Writing Group: Heavy is the Crown (PRIVATE)

Sep 14, 2020

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in Community, Private Submissions, Writing Group

Hello, my liege.

What? Don’t look so exhausted. Most people would thrill to be addressed in such a way. But then, I suppose you know better by now, don’t you? This is what it means to be who you are. Set your jaw, sit tall on your throne, and bear it with grace, because…

This week’s writing group prompt is:

Heavy is the Crown

RULES AND GUIDELINES BELOW!
Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!

Well, don’t we seem to have a taste for dissonance? Last week the prompt was “I shouldn’t be here”, this week it’s about being in a position of power and finding the surprising weight of it.

This is a little different, though; not so imminently cynical. The crown may be heavy, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want rid of it. It’s a trade. The prize, for the burden of bearing it. Whether that turns out to be a curse you’d do anything to be free from, or a just exchange—that’s up to you.

The simplest way to think of this is in component parts: something desirable or coveted, and the costs involved. Could be a king with an unpleasant duty to his people, such as choosing who gets to eat during a famine. Could be someone new to a relationship they’ve always wanted, only realizing now that they’ll have to learn to appreciate the difficult parts of their new lover as well. It could even be the cost on the way to the object of desire—a lich who gives away their humanity for eternal life, and is unhappy with the everlasting hollowness of their existence.

Make it tantalizing, make it beautiful, and then… make it cost a terrible price.

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Submit your entry in a comment on this post.

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Comments

125 responses to “Writing Group: Heavy is the Crown (PRIVATE)”

Deviacon

September 18, 2020

Eclectic Crown
By Derek McEldowney (Deviacon)

I made it myself. From the deepest corners of the places I’d come to love, and from the remains of every creature I had ever called a friend, and I befriended nearly every one I met. It was simple at a glance; a masked headdress of branches and bones. But to the more observant, there were small rocks and nuts, and bits of nests, and feathers and so many things more.

Within the matted grass weave that lie beneath so much of the larger outside bits, there were tufts of fur and claws and cicada shells, every bit that would be too small or fragile to make up a part of the greater frame. Larger ligaments of bones and fangs and even some stout branches adorned and encircled the outside edges.

On the left side was the largest branch, given by my most favorite tree which was taken from me during a lightning storm one summer night. On the right side was an antler nearly the branches’ mirrored twin in shape and size, and in all other ways but actual composition. It was given, not by the stag that bore it, but by the forest itself one cold winter morning.

It had its own face, forged from the foliage of so many forests and mountains and fields. It’s the only face I could ever remember wearing. A skeletal face of bark and twigs and flowers.

Every single component, no matter how small, was a memory of mine, was a lifetime of memories self-contained.

So many voices. They were my friends once, so why do they say such horrid things now?

I wore it proudly. The weight of the spirits it carried, helped carry me.

They made it themselves.

So many voices.

Reply
1. PixieWings
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  The mysticism and imagery here is fantastic. You have such a knack for painting a picture with your words. I especially love the small details of the crown we get, stuff like cicada shells and the “skeletal face of bark.”
  
  I can def see what you mean that the two of us were on the same train of thought this week. Our narrator here’s crafted this crown from everything that has made him, all his experiences leading to a whole. But that’s also sort of overwhelming him.
  
  And that mirroring of the line “I made it myself.” Love it. Great story.
  
  Reply
King_Nix

September 18, 2020

“The Envoy”
By King_Nix

The palace of the great king of Wal’Ashar stood before Revelus and his company. Here, protected by the mountains to the South and the vast forests of the North, had not been touched by the Daemon Wars which ravaged his own homeland. The guards at the gate were of such stature, that Revelus wondered if even an entire Century could overtake these few, though untroubled by battle as they were. For these were Shönai, taller than Men, and more fair, and legend spoke of their prowess in battle.

The guards led Revelus to the court of King Abendir. All about the golden chamber, there was dancing and merriment. Court bards of that splendid race played upon divers instruments in a harmonious tune of the old joys of lost age, when they reigned as mighty lords in the realm of Sun’Ashar, in the ancient West across the seas, when they held counsel with the Domvari, lords of the world, and fought beside the valiant dead. Yet, there sat one alone upon his amber-laden throne of gold, who had seen the fall. There sat the great king, youthfully eldest among eldest, unmoved.

Revelus approached the throne. The music softened, to ease conversation between him and their king. Instead, Revelus drew out his own lyre, and began to play, and the rest silenced as he did so. For the music he played poured out sorrow and death as he himself had beheld, and that his people now readied to suffer tenfold at the very Jaws of Nix; but the winter of his melody gave way to bitter-sweet spring, and though the joy of his tune was frail beside the eternal summer of the Shönai, the king’s solemn face softened, and he wept as the final notes of the song ended.

He rose, and spoke: “For not since the death of my father, and the loss of our home has my heart known hope! I have languished here, when I should have rallied to aid you! Heavy is my grief; may it be the hammer which breaks the evil of Nix for all time!”

Reply
1. NocteVesania
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  I really love how you paint these vivid pictures, of picturesque lands and fantastical worlds! The way you’ve worldbuilt and set a stage in a couple of paragraphs is both informative and refreshing, describing in great detail the land and some history with it. The way you’ve described the message is also great, conveying emotions of music through “graceful” descriptions. Amazing job!
  
  Reply
PixieWings

September 17, 2020

And Anyway, The Fourth Wall Has A Window
By PixieWings

“You…gonna be writing something on this text document, boss?”

I’m working on it.

“Uh-huh.”

I am!

“I’m just saying, is all. You’ve opened and closed it six times.”

It’s a rough prompt. Responsibility, and the burden you take on with accepting it. It’s all very Shakespeare.

“The writer doth protest too much.”

I didn’t know you knew that was Shakespeare.

“You don’t think I read? I read.”

Sure.

“I live in your head! And stop changing the subject. We’re talking about you here. What’s your deal? No ideas?”

Well, no. I had a few.

“And?”

One was a whole Persephone thing. Make it about her agency. Call her the Iron Queen. Blah blah.

“You do have a thing for Greek myth, if, ah, I’m anything to go by. So what’s the problem?”

Couldn’t think of a decent scene to center it around. And anyway, how was I going to put an audience in her shoes? Make it lyrical?

“You know you can just…write a story, right? Without doing weird shit with the prose?”

I like doing weird shit with the prose.

“Alright, fine. So no pomegranates. Next?”

I tried writing about Codependency.

“Jesus Christ, why don’t you just smash your head through the screen? It’d be less painful for you.”

What I had was good! Magical realism. Putting on someone else’s skin, but like, in a not-horror way. It could have been solid.

“But?”

Couldn’t finish. It felt bad.

“So still on that journey.”

Guess so.

“Well, don’t feel too bad. You’re writing again! That’s something, right?”

Yeah.

“And you’re doing pretty good at it, yeah? Remember the old lady eating kids story? That kicked ass.”

It did.

“You don’t have to always work yourself into a lather doing something new or good. You’re allowed to have some stupid fun once in a while.”

Yeah. Thank you.

“Hey, what else am I here for? But, if you wanted to thank me properly, you could always write something about me.”

I’m working on it.

“You’ve been working on it since you were twelve, hun. Not getting any younger here.”

Reply
1. Gregory Hess
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Nice meta fiction. Anthropomorphizing your own subconscious is always fun(at least that’s how I’ll interpret the voice), and the unconventional dialogue works. It would be nice if it was a little clearer that it was a dialogue from the beginning, though I can’t think of a good way to actually do that so… anyways, cool stuff! Hopefully next week is a little easier for you.
  
  Reply
2. Astrid Jones
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Wow, I love this piece so much! A lot of us writers go through this. Your muse is right; you are allowed to “have some stupid fun once in a while” even when you don’t think so. I love the optimism your muse has. They are the complete opposite of the Shoulder Editor that’s constantly screaming our stuff isn’t good enough.
  
  Maybe I’m reading too deeply into your story, but I see the heavy crown here as the responsibility you feel as a writer. You feel like you “have” to write something good, something that readers will enjoy and take notice of. You have a responsibility to your characters. They depend on you for life, after all. And you have a responsibility to yourself.
  
  Once again, and as many times as I can say it, I loved this piece. Great job, PixieWings!
  
  Reply
3. Lunabear
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  I really love how metafictional the story is, Pixie. it’s relatable because I have conversations with myself all the time, although I don’t believe this is what’s happening. I think this is the story of you having a conversation with your one of characters. I really like how you’re being held accountable, but you’re also giving yourself props and cutting yourself a bit of slack. The overall feel of it is nice and familiar. Very great!
  
  Reply
4. Lari B. Haven
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  Ugh! I felt this piece. I really related with the constant pressure I too put myself through to get something done. It’s weird how we sometimes just find inspiration in our lack of inspiration. The crown here is very well signified is both our subconscious demanding from us and our own and hope that we can ignore everything and keep on writing. Keep goings Pixie!
  
  Reply
5. Deviacon
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  This was very similar to my line of thought for this weeks prompt. As writers not everything we do always has to be some grandiose push or reach. Sometimes it’s ok to just sit and write whatever comes to mind and see where it takes you. It’s always nice to see that and where people go with it.
  
  Reply
6. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  Ah lovely! This reminds me of a metastory I did for the ‘Better The Devil You Know’ prompt a while back – I didn’t have any strong desire for any of my ideas at that point, so I went full meta by writing down my own thought processes in third-person instead. XD Yours is more of a dialogue though, and the dialogue is an entertaining one!
  
  The reference to greek mythology stuff as an inspiration for the muse character themselves makes me wonder – are they based on a ‘specific’ muse from greek myth, or is their existence specific to your own mind?
  
  The ideas you wrote about trying to write both seem neat too! Your mind is an interesting place to be apparently. :3 Well done!
  
  Reply
7. Twangyflame0
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  Ah man, I wish I had an inner voice like this. Mine is either hungry or bonks me on the head. I really like the sort of relaxed feeling of this. It just feels completely natural and normal. I’m glad you were able to make up your mind about this prompt and post something. Though those other two stories have also piqued my interest. Very well done, Pixie.
  
  Reply
NocteVesania

September 17, 2020

When Banners Turn To Ash
By NocteVesania

Shouts and cries of anger and hatred filled the streets of the city as crowds gathered around our parade. The confetti they once threw turned into stones, and the medals and garlands that once hung from my neck were replaced with steel and chains.

The glory of the war has now faded, and peace has finally come. As the night finally ended, the people of the land wanted to forget the horror and the bloodshed. In the end, the accursed cross was mine to bear, the once-revered general, now painted as a bloodthirsty fool.

“Go to hell, monster!” A man cried out, raising the pitchfork in his hand.

“Warmongering wretch!” Another shouted, his fist raised in the air.

“You should’ve died on the battlefield, coward!”

Yes, I am a coward. As the battle raged, men and women gladly laid their lives for me, while I stood back and watched, throwing more and more lives into the violence and turmoil of the battlefront. I was like a king, my throne piled high with corpses.

Toward the end of our march, a woman threw herself to the center of the procession. The guards held her down, but with a gesture from the officer, the guards let her go. She rushed up to me. Clutching my tattered collar, she looked at me with eyes full of despair.

“My son,” she cried, “please tell me where my son is. Please tell me he’s just resting, tired from battle. Please tell me he’s coming home.”

Those brave young soldiers stood by my word, and they died by my word. My greatest shame was not for failing to bring victory. It was for taking those boys and girls away from their families, never to come home. Their blood stained my hands.

I turned my head away, not daring to look into the anguish in her eyes. She crumpled to the ground, overcome with grief. A guard pulled on my chains and we continued our walk.

The setting sun beamed a beautiful gold as we reached the gallows.

Reply
1. WolfsbaneX
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Nocte, this is a magnificent and heartbreaking story. A general fallen from grace fits the prompt very well. The narration indicates this is a weary man, and the description puts my imagination right into the scene. Also, the added weight of failing to uphold his duties as general is the bittersweet twist of the knife this story needed.
  
  Reply
2. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Man, oh, man, Nocte! This one is a beast. I cannot imagine the amount of guilt or regret that the general has on his shoulders as he takes that last walk. At first, I thought that this was going to be a case of straw dogs (where certain individuals are built up to be like gods, but once they have fulfilled their purpose, they are cast aside without a second thought by those who forced expectations on them or filled their head with those kinds of dreams), but then to find out that the general ran away after watching goodness knows how many people die for his sake. Agonizing.
  
  I originally read your title as When Bananas Turn to Ash. I’m so sorry about that.
  
  Excellent build up and horrendous pay off for the general. Bravo.
  
  Reply
3. Shaviathan
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  The crown of a general was a great way to take this prompt. One of the heaviest burdens to bear from war is the amount of sacrifice the leaders ask of their men and take responsibility for. Often times whether the battle was won or lost the same question will be asked, was it worth it? This general seems to think that in his case it wasn’t, and has accepted execution as punishment for his failures. The last line in particular seems to give the impression that he found some solace or repentance in it. I could be wrong on that but something about how that line being in direct contrast to the imagery of the rest of the story gives off the sense of some underlying text.
  
  Reply
4. revisis
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  Ohh this hits differently after just reading a lot about the German High-General of WWI, and how he escaped this treatment by lying through his teeth.
  
  I love how you depict the General not even being affonted by the treatment. Even if he is a coward, he is brave enough to face his fate without whining or attempting to flee.
  
  The begining with the “and”s seems a bit stumbly and in “men and women gladly laid their lives for me” seems like the word “down” is missing?
  
  Otherwise an amazing story.
  
  Reply
jesse fisher

September 17, 2020

Some Crowns are Meant to Fall
By Jesse Fisher

Grangal watched as the fight began between Goraidh and Demon. The manic laughter of Goraidh rang in the quiet arena as he kept trying to move past the navy wolf. The resene plumed griffin kept the attempted stabbing going, the loincloth wearing wolf kept blocking the thrusts.

This was a dance that could end in many ways, death seemed the only option that was a constant. Within Grangal something that had been eating away at her since that morning, she had broken her own nature and caused chaos within her world but she was not the true cause. Behind the ditzy personality was a being who saw what others did in the name of ‘ORDER’.

Any creature that dared to go against the head priest’s rules would be taken to a room and not return. She was ignorant until she walked in one day while no one was around. That scared her, the blood and bodies shocked her that any of her friends could have done this. And Goraidh seemed to ramp it up since he came to power.

This whole thing would have truly broke her if not for stumbling across that door to Korun’s bar and learning of the world beyond her own, she told this to her elder god siblings and they started to go to just take a break from the world. Something in the way the bar felt at ease, even the twins that fought constantly seemed like normal siblings.

The smell of burned flesh and singed feather along with a squawk of pain and knives falling brought her out of some repressed and good memories, Demon had an oozing fire on his hand as Goraidh clutched his now scared shoulder and the wing behind him was half gone.

“Heathen, you took it all from me.” Goraidh seethed as he rose from where he fell. “Go on, take my life from me. Once they learn of it I will be seen as a martyr to my goddess.”

Grangal blinked and Goraidh fell into the lava below, she turned to Demon with tears in her eyes.

Reply
1. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  I really enjoyed this, Toa. You did the inverse of the prompt. Instead of wearing the crown, Grangal has shed hers because of Korun and (I believe) Demon. It’s a very nice twist, and I like the gladiator style fighting that’s going on. Is Grangal the reason Goraidh falls into the lava?
  
  Critiques:
  
  You have a few run-on sentences. You might want to read over them a lot more before submitting, or ask someone to proofread it for you.
  
  Goraidh clutched his now sca(r)red shoulder(,) and the wing behind him was half gone.
  
  This one really struck an emotional chord. This is an introspective personal story, and it is very well done. Nice work, Toacoy.
  
  Reply
  1. jesse fisher
    
    September 18, 2020
    
    yep run-ons my major crutch and habit, and ya Grangal made a choice to end the whole reign of Goraidh’s family right there and then. A person with little to no choice made one that will allow her to be more then a ‘goddess’.
    
    Reply
2. Gregory Hess
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  I really like the direction you took this in. A goddess getting to know how terrible her followers are and just dealing with it because she doesn’t know what else to do is great. What, exactly happened at the end is a little confusing but understandable. Also, the other characters end up with basically no characterization in this piece(besides the fact that Demon fights well and Goraidh is loyal), like Demon could be one of the followers for all we know and this could just be infighting. Otherwise, good stuff
  
  Reply
  1. jesse fisher
    
    September 18, 2020
    
    Thank you, and ya issue with wanting stand alone into a chapter of a larger story. then again this is the first time I gave Grangal’s point of view. So I had a lot to think on it.
    
    Reply
L. L. Marco

September 17, 2020

A Father’s Love (clan enyo universe)
By L. L. Marco

Kit awoke to the sunlight kissing her cheeks. That was a rare treat; a thick layer of cloud usually covered her village. But not today! Stretching, Kit squeaked out a yawn and giggled as she made her bed. Today was going to be a great day, she just knew it!

The child quickly slipped on her favorite outfit. The soft blue dress bounced as she headed for the door. However, to her surprise, the door slid open and standing in its wake was a tall silhouette encased by sunlight. Kit squinted and shielded her eyes for a moment.

“Good morning Kit.”

That familiar voice wafted over her. Her gaze rose to the figure.

It was a form she knew well. A tall, strong form with blue hair pulled back in a ponytail. Kit paused, biting her lip softly with worry as her eyes trailed him. Who was it: Nacroth, or Ares? But when her eyes fell upon his unmistakably tired but gentle ones she smiled so hard it hurt her cheeks.

“Daddy! It’s you!” The girl swung her small arms around him and he scooped her up with ease. It had been so long since he’d been awake… tears pricked at her eyes but she wiped them away quickly. That didn’t matter. Her father was here.

“Princess!” he smiled, gently kissing the top of her head before placing her down.

Kit babbled about how beautiful the flowers were while her father listened with a loving smile. But heavy thoughts weighed on him. She had grown. How long had Ares kept him asleep this time…? Before he could ponder too long, his daughter turned to him, holding something small in her equally small hands. She motioned him over and he came, kneeling down before her.

“Close your eyes!” she ordered, and he did so without question.

There was a light sensation atop his head before he heard her giggle. He opened his eyes, saw his daughter full of blissful happiness, and smiled. The flower crown she made just for him tussled gently in the wind.

Reply
1. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Marco, you were not kidding about the wholesomeness! This is so sweet! And you managed to work in Greek mythology! Definitely tugs at the heartstrings with that bit of tension and sorrow in the background involving the dad and Ares. Great stuff!
  
  Reply
2. jesse fisher
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  …I swear if you pull an original God of War here I will find you and give you a disappointed look. Otherwise, why did you make me feel on this? Cause I did not want to feel at this moment but you made it happen. Also love how you turned the prompt from a thing of burden to a thing of comfort, very good job.
  
  Reply
3. WolfsbaneX
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  This is a nice piece, Marco. The bond between father and daughter is truly precious, and you bring that alive very well. From how you write it, is Ares Nacroth’s alter? In other words, does Nacroth have Dissociative Identity Disorder? That is super interesting.
  
  There are multiple times where you use ellipses, and you don’t need to. Ellipses are for when thoughts are trailing off. For example, “Maybe if I had more time…” Just a little thing that’ll make your writing better because the rest is really good.
  
  Reply
4. Gregory Hess
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  One minor confusing point: “She had grown. How long had Ares kept him asleep this time…? Before he could ponder too long, his daughter turned to him, holding something small in her equally small hands.” wait, who is doing the pondering? Because I think Kit is the one pondering based on the context, so the “Before he could ponder too long” is weird to me. I know you mean Nacroth did the pondering, but what is he pondering about? It just seems weird. Other than that, I like this wholesome story with a touch of sad a lot. Cool stuff!
  
  Reply
5. PixieWings
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  Ooh, more Enyo-verse. I’m super curious to where this fits in, given where the last piece left us. The inclusion of Ares makes me wonder if the Enyo here is the Greek Goddess?
  This piece definitely stands on its own well. The burden is well balanced with the sweetness and comfort, and Kit’s a lovely kid protagonist from what we get of her. Great work!
  
  Reply
WolfsbaneX

September 17, 2020

“The Crown of Dyghait”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane

Long ago, there ruled a great king. He was an excellent ruler: strong in battle, wise in diplomacy, and fair in judgment. The king treated all of his subjects as though they were his own family, mourning and rejoicing with them through their trials of life.

This king had three children, two boys and a girl. The eldest boy was gifted in martial ability. However, his lack of smarts resulted in a volatile temper. The middle child, the girl, possessed a natural compulsion for learning. However, she was haughty, seeing herself as smarter than everyone else. The youngest child was a boy that found a knack for diplomacy. However, he rarely planned ahead or recognized the consequences of his actions.

In the last year of his reign, the king called for his favorite court alchemist and asked him to make his crown magical. The alchemist agreed and did as the king asked. When the king passed, the alchemist called the three into the throne room.

“I placed your father’s crown upon his throne. It has an enchantment upon it that only allows those worthy to lift it. Each of you may try, if you wish.”

The eldest son smiled as he approached the crown. He took the gold crown into his strong hands. However, he could not get the crown to budge. Next, the other son tried, faring just as well. Finally, the daughter tried, and she also could not lift it.

The three siblings looked to each other, shocked that their father’s crown had judged them as unfit to rule. The eldest even threatened the alchemist. However, the alchemist held the assertion that one of them should be able to lift it. That’s when the daughter got an idea.

And she was right; the three of them could lift it if they worked together. From then on, three sovereigns ruled the kingdom of Dyghait: the eldest son’s line acting as generals, the daughter’s as judges, and the youngest son’s as diplomats. Under them, Dyghait prospered and flourished, and it still does to this very day.

Reply
1. WolfsbaneX
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Pronunciation Guide:
  
  Dyghait: “die-gate”
  
  Reply
2. MasaCur
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  I love the wholesome fable vibe of your story this week. The ending wasn’t exactly a surprise, it didn’t have to be. But the simple morale of each of the siblings playing to their strengths and covering their siblings’ shortcomings was delightful. Is suspect the kingdom will remain in good hands. And I do love that the alchemist’s spell actually made the crown heavy. Excellent job, Wolfsbane.
  
  Reply
3. L. L. Marco
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  I thought this was going a ‘sword in the stone’ route where a peasant could lift it and not the heirs to the throw. I was pleasantly surprised to see that wasn’t the case and I really like that the answer all along was love and teamwork! The king was wise to realize that all of his children individually had strengths and weaknesses the others made up for… a really charming story, and I also enjoy the style it was written in ! <3
  
  Reply
4. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  What an incredible, uplifting story, Wolf! It feels very fairytale like with a great moral. I would definitely read this to my kiddo.
  
  One critique:
  
  With his strong hands, he took the gold crown into his hands. (You can trade out one usage of hands).
  
  Excellent job!
  
  Reply
5. Gregory Hess
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  I really like this story as a myth. It seems weird to end up with this situation happening, but I think it makes a whole lot more sense as people explaining why they are ruled by 3 kings to this day. The old king’s abilities seem especially exaggerated, which is cool. As a story, it’s really nice and has an obvious impactful moral. Cool stuff
  
  Reply
6. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  Others have already said, but this is a super neat origin-story style myth! Despite the in-retrospect obvious reveal at the end, the requirement for all three to lift the crown together still was a neat little suprise for me. The father king being seemingly perfect in every way adds to the whole mythical ideal too – I imagine that character being the one to have founded the kingdom as well, to add to the origin myth’s power too. A seemingly flawless being founds the kingdom, and this part of the story is where the power is handed over to more recognisably flawed human beings! Good work. 🙂
  
  Reply
7. revisis
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  *rustling of Papers* Where is the bad german! I was promised bad german!
  
  This is a nice story! Usually when ever a good king has more than once child the story goes “And then his children went to war and broke his hard-earned kingdom”.
  The kings play with his crown was a daring one, what if his first son had decided to just make a new crown. Or his daughter had come up with some technicality.
  
  Or even worse, if the youngest had told out-side forces that they couldnt decide who should rule.
  
  Nice literal interpretation of the prompt! And an intriguing story. Is it a one-shot or in one of ur universes?
  
  Reply
Lunabear

September 17, 2020

A Heartfelt Compromise (Cursed Brothers Universe)
by Lunabear

Sephrina paced the long castle corridor outside of the detainee’s room. There was no satisfying way she could perform the ritual her older sister Helatia had demanded. Even if it WOULD free Helatia of the dragon’s curse.

“Stupid bitemark,” she grumbled. Helatia complained often about her noble serpentine blood being corrupted by Dracos’ poisonous fangs. Sephrina’s mind raced, but nothing else feasible presented itself. It appeared she had no choice. She heaved a great sigh before unlocking and opening the door.

Her keen eyes caught the swing of the blade before she dodged it. It sliced through mid-air, shredding a sizable portion of Sephrina’s cloak as she evaded.

Sephrina sussed out Cal’s whereabouts by gliding her forked tongue through her lips. He was atop the bed’s canopy, one hand fluently waving. Stepping on the empty food tray told her from where he got his strength. Noting a missing part of the fire grate showed where he forged the weapon.

“No, then. You WON’T help. I SO wanted you to cooperate willingly.”

Sephrina shed her human skin, her green-white scales backlit by the roaring fire. Even with the mage’s magic, the dagger couldn’t penetrate her armor.

Cal’s control and versatility were why Helatia needed his magic. Sephrina’s enormous tail knocked the weapon aside as she simultaneously yanked him from the canopy with her fangs.

She wrapped herself around him. Her vertical, amethyst eyes sized up her struggling captive. She applied slight pressure to get his attention.

Cal fought to breathe. Her eyes gleamed with desperation, and something more. His nod was jerky albeit reluctant.

She placed him on his feet. His pumping blood gave her a small relief. She shrank and wriggled back into her skin.

“I’m sorry. I’ve tried and scoured, but…” She covered her nakedness in her ruined cloak.
“My sister bears a curse.”

She heard his breath catch and watched as he uncovered his left arm. He stared intensely at something she couldn’t see. It strangely made her heart pound.

His gaze met hers. “I can better help if I know your name.”

Her eyes tearily swam. “Sephrina.”

Reply
1. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Awww, this story, while starting off potentially hostile and dark initially with the prisoner-captor scenario going on, ends up becoming an intimate and sympathetic moment between the two instead! I especially liked the body language of the two, which was nuanced and conveyed their emotions really well.
  
  While there was stuff going on that the wordcount didn’t allow you to convey fully, everything important is here I think – we may not know what the curse Helatia has or what marks Cal’s left arm, but we know enough to fuel the energy of this scene, and it works really well! I love it. <3
  
  Reply
  1. Lunabear
    
    September 17, 2020
    
    You can give sweet reviews all you like for this one, Calliope, but if it wasn’t for you, there’s no way I would have been able to write it this well. I’m indebted to you. Thank you so very much. I also appreciate you for mentioning the intimacy of it.
    
    Reply
    1. Calliope Rannis
      
      September 17, 2020
      
      <3 ^w^ <3
      
      Reply
2. L. L. Marco
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  If i’m reading right, Cal also seems to have a curse mark? That would explain his sudden willingness to comply at the end (you know, ignoring almost getting crushed by a dragon). All in all, I like how you pieced this story together. We read it as the information comes to Sephrina; each small piece. The attack, the tray, the grate, all as if my eyes were the ones darting across the room to notice these things!
  
  also a minor touch but I do like that the transformation back into a human doesn’t include clothes. I always find it unrealistic (unless its magical girls) so I thought that was a nice touch! 🙂
  
  Reply
  1. Lunabear
    
    September 17, 2020
    
    Thank you so very much for your review, Marco! Cal has a curse mark *of sorts*. Hopefully, there is another prompt where I can explore this one more fully. Also, Sephrina and her sister are snakes. I’m really glad you enjoyed this. Thank you, again!
    
    Reply
3. Gregory Hess
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  This story is really interesting, I like the way that Sephrina operates. She seems to just want things to be fine, and is willing to do anything to achieve that. Some nitpicks:
  “goodly portion” is weird, you probably meant “good portion”
  “He stared intensely(,) at what she couldn’t see”
  
  Cool stuff!
  
  Reply
  1. Lunabear
    
    September 18, 2020
    
    Thank you so very much for your review, Greg. I’m really thankful and glad that you enjoyed Sephrina’s character.
    
    Goodly is an archaic form of the word “good”, and I think it suits this particular story very well because of the tone.
    
    The comma is not needed; that would make it a comma splice.
    
    I thank you once again for your feedback. It is always welcome and much appreciated.
    
    Reply
4. PixieWings
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  I love the names you give your characters. They seem so perfectly suited to them. ‘Sephrina’ and ‘Helatia’ have such a great contrast. I would be really curious to see how the two interact with each other. This scene sets up Sephrina and her emotions so well. Can’t wait to see more. Excellent work Luna!
  
  Reply
  1. Lunabear
    
    September 18, 2020
    
    Thank you so much, Pixie. I’m really glad you enjoyed this story. The scene before this one is actually an interaction between the sisters. I’d be happy to share it on Discord if you like. Thank you again!
    
    Reply
Gregory Hess

September 16, 2020

Firstborn[Aleph null sci fi]
By gregovin

In a corner of the Milky way galaxy, we saw the first ever extant alien life. We were quite disappointed to find it was simple bacteria, clinging to an otherwise desolate rock. It barely even qualified as “alive” under most biological definitions. Humanity had been voyaging for a thousand years to find this, already one hundred lightyears from their home.

Soon after, the Extraterrestrial Search Mega-Telescope cluster, a radio interferometry project with tens of thousands of extremely large telescopes spread around the Sol system, confirmed that the galactic supercluster contains no extant technologically advanced intelligent life.

Humanity is alone in the relevant portion of the universe. Humanity is the galactic firstborn. And that’s terrifying. We are the wise precursor race that is supposed to guide the new technologically advanced beings into space and/or protect them from the danger. The problem is that humanity is not particularly known for wisdom, protecting things, or being helpful.

We aren’t ready for this. We aren’t responsible enough to handle a whole freaking galactic supercluster. We can barely manage something resembling cohesion on earth! I guess it doesn’t much matter until we find an intelligent species that isn’t technologically advanced, but if we did we would probably either uplift them without a second thought, colonize them, accidentally kill them, or intentionally kill them. Each of those options seems unlikely to end well for the aliens. At least there is no galactic reapers or exterminators or anything, so we don’t have to deal with ones we didn’t accidentally cook up because someone didn’t think through the side effects of their artificially stupid paperclip maximisor.

At least we don’t know how to destroy a galaxy… yet. And at least all our civilizations are pretty resilient against themselves, so total extinction is unlikely. But yes, we’re totally screwed. Being the galactic precursors is way too much responsibility for it to go well.

Reply
1. MasaCur
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Oh my God, this was a step into science fiction I wasn’t expecting. The idea that we humans are alone in the galaxy, or at least the part of it that we could realistically reach. And that we aren’t ready to deal with being the most advanced life in our little corner of space. This was surprisingly well done, Greg. I loved this and all the anxiety that your story presents.
  
  Reply
  1. Gregory Hess
    
    September 18, 2020
    
    oh, see, in this world “the part we could reasonably reach” is much wider because ftl, so yeah. There may be a first contact in the ludicrously far future. Like 2 times. Ever.
    
    Reply
2. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Yup, I’m not going to lie, finding out that the entire galactic supercluster is totally devoid of intelligent life would be very depressing news for me! Though in my case it would be less of a ‘oh no what if we mess up other intelligent species?’ and more of a ‘will any other intelligent species even turn up at all?’ question. Especially if life is as devestatingly rare to find in your universe as that. (Makes me happy again about the recent phosphide discovery on Venus for sure!)
  
  In any case, humanity is deffo rather far from being suited for a role as a precursor race. Yet, anyway. But humanity already survived long enough in this setting to escape the bounds of their planet and anchor themselves into the wider universe, and while I don’t think even a cosmic existence can truly erase the multifaceted flaws and failings humanity has, it won’t erase the good things about what humans mean to each other either. And if humans in real life can fall in love with animals and plants and robots alike and care for them the best they can, some at least will be capable of doing that on the behalf of other alien races too.
  
  Great story, one of my faves of yours I think. 😀 And don’t think I didn’t notice the Universal Paperclips reference! 😛
  
  Reply
  1. Gregory Hess
    
    September 18, 2020
    
    Universal paperclips! Also, humanity is already much better. Fusion, biologically immortality, and really good automation have helped a lot with allowing humans to coexist and have changed the limiting factors in weird and wonderful ways. But still they are human, and still have all these problems all the time
    
    Reply
3. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  It’s terrifying to think that you are one of many pioneers, especially when it comes to space. But also learning that you were the only seemingly intelligent life in the entire galaxy is even more horrific. I also really enjoyed the pacing with this one. What really got me was the foreboding lines of how the species has not yet destroyed what has been discovered and created. Incredibly eerie and sad that man is so destructive. Great stuff, Greg.
  
  Reply
Shaviathan

September 16, 2020

Anniversary
By Shaviathan

Wulfgharn whispered a prayer to Helwran, the god of death. It was always much quieter in this portion of the forest, peaceful even. There were creatures constantly around the glade of course, but they all seemed to stay silent as if out of respect for those here to mourn. Even the winds left the grave undisturbed, their howling unable to pierce the thicket of trees surrounding this hallowed place. Before he could finish his prayer the silence was broken by a raven taking flight and the crunch of footsteps in the snow that startled it.

“Out here again,” a voice unsurprisingly said from behind. “Is it her anniversary already?”

It was Mimir, his advisor, no doubt here to retrieve him. “Five years now,” Wulfgharn replied without turning from the cairn. “And you interrupted the prayer.”

“A prayer which she would no doubt deem unnecessary. You have to stop mourning eventually.”

Wulfgharn released a sigh laden with years of regret and sorrow. “As always you are right, but I doubt her words will ever fully fade from my mind.”

The stillness returned to the glade and lingered. Wulfgharn finished his prayer and added another stone to the cairn to symbolize one more year passed since his wife’s death. Wulfgharn sat there in the snow staring at the mountain that towered over all of Valheim.

“Tell me Mimir,” he said finally breaking the silence, “How is one supposed to lead his people when he can’t even protect his own wife?”

“Sadly that is not a question I have the answer to, my Jarl. Perhaps the gods may provide better guidance.”

Wulfgharn let slip a single chuckle at this. “The gods have never been concerned with more death,” he remarked as he rose to his feet. “Now, tell me why it is you have come to fetch me.”

Reply
1. Astrid Jones
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Good gravy, there is some heavy backstory implied here that I am suddenly desperate for. (If this is a continuation and I’ve simply missed all the build-up, I’m so sorry.) Wulfgharn carries a heavy “crown” indeed. He is responsible for a multitude, yet he couldn’t protect an individual. His question is valid and I sympathize with him.
  
  This story feels quite solid and I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing more of Wulfgharn and his world. You got me hooked. Great job!
  
  Reply
2. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Shaviathan, I really love the sorrow in the story. Sometimes, it can feel so very heavy for one person, especially because people around the one that’s carrying it may not necessarily understand why it’s being carried. This also feels like a time of reflection as well as grief for Wulfgharn.
  
  Critiques:
  
  voice unsurprisingly said from behind(.)
  
  Wulfgharn replied without turning from the cairn(.) “(A)nd
  
  While Mimir’s advice is solid, it doesn’t apply to everyone. We all process an internalized sadness and trauma and grief differently. What may take someone a month or so to come to terms with may take another person 10 years. It’s how we work through the grieving process and what experiences we have and what steps we take, as well. This is the thought provoking story. Great job.
  
  Reply
3. Gregory Hess
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  Cool stuff! The story is interesting and tragic, but also fine. 5 years is a long time, it seems like the talk between Wulfgharn and Mimir has already happened significantly before(or should have). It feels less like Wulfgharn is “mourning” to me, more keeping the memory alive at this point, but I could be wrong. A few things I noticed about the writing:
  “Wulfgharn whispered a prayer to Helwran, the god of death. It was always much quieter in this portion of the forest, peaceful even.” This is really abrupt. We go from Wulfgharn praying to a passive description of the forest. Maybe go with something like “Wulfgharn whispered a prayer to Helwran, the god of death, as he sat in the quiet forest. It was always much quieter in this…”
  
  “Before he could finish his prayer the silence was broken by a raven taking flight, and the crunch of footsteps in the snow that startled it.” Delete the comma
  
  Otherwise, cool stuff!
  
  Reply
GJFuller

September 16, 2020

Tales from the Infinite Hallway: The Crown of Arthur
By Giovanna J. Fuller

“Heavy is the man who wears the crown,” she said, her voice deeper than its normal cadence. It was obvious she was trying to be spooky, but the woman’s nature did not allow for her to come across as anything other than a complete goof. She wriggled her fingers at her human companion.

Marsh glared at the witch. “It’s ‘heavy is the head who-.”

“Nah, pretty sure it was about a fat man with a crown.” Angela said and reached for the crown Marsh held. “So what’s-.”

“Nope. Not gonna happen.”

“Come oooooon!” Angela whined. “Why won’t you let me play with the shiny?”

The heavy, gold, half circlet in the man’s hand had drawn the eyes of both as soon as they entered the room. Of all the decadent treasures displayed here, this crown was the most beautiful.

The human didn’t mean to be harsh with his friend, but Angela was too much like a child. If he wasn’t firm with her, she would keep pushing till chaos reigned on earth. “No. Not after what happened last time.”

She frowned. “I just want to try it on.”

“Nothing good ever happens when you ‘just want to try’ something.” As he spoke, he kept moving the crown around so Angela couldn’t get her sticky paws on it. “This is MY adventure and I say ‘no’. We don’t even know-.”

“Yoink!” She managed to swipe the crown. “Behold! My new hat!” She placed the crown on her head. It hadn’t felt too heavy in her hands, but as soon as it rested on her head, she fell over.

“The Crown of Arthur: Only those who are worthy may wear it. The one who is found to be worthy will rule the world.” Marsh read from the Book of Everything.

From her place on the floor, Angela’s muffled voice asked, “Am I worthy?”

Marsh sighed and crouched down “I don’t think so.”

“Ok…that’s fair.” She tried to lift her head and failed. “Could you help me get up?”

Reply
1. Twangyflame0
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  Awwwww, this is just adorable. Angela seems like such a goof and Marsh seems so straight edge. They really compliment each other well. I just love the brevity in this piece. It lifts my spirits up after two days of working hard. Very well done, GJ.
  
  Reply
2. Lari B.Haven
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  I really liked this story and how humorous it is. This series has always presented me with comedy gold. I love how concise and well-paced your stories are. Also, how lively and well constructed the characters always appear in the dialog. I really want to read your books as soon as possible GJ.
  
  Reply
3. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  D’awwww I always love Angela stories. <3 This is an interesting little artefact here – obviously it is in part a literal manifestation of the 'heavy is the crown' phrase, but it also seems to be the 'true' version (in that universe anyway) of Excalibur from Arthurian legend. But a crown instead of a sword of course! XD
  
  I like to imagine that the crown doesn't actually get super heavy when worn, because that's how necks are broken! Instead I imagine that the crown just shuts down all your primary limb functions until someone takes it off you again, which is less instantly lethal and just humiliating instead.
  
  Of course, I also love the dynamic these two have, between serious Marsh and Angela's enthusiastic curiosity. Angela is just an endless fountain of adorable shennanigans that haven't (yet) come back to bite her, and having her asking if she is worthy or not was a very amusing touch too. Very well done! :3
  
  Reply
4. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Angela never ceases to bring about a laugh. I love that you took the literal approach with the story. I also really love the growing development between Marsh and Angela. As long as there is shiny, Angela must have it. And as long as Angela must have it, Marsh must stop her. I love the balance of humor and pacing, GJ. Excellent adventure, as always.
  
  Reply
The Assassin

September 16, 2020

Deathsworn
By TheAssassin

“To death!” They cried.

They died.

“For the kingdom!” They cheered.

It crumbled.

“For our king!” They chanted.

He shattered.

“So far have we fallen. So deep have we drowned. Where now is peace to be found? I cannot continue to lead. Let me wander and decay alongside their corpses. At least there I shall be of no harm. There I can lead none astray, for all in that place have already fallen to my failures.” The weathered king sighed.

Lives lost. His friends. They trusted him and their reward was damnation.

He arose in the dark dripping dungeon. His imprisonment was not of the enemy, for they had not yet arrived. It was of his own volition. Soon the broken stone of his cell would be traded for the rot of battles long lost. Their tomb his prison; The torment would still not be enough.

“For you, they fought, for you they died. For you…” the feminine voice paused, “for you, they would have died even against your word. The failure was theirs. The only sin to be yours is the loyalty you so easily earn.”

With eyes broken did the king see his wife. Beautiful… treacherous! How dare she dishonor the dead. They were wiser than to march upon that foe, wise enough to see the king for the fool he was.

“They marched upon my command; their deaths are my victory”

“You know such words are lies. Lies to escape the responsibility to lead. You are wise and bold, let not one failure collapse you. Should you fall so shall your people.”

The king bloomed with anger, “Do not dishonor the dead, witch! In them was found honor untold. In me alone was weakness… I shall bear this weight.”

“The dead are gone, and so shall we fall if you do not arise. Bury them and lead those who remain, else you dishonor them. Else their families shall burn.”

Families… perhaps… he could save them. For the dead. He would still find penitence, he would still suffer, but now, perhaps, he could lead.

One last time.

Reply
1. Astrid Jones
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  First of all, your prose is gorgeous.
  Secondly, I want to know why the king is so angry with the queen. Is it simply because she is, as he thinks, dishonoring the dead? Or did she advise him to go to war? He blames himself for what happened to his people, but he is also lashing out at his wife while she is trying to comfort and encourage him to take up arms once again. (If this is a continuation of a story-line and I’ve missed a previous installment, I’m so sorry).
  I really enjoyed this piece. Well done!
  
  Reply
2. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  This story gave me Macbeth-y vibes, what with the ruined state of the king in mind if not body, and his extremely fractuous relationship with his potentially manipulative wife. He is weighed down by the consequences and deaths of his previous poor decisions – but those same decisions will lead to even more death and destruction in the future if he does not continue to act and to rule, so in the end he continues to bear that awful weight of the crown.
  
  A minor nitpick – ‘the feminine voice paused’ is the first introduction to the second speaker of the wife. It might have been clearer to state something like ‘a feminine voice spoke’ instead, in order to properly introduce this speaker into the story.
  
  I really liked the intro, a short, snappy and evocative summary of how the king and his country ended up in the state it is now. And I also appreciated how the wife was not obviously evil or manipulative – I was unsure if the wife truly was the corrupting influence that the king seems to believe she is, or if the king’s warped, broken perspective is seeing malice that does not actually exist in her speech.
  
  Overall, great work! It’s a melancholy and quiet piece, feeling like the beginning of a tragic hero or villain’s last stand against the force that will inevitably destroy him. Well done! 😀
  
  Reply
3. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Assassin, the overall feeling of this invasive and permeating. There’s so much guilt on the King’s shoulders, most of it self imposed. I love the cadence and pacing.
  
  Critiques:
  
  He arose in the dark(,) dripping dungeon.
  
  Their tomb(;) his prison(.) The torment would still not be enough.
  
  the feminine voice paused. “(F)or
  
  their deaths are my victory(.)”
  
  You are wise and bold(;) let not one failure collapse you. Should you fall, so shall your people.”
  
  The king bloomed with anger(.) “Do
  
  Please, take these critiques with a grain of salt. They by no means hamper the amazingness of your story. I do hope that the king is able to find some sort of redemption and peace from this last endeavor. Even still, I know that his soul is forever going to be tortured by leading all of those warriors and families to fall. It’s incredibly reflective and brilliant.
  
  Reply
revisis

September 16, 2020

A King’s Choice and Burden
by Exce

The king had slumped back in his great armchair at the head of the council table. His head rested against his folded hands, eyes cast in shadow.

Silence had fallen as every man and woman of high office in the room had turned to watch the king. They had pleaded their case, argued for what they thought was right.

But the last decision would be his.

With his head bowed, nothing was visible underneath the shadow the crown cast down upon his face. Black hair fading to white framed his face from all sides, with the crown’s jewels being a colourful contrast topping it off.

What was going through his head? Some advisors called for caution; some for decisive action. But the voice ringing out loudest was of the people. They demanded blood for blood.
And no human was remotely equal to an Angel.

No matter the age.

Finally, the king seemed to come to a decision. He had lowered his hands onto the table, knuckles white with tension.

“I respect those of you who have argued for clemency, and I wish that I could do so. But…” He exhaled deeply. “Humans have more than once proven that if the punishment is not harsh enough, they will cower pretending to be sorry only to turn around and commit an even more grievous transgression.”
The King took a deep breath, then finally made his decision known.

“The humans currently residing within the embassy shall be executed for their crime, their bodies sent back to the lands they came from.”

Before any of the councillors could speak, I stepped forward, out of the shadowy balcony-alcove.
“I shall bring your judgment to the criminals, Father. I will see your justice be done.”

With that, I turned, putting the helmet I had carried under my arm back on as I walked out into the hallway.

“Ubvoriel!”

I stopped at that, looking back towards my father as he called me, before giving the door a kick.

The voice cut off as the door closed, and I walked down the hallways towards my amassed men.

Reply
1. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Ooooh this piece is very well done! In multiple ways! Firstly, the image and presence of the burdened king was great, with all the shadowing and somber hair colours being almost mocked by the colourful crown on top, and I really felt the weight of the decision he had to make even before I knew what the nature of it even was. (And I remember you telling me about this incident before, so I remember what this decision unleashes too)
  
  Secondly, excellent work on the perspective twist reveal – at the start, I (along with likely most others) thought that this would be a third-person perspective focusing on the King. The opinions bleeding into the middle about how ‘no human was remotely equal to an Angel’ helped foreshadow the change but could still be attributed to the king, even if the opinion was a little dissonant with his behaviour and language.
  
  But then the true first-person perspective is revealed, which is a great way to redirect the locus of power in the scene from the king to his son, as well as being a cool event to read in general. And I do find it very telling that Ubvoriel’s perspective never sees the king as ‘father’ until the very end – a likely indication of how distant their relationship already is, that the parent-child bond is only even thought about when the king directly addresses him personally. Very well done, I liked this one a lot! 😀
  
  Reply
2. Lunabear
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  Exce, I really love how there’s a burden on the father and the son. And I didn’t catch this the first time I read it, but there is an internal pressure on the father while there is an external pressure on the son. Your pieces always internalize heavier stuff, and it’s always great and introspective. Great job.
  
  Reply
MasaCur

September 16, 2020

The Safety of the Empire
By MasaCur

Victoria stared at her cup of tea, having long since gone cold. She felt numb.

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry to disturb you,” John Conway said. “There’s a Mr. Marcus Richard here. I tried to send him away, but he says he is with the Bureau of Public Safety, and he refuses to leave.”

Victoria took a deep breath “No, I will see him.”

After a few minutes, Conway returned with a tall man with a dark mustache.

“Mr. Marcus Richard,” Conway announced.

Richard bowed. “Your Majesty.”

“How may I help you Mr. Richard?” Victoria asked. A touch of eagerness crept into her voice.

“I trust you are unharmed, Ma’am. I’m glad to see my agents came through in the end.”

“Your agents? That girl my guards accidentally shot? And the man she was with. Doyle, was it?”

Richard smiled. “That girl would be Cassidy Markham. She and Doyle are two of my best.”

“Well, then, I guess I should thank you and your department for saving my life. How is Miss Markham?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time she got shot,” Richard replied. “It also probably won’t be the last. Markham is a stubborn girl. I doubt she’ll retire over this.”

There was a long silence before Victoria spoke again. “Do you know who was behind the assassination attempt?”

Richard nodded. “Yes, we know perfectly well who planned it, Ma’am. Dr. Magnus Van Nilsson. He’s behind the republican movement in the Empire. Doyle and Markham have been tracking him for months.”

Victoria nodded gloomily. “I expect that they will try to kill me again.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I suspect they will. And we will do what it takes to prevent that from happening.”

“But if–”

“With all due respect, Ma’am,” Richard interrupted. “That will not happen on my watch.”

Victoria ignored the breach in decorum. “Yes, but, how many times will you be able to save me?”

Richard grinned. “The only purpose of the Bureau is to keep the Empire safe. You are the Empire. I will stop at nothing to keep you alive, Ma’am.”

Reply
1. The Assassin
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  A cheeky little story that manages to both stay engaging and point to a world beyond what is directly happening. Sure at a surface level, it’s just about the queen surviving an assassination attempt, but it speaks of a deeper network of agencies and spies all working for or against the empire. I love the aspect and makes me itch to see what happens in this story. I really liked it.
  
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2. Astrid Jones
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  I really enjoyed that this queen/empress asked about the well-being of someone far below her station. I also really liked that she was eager to have a conversation with someone, anyone, so much so that she ignores being interrupted. The throne can be a lonely (and dangerous) place.
  This piece left me wanting more than the word count allowed. There’s a history here, and there’s definitely a future to this piece begging to be explored. Wonderful job!
  
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3. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  This is a great story, Masa. The tension here is vicious and almost solid. Victoria has every justification to worry and feel like a burden upon her shoulders because the near assassination.
  
  I really love Richard’s sense of duty, protection and honor. It’s patriotic to see him brimming with determination and confidence to protect her. I hope they can both come out the other side as unscathed as possible.
  
  I also love how this ties into Cassidy and Andrew. It’s always a treat to see things from the other side, especially when it’s written as wonderfully as this. I hope they’re able to catch the evil Van Nilsson and put him when he belongs. Also, I really love his first name.
  
  Outstanding work, as usual, Most Darling Masa.
  
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Lari B.Haven

September 16, 2020

Crowned with a curse
by Larissa (Lari B. Haven)

“Think of what is best for him.” The Count said with an arrogant tone. “His mother is ‘unwell’, and you are a businessman… The boy will be better staying under my care.”

The words had a bitter taste in his mouth. The whole tone of the conversation seemed off. Carlos sent his wife to the hospital on the day before, and her grandfather was already in their house, offering to take their child away. He was a sly man; Carlos needed to stand his ground.

“I might not be a man of name, but I’m more than capable of handling my son’s education. It’s my duty as a father.” Carlos responded annoyed.

“When you married into this family, you knew that I expected to keep a particular level of excellence.” He gave a piercing stare. “All of my children and grandsons were abject failures in this aspect, all of them failed my standards. Even your beloved wife. But little Luis is a blank slate, only I could make him the next Count.”

“Let’s quit the flattering, Count Alvarez. I respect you, but I will not put my son under the Damocles sword. I know you too well.” Carlos raised his tone.

“Oh, Mr. Anderson, it’s not a sword, it’s a gift.” The old man smirked. “The only one that matters: My power.”

Carlos responded with disdain. “Your power is empty to me. If my son ever desires a crown, he will work for it.”

“I see..” The count raised from his chair, displeased. “I admire a man that is not afraid to stand me.”

He headed to the door, and Carlos followed. The conversation had ended. The Count turned to the street, but not without leaving with an alarming grin.
“Beware, Mr. Anderson. I always have my way!”

He closed the door and crumpled onto the floor. Something in him always left Carlos shaken to the core.

Carlos didn’t believe in curses, but that man… The Count would do whatever to make Luis carry that cursed crown.

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1. Twangyflame0
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  Mmmm, this is quite a scary prospect. Carlos is a very admirable man and part of me hopes that he can protect his son, but I also think that Count will be far too powerful. I felt the tension is this piece greatly. I could feel Carlos’ fear and anxiety. I wonder if the count has any enemies that would be willingly to help Carlos. Very well done, Lari.
  
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2. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  Oooh, I do not like this Count. Not one bitty bit! Trying to exploit a good man in a period where he and his family are vulnerable, extremely high standards that were probably a factor in his daughter’s later mental instability, and a generally offputting and unsettling presence.
  He truly feels and behaves more like a inhuman creature rather than a mortal man – and perhaps that’s the ultimate fate of all that wear his crown. No dark voice or corrupting entity twisting these people though. Just power, money and influence, because that’s all that is needed.
  (slight correction by the way: ” “I admire a man that is not afraid to stand *against* me.”, if you can fit the extra word in)
  
  The fact that I instantly dislike this man so much is of course a testement to your great character writing – his prescence and dialogue both. And Carlos is a very brave man to stand by his principles against an entity almost as inherently erosive of morals and principle as a devil or demon themselves. Great work Lari! 😀
  
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3. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  I always love seeing your stories, Lari. They’re always so vivid and emotional. Do you happen to have a name for this universe, yet?
  
  Poor Carlos and Luis and Zoella! They’ve been through so much! I genuinely hope this family can come through whole at the end of all of this. The Count is the embodiment of every single family trait that I despise. I abhor when people put outrageous expectations on others just because they don’t want to look bad for their colleagues or people who couldn’t less about them.
  
  Very few grammatical errors. You’re doing excellent, Lari. Extraordinarily proud of you! Great story!
  
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Astrid Jones

September 15, 2020

The Care and Keeping of Humans
by Astrid Jones

Keeping one human alive is hard enough. But caring for two? It is exhausting. They are absolutely incapable of looking after themselves. I am not sure how they managed to elude the Shadow Creatures before I came along. But I am here now, and they are the safest they have ever been, though they do not know it.

The pair of them have a terrible habit of sleeping at the same time. I have tried to teach them the error of their ways. My lessons often result in an offering of food at the crude alter they created for me. Humans, as a whole, are incredibly dense. They do not yet understand that I am trying to educate them about the wiles of the Shadow Creatures. But I will not turn away their offering. I will instead use the sustenance to stay awake all night and protect them.

I sometimes wonder if they cannot see or hear the Shadow Creatures. I must often walk with one of my humans to ensure they do not stumble into the enemy’s grasp. My humans occasionally step on me as I clear their path. Such an offense frequently results in an embarrassing thing I believe they call “cuddling” or something equally ridiculous.

I often wish they knew how to better protect themselves from the Shadow Creatures. I am the descendant of a god. I should not have to put all this work into protecting anything. But these two humans make offerings to me in abundance. If I let the Shadow Creatures take them, who will be left to worship me? I shall continue to keep them safe in return for their adoration, even though it is exhausting.

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1. The Assassin
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  This story is so good. At first, I thought this was about some primordial god of protection, but as I read it soon clicked. Its a dog isn’t it? If so this is such a sweet story. Just a little dog trying to protect his humans from an invisible enemy only he perceives. Overall I love this story and have no criticisms. I love specifically the voice of the narrator dog. It fits very well. A great little story 🙂
  
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  1. Calliope Rannis
    
    September 16, 2020
    
    Nah, dogs are too happy and easygoing. This is 100% a cat, especially with their focus on being worshipped and offered to. 😛
    
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2. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  So for the first paragraph I was thinking this creature was bigger than the humans, as if it had taken them both in/captured them as pets. Then the second paragraph of course confused that, and it was only when in the third para I read “My humans occasionally step on me” that I was like ‘wait, is it a…’ and then I read “I am the descendant of a god” and was like ‘CAT. THIS IS A CAT.’ So that was a lovely discovery to make all in all.
  
  While it’s not the first imperious cat-perspective story I have read, this one is still adorable and sweet and hilarious regardless! And I do wonder just how real the threat of the shadow creatures are. That determines if the genre of this story is oddball comedy or lovecraftian horrorcomedy! 😛 Very good work Astrid! <3
  
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3. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  I love that you took a rather light-hearted, comical approach to the prompt. This week’s prompt is ripe for writing terribly sad or dark stories, but it’s always wonderful to get a breath of fun and cheeriness. I do so love singing stories from the perspective of gods or aliens or creatures other than humans. This is incredibly fun. Great story, Astrid.
  
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4. PixieWings
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  This is so good. I also thought it was a more fantastical piece at first, or even a metaphoric one with the humans stepping on the narrator. But it being a cat is too cute. The voice is this perfect haughty “Do I have to do everything?” and it’s so good. I want it narrated over actual cat footage. Loved it. Excellent work Astrid!
  
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5. Deviacon
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  I really loved this story. The way what’s happening builds and becomes apparent is done very well. I really love the reference to being worshiped, it really helped show it wasn’t just any pet. It really makes me stop and wonder about my own cats and the ridiculous things they do, especially at night.
  
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Matthew

September 15, 2020

A Strange Request
by Matthew (Handsome Johanson)

It had been another serene autumn afternoon. After a long day of work, both Astrid and Leah retreated to the safety of a few layers of blankets on the coach. There, they kept out the chilly autumn breezes. Together, they lay, watching their fireplace crackle as the evening light faded.

“Hey, Leah?” Astrid asked Leah suddenly.

“Yeah?” She responded, drifting from her light nap.

“D-did anything about that spider seem… weird to you last night?”

“Besides the fact that it was in MY kitchen? Not really. Why?” Leah sighed. “You ok?”

“It’s just… Nothing honestly.” Astrid said. “I guess I’m just worried for the little guy.”

“He’s a spider, honey.” Leah teased. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.”

Astrid leaned back, but she couldn’t shake the building dread in her stomach. ‘That spider was definitely talking, last night.’ she thought. ‘But what did it want? And who is this Loki character?’

Finally, she got up from the sofa, knocking Leah from her spot. “I’m going for a quick walk, Leah. I’ll be back soon.”

“Uh-ok!” was all she could get out before Astrid rushed outside.

It was already getting dark. Astrid trekked roughly to the spot she remembered leaving the spider. There was nothing there.

“Loki!” Astrid cried out. “Loki, I was told to ask for you?!”

As she stood there, watching the trees, she began to notice some movement. All around her, spiders were climbing down from the trees and approaching her.

“L-Loki?” she asked as the spiders formed a ring around her. When they completed their formation, the world came to a halt. It went silent.

“Ahhhh. You came back,” a whispered voice came from the darkness.

“Y-yes. I saved a spider who knew you?” asked Astrid.

“I am Loki. Patron of spiders.” He said in a thick Nordic accent. “I have a request for you.”

“W-what is i-it?” Astrid asked.

“I will teach you the secrets of the gods.” He continued. “In exchange, you will become my conduit to this plane.” He smiled.

“You will allow me to again spread my influence across the land.” He finished.

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1. jesse fisher
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  …So this is explains the reason of craziness of 2020 someone agreed to be the conduit of Loki. Or I’m just looking for a reason for all the craziness of the world, anyway loved the story. I love how the fact a talking spider was making Astrid was near a nervous breakdown. I’m not sure if they are happy to find that the spider was right, and now I want to see what becomes of it.
  
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2. GJFuller
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Yay! The return of the spider savior!
  I’m not sure if I should be excited for Astrid or anxious. This sounds too much like a “deal with the devil” sort of conversation, but knowing what I know has already occurred it wouldn’t make sense for Loki to screw her over like that. Or…maybe he would. I guess it depends on what sort of Loki you’re writing here. Someone who is honor bound or a sort of Satan stand in.
  In any case, as always, good work!!!
  
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3. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Yay for more Astrid and Leah! The trickster God has returned! I’m curious to see where this will lead, and if Loki is tricking Astrid, or if he truly wants a conduit for his desires. I love the little bits of humor you always sprinkle throughout your stories. It makes the heavier stuff all that more impactful. I hope Astrid doesn’t get herself tangled up in something she can’t handle. But knowing loki, that’s not going to happen. Great story, as always.
  
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Tale Foundry

September 15, 2020

The Heartsmith
by DukkiFluff

The woman smiled, clutching the heart shard tight to her chest. “Thank you so much for helping me!”

The Heartsmith nodded, smiling her usual sunshiny smile. “Of course! I’m always happy to help!”

The Heartsmith wandered the streets, happening across a young boy crying on the curbside. She squatted down beside him, rubbing his back with her hand. “Hey, you okay?”

He shook his head and sniffled. “I upset my friend. I hurt his feelings really bad, and now he says he doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

“Aw, that’s rough. But don’t worry. You’re still friends, but he just needs a bit of time to cool off.” She reached into her jacket, pulling out another shard of her heart and handing it to him. “Here. Just apologize when you get the chance, okay?”

The boy took the shard, his face lighting up as he touched it. He smiled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right! I will! Thank you!”

She patted his head before standing up, smiling her usual sunshiny smile. “Of course! I’m always happy to help!”

She helped many others on her long walk home, handing out heart shards to each person to cheer them up. Some needed bigger shards than others, and some needed more than one.

She finally reached her apartment, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, feeling a tightness in her chest as her lip trembled. Her breathing became ragged and uneven and she sank to the floor. Pulling her knees tight to her chest, she buried her face in her arms, breaking into quiet sobs. The darkness of the lonely apartment was suffocating, the silence just as deafening.

She jumped as a knocking came from the other side of the door, reverberating through her back.

She stood up, wiping her eyes and taking a breath. She opened the door, smiling her usual sunshiny smile.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, reaching into her jacket for another shard. “Don’t worry. I’ll help in any way I can. It’s no trouble. I’m always happy to help.”

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1. Twangyflame0
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  The weight of giving others happiness is a very hard one to wear. And on top of that, it usually ends up crushing you. It’s why no one should bear the burdens of others without help for themselves. It does no good for someone to give away their happiness for very little in return always. One cannot survive on pure altruism; everyone needs to be selfish once and awhile. Very well done, Dukki.
  
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2. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  Awwww, this is so sad! I really feel for the poor heartsmith here, trying constantly to buffer the happiness of others while letting the maintainance of her own decay into misery. Is her sadness directly due to taking away parts of her heart? Just because of the absence of them or because she takes on the sadness of the people she gives them to? How much of her heart is even left?
  
  Or is this more of a metaphor, and the real reason she is so unhappy is because she spends all her time helping others, while her home enviroment just amplifies her personal depression and lonliness. I also found your use of ‘her usual sunshiny smile’ repeated three times to be very effective – they aren’t a natural smile, or the description would vary based on circumstance. This smile however is a mask, almost a professional uniform for her. And according to studies I have heard about at least, forcing smiles when you are actively not happy just further damages your ability to create genuine happiness in yourself too.
  
  I just want the (villiage? town? city??)’s people who were helped out by her to throw her a party or something. Something to give some of their love back to her for all her help, rather than just taking without a return. Or at the very least I want to give her a hug. Lovely work here, great story Dukki! <3
  
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3. Astrid Jones
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  Dukki, why do you have to make us feel the feels? I didn’t need to cry today, yet here I am, crying with the Heartsmith, wishing I could reach out to her and give her a heart piece so she isn’t as lonely. A bunch of us have been there. It’s not fun.
  One piece of nit-pickiness I do have, though: the little boy’s dialogue. I think you meant to type one phrase, but ended up going with something else? “…and now he won’t says he doesn’t want to see me…” Just taking out the word “won’t” would probably fix that right up.
  Altogether, this was a beautifully heart-breaking piece. Wonderful work, Dukki!
  
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4. DesOttsel
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  Aww, she’s literally giving pieces of her heart to help people at the expense of herself. It’s such a beautiful metaphor for people with a savior complex. It’s so sweet and self destructive tragic.
  
  One thing I’d say is all the “she”s at the end make it a little hard to follow who it is at the end. Mostly the last one during the dialogue. It was obviously her, but just took me a second.
  
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5. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Damn, Dukki, this is sad! I hate that the Heartsmith has to feel like she’s the one that has to carry the burden of everybody else’s sadness. you can’t give away your heart and expect to have anything left for yourself. It’s an incredibly sweet gesture, but an incredibly dangerous thing to do. Who’s there for the Heartsmith when she needs comfort? Who’s there to be her sunshine? Incredibly heartbreaking and relatable because there are so many people who are like this. Love you lots, Dukks. Outstanding piece.
  
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6. Shaviathan
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  This story is bizarrely similar to one that I’ve heard before and it’s driving me crazy that I can’t remember it! Both revolve around a character that gives away pieces of their heart but the biggest difference is that your character shows her sorrow in the story, even if it’s hidden from the view of others. Another difference is how she hides her sorrow behind a mask of sorts, something many people can relate to. It’s far too easy to put on a false smile and hide your pain from others. Many won’t even give a second glance to a smile and some kind words or gestures. The worst part is how few people tend to see through the façade. Very heartbreaking (sorry for the pun) and painfully relatable story.
  
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Twangyflame0

September 14, 2020

The Crown of Bones
By Twangyflame0

William Bracus stood before the dark throne. The sky outside was raining hard. It sounded like blood splattering against the glass. The undead stood in ordered rows, his own dark legion. But he saw those in-between his legionnaires. Those voices that gnawed at him. That reminded him of what he already knew. That reminded him of what he has done. That shouted at him in his sleep.

He looked down at his calloused hands. He knew what he had to do. He made the deal. He couldn’t go back on it. Or could he…

“No, you can’t.” The Voice said, standing by the throne, holding the crown, his burden. “You yourself wanted to change the world, and we have given you the power to do so. You have chosen your path, William.”

“Did I though?”

“For what do you mean, Lord Necromancer?”

William looked out to the rain-filled sky. “How does one make decisions for themself when the world already decides what they are?”

“If the world does not allow for free will, then that world should be destroyed.”

“And what of things that were never wrong, to begin with.” William could feel the pain of those happy days when he still had the living around him.

“Did you think changing the world would be easy?”

“No. To change the world requires one to be prepared to die.” His footsteps echoed through the hall.

The Voice held up the crown. “Yes and this is what the Crown of Bones is for. Made from all your love, ambition, hate, and many sacrifices. It is the epitome of your strife, Lord Necromancer.”

William took the crown and looked down at it. Was this truly what he was? A broken skull with thorns coming out of it. He sighed. “I suppose that is correct.”

William turned around and slowly put on the crown. He was back in his old room. He held a blade and plunged it into his old self. He broke the mirror. He buried his loved ones again. And he let the Voice’s madness take hold.

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1. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  I wonder whose bones the Crown is made of. Ancient ones from a time gone by? The bones of one of William’s enemies? Or of one of his friends? Either way, the physical crown is merely a symbol, a material token of the true crown – that of accepting the Voice’s madness and power fully into yourself, and using it to change the fate of the world forever.
  
  And a dark world this place is indeed. It seems like the ultimate conflict within William is between agency and nihilism – between doing absolutely terrible things to ensure true change, or just accepting that its better to leave the world be, no matter the miserable destiny the world has assigned for you.
  
  Would it be correct then, to call the Voice an anti-nihilistic villain? Or is the choice to destroy all that cannot be controlled just a darker, more active flavour of that philosophy? Either way, it’s am interesting dynamic and motivation-set to think about. Great work! 🙂
  
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2. Glaceon373
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  Ooooh, this is very deep, Twangy. Necromancy has a lot of strings attached, and this Lord Necromancer is no exception. Is William really changing the world in the way he wants to? Poor dude. The Voice is clearly manipulating him, but in a way that really makes William feel in control, which is an amazing dynamic. You’ve written this very well, Twangy. Nice job!
  
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3. GJFuller
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Eesh! You got really philosophical on us, Twangy.
  This was a really goo reflective piece. I like to think that it was the crown talking to the necromancer, but I’m sure there’s some complex backstory to that whole situation.
  You had some really good lines here that look like they could, possibly, sum up the theme of William’s story.
  Good work!
  
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4. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Man, Twangy! No wonder William is so tortured! This feels very much like existential horror overlayed by one of the most horrific internal struggles any man has any right to experience. It is tumultuously sad. William has so much to carry, and I blame him for conceding control to this mysterious Voice. Allow the madness to play how it’s going to play. I’m curious as to how long he’s been shouldering his burden, especially because he’s encountered and befriended quite a few good ones. Very excellent story, Twangy.
  
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5. PixieWings
  
  September 18, 2020
  
  That last paragraph though. It really puts the conversation before it into context. This is the last moment he has a chance to reconsider before the point of no return. But he’s already gone so far that it doesn’t feel like he has any choice, and the Voice isn’t helping anything. It gives this piece an element of tragedy. He loses the person he was completely. Great piece Twangy!
  
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Glaceon373

September 14, 2020

Katrina Hostrin
by Carrie (Glaceon373)

It was everything she’d ever wanted, Witherleaf’s President Katrina Hostrin told herself, slouched over her desk.

Magic, in all its misunderstood nonsense, now had a place of study. Witherleaf Archives and Laboratories was the only place in the world where magic was researched and analysed. Some magi-scientists had started teaching classes on magic control, probably preventing at least a dozen accidents before they ever happened.

And she was its President.

Hostrin glanced at the framed photograph on her bookshelf. It was taken ten years ago in front of the entrance to the first Witherleaf building; a group photo of the sixteen original founders.

Three of them died in a lab accident a year later. Four more left within the next six months. Of the rest, all but one were still employed at Witherleaf.

Hostrin stared at the young lady she stood next to in the photo.

Tasha had been brilliant. She truly deserved her title of magi-scientist. She was intelligent, methodical, and simply beautiful.

Then she started throwing around theories.

All sixteen of the founders had awoken from the catalyst event twelve years ago, and found out they could do impossible things. And their research proved that the effects of that day, and that day alone, gave other people their magic as well.

So when Tasha claimed magic was an ancient thing, with history and artifacts, she was laughed at. Katrina had even cracked jokes herself. Until she fired her.

Witherleaf never fired anyone, but something needed to be done. And as President, Hostrin signed the notice of dismissal.

And yet…

Hostrin took a slow, deep breath, fingers sparking on her poor, abused stress ball.

She didn’t know why people wanted her as President. Tasha voted for her, and look what happened. Hostrin was good at the job, sure, but she just wanted the research and knowledge to have its place in the world.

Her stress ball started smoking. Hostrin took her hands off it.

The clock read 20:23. Had she eaten dinner? Probably not.

She sighed, grabbed her coat, and left the building. She’d deal with this later.

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1. Twangyflame0
  
  September 14, 2020
  
  Man, this woman is wearing many crowns on her head. There is the crown of her being president of Witherleaf. Now that by itself wouldn’t be stressful enough, but you add the crown of guilt. The guilt she feels about her friends who died and who left her. And the guilt she feels for firing Tasha. I can’t help but feel there is an unspoken emotion from Kitrina to Tasha. It might just be complete and utter admiration but part of me suspects something more intimate and close to the heart. I really enjoyed this piece. Very well done, Glaceon.
  
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2. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  A heavy crown indeed. Though this crown, rather than being heavy at the start, seems to have grown more and more heavy over time, acculmulating weight as the people close to Hostrin died, left, or were exiled. Tasha in particular seeming to add an especially large weight to it all – maybe the event itself was the moment that began her doubts over if her goals and position were truly making her happy?
  
  The lore here is cool too – the catalyst event giving people magic explains why it is a science so undeveloped and misunderstood. A new form of knowledge, rather than one that has existed since time immemorial…unless, of course, what Tasha’s theories said were true. Maybe those theories struck a little too deep at something – after all, since when were strange but seemingly harmless theories by a specialist scientist on the subject worthy of a unprecedented firing offence?
  
  I wonder what Tasha is up to now. If I were her, unbound by her responsibilities to Witherleaf anymore, I would be going out there to find that history, those lost artifacts. But of course, unearthing those old things all by herself may have greater looming consequences too…
  
  Very interesting story here, gave me lots to think about! Oh, and I also like the brief hint of Hostrin’s own magic power, with the stress ball begining to smoke in response to her emotions. Great work! 😀
  
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3. Astrid Jones
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  The amount of stress this piece conveys is heavy. It’s no fun to be caught in the inner-political cross-hairs of any organization and boy if an educational one isn’t one of the worst. Poor Hostrin. She’s the one aiming the gun, making the decisions to keep Witherleaf going, even though some of the decisions are tough calls. She has to kiss the right butts and keep Witherleaf’s reputation intact even if it goes against her moral compass sometimes. She’s going to feel even worse once she finds out Tasha’s right.
  
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4. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Yes! Continuations are the best! I love that we get background on the woman (Tasha) from the previous one. I also really love how you’re expanding this world, Carrie. It’s brilliant. You give enough motivation for current actions while also keeping a lot behind the shadows. It also gives a different perspective. I’m also very intrigued by Katrina’s character. Highly anticipating future installments! Great job!
  
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Connor/Dragoneye

September 14, 2020

The Beast of Night
By Connor/Dragoneye

Hot, crimson blood.

Yael’s vision whipped back into the darkness, a void in which cold black water swirled beneath his feet. “No, no, no! Who was that mongrel? A Morcidian soldier? A mere man?”

As he continued to pace, his spirit swelled in fury, and his steps turned into stomps. “I. Am. An. Ash Lord! When I’m back, I’ll tear his throat out, paint his home with his blood, and make his guts spill! And I-and I’ll lap it all up as he looks in despair!”

Yael tried to muster up a howl, one that struck fear into his enemies, and yet, while the rage within him began to fester, there was a dread that hung over him. He thought back to the moments before, where that man plunged a blade into his throat. His sight faded from the wound of an exhausted and desperate warrior, his shield shattered and helmet missing. A glimmer thrummed in his enemy’s eyes, perhaps primal instinct. A man who feared death.

Dwelling within the Mother of Night’s domain whenever his mortal shell perished made Yael’s blood boil, since he couldn’t freely run amok, giving in to his bestial nature. But, did he fear it too? Was he like that mere man?

The distraught Ash Lord slumped into the pool of water, his body quivering in agony. “Help me, Mother! I… I… I’m afraid.” Tears began to stream from his soldered eyes, covering in cloth.

“Mother of Night, you give me life again and again and again, and yet I fear it. I burned my eyes to dust so that I would trust you, and yet I do not. I was trusting my own power. Please, take this crown from me. This crown of death. It weighs upon me, and heavily so,” he murmured through sobbing.

The sizzling wave of dread crumbled to a cool breeze as a long stretching shadow loomed over him. The echo of a gentle hand lifted his head up towards the umbra above him.

“Child. Your arrogance is no more.”

Reply
1. Glaceon373
  
  September 14, 2020
  
  This was very thought provoking, Connor. And what a great take on the prompt, too! Yael the Ash Lord clearly has died many times in battle, but he’s constantly coming back, and it weighs on him. I’m glad he is able to give up that existence at the end (at least, I think?) and move on. Overall, great piece, Connor. Great job!
  
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2. Twangyflame0
  
  September 14, 2020
  
  Ah, yes, the crown of immortality. One of the greatest and heaviest crowns to wear. I really like the idea of this Ash Lord. I wonder how many times this man has died and how many ways it has happened. How many years has he lived through? What wars has he seen? And is this truly the first time he has died to a mere mortal? This was a very interesting story, Connor. Very well done.
  
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3. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  Very enjoyable concept! Often you don’t get to see the demon’s reaction to being thrown back into the hell they came from – usually you just assume they wail away impotently in anger and pain for whatever length of time they are trapped there, before finally returning with a vengance.
  
  But Yael, he reacted differently, this time. It seems like he usually is the impotent anger type, but this death to a single mortal man seemed to humble him enough to change him. To grant just enough empathy to realise his weakness, his imprisonment in the cycles of anger and revenge that Ash Lords seem to perpetuate through their phoenix-like existence, and ask his patron, the Mother of Night, to be freed from it.
  
  And what interests me the most, is that the Mother seemed to be waiting for this exact moment. Waiting for Yael to finally burn all his built up rage and directionless anger out on the world, so that he is finally ready to ascend to a new form of existence instead. Is that new form death, or a merging of his essence with her own? Or is such an ascension just a way for the Mother to create an even stronger, more reliable and effective soldier?
  
  In any case, this story is great, with super nice imagery and emotional progression. I don’t know if I have seen Yael’s stories before now, but I would certainly be interested in more from this world! 😀
  
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4. Astrid Jones
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  This is an oddly sweet piece. I realize this might be a strange take. Yael has learned something. He has learned to admit that he is afraid. Has learned to admit he doesn’t trust the Mother as he ought. He has learned to ask for help. He has learned that, though he is an Ash Lord, he is still just a man (or a beast). Perhaps these are things the Mother has been trying to teach him.
  Overall, great piece!
  
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5. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  I really enjoyed this one, Connor. It’s sad, but also strangely cathartic. I feel like the Ash Lord is putting on a front with his words, as though he’s trying to convince himself. The fall to humility and forgiveness at the end is also very brilliantly done. Bravo!
  
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DesOttsel

September 14, 2020

The throne lies empty while he sleeps
by Gage Jarman (give my spot to Calliope)

There was nothing. A place devoid of any detail or contrast. No floor. No temperature. No guide. The prince stood in grey fog. He felt pain in his neck and touched it gingerly. Warm blood, bright blood, thick blood coated his fingers. Consciousness came pouring back into his essence.

“How could father… I’m not prepared, not for that. A whole kingdom to govern and I hadn’t even led a hunt, let alone an army. How could I live up to his name, to his crown? The generals and councilors and dukes could surely do better in my stead. My inexperience would only. I would bring his people ruin. I would only fail.”

A blinding light burned through the fog. The prince shielded himself from the radiance.

“So, that’s what you believe? How pitiful. How truly lost is your soul?” A gentle voice came floating out of the light.

“Who speaks? Show-show yourself.”

“You avert your gaze.”

“Ahh, it’s like looking into the sun!” The prince held out his hands

“My mistake. Sinners are always so blind.”

Six shadows, six wings shrouded the light, dampening it, but pure rays still shown through the cracks.

“A-a sinner…” The sound caught in the prince’s throat.

“You still clutch that.”

The prince looked down. His bloody dagger was in his grasp. “Why is–” His hand shot up, and the blade slit his throat. He collapsed clutching his throat before recovering through some divine means. The prince huffed, “hah hah, what are–” The dagger slit his throat once more.

“Words cut short. A life. Is this not your will? You thought you’d be free? Free from pain? Mortals are such fools. It’s no wonder you garner such oversight.”

“…”

“Good, seems you have relented for now. Listen closely, it’s a rare instance, and should you ignore… well, Shoel is far from overflowing.”

“Not Hell?”

“Oh, that doesn’t exist. Theologians are a conceited bunch. Now, you can’t flee from fate, Charles. Your load must be borne by you and you alone. Do not shirk your duty and struggles and pain onto those in your company again. ”

Reply
1. Glaceon373
  
  September 14, 2020
  
  I love your description here, Des. Your take on the prompt, a literal crown, could have just been that simple, but you kept going with the six-winged knife-wielding death dealer, and it just gets better and better with every word. I wonder what’s going to happen to the prince. Overall, great story, Des. Nice job!
  
  Reply
  1. DesOttsel
    
    September 14, 2020
    
    do you want spoilers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
    
    Reply
2. Calliope Rannis
  
  September 15, 2020
  
  Oh, that poor prince. The weight of the crown, likely passed on by a king that died before his son fully grew up, proved too heavy for him to bear. And with the weight of a country’s fate on his shoulders, he decided to take a knife to his throat instead. I was wondering at first why a Serephim of all beings would be so cold towards such a seemingly harmless and humble life…but I guess this angel isn’t much a fan of those who take their own lives needlessly either. Not to mention that the prince’s action could have devestating consequences for the kingdom that he didn’t even consider too.
  
  But despite everything, including the angel’s own opinion of the prince, it seems what they offer is a form of mercy. A second chance, to undo his lethal mistake, and live on with the responsiblity that has been thrust upon him. And honestly, with his humble nature and genuine concern for the well-being of the kingdom, he could be one of the best kings this land could have. Certainly a life worth the extra effort to preserve, especially if those above the mortal plane are the ones expending such effort.
  
  In short, this is a real cool story! I like the reference to Shoel, that little hint of non-standard afterlife and cosmology (or, old standard rather?), and how the angel felt appropriate to the old biblical nature I imagine them as. And the prince’s character, and how his fate was replayed back to him, was really well done too. Great work! ^w^
  
  (also omg you are sacrificing your slot for my own story? I’m so flattered! <3 <3 <3)
  
  Reply
  1. DesOttsel
    
    September 15, 2020
    
    Glad you liked it and picked up on all the subtext. This is also one of the ways I’ve been thinking about how to do suicide tactfully by showing the victim’s pov in the afterlife. Can’t really add much commentary in such a short piece though haha
    
    Yeah, old biblical philosophy is way more interesting to me. I really need to messianic bible some time.
    
    Reply
3. Lunabear
  
  September 17, 2020
  
  Your story embodies heavy this week. So many emotions colliding and coalescing, Des. It’s tragically beautiful. I love that the internalized conflict expands outward. With that expansion comes the knowledge (or summation) that Charles is in purgatory. His motivations and reasons for ending it are understandable, even if some don’t consider it justified. I also really love that the Seraphim shows him that his choice does not free him of the burden or pain that he carries.
  
  My critiques (very scant):
  
  My inexperience would only. (Did you mean for this to be an interrupted sentence, or is a word missing?)
  
  The prince held out his hands(.)
  
  It may be difficult to carry something you weren’t ready to carry, (let’s be honest; we’re hardly ever ready for life’s challenges or tragedies), but I think Charles will make a great leader once he gets a handle on things. So complex and somber. It’s akin to looking into a vast human soul and coming out on the other side feeling as though you’ve only seen a tiny fraction of it. Almost cried.
  
  Reply
Calliope Rannis

September 14, 2020

A Dream of Empty Thrones
By Calliope Rannis

Upon a cliff, she stood between the two emptied thrones, looking out at her majestic landscape. Above, the clouds of Kord’s storm had been burned away into clear orange sky. Below, the Raven Queen’s icy sea was shattered, melting under the glare of her swollen yellow sun.

Finally, it was done. No more would the people have to live in fear of the Storm Lord’s furious temper. No more would young, promising lives be snuffed out to feed the Queen’s insatiable desire for tragedy. She would be better. She would be a better god than either of them could EVER be.

She reached a hand out to touch one of the thrones, only to suddenly stop. Her hand…was hard, angular and translucent, coated in frost. Beneath the cloudy glass of the hand’s surface, sizzling plasma glowed where her bones used to be – and yet, she felt no pain, or heat, or cold. She felt nothing. At all.

She pulled her hand back to her face, petrified fingers touching a face more crystalline than flesh. She smelt blood, and tasted ash. Through her skull, she could hear her eyes hissing with electricity. She…she-she was-

She turned away, clutching her head, and behind her she saw destruction and death. The craters, the ruins, the wastes. The blasted, the mangled, the drowned, the burnt, the lost. The innocent, the undeserving, the unknowing-

She tried to close her eyes from the horrific sight, but she didn’t have eyelids anymore.

She forced her head downwards, seeing the path of blood and mud and bone end at her robes, soaked with dark fluid and dust. Below her feet were the splintered bodies of two gods that had once sat on nearby thrones. The gods that she had hated so much, and loved-

Nyssa woke up in an eruption of sparks, clawing at her face. Then, after the initial shock had passed – after she had felt the softness of her skin, breathed in the musty air, slowly blinking in the muffled moonlight – she curled up into a ball in her oversized tavern bed, and wept.

Reply
1. DesOttsel
  
  September 14, 2020
  
  This is so good. The imagery is great. I really like the paragraph with just a string of “the ___” it’s really punchy and immediately forces images and smells and lighting into your mind. It’s very visceral, and the progression keeps going. The fact that it was a dream or a prophecy is pretty tropey, but it’s just so damn well done, that it doesn’t matter.
  
  Reply
  1. Calliope Rannis
    
    September 14, 2020
    
    Thank you! That stated para was inspired by a similar speech at the end of the game Amnesia: A Machine For Pigs, which framed horrific events in a similar manner and it felt appropriate for a dream sequence especially to riff off of that!
    And yes, tropes aren’t bad after all, and I am personally not a big fan of prophecies at all – but this one could just as easily be a pure nightmare formed from guilt and self-awareness over Nyssa’s past actions, so I’m happier with including it over straight up explicit future predicting stuff. :3
    Thank you very much! 😀
    
    Reply
    1. DesOttsel
      
      September 15, 2020
      
      Oh yeah, the speeches in that game are great. I need to play it some time.
      
      Reply
2. Glaceon373
  
  September 14, 2020
  
  Oooh, this is very interesting, Calliope. Nyssa’s dream of taking down the tyrannical gods only to be the one replacing them, while only a dream, still gives a lot of information on the world and who Nyssa is. To rid the world of an evil just to replace it is also a great take on this prompt. Overall, very well written, Calliope. Great job!
  
  Reply
  1. Calliope Rannis
    
    September 14, 2020
    
    The dream is basically a representation of her mind’s constant war with itself. Her long-term goals of divinity and grand-scale change, fighting her humble short-term goals of just trying to be a good person and help in what little way she can. The near-manic optimism and self-belief of her past self fighting the depressed, guilt-ridden wreck of her present self, her desire for agency fighting her morality… it’s all a big mental mess basically.
    
    And a scary bonus to this is, the dream is entirely from Nyssa’s perspective, and her perception of what she thinks of the gods that she hates. She has deeply, deeply personal reasons for hating both of those gods, and her beliefs about them are not without validity – but things certainly get a lot uglier if you take into account that the two gods may not even be as bad as Nyssa thinks they are.
    
    Reply
3. The Assassin
  
  September 16, 2020
  
  The imagery in this is so powerful. Not only can I vividly picture what is going on, but I can feel the horror, I can understand the fear. The realization and despair, the flood of emotion hits so well. Truly this is extremely high-quality writing. I also just love the name of the story, it alone makes me want to love it and the writing itself of course made me love it. I’m awed at this and have zero criticism
  
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  1. Calliope Rannis
    
    September 16, 2020
    
    I am super flattered! I wasn’t super sure about this story at first but every comment I get makes me more proud of how well this one worked out. <3
    I'm suprised you picked out the name as a fave factor – to me it feels mostly functional, a brief summary of what the scene is, but I am glad it felt like a great name for you regardless! 😀 I do love writing for Nyssa I must say. ^w^
    
    Reply