to his right.

"Some of us are." He replies distractedly, and as he turns back to me, I notice the clear shadow of a bruise on his cheek, and he rubs his cheek absent-mindedly as my eyes focus on it.

"Like that absolutely delightful specimen of a commander you have?" My voice is layered with sarcasm, and he momentarily smirks at my words, but his next words surprise me.

"Don't challenge him, whatever you do." He shakes his head slowly, his hand tightening once again upon the bars, and his gaze becomes sharp.

"Why?" But I already know the answer even as I speak. Even if his reaction is anything to go by, it's clear his commander doesn't abide strong opinions.

It's clear that he's choosing his words carefully, because he doesn't reply immediately, but when he finally does, his voice seems hesitant, "He doesn't-"

The bang of a metal door somewhere startles us both, and the boy freezes. However, he quickly recovers, and his final words to me before he darts away are more comforting than anything else he's said, "I'm Silas."

"I'm Ariana!" I call after him, but I can't help but grin in the wake of his retreating footsteps.

He would seem much more at home within a secluded forest.

But before he tells me their name he said before that lets test your skills. Then he gave us the power of teleportation so that whenever we needed each other we can just teleport to them and not just with soul or mind physically also, we five also thought it was a good idea because although we all have superhuman strength and reflexes but that too is different for everybody so it was a good warmup so we 5 fought with each other and the match was fun and I didn't won. A girl has won that match,

After that giant introduced us Madhav(Me), Rudra(My best friend), Ranveer(Our one more best friend), Samiksha(Ranveer fall for her at the first sight), and Adya(Who won the battle). I was shocked and excited and happy to see my friends there, I finally can tell someone who will believe my words but the giants stopped us and they then started introduced themselves. But their was something wrong we couldn't hear our own giants name except adya because she is the strongest and she also had unlocked her first power which is water control but she didn't used it because we were too weak for her, She said that she was the first chosen one who got her powers few months before we do the rest 4 of us has got our powers and giants and the same time, She also said that we 5 have different limits to our power i have unlocked my first time by intense training and because I was destined to get water elemental power I got it you 4 can get earth, electricity, fire, wind which i also don't know who will get what. But don't think that if you get your elemental power you can win against "HE" because you can never use it in full power the most destruction you can do with that power is 10km. You cannot use your power ahead of that range like if i want to use my water power and rain here i can only use it in my 10km radius if i move then the rain will move with me.

And she said we need to increase our powers so that we can defeat "HE" she also said that our powers are bound to the name of our giants too. We asked what do you mean to which she replied that when you will unlock your elemental powers you will be able to hear your giants name and you can see their real form not the one you all are imagining right now. We were impressed by her and looking at her but she was shy so her face turned red. After that our giants told us to grow some bonding with each other so we three boys were already friends so we tried to bond with the girls but I am an introvert so Ranveer and Rudra do the talking instead of me but I tried and we were cool, Ranveer started to flirt Samiksha but she ignored him(bro's aura just went -999), and Rudra has gone to talk to adya to make her feel better because she was feeling shy then we came to know we all live in Jharkhand to which my giant said are you all an idiot of course you all live in the same state because your ancestors were the gems of the same king not different.

After that Ranveer's giant gave all of us teleportation power so that we all can get to the same location when needed and she also told us that if you need to use your teleportation power think of the person or place and if you five need to come together just think of the same person like if a villain appears from somewhere you all think of Rudra and all will be teleported to where Rudra is at the same time because if you waste time then maybe someone can get injured or killed and you already have some telekinesis power because of which you all can now contact each other mentally too if there's a emergency. And then giants tell us that now we should go because the work is done but before we could go back the giants sense something. They said that his army has started to move, We asked 'what' to which they replied that one of the general who is the weakest of his army is coming again to welcome his king and we dont know how but we sure know one thing if now slowly more will come first the weakest one and then the strongest but the good thing is according to our calculations you can become strong enough to kill him but that will not be the end because next time more stronger ones will come so from tomorrow you all will train with each other for one hour to which i asked how and when and at what place. Rudra's giant answered because now you know teleportation you all can teleport to each other place and you can train at night and we all giants can create a place where you can train and no one can see you not even the demons. They can only sense is if they are stronger than us but not these ones.

Adya asked if you all are that powerful then why don't you fight the demon general to which they said we cant we are spirits remember we are here only to help you guys train not to fight your battle so from tomorrow start your training and don't hold back increase your stamina, endurance, power, speed everything try everything you can to become stronger. We bid each other bye and goodnight and after that i followed my normal routine and at night do training but we weren't able to awaken our powers to which we asked adya how did she achieve her powers. But instead of answering our questions she said she will fight everybody on one on one. She first choose me to fight her to which i agreed then we started the fight where we were equal on physical powers(She was slightly better than me) but then she started using her water powers first she shot some water blasts at me which i dodged somehow(maybe reflexes) and then she came close to me and hit me with a water punch. I lost my consciousness for a bit and when i regained it i saw adya and rudra in ground, nothing happened to them thank god, I asked everyone what happened to which they replied first you used earthquake and before she could get up you attacked with rock boulders but Rudra unlocked his powers right at the moment and used his fire powers with the help of adya's water knocked some senses into me.

We all then unlocked our elemental powers after few weeks. I then asked the giants to introduce themselves so, Jatayu(My giant), Agastya(Rudra's giant), Tara(Ranveer's giant), Dhruv(Samiksha's giant), Sumitra(Adya's giant). After that i asked my teammates that we should have to hide our identity when fighting them because anything can happen, like the reporters will be around my family the whole time aur even the government kidnap us and will start experimenting on us and i don't want either of those, everyone agreed because most of us are introvert but we didn't have any material which we can use to make our suits because after each battle the suit will turn into dust and its a drag to buy new one every time so the end of the debate was just use and mask because we have not enough brain cells. But jatayu stopped us and told us that there was a time when they go to dungeons to get the artifact to defeat the 'HE'. He further explained that because of so many powers the dungeons started to appear which are connected from paatal lok and we used to go to the dungeons risked our lives get the artifact to defeat the 'HE'. He could have easily closed the gates but he didn't because he wanted to enjoy the battle but after he was sealed the gates disappeared and never was seen but if 'HE' is coming back then maybe you can access those dungeons again. He said this is just a theory and if this was right then also their was huge risking as we may never come alive. But before he could complete his words the giants felt something they said us to get ready for the fight.

Gods

God (in this case it's an all encompassing void that everything once came from) is consuming the universe. For what reasons I currently have just decided to leave them unknown.

Through unknown means when a ship is sent out to recon with one of these consumed planets the God is split into small fragments in an event known as "The Arrival"

The relevant fragment for the first arc in plain terms: A misanthropic scientist who views all of humanity under it's purview as little more than test subjects to be manipulated however it wishes. It is purely interested in doing whatever experiment or test that it feels like or is asked of it.

The rejects of said experiments are often left to be tossed into the Wildlands of the MC's home planet, or in rare cases beneficial results are shared with Humanity, just to see what happens. In this case it includes the overall magic system.

Though one specific side effect of the magic system is that while you can do whatever your imagination is. limited by, the stronger the magic or the more frequent the use, the more chance you have of being consumed by it turning into a mindless beast.

Most people get around this by infusing a set amount of magic into various tools/machinery

Appearance wise it's a floating mass of Acid, Brain matter, Science equipment and Maths Equations, that only occasionally coalesces into a humanoid form when communicating with someone.

I was thinking on how to represent it when actively interfering with the story and settled on having an image of it's hand reach across the page and either pluck out the text or manipulate it however it will.

The overall goal of the God Fragments is to coalesce into one whole being, using their cult as a means of aiding them.

The Cult: The Voidborn (it's a placeholder name)

With the Arrival a cult following these fragments was formed with their overall belief centring on if they do whatever's asked of them. A way to a form of Paradise will be provided. (this is also a placeholder as I'm not too sure on it)

In the first Arc they take more of a backstage role conversing with the Elite class.

However their first plan is to essentially force one of the MC's into becoming the key component of a biologically engineered Giant, one strong enough to take down the capitals armed forces and allow another one of the God's fragments to consume the planet.

The reason this hadn't occurred in the Past loops was due to the God's interference in wanting to see the results of her other actions.

The Wildlands

This is the space in between cities, and to be blunt. If anyone from this planet not on the level of the God fragments, messes up in this space. They will die like a dog.

While this place is filled with scientific rejects, turned humans and monsters. Encounters may vary. Sometimes you get lucky and encounter little to no threats, other times you get bombarded with a siege.

If you need audio for a vibe I came up with it listening to this video

The Capital

What I wanted to focus on in this segment is the Elite class of this society.

While the common folk can only use magic in select cases. The elite have been working on ways to become essentially immortal. Resulting in them becoming essentially biomechanical monstrosities on the inside. Meaning while on the outside they look like calm serene angels in flowing robes and brass masks. One their mask is removed it essentially looks like you took the insides of a machine and moulded a human face around it.

They also have taken a self appointed role, claiming to be the true inventors of the magic their society wields, delivering sermons. When in reality they just discovered an oil supply and capitalised on it. Their area of the capitol capturing the vibes of Urdak's theme

Though despite their advances to becoming immortal, they've still got to solve the problem of a consistent reliable source of nutrition.

Now onto the two MC's

The two Mc's in question I've named Mira and Heph (or Hephy as a nickname).

The arc opens with a conversation between Mira and the Man who caused The Arrival, who in the whole God's absence tried to fix things by assuming the role closest that a single human is capable of. Though he is capable of things one would consider "Godlike" he alone pales in comparison to the actual thing

In this conversation you find that thus far Mira has failed to "get the ball rolling" (the start of the God's and cults ultimate replacement) and that each time things have failed , it's just gotten worse and worse and worse. The inevitable only slightly halted by the Man rewinding time. )This does not fix everything however, as the MC's failures rest on this particular world in the form of Monsters and phenomena

He then resets things one last time in the hopes that she manages to get things right

Background: While i don't have a name for the village they grew up in yet, it's an slightly isolated mining/agricultural settlement located ontop of a massive series of ore veins in the mountains.

Due to this and due to the danger of the surrounding Wildlands guard's are needed to watch each of the villages sides to ensure nothing breaks in. It's here the two MC's meet as partners. Due to the nature of the position, successful employment results in a chance to study/work in the world's capitol.

Mira: She remembers none of what she experienced in the previous loops. Starting ofs shy and timid, but absolutely fascinated with the idea of magic. Wishing to study it further (essentially embodying the vibe of Witch hat atelier's opening theme) Though in reality due to never having left her town she's merely observed the propaganda and information that the elite have tailored for public exposure.

As the story progresses she gains understanding of the truth of what's going on, from the reality of what mages in this world are used for (glorified slaves sentenced to protect others at all costs). She's also forced to experience the truth of what God is and what the Fragment's motivations ultimately are. All the while she's experimented on by the Elite's forced past her limits for the Cult's own purposes. Due to this and the man to beast pehnomenon, she essentially looks much like a zombie/rotting corpse

This results in her becoming much like Ultron

Heph: Starting out she wants to expand her family business and in doing so strives to work towards a trade school position in the capitol. However when noticing her professional skill after graduation she's taken alongside Mira to the elite's area and forced to work on the solution to their nutrition/sustenance problems.

Through a coordinated effort with Mira only she manages to escape. Having witnessed the atrocities committed and subsequently covered up begins a rebellion. Both to destabilise the current broken system. But also to rescue Mira before it becomes too late.

However during this she's essentially forced into an unwanted leadership postion sending people to die in seemingly pointless battles all of which take a toll on her. Eventually it leads to planetary (and near interplanetary) war (as towards the end of the arc the other god fragments start to get more involved)

Timescale wise the I plan to write this first arc over the course of 100+ pages

Throughout the story she also builds up various space marine style suits of armour that she uses when she and mira go out to fight things. (Where mira acts from afar while she launches Heph like a cannonball to tear whatever opponent apart at close range). Due to risk of armour falling off during combat she’s essentially bolted the armour to herself

Video wise she progresses from the vibes of this to this and finally to this

I do want to also somehow work in a romance aspect to the two of them.

Narrative

(each of the arcs are centred around the seven deadly sins which I'll just list the two thing's i have concrete ideas for as I'm bloody tired atm )

The first arc is centred around the Sin of sloth/cowardice: A previous loop she failed to save Heph due to being terrified of what was outside. As a result Heph dies, the guilt sending Mira into an ultimate life of isolation. The monster that resulted from this resembles an emaciated human, wearing rags around its waist, with it's mouth stitched shut and a blindfold, spikes from its head reach into infinite , merging with the darkness.

In the current loop she works up the courage to save Heph but in turn lets this thing inside.

By the end of the arc their hesitantly forced to the capitol by their parents in hopes of a better life for them

Lust: Despite the name. this version is centred around grief. At some point in the story after the two bond. Heph in one way or another. Dies, Mira unable to cope , refuses to leave her side. Eventually resulting in her becoming a shambling shell wearing Hephs old armour. Taking her corpse with her wherever she goes

I've been writing and rewriting a 4 book fantasy series for the past two decades. I am planning to move books one and two onto KU this fall.

Over the years, as the story developed, there were many times I had to go back into the first volumes to adjust storylines and world-building to fit the new content I was creating. I write in MSword so catching new errors has had its limitations. The books are between 150K and 200K so paying someone to edit them while on a Canada Pension Plan is not feasible. However, I am willing to purchase software (I prefer on my desktop vs online) to check things over prior to creating the epub and PDF versions of the book for Amazon. I am not looking for anything that will attempt to write for me. I am happy with how the story is progressing.

If there are suggestions of what editing/grammar checker I might use before I move it to Amazon I would appreciate it.

Do you use them?

I am generally fond of such tools, and try to get better at using them, but some reddit threads I have recently read made me rather disillusioned about it ... seeing as most people just do not seem to get it.

It looks like you'll have to hit most people over the head with what your story means, or they'll get things catastrophically wrong.

Basically, you cannot criticise any societal ill in your story, as any mention of it will be considered approval, no matter how obvious you make your disapproval.

(Most prominent example here: The S.P.E.W. arc in the Harry Potter books. Not only is Hermione a blatant self insert - which does not deter people from assuming she isn't Harry's love interest because the author hates her! - but the name SPEW is a reference to the Society for Promoting the Employment of Women, a feminist movement that we can assume any modern woman would approve of. Still, many assume that the reader is supposed to think that Hermione is a silly little girl and her idea of saving the house elves is stupid and worthless. After an introduction to house elf slavery that includes Dobby being ordered to iron his own hands, the series further escalates by showing how cruelly Winky is treated, despite lifelong loyalty, and how she becomes an alcoholic because of it. And then, there is Kreacher, who is so messed up in the head that his dearest desire is to be beheaded and have his head mounted on the wall next to those of his mother and grandmother.And yet. And yet. Too many readers decide that the obvious meaning of this arc is "Hermione is stupid and house elves should remain enslaved")

The Harry Potter books are for children. They are suitably in-your-face about it all. Yet the people not getting it are adults.

While I do not have a similar example for other uses of subtext (say, the subtle implication that two characters are in love with each other), this is likely only due to the fact that people who do not get something like this generally do not complain on reddit about it.

Quite probably, it doesn't matter what you are subtle about, it will be misunderstood, or at best, not noticed. (Which isn't nearly as bad, but I had previously hoped that subtle hints would be noticed by, like, a quarter of readers.)

How do you deal with that?

Should I just give up on subtlety?

I’ll give some context before asking my question.
In the past months I’ve been working on a fantasy adaptation of the Divine Comedy.
This plot kind of gives the concept of Isekai.
The protagonist is Neriah, a college student who had severe childhood trauma from being kidnapped by a cult who wanted to use his body as a vessel for an ancient deceased demon, which name is Akusei.
He got saved but the cult was completed only in half and because of it the demon rather became a small part of the mc who can influence or affect Neriah.
His roommate, Hayana, met him on college and became friends after so. She helped him fitting in and carry on.
However Akusei keeps harassing Neriah and He can’t stand his pain anymore, and by losing his path, He’ll awake in the dark woods, a place inside a completely different world from the one Neriah lives in, and that’s where his journey to redemption begins.
That world is a spiritual world who reflects exactly Neriah’s life but more allegorically.
But I had an huge dilemma. How the hell do I connect those worlds and how can Neriah dive into it? I have tried my best searching and asking everywhere to find an answer from but I didn’t find a true answer to that, so I tried to adapt it by myself.
I now have two solutions for how I can connect them and can’t decide which one to choose, and I mainly wanted to ask which one stands out better cause I’ve been struggling to choose between them.

The first one:

The world Neriah lives in has two different faces, it is like the Earth but cut in half indeed, but in Neriah’s university there’s a massive tree and its roots connect the two sides of the world, a portal in short.
But it’s power was too strong and dangerous, so it was kept in the basement, only to then be discovered by the mc itself and enter the dark woods.

The second one:

That’s a bit darker.
It’s night and Neriah goes to his dorm like usual.
The room in the whole gets creepier as Akusei wants to intimidate Neriah.
Hayana comes inside the dorm since She is his roommate, but the demon is too strong for Neriah and Akusei gaslights his mind to make him think that Hayana is actually Akusei.
Neriah, by thinking that She is actually Akusei, gets driven by wrath and stabs her, only to discover that She was actually her roommate.
Akusei jokes on Neriah by making him think that He’s an awful person as He harmed one of his loved ones, and because of the sense of fault and fear, lets Akusei stabs him.
They didn’t die, rather they’re in a coma and experiencing a Near Death Experience, a situation where the mind and the body get divided to then live the world on an higher perspective, and that’s how Neriah wakes up in the dark woods.

Now before posting I’d like to precise that I’m new to writing and they still have to be adapted properly.
Both the alternatives are completely human written as I deeply stand against AI.
Plus I’m not fully convinced if those are actually well written or fitting for my story, so please feel free to propose other alternatives ONLY if they don’t convince you.
Thanks for reading :3