Again, working on some fantasy folklore for the pantheon of my setting while I'm stalling on working on the real writing. These are meant to be kind of tropey little morality tales with some light subversion. This is the second tale for Elskrae, an eventual ascended goddess of love and beauty.

In the ancient yet bustling city of Rogsiere, known mainly for its festivals and jousts, Elskrae arrived as a guest of Lord Clemens, a noble with a reputation for his love of challenges and games. Word of her beauty had traveled far and wide, and Clemens, as clever as he was vain, saw her visit as an opportunity to win her favor through a display of his cunning.

During a feast held in her honor, Clemens called for silence to ask her a question. “Fairest Elskrae,” he said, his voice ringing through the great hall. He was tanned and trimmed, with well-oiled dark hair and a fine golden doublet. “Your beauty is unparalleled, but I have heard whispers that you are also fair with a bow. Or is this a misunderstanding that arose from the fact that you were surely designed by the gods to target men’s hearts?”

Lord Clemens’ court erupted with mirth at this and Elskrae allowed herself a smile. “Fair is an accurate account of my humble skills, my lord. But I would remind you that to target something, you must first take aim at it.”

Amidst the polite laughter this enjoined, of which Lord Clemens’ was an overly enthusiastic participant, he suddenly declared, “You must allow me to test it! Let us compete in a challenge of archery. Should I prove the better, perhaps I might win your eternal favor.”

Elskrae, never one to back down from such games, smiled. “Very well, my lord,” she replied, her emerald eyes gleaming. “But it is only fair that I name the target and the prize.”

Clemens gestured grandly. “Name it, and I shall strike it true! But any prize short of your heart will wound me sorely.” This brought him some laughter and applause from his guests.

Elskrae glanced around the hall, noticing that green stars were everywhere. On the goblets, on the plates, even stamped onto the cutlery. She also glanced skyward through the tall windows of the hall, where the first stars of evening shimmered faintly against the deepening blue. “Very well. Shoot me a star from the very heavens, Lord Clemens, and I shall grant you my hand.”

The hall fell silent, save for a few chuckles from those who thought the challenge impossible. Clemens, however, was undeterred.

“Only a hand?” he declared, though more to the crowd than to her. “Very well. We shall start there.”

He rose amidst the laughter, a sly smile curling his lips, and strode to the open balcony. Elskrae and his feast guests followed. His valet produced a finely crafted longbow quickly enough for Elskrae to imagine it had been held at the ready, should she agree to this contest. With one even draw, Clemens aimed at the banner flapping in the breeze from one of the battlements on the wall. The banner bore his crest: a black tower circled by six green stars on a golden field.

With practiced precision, Clemens loosed his arrow. It struck true, piercing the fabric through one of the outermost embroidered stars. The feasters erupted in applause as the banner rippled weakly in the evening breeze, the arrow shaft clacking against the wooden pole.

Clemens turned to Elskrae with a triumphant grin and bowed. “Behold, my lady, a star brought low.”

Elskrae’s smile never wavered. She nodded gracefully, her silken gown shimmering in the torchlight. “A clever interpretation, my lord,” she admitted. “Though not brought low—it still flies in the sky transfixed by your efforts. And you can hardly call the walls of your keep the heavens.”

“Dearest, my domain is most heavenly. Make no mistake,” he replied without missing a beat. He took her hand and kissed it. “Though it is made more so by your presence.” This delighted the observers, who thought he had scored yet another point.

She blushed prettily and laughed with a clear, bell-like tone, but when he had finished with her hand, she still held it out. “May I borrow your bow, my lord?”

“Oh, dearest Elskrae,” he began, sadly shaking his head. “I never loan another my bow. And I doubt that you could draw it. But I will have a shortbow fetched for you, post-haste!”

He clapped his hands and soon enough, his valet produced a shortbow and a quiver of arrows, far too swiftly for the whole affair to be impromptu. As Elskrae tested the weak pull on the bow, she smiled demurely. “I must ask for a boon, my lord.”

“Anything that is in my power to give, dearest heart,” Lord Clemens answered.

“The pull on this bow cannot match the power of yours, and the stars are so very far away. May I take two shots?”

There were some outcries of foul among those feasters crowding the arch to the balcony – performed good-naturedly but they were all undoubtedly on Lord Clemens' side. Lord Clemens held up his hands for silence from the mock protests.

“Dearest, you may take as many shots as you need to fell a star from the heavens.” He gestured to the sky.

“Just the two. My most gracious thanks, my lord.”

The crowd murmured as Elskrae nocked her first arrow, her movements deliberate and poised. She drew and aimed high, as one would need to shoot an actual star from the sky, but then, she lowered her shot and drew down on the same banner as Lord Clemens had, loosing her first arrow.

It hit the wooden flagpole with a satisfying thud, right on the tethers for the banner. Her second shot was a repeat of the first, only targeting the lower tethers. The banner, unmoored with its ties now cut, caught the wind and flew off, fluttering quickly down to the courtyard, and making small, quick semi-circles due to the weight of Clemens’ arrow already piercing it.

“A star, plus five more,” Elskrae began, smiling slyly. “Brought low from your heavenly domain, made more so by my presence.” She gave him a courtly curtsey, the bow held daintily out to the side.

There was a silence among the sycophantic courtiers as they labored to understand the enigmatic expression that their lord wore. His smirk had faltered a little, but it took a few heartbeats for his slightly wounded pride to cover itself with forced laughter. As if that were the signal, the feasters erupted in cheers and clapping and Lord Clemens bowed low once again, though this time, it was to hide his handsome, grieving face.

History did not remember Lord Clemens, aside from this tale, or his eventual fate, but Elskrae only grew in legend. In some tellings, it was an actual star that she shot down from the sky—a green gem of unparalleled value. But in every tale, a six-pointed green star became her sigil, each of the points shaped like a small, slender arrowhead.

Hey there! I'm working on an outline for a science-fantasy book, and I wrote a first chapter to get me into it. I've never written a book before, but I'm an avid reader and have listened to some lectures on writing, and I've done forum rp for years.

The story is about a distant star, where humans of several strange varieties managed to get spaceships off of the ground at relatively the same time despite living on separate worlds. Once they did, poor decisions and dark twists of fate sent a newly-founded interplanetary community into a fatal war. Hundreds of years later, only two factions are left, and the seven habitable worlds have been scarred by the conflict.

This story (at least the part I have an excerpt for) follows a pilot who gains insight into the grim task he has at hand.

I'd love to hear how this makes you feel, or where my flaws are deepest. Thanks for taking the time to look!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DYbg5b25BNPzSRPhlOaSNw8638yWC21ngcSv4uXzT7o/edit?usp=sharing

Hi all,

I’m looking for some feedback on a prologue for a novel I’m currently writing. I need to do another couple of passes to tighten up some prose and transitions, so I’m just looking for general feedback right now. I haven’t written anything seriously before, but I do read a lot of fantasy and sci-fi.

This prologue turned out a lot different than I thought it would when I first wrote it, but I’m happy with it so far. This is planned to be a multi-POV novel with an overarching story, and this character's chapters are going to have a much different vibe from some of the others.

Thanks for your time :)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1e3zf_i7h_gtklHv1mUGJTqASXXDrxymvDxdP5ivL-Tk/edit

Hi! First post of my own writing here - I am trying to establish a setting but also keep the story moving along. I struggle with being too descriptive and am still learning how to write action in a way that seems naturalistic. Would love another person to provide feedback — I’ve read this too many times already!

Leisl moved slowly along the overgrown path, stepping cautiously around the roots that twisted over the ground. Here was where it was most important to tread softly, silently, quite-as-a-mouse, so the Witch would not sense her wandering through her woods. Her heart fluttered in her chest. The new-fallen leaves whispered under her feet, not quite loud enough to give her away. She stepped to the edge of the small clearing in front of the Witch’s house and paused, hesitant, looking at the ramshackle cottage and watching for movement. Perhaps the Witch had set a trap, even though everyone knew she was out gathering after the second harvest. Leisl closed her eyes and sang the old song softly under her breath.

When the first leaves fall in the Wood The Witch gathers and plots Her cauldron she will fill With rich moss and heather Scattered seeds and sorrow From the forest floor

When the first leaves fall in the Wood The Witch gathers and roams She leaves her hearth to chill With lost souls to guide her Spinning spells for the morrow From the forest floor

The Witch’s house was stone and squat, with a disheveled thatched roof that was patchy with moss. A wild garden teemed with bittersweet, foxglove, and hemlock along the path to the front door. Bryony and ivy competed with one another to climb the walls of the cottage and consume the small windows just under the eaves. It was almost welcoming, and the song made Leisl feel braver, even though she had skipped the next stanza that warned travelers in the Wood that a horrible fate would befall them if they came across the Witch as she gathered. Surely if she was away from her hearth the best place to be was her hearth. Leisl took a deep breath and walked out into the clearing and along the path leading to the front door of the house.

Leisl (and everyone she knew) knew a few things about the Witch. Terror of the forest, but also its guardian and caretaker. Her touch was death for some creatures, but from each loss of life she allowed new to replace it. On a whim, it was said, she could change the course of fate for any creature. Her secrets were safe within her hut in the center of the forest. However, at least one had escaped. In a book, written by a clever apprentice who had served under the Witch and lived to tell the tale, it was written that an intrepid thief would hold power over life and death if they only had the skill and cunning, or confidence and desperation, to sneak into her domain. Leisl was young, and she had all of these.

The door to the cottage was warped but sturdy, and swung inward with a heavy scrape of wood on stone. Leisl stepped into a low, dark room, musty with the scent of raw earth, dried plants, and something strange and sweet underneath. A long table crowded with bottles, jars, and bundles of herbs ran along one wall, under a crooked set of stairs. A cauldron crouched cold and black on the hearth. She pushed the door closed behind her and looked over the bottles clustered on the long table. Where would the Witch keep a potion as special as the one Leisl was looking for? Surely not among this mess. She tapped on a few dark brown glass flasks, avoided a bowl with something sticky and suspiciously red dripping down the side and peered at a stack of papers with scrawled symbols and illegible notes. A small skull, rounded but equipped with a wicked-looking set of teeth, sat on top of a stupendously thick book with a weathered leather cover. It made Leisl’s fingers itch and twitch, her brain buzzing with curiosity. She wasn’t here to read the Witch’s grimoire, though. No matter how strong her curiosity was, the dull ache in her heart was far stronger. She was here to find the key to life after death, no more and certainly no less. It was just a matter of where the legendary potion would be kept. She looked again at the red oozing down the side of the bowl, and wrinkled her nose. Not it.

The wall next to the stairs had a series of small alcoves, each with its own iron gate and lock. Leisl peered within each and, in the one furthest from the door, finally found what she was looking for. A red glow, a hint of swirling light, just as the Witch’s apprentice had described in his book. Eagerly, she pulled her small dagger from its sheathe and bit her lip as she pricked her finger (it took several tries) until she could squeeze out a shining globe of dark blood. Muttering the words of a simple lock-opening spell, she touched the drop to the opening of the lock.

Two things happened at once. One, the lock completely and resolutely failed to open. Two, a mournful creak and metallic clatter came from behind Leisl, causing her face and neck to suddenly go both hot and cold at once. She turned to see a gigantic, armored knight looming from the corner by the door, heavy longsword grasped in both hands. The armor was murky black-green, like the stain left behind by moss scraped from a stone. Tattered grey cloth hung from the helm and shoulders, and the gauntlets had wicked spikes along the knuckles that appeared to be tipped with a greasy black fluid. Leisl screamed and ducked under the table, pushing herself backward through cobwebs and dust as far as she could go. The knight stood in place. Leisl held her breath. Then, after an eternity, a clattering of small claws on metal. A large black rat dropped to the floor, paused with one paw raised and nose twitching to stare at the dark-haired girl hiding in the shadows, then scurried away to a hole in the floorboards. Leisl, shaking so hard she had to clench her teeth together, crawled out from under the table and finally saw that the open front of the foreboding helm contained a black empty space rather than a face. Empty.

“Heh. Ha. HAHA!” she said the figure, before stepping up to it and poking the pommel of the sword. The suit of armor gave another ominous creak and she quickly backed up. The yell had released something in her, though, and she felt brave again, and more – powerful. She turned back to the lock and grasped it, both hands this time, and recited a stronger spell, a charm of breaking. This had never worked for her before, but today, as she imagined the glowing green center of her magic, something seemed right, and the lock shattered in her hands and then melted away, leaving nothing but a set of small cuts in each palm. Triumphant and barely feeling the pain, she grasped the neck of the potion bottle with hands slippery with blood and slipped out of the cottage, heart beating a steady, quick drum beat that carried her down the path, through the forest, and onto the road that turned towards home.

    Hello, one of my favorite fantasy games growing up was Spyro the new beginning. I loved this game as a kid and was working on a magic idea. I remember that there was this element that was introduced at the end, but we never get to use. It was called Ather and in the second one they introduced Ether as it’s dark counterpart. 
    I have tried researching these elements but have come up empty when it comes to understand, the difference and what the person would actually be able to do with the element. It seem like they are either the same thing or more of an aspect then a physical element. My question is what would you classify Ather, Ether and Nether they seem to control there own matter or aspect of the universe and how would one use these elements? 

Been using them as a villain a lot in my stories, a crime syndicate that wages a a secret war against an order of priests, so nothing too interesting I assume.

Anyways, I've been using them a lot down to an individual level, as in individual characters that represent the faction but I never really got around to the meat of their roster until now, writing a big battle scene that highlights their strengths and weaknesses. Their roster is a tad incomplete, I kind of shelved their roster more or less from the past months as I never got a complete picture of what their forces are like. So far what I have tried in my stories, their battle-style is fear tactics, shock tactics, ambushes, higher discipline and morale than most gangs but lower discipline and morale than trained militaries. False retreats, traps, sabotage and regrouping to makeup for heavy losses. So definitely some speed to their fight, cannot stay too long in a fight, especially against trained militaries. Their forces in summary, high risk, high reward, get in, get the hell out before the opponent punches back and punches hard. In terms of character, they are as a whole, kind of petty and are a blurred balance of cowardly and tyrannical might.

Was thinking of a stealthy fast monster to bolster and complete their roster, been trying some stuff out, particularly giant lizards, and not having much luck as I have all the good stuff for my other factions. Any suggestions of any particular deceitful, evil, or merciless creatures as inspiration for my next monster?

Hi! I'm looking for readers' impressions and general feedback on the prologue for my fantasy novel series Heartsoul. The books are set in a magical university called the Atrium (name pending). The prologue is still a work in progress but I want to set the tone for the first couple of chapters in this section so I wanted to see how others react to it.

--------------

Legend has it that centuries ago, before the second fall of the first humans, a dragon fell from the Cosmos. And as he fell—bright and blazing—he turned, waving his wings to the sky one last time. Those who witnessed his descent and lived could feel the earth shatter around them as his body impaled the ground. His massive wings broke upon impact, jutting into the sky like fractured monuments.

They claimed that cities and statues penetrated his body, creating countless orifices in his leathery skin. Where the puncture marks cut into him, a shimmery substance flowed, pooling into the lands around him. This "miracle haze," as they called it, spread across the world, forming a mist of glimmer that draped over towering trees and even taller mountains.

When his great feet sank into the sea, they froze, forming two vast craters miles apart. To this day, they remain. It is said that his stomach became a buried furnace of molten flame, concealed beneath ancient ruins, and yet his heart continued to beat for years to come. Survivors of the cataclysm followed the length of his tail from the ends of the world until they reached it. There, they gathered around him. His voice shattered their minds until, over time, either he learned to speak softly—or perhaps they learned how to listen.

Eventually, a group emerged—each as different as they were alike. They had been young when he first fell but now stood as elders. They alone could speak to him. Cosmos, they finally named him. He seemed to take pleasure in the name, or perhaps in their company, for he roared to the sky for the first time, sending a cloud of sparkling dust into the air that settled across his immense form. The bravest among them climbed from his chest to his heart and finally to his eyes. He spoke through them as if their lips were his own. They heard his voice high in their minds—clear, like the language they had only begun to share—and for the first time, they all understood one another.

Then, the dragon spoke.

“Who was it that bestowed upon me the name Cosmos?” he asked.

A young woman stepped forward. “It was I, your g—grace” She stuttered, realizing the title she had meant to give him was unknown to him.

“We believed it suited your arrival into our world,” she continued.

“Ah, but I am Nothing,” the dragon replied dryly. “I am nothing anymore.”

The writings say that tears flowed from his eyes, so heavy that rivers ran swift and unyielding, carrying his sorrow into the ocean where his stiffened legs remained. By the time he was done crying, the suns had set, and night had fallen.

Only then did Cosmos ask—where once he would have commanded—“Will you listen to my story?”

And so, he began.

“I was one of many—of tens, of hundreds, of thousands,” Cosmos said. “You call us dragons, whenever a young one falls from our heavens. But we are gods. Only those who survive the journey to their fountain can claim that name. We create the worlds you call home. Our death forms the soil of your gardens and the foundations of your castles. Our tears become your rivers, flowing into your oceans. Our wings are the mountain ranges that span your lands. We are gods in life and ‘Ahdas’ until death finds us. We are everything and nothing, all at once. I imagine many of your companions—or adversaries—have felt the same.”

im writing a NA fantasy novel and im deciding if i want it to be highly political, or just delve into the fantasy aspect of it instead. i want my book to be action paced and interesting, and i think a complex political system definitely does that. a lot of books i love have it. of course its not easy to craft well, and im afraid if i do it it will feel juvenile. on the other hand, i don’t mind writing a fantasy book with not as much political tension, but again, i don’t want THAT either to seem juvenile. i wanted to know what you guys liked to read (because i like both tbh) and if you had any advice on this dilemma, if someone faced a similar feeling when writing. do your favourite fantasy books have heavy political tension such as warfare and conquering? do you believe it adds to a story?

EDIT : thank u to everyone who commented!! i know that ultimately i need to write want i want and get to know my story better, but i appreciate the insights i received anyway. i wanted this post to be a bit like a discussion too so im glad people are just telling me their preferences because i love to hear them:))

The target audience for these books is kids, teens, and maybe young adults as well. It's my first time writing an actual novel, so some of the sentences might not work as intended. I would greatly appreciate any critique and advice I could get. It's supposed to be more like fun and chaotic, similar to the vibes Percy Jackson and the Olympians has. Also please point out if some words could be replaced or how certain descriptions could be changed, it would help out a ton.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IGy762AxBBTBNecs9PctDlPyy8MetVM-WfmH9N9jFms/edit?usp=drivesdk

First time creating an audio fiction piece FEEDBACK WANTED [FANTASY]

Hello all,

After being a longtime fan of things like the magnus archives, my friend and I have tried our hand at audio fiction production. It’s an audio hour that contains two written stories, original music, and an opening and closing skit.

It’s a monthly audio fiction anthology covering all things weird and fantastical.. obviously, since it’s our first time.. we would love all and any feedback or critique related to obviously the writing but also the audio production, overall quality (we are working on improving our recording set up), truly anything at all. Feel free to comment and DM me :)

https://youtu.be/LNe1GqHoixs?si=dErz6jjbcW4IhH_6

A question I thought about and always found myself struggling with is how to maintain the significance of death in a story where some characters return from it. In the first part of my story, the main character undergoes a full character arc, builds relationships, fights battles, and struggles toward a destiny that seems inevitable—until he is suddenly and prematurely killed. His death is not just shocking; it is world-altering for the other characters and for the direction of the story itself. However, after a long time, he returns from the dead, though not as the person he once was. His resurrection is not a simple act of convenience, nor is it played as an easy, triumphant return. Instead, he comes back psychologically traumatized, emotionally shattered, and fundamentally changed.

The story itself makes his return feel narratively justified—it is not treated as an act of fan service or a simple reversal of fate. Yet despite this, I sometimes worry that the very concept of returning from death diminishes the weight of loss itself. If one character can come back, does that mean death no longer has permanence in the world? If death is not permanent, does that make every other loss feel less significant? And if that’s the case, what does death even mean in a story like this?

This question becomes more complicated when considering other characters who die in the story. Some of them meet true, irreversible ends—their deaths carry enormous weight and change the trajectory of the story. Others are not so much killed as they are trapped in an eternal fate worse than death, unable to move forward in life or the afterlife. These different outcomes create a complex relationship with mortality—some characters are truly gone, while others remain in a limbo between life and death.

So when does death lose its meaning in a story?

In my story, I believe the return of the main character does not diminish the weight of death, because his resurrection is not a relief—it is a tragedy in itself. He comes back, but at an immense cost, and he is no longer the person he once was. And yet, I still wrestle with this question. I want to ensure that his original death does not feel like a temporary setback, but rather a defining moment that cannot be erased.

So how do you make death feel permanent, even when a character comes back? How do you ensure that their resurrection does not cheapen their original death, but rather adds new layers of meaning to it? And at what point does death in a story stop feeling like a real consequence and start feeling like just another plot device?

I am currently about 1½ thousand words into the first chapter of a fantasy story that I'm writing about a fictional world with sentient humanoid reptiles that

I had previously written a whole seperate prologue about the creation myth of that world and its people, how and what the gods did and basically an explanation for why there is two empires, what happened for them to be divided like that and why the world is the way it is right now including some very basic geographical details and the story of how the big competition that the book is mainly about, came into existence, eventually ending with setting up the status quo, which is shortly before the start of the competition.

Originally I was just going to leave it there and expand upon the details in the actual story, but now I'm wondering if I should explain everything from the prologue again (not infodump, but bit by bit (as I don't know how to do the former) which I have tried to do but it ended up feeling really silly as the prologue was barely a couple hundred words ago) as the story goes on instead of just having the characters reference certain things about the gods and the creation myth.

I'm now questioning if I should make the prologue skippable (or maybe even just deleting it outright) in it's entirety or if I should just let it be there and expand on the details of the creation myth in the story (like I originally intended) instead of reexplaining it.

I’m currently developing the characters, universe and general plot of a romantasy novel, with its universe expanding in potential sequels. It’s set on a continent divided between a nation of humans and a nation of dragons. Both countries are very speciesist (if that’s a word) and are engaged in a war following the kidnapping of a young human girl by a band of dragons 15 years ago.

The culture, food and temperature of the human country is very Mediterranean, while I haven’t quite developed these for the dragon country. It would likely be mountainous/volcanic, similar to Mordor. I have tried to develop names for the dragon and human countries: Drakonia and Anthropnia respectively, taken from the Greek words for dragon and human.

Are these effective names for these countries or too basic/obvious? With Anthropnia’s culture being Mediterranean, would a more obviously Greek, (Anthropos, for instance), Italian, or Spanish name be better? Thank you.

Hihi hello, so I'm writing a book that's, obviously, set in a fantasy world not on Earth, it's about a group of people searching for a relic to bring to a king. One of the characters, Rue-Anh Beau, is the one who started the search and works for the king personally as a messenger.

I wanna write him Chinese-coded and I do have his character design and it's basic elements, I have researched a bit but so far it's only been slight skims since it's been a recent development, he's a harpy/birdfolk based off a crane, specifically a Red-Crowned crane. He's selective mute due to a chronic illness that has gotten to the point talking wears him out, so he talks via sign language or writing. Being the messenger of the king he often has to send out letters when he's on further expeditions, which he does by writing the letters and folding them up (will not be using origami, as I've learnt origami is the Japanese word not Chinese) in enchanted birds or stars that fly back to the palace. He also wears a solid jade mask, a gift from the king itself as a way to ease the chronic pain.

Of course I will be doing more thorough research, finding and looking through Chinese media and reading/watching shows and books that were created by Chinse folks, but I want to know now if my design so far is okay? Is it cultural appropriation or appreciation? Any advice is useful!

Salutations all.

I'm having a bout of uncertainty pertaining to how I want to structure my fantasy novel. I have tried thinking about this quite a bit and part of me thinks third-person point of view would work best, but a much larger part of me yearns to write them in first-person instead. While this may be easier, I don't think it will read as well as the two POV characters will eventually end up running into one another for a significant portion of the story, and I feel that could end up being a very confusing cluster-fluff.

Essentially, there's going to be an assassin and a king's bodyguard and the king's going to die but they're going to end up eventually teaming up -- SPOILER ALERT -- at some point later on in the story. So not just running into each other, but... essentially merging into their own kind of journey.

What are everyone's thoughts on this? I'm kind of leaning towards the first-person only really working if it was one, single, POV character, but alas... I'm at a crossroads.

Any input is warmly appreciated in advance and good tidings to you all.

Hi fantasy writers,

Thanks for taking a look! I've posted four chapters so far and have gotten no engagement, so I'm guessing my blurb and cover need some reworking. Here is what I have posted:

“Althea knows she wants to explore the world beyond her peaceful hometown by the river, but there are just a few things she wants to wrap up first. When she and her friends are attacked by a group of mysterious travelers with strange weapons, she just narrowly manages to escape with her best friend Arevis.

Now on the run, Althea's dreams of adventure have come true, but not in the way she had imagined. Under these circumstances, can she still make an impact on the world that she's discovering is so full of complications and darkness? She wants to lighten things up with her healing magic, but will she be forced to choose the path of fire to survive?”

I thought maybe this wasn't a good hook because it's too vague and mysterious and doesn't actually market the content of the book, so I made a more succinct, descriptive one here:

"When Althea and her childhood friends are attacked by a group of mysterious cultists with strange weapons, she narrowly manages to escape by fighting with fire. Tracking down the Artificer’s Guild with her best friend and fellow mage Arevis, they journey into the forest only to be swept up into a world of mad gods, princes, and those who wish to destroy her. She wants to lighten the darkness up with her healing magic, but will she have to choose the path of fire to survive?"

Here are some additional details about the book that I would love to know if you think are catchy or should be included to interest readers:

Telepathic mind-fuckery, bio and genetic experiments, “burn the mages”, warring kingdoms, demigods, elemental powers (fire, ice, metal), mage battles, immortal gods and methods of ascension/power acquisition, spell weapons, cults, adventure (traveling to three main locations from the river delta to the forest, the moor, and the volcanic steppe)

I suppose it’s kind of a coming of age story where Althea has to reconcile her naivete and hopes and dreams about fitting into the world with how violent and chaotic it really is. She must learn to be a warrior as well as a healer.

What to expect: Weekly updates. Adventures into extreme cultures and environments. Power-hungry immortal villains, thieves, liars, and battle magic.

Hello, though I have learnt quite well the English language so I am writing in English, I am not a native speaker and I have no idea how names are seen by native English speakers or even people who learnt English as a second language but they do not have my background.

So, I would like your opinion about naming main character like this.

I have tried names Khaduniya, Ħevel, Grarum, Ruharush...

I have tried to make Old English translation of the names but the story lost its colour a lot, and it was sometimes worse in terms of readability. I assume that other translations will cause similar effect. (same order, OE translation: Ascenwulf, Hefwell, Grarida, Fregemearc)

I have tried to make the names more English friendly, and twist of change words entirely to seem more like names seen in English literature or literature translated into English since long ago, but my wife and editor is a bit upset with the changes, and I would like your opinions. (same order, revised: Khadaan, Ħevel, Graraal, Ruharush)

So I know that our normal conventions of clothing aren't very practical underwater. Thing's on land won't keep you warm when they're positively soaked. There's not really any conventional weather like rainfall or something. There's the whole thing about floaty bits getting in the way.

I'm pretty much ready to just go the spongebob route and pretend the water is "air" for sake of story and set dressing but it would be fun to think of actual reasons.

For context of their society. They live in continental shelves and build their society out of cave systems that have airpockets and their own bizarre ecosystems. The merfolk live partly in the air but partly underwater, as they have different forms they can transition between depending on needs. (From classical mermaids, to humanoids with big fish tails, to nearly human).

It is an ocean world so they do not have any contact with terrestrial races that might require something for 'modesty'.

Once upon the distant past they were related to humans so there's reasons for some "Land-dweller" concepts to still be around.

Some random ideas I've thought of are:

• Ceremonial reasons for the purpose of religion, class, gender. etc.

• Its made from some magical substance that gives it properties like heat/light emission or envelope items for carrying. Sort of like self-healing silicone.

• Looks COOL

• The 'cloaks' are just incidental parts of their biology.

• Some weird ocean phenomenons like a jetstream that is abrasive to bare skin.

I'm writing a military-heavy fantasy and I'm second-guessing the location of the base where the story is taking place. I have it at the foot of a mountain range that separates two kingdoms and this base is the first line of defense against said kingdom, but I'm starting to think that logically it would be a bad spot.

I've researched medieval military base locations (I know there weren't standing armies in that time, but that's where a lot of my inspo is from) but google hasn't been helpful. There are natural resources nearby, but if the other kingdom decides to attack they'd have the high ground (granted, the terrain would be difficult to navigate and they'd probably lose a lot of men in the mountains). Logically speaking, how unrealistic would it be to house some of the best soldiers in the kingdom at the base of a mountain range bordering your biggest enemy?

I hope I'm not breaking any rules, but was wondering if people were allowed to generally seek critique partners/writer friends on here to swap with? I saw on other forums that this is where people found partners/friends. I'm on a polished 5th draft of a YA Fantasy novel called Seven Shadows [High Fantasy, Heroic Fantasy, Romance]. Though it is technically high fantasy, it starts off on Earth and is reader-friendly fantasy like Harry Potter or Percy Jackson.

BLURB: Sam Halloway has never competed in a Colosseum Tournament. He’s never seen a Monster Box, rode on hover chariots, or befriended a crystal companion. All he's ever known is his curse, and his lonely life on Earth—he's never gone near anyone since his accident. But then one day, upon protecting his high school crush, a portal emerges to a magical world. A Roman world. Sam soon learns that Ancient Rome never died, but was instead a world hidden away from his own—the world of Eden. What's more, he learns he's been forced to hide on Earth because he wields a shard of the most powerful crystal in the realm. A crystal that can cast all 3 types of magic. A crystal that Vain seeks to use in order to overpower the Seven Deadly Sins. A crystal, known as the Dark Stone.

In short, its really just a Harry Potter type adventure but in a roman world and with no school/academy. There's 3 factions of powers based on Roman/Greek mythology, each with distinct colored togas, and they cast their magic/powers from gauntlets. If interested, I can describe what it's about in further detail before you decide whether or not you'd like to partner up, and if it turns out you do then I would be a faithful critique partner in return. I majored in film at Virginia Tech and am well versed in character arcs and plot structure.

Book Cover Link

That's the first chapter of my still untitled novel. It's a second draft, still in need of some editing. I would like to receive feedbacks on writing style, pacing and general execution. I'd also like to know if the level of my writing would be adequate for publishing or if it feels amateurish. I've tried improving the pacing by trimming down descriptions and redundancies. (Minor edit: I forgot to include a last minute change in a paragraph. words count went upt to 3237)

CHAPTER 1 – A door reopened

The man standing at the apartment door looked like the kind who, if he told you to jump, you’d already be mid-air. Or else. Silver-streaked hair framing a face worn down by life, yet unyielding; sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, and the stubbornness of his eyes gave him the air of a boxer in the final round, daring the world to take its best shot. A tailored suit complemented his stern composure.

Alexander Vorov. Mage. A trade built on precision, discipline, and linking arms with forces most would fear to name. Bending reality’s rules was his domain. Beyond that door lied the only thing he truly feared: failure. It was time to make amends, but that wasn’t the real reason for being there.

Gangrenous tendrils were worming through the fabric of reality corrupting everything they touched. Silverbrook’s spirit — a twisted, cancerous mass born of its residents’ darkest instincts — was changing. Every city has one: a spiritual parasite that consumes anyone who strays too close, chews through them, and spits out what little remains. But Silverbrook’s had become something worse. It wasn’t just feeding anymore. It was hunting.

The signs were painfully clear: a mom strangling her ten-year-old child for a bad grade, a road rage episode turned into a mass shooting that killed seven people, one store clerk beating an annoying customer to death. Cases like these were making the news almost every day.

One of those dark threads had brought him back there.

The mage fidgeted with the ring on his right middle finger — a silver signet engraved with a dove and a raven, their talons clutching a downward-pointed sword. The raven’s golden plating glinted faintly, its eye a polished black tourmaline.

Alex drew a slow, measured breath, his shoulders stiffening as his gaze fixed on the door. A faint trace of whiskey lingered in the air, the ghost of the drink he’d allowed himself earlier.His finger hit the doorbell and brushed the other hand on his mouth, the stubble tingling against his fingers.

Footsteps approached, followed by the soft scrape of the peephole sliding aside. The door swung open, and there she was, her posture upright but tense, a wall that could hold the tempest he carried, but that might still bend at a caress.Elena Byrne. Dedicated business manager, caring mother, and scorned ex-wife.

Her red hair, now streaked with gray at the temples, framed a face he hadn’t seen in years. Sharp green eyes held the same intensity he remembered, her polished simplicity reflected in dark jeans and a sturdy sweater.

“So, you thought you’d just... show up?” Her voice was low and controlled, but thick with anger. “No calls, no apologies... was that one of your magic tricks, Alex? Vanishing without a trace?”

He held her stare. “I’m sorry for what I've done, but I'm not here to talk about us.” His jaw tightened. “Our daughter is in danger.”

Elena exhaled sharply, her lips pressing into a tight line. A bitter, cutting laugh escaped her. “Wow, Alex, just... wow. You're unbelievable.” She leaned against the door-frame, her eyes locked onto his, a challenging rebuttal in their glare. “Danger...” she repeated, the word dripping with mockery.“That's the line you lead with?”

Alexander’s shoulders stiffened. His eyes narrowed, hard and unyielding. “It’s not a line. I'm serious.”

Elena pierced him with a burning gaze. Her voice sharp and unwavering. “Luna is soon going to be back from school. If she sees you here—”

Alex raised a hand, his movement firm but not abrupt, cutting her off “I'm not disappearing again.”

She studied him, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her eyes flicked over his face, searching for something she wasn’t sure she wanted to find. For a moment, the silence between them hung heavy, weighted with too much history.

“Get inside,” she finally muttered, stepping aside to let him pass. “But you’d better have a damn good explanation.”

Alex nodded, not needing to say anything else. He stepped over the threshold, closing the distance between them.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Elena remained standing by it, watching him carefully, as though waiting for him to make his next move.

Alexander’s eyes swept over the apartment. The dining room stretched out before him, practical and orderly. Everything was meticulously tidy, with no clutter in sight. A single stem of fresh lilies in a sleek glass vase added a discrete touch of elegance. A delicate perfume of vanilla — her favorite fragrance — lingering in the air. It was Elena’s space now. The traces of his presence there had been scrubbed away long ago.

His gaze shifted to the hallway that led to Luna’s room. “Is Luna still practicing magic?”

Elena glanced at him accusingly. “Yeah. That’s the only part of you she could hold on to... she's been at it for the last three years.” She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Why? Is this the part where you tell me it wasn't as harmless as you promised?”

A sharp pause. He forced his shoulders to relax, hiding the gnawing tension in his chest. “I didn't expect her to progress without me, but I should have known better. She's my daughter, after all.”

She shook her head, a bitter laugh spilling like poison from her mouth. “It’s nice of you to remember you have a daughter. Where the hell have you been?” Her voice cracked slightly, the anger edged with something raw, almost pleading.

Alex opened his mouth to respond but stopped, her words landing hard. He shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders tightening under her glare.

“We came looking for you,” she continued, her voice rising with each word. “At your apartment—it was empty! I even called the publishing house, and they told me you quit a month before. We were worried sick about you!” Her hands gestured sharply as the flood of words poured out. “All we got were those damn checks in the mail, like that was supposed to make up for you being gone!”

Alex flinched, the words landing like blows. He forced himself to meet her gaze, his own filled with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing, Elena. You know how dangerous my work is.”

Elena threw her hands up, turning away with a sharp, frustrated motion. She took a few steps, her breath audible, then spun back toward him. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her knees slightly bent, as if bracing for impact, and her head leaned forward, her entire stance charged with restrained fury. “This bullshit is exactly why I wanted the divorce! Losing the man I loved was one thing, but at least I told myself you’d still be there for Luna.”

Alex let out a bitter sigh “Elena—”.

“Don’t!” Her finger jabber toward his face, her sharp green eyes blazing. “You chose magic, Alex. You chose it over us. First over me, then over Luna. And now you show up with some dramatic threat.”

He took a step forward, his tone steady but urgent. “Darkness is taking over in Silverbrook, and it’s already started to affect her.”

Elena scoffed. “And how would you know that, Alex? You weren't—” All of a sudden, the familiar sound of the elevator doors opening echoed down the hallway, snapping their attention toward the door. The woman quickly grabbed her cellphone from the table and glanced at the time. “Luna's back from school.”

Alex felt a shift in the air, a pulse of energy that signaled her presence. It was different from how it felt when Luna was twelve, the last time they spoke. This sensation was gentle but more alive, electric, as though something was quietly sparking in the space around them — an early sign of Luna’s attunement to magical energies.

From outside the apartment, they might have mistaken them for two thieves caught in the act, scrambling, desperately trying to cover their tracks. Elena moved first, as if driven by an urge to do something, anything, to ground herself. She quickly wiped away the nervous tears that wet her cheeks, trying to regain composure. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the phone for a moment before she straightened up.

Alex, however, was froze. He couldn’t decide whether to sit, stand, or what to do with his hands. His entire body stiffened, weighed down by a wave of emotions.

The door opened calmly.

“Hi, Mom.” Luna said with a graceful tone, almost musical.

She had her mother’s fiery red hair, falling in gentle waves to her shoulders. The color was captivating, but it was the weight of her eyes — her father’s deep, dark brown eyes — that struck most. There was a quiet intensity in them, a stare that pulled you in with the unspoken understanding that, beneath her tender years, there was more to her than met the eye. Her outfit, a tasteful mix of faded lace and loose draping fabrics had a Gothic flair, lending her an almost ethereal, vintage vibe.

For a moment, Luna didn’t recognize the man standing in the room. Her gaze shifted to him, confused but curious. Her hand, gripping the shoulder strap of her school backpack, tightened into a clutch when the realization struck her. Her body froze, her breath catching in her throat. From the depths of her eyes, joyful tears began to well up, and her lips trembled, as fragile as the moment itself. The weight of three long years, the countless nights spent wishing for this, shattered her composure.

As if a dam had burst, she let out a disjointed, almost frantic sound of joy, a cry that bubbled up from deep within her chest. She didn’t wait for him to say anything. The backpack slipped from her shoulder and fell to the ground with a soft thud as she almost tackled him down with a hug.

Alex posture was rigid, he appeared to fight a brief inner battle before allowing his arms to wrap around her.

“Dad!” she cried, her voice raw with emotion. “Dad!” The tears streamed freely, carrying with them all the longing and pain she had held back for so long.

Elena stood still in the room, watching the reunion. Her gaze softened, the walls she’d built around herself cracking just slightly. Her lips pressed together, and for a moment, the bitterness and anger she carried melted within the stream of her daughter’s raw joy.

Alex pulled back slowly from the embrace, his arms still around Luna, though his breath was slightly ragged. He gently brushed the tears from her cheeks, not quite knowing how to handle the affection he hadn’t earned back yet.

“Moonbeam,” he said softly. That nickname, one he had used since the day she was born, carried all the love he had for her.

Luna’s face brightened momentarily at the sound of it, unlocking old, cherished memories. Her joy spilling over in a way that felt almost childlike. But as her gaze lingered on him, reality crept in. The sparkle in her eyes dimmed, her expression hardening as years of unanswered questions and hurt settled between them.

“Are you staying?” she asked quietly, her voice wavering slightly. “Or is this just... for now?”

“I’m staying,” he said gently. “I promise.”

Luna’s gaze lingered on him, skeptical yet longing, her mind pondering those words, avidly drinking them in like the ground would absorb fresh rain after a long drought. Then the question she waited to ask for three long years. “Why did you leave?”

“Yes, Alex, what happened?” Elena pressed, sharp and unyielding. The caustic edge of her resentment was impossible to miss.

The mage knew that was his moment of reckoning. With calm composure, he lowered himself onto the couch, guiding Luna gently to sit beside him, keeping her hand firmly in his. His gaze remained fixed on the scorned woman, whose posture radiated quiet threat.

He drew in a deep breath, his voice tight with tension as his memories began to surface. “I'd never really told you much about what I do, about the people I work with.” He instinctively looked down at his signet ring.

Elena scoffed, tilting her head. In her heart, the bitterness lingered. Years spent resenting that mysterious part of his life that had stolen his focus, their future, and, ultimately, their family.

Alex continued, his voice low and taut. “Three years ago, I faced one of the worst forms of evil I’ve ever encountered.” A shudder ran through his shoulders, anger simmering beneath his tone. “A malevolent entity born of shadow and hatred. It sought to twist everything around it into its own image. People. Places. Souls.”

Luna’s brow furrowed, her voice trembling. “You fought it?”

Alex nodded. “I wasn’t alone,” his voice low and burdened. “I brought an apprentice with me. He was young, barely out of training, but eager to prove himself. I needed the help. We confronted the entity together, and somehow... we pushed it back. But I didn’t see the corruption it had left behind.”

Elena’s sharp intake of breath filled the silence. “Corruption?” she asked, her voice soft but no less biting.

Alex nodded, his gaze distant. “It was subtle at first. It buried itself in him like a seed, feeding on his doubts, his fears, his very life force. He didn’t say a word — nothing about the headaches, the fever, or the nightmares. I thought we were both fine, but by the time I realized what was happening, the person I knew was already gone. The man he became...” Alex shook his head. “He was something else entirely. He couldn't be saved.”

Luna gasped, her free hand flying to her mouth. “He died? Because of the corruption?”

Alex’s shoulders tightened, and he looked away. His voice was quiet, deliberate. “I tried to help him, Luna. I did everything I could. But in the end...” His gaze flicked toward Elena, then dropped to the floor. “There was no other choice.”

Elena froze, her breath hitching sharply. Her wide eyes locked onto Alex, narrowing as understanding crept in.

Luna’s voice was barely above a whisper. “That’s awful,” she said, her tone trembling.

Elena’s composure wavered, her voice rising. “And you thought that by leaving us, you’d spare us from the same fate? That we’d be better off without you?”

“Yes,” Alex whispered, the word falling from his lips like it pained him to say it. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I looked at him, and all I could see was you. Both ofyou.” He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. “I convinced myself that if I left, the darkness could never touch you. But I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Elena’s voice sharpened with alarm.

Alex’s gaze darkened. “Every time someone uses magic, it tears open a breach between our world and the spiritual realm. If it isn’t done properly, the breach doesn’t close and corruption seeps through. My people monitor those breaches. They investigate whoever opens them.”He turned to Luna, his voice grave. “And they’ve been investigating you.”

“Me?” Luna widened her eyes. “But I don't deal with the heavy stuff. I just help my friends with little things.”

Alexander shook his head. “Whatever you're doing, it's causing trouble, Moonbeam. I need you to stop.”

Luna scooted back on the couch in resentment. “No, I'm not going to stop. I like magic.”

Elena stepped closer, folding her arms. “Come on, Alex, you know that's all a game. You're taking this way too seriously.”

Alex exhaled noisily. “Elena, I know you don't really believe in magic, I've never truly showed you, but believe me: that's not a game at all. And also the people I work with take it very seriously.” He shifted his attention back to Luna. “The Entity targets people like you. It'll use you to open more breaches. If you don't want to stop, fine, but then you need to learn. I will teach you, if you let me.”

Elena's voice cut in, vibrant with poorly contained outrage. “This is ridiculous. That's your idea of being a father?”

Luna hesitated, glancing between them. Her fingers tightened around the hem of her sleeve. “I don’t know... but I want to learn.” She swallowed, her voice small but firm. “I don’t want to be afraid of it.”She looked up at Alex, uncertainty flickering beneath her cautious hope. “I just... I’m happy you’re back, Dad.”

Elena stayed silent for a long moment, her shoulders tense. Alexander and Luna looking at her with caught breath.

When she finally turned back to him, her voice was steady but laced with reluctance. “You will see Luna twice a week for now.”

Luna smiled satisfied. Alexander nodded.

Elena continued. “You can either stay here or bring her to...” She paused, her voice faltering slightly. “...where do you live now?”

Alex lowered his head “I have an apartment in East Greenthorn. Got a new job at Saint George.”

“East Greenthorn, huh?” Elena raised a brow, a little incredulous. “And now you're at the university? Congratulations.” She said dryly, then she weighed her next words for a moment. “Let me be very clear, Alex: if you hurt her again, if you let her down even once... you’re gone. Do you understand? Gone for good, this time.”

“I do,” Alex said, meeting her gaze without hesitation. “I won’t fail her again.”

Luna's gaze drifted, her expression shifting — a carousel of relief, realization, doubt, and sadness. She let out a long, shaky breath, as though trying to release the weight pressing against her chest.

“All right,” she murmured, her voice low and resigned. “I guess that’s a thing now.”

The words felt like a quiet surrender, her shoulders slumping as she rose to her feet. She didn’t look at either of them, her focus fixed on the floor. “I need some air.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed for the door. Alex made to rise, but Elena’s sharp look froze him mid-motion. She waited for the sound of the elevator before speaking again. “Alex, you never truly shared that part of your life with me, but I saw how it consumed you. I patched your wounds and cleaned your clothes from blood. Promise me you're not going to drag her into your shit.”

Alexander turned his gaze to the ground. “I don't want that for her either. I'll do whatever I can to avoid it.”

Elena turned back to the window, her reflection in the glass faint but resolute. “Good,” she said finally, her voice steady. “She deserves a father, not only a mentor. You’ll have to prove you can be that, Alex.”

That was far from a reconciliation, but it was a start.

The Entity was a blade hanging over them all. To that monster, Luna was a fragile, vulnerable toy — an untapped power it could twist and exploit to strike deeper. Alex had seen how it preyed on weakness, how it slipped through the cracks in people’s hearts and minds. And Luna... she carried enough cracks to let it in. Should he fail, it wouldn’t stop with her. It would destroy everything he had fought to protect.

CHAPTER 1 – A door reopened

The man standing at the apartment door looked like the kind who, if he told you to jump, you’d already be mid-air. Or else. Silver-streaked hair framing a face worn down by life, yet unyielding; sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, and the stubbornness of his eyes gave him the air of a boxer in the final round, daring the world to take its best shot. A tailored suit complemented his stern composure.

Alexander Vorov. Mage. A trade built on precision, discipline, and linking arms with forces most would fear to name. Bending reality’s rules was his domain. Beyond that door lied the only thing he truly feared: failure. It was time to make amends, but that wasn’t why he was there.

Gangrenous tendrils were worming through the fabric of reality corrupting everything they touched. Silverbrook’s spirit — a twisted, cancerous mass born of its residents’ darkest instincts — was changing. Every city has one: a spiritual parasite that consumes anyone who strays too close, chews through them, and spits out what little remains. But Silverbrook’s had become something worse. It wasn’t just feeding anymore. It was hunting.

The signs were painfully clear: a mom strangling her ten-year-old child for a bad grade, a road rage episode turned into a mass shooting that killed seven people, one store clerk beating an annoying customer to death. Cases like these were making the news almost every day.

One of those dark threads had brought him back there.

The mage fidgeted with the ring on his right middle finger — a silver signet engraved with a dove and a raven, their talons clutching a downward-pointed sword. The raven’s golden plating glinted faintly, its eye a polished black tourmaline.

Alex drew a slow, measured breath, his shoulders stiffening as his gaze fixed on the door. A faint trace of whiskey lingered in the air, the ghost of the drink he’d allowed himself earlier.His finger hit the doorbell and brushed the other hand on his mouth, the stubble tingling against his fingers.

Footsteps approached, followed by the soft scrape of the peephole sliding aside. The door swung open, and there she was, her posture upright but tense, a wall that could hold the tempest he carried, but that might still bend at a caress.Elena Byrne. Dedicated business manager, caring mother, and scorned ex-wife.

Her red hair, now streaked with gray at the temples, framed a face he hadn’t seen in years. Sharp green eyes held the same intensity he remembered, her polished simplicity reflected in dark jeans and a sturdy sweater.

“So, you thought you’d just... show up?” Her voice was low and controlled, but thick with anger. “No calls, no apologies... was that one of your magic tricks, Alex? Vanishing without a trace?”

He held her stare. “I’m sorry for what I've done, but I'm not here to talk about us.” His jaw tightened. “Our daughter is in danger.”

Elena exhaled sharply, her lips pressing into a tight line. A bitter, cutting laugh escaped her. “Wow, Alex, just... wow. You're unbelievable.” She leaned against the door-frame, her eyes locked onto his, a challenging rebuttal in their glare. “Danger...” she repeated, the word dripping with mockery.“That's the line you lead with?”

Alexander’s shoulders stiffened. His eyes narrowed, hard and unyielding. “It’s not a line. I'm serious.”

Elena pierced him with a burning gaze. Her voice sharp and unwavering. “Luna is soon going to be back from school. If she sees you here—”

Alex raised a hand, his movement firm but not abrupt, cutting her off “I'm not disappearing again.”

She studied him, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her eyes flicked over his face, searching for something she wasn’t sure she wanted to find. For a moment, the silence between them hung heavy, weighted with too much history.

“Get inside,” she finally muttered, stepping aside to let him pass. “But you’d better have a damn good explanation.”

Alex nodded, not needing to say anything else. He stepped over the threshold, closing the distance between them.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Elena remained standing by it, watching him carefully, as though waiting for him to make his next move.

Alexander’s eyes swept over the apartment. The dining room stretched out before him, practical and orderly. Everything was meticulously tidy, with no clutter in sight. A single stem of fresh lilies in a sleek glass vase added a discrete touch of elegance. A delicate perfume of vanilla — her favorite fragrance — lingering in the air. It was Elena’s space now. The traces of his presence there had been scrubbed away long ago.

His gaze shifted to the hallway that led to Luna’s room. “Is Luna still practicing magic?”

Elena glanced at him accusingly. “Yeah. That’s the only part of you she could hold on to... she's been at it for the last three years.” She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Why? Is this the part where you tell me it wasn't as harmless as you promised?”

A sharp pause. He forced his shoulders to relax, hiding the gnawing tension in his chest. “I didn't expect her to progress without me, but I should have known better. She's my daughter, after all.”

She shook her head, a bitter laugh spilling like poison from her mouth. “It’s nice of you to remember you have a daughter. Where the hell have you been?” Her voice cracked slightly, the anger edged with something raw, almost pleading.

Alex opened his mouth to respond but stopped, her words landing hard. He shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders tightening under her glare.

“We came looking for you,” she continued, her voice rising with each word. “At your apartment—it was empty! I even called the publishing house, and they told me you quit a month before. We were worried sick about you!” Her hands gestured sharply as the flood of words poured out. “All we got were those damn checks in the mail, like that was supposed to make up for you being gone!”

Alex flinched, the words landing like blows. He forced himself to meet her gaze, his own filled with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing, Elena. You know how dangerous my work is.”

Elena threw her hands up, turning away with a sharp, frustrated motion. She took a few steps, her breath audible, then spun back toward him. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her knees slightly bent, as if bracing for impact, and her head leaned forward, her entire stance charged with restrained fury. “This bullshit is exactly why I wanted the divorce! Losing the man I loved was one thing, but at least I told myself you’d still be there for Luna.”

Alex let out a bitter sigh “Elena—”.

“Don’t!” Her finger jabber toward his face, her sharp green eyes blazing. “You chose magic, Alex. You chose it over us. First over me, then over Luna. And now you show up with some dramatic threat.”

He took a step forward, his tone steady but urgent. “Darkness is taking over in Silverbrook, and it’s already started to affect her.”

Elena scoffed. “And how would you know that, Alex? You weren't—” All of a sudden, the familiar sound of the elevator doors opening echoed down the hallway, snapping their attention toward the door. The woman quickly grabbed her cellphone from the table and glanced at the time. “Luna's back from school.”

Alex felt a shift in the air, a pulse of energy that signaled her presence. It was different from how it felt when Luna was twelve, the last time they spoke. This sensation was gentle but more alive, electric, as though something was quietly sparking in the space around them — an early sign of Luna’s attunement to magical energies.

From outside the apartment, they might have mistaken them for two thieves caught in the act, scrambling, desperately trying to cover their tracks. Elena moved first, as if driven by an urge to do something, anything, to ground herself. She quickly wiped away the nervous tears that wet her cheeks, trying to regain composure. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the phone for a moment before she straightened up.

Alex, however, was froze. He couldn’t decide whether to sit, stand, or what to do with his hands. His entire body stiffened, weighed down by a wave of emotions.

The door opened calmly.

“Hi, Mom.” Luna said with a graceful tone, almost musical.

She had her mother’s fiery red hair, falling in gentle waves to her shoulders. The color was captivating, but it was the weight of her eyes — her father’s deep, dark brown eyes — that struck most. There was a quiet intensity in them, a stare that pulled you in with the unspoken understanding that, beneath her tender years, there was more to her than met the eye. Her outfit, a tasteful mix of faded lace and loose draping fabrics had a Gothic flair, lending her an almost ethereal, vintage vibe.

For a moment, Luna didn’t recognize the man standing in the room. Her gaze shifted to him, confused but curious. Her hand, gripping the shoulder strap of her school backpack, tightened into a clutch when the realization struck her. Her body froze, her breath catching in her throat. From the depths of her eyes, joyful tears began to well up, and her lips trembled, as fragile as the moment itself. The weight of three long years, the countless nights spent wishing for this, shattered her composure.

As if a dam had burst, she let out a disjointed, almost frantic sound of joy, a cry that bubbled up from deep within her chest. She didn’t wait for him to say anything. The backpack slipped from her shoulder and fell to the ground with a soft thud as she almost tackled him down with a hug.

Alex posture was rigid, he appeared to fight a brief inner battle before allowing his arms to wrap around her.

“Dad!” she cried, her voice raw with emotion. “Dad!” The tears streamed freely, carrying with them all the longing and pain she had held back for so long.

Elena stood still in the room, watching the reunion. Her gaze softened, the walls she’d built around herself cracking just slightly. Her lips pressed together, and for a moment, the bitterness and anger she carried melted within the stream of her daughter’s raw joy.

Alex pulled back slowly from the embrace, his arms still around Luna, though his breath was slightly ragged. He gently brushed the tears from her cheeks, not quite knowing how to handle the affection he hadn’t earned back yet.

“Moonbeam,” he said softly. That nickname, one he had used since the day she was born, carried all the love he had for her.

Luna’s face brightened momentarily at the sound of it, unlocking old, cherished memories. Her joy spilling over in a way that felt almost childlike. But as her gaze lingered on him, reality crept in. The sparkle in her eyes dimmed, her expression hardening as years of unanswered questions and hurt settled between them.

“Are you staying?” she asked quietly, her voice wavering slightly. “Or is this just... for now?”

“I’m staying,” he said gently. “I promise.”

Luna’s gaze lingered on him, skeptical yet longing, her mind pondering those words, avidly drinking them in like the ground would absorb fresh rain after a long drought. Then the question she waited to ask for three long years. “Why did you leave?”

“Yes, Alex, what happened?” Elena pressed, sharp and unyielding. The caustic edge of her resentment was impossible to miss.

The mage knew that was his moment of reckoning. With calm composure, he lowered himself onto the couch, guiding Luna gently to sit beside him, keeping her hand firmly in his. His gaze remained fixed on the scorned woman, whose posture radiated quiet threat.

He drew in a deep breath, his voice tight with tension as his memories began to surface. “I'd never really told you much about what I do, about the people I work with.” He instinctively looked down at his signet ring.

Elena scoffed, tilting her head. In her heart, the bitterness lingered. Years spent resenting that mysterious part of his life that had stolen his focus, their future, and, ultimately, their family.

Alex continued, his voice low and taut. “Three years ago, I faced one of the worst forms of evil I’ve ever encountered.” A shudder ran through his shoulders, anger simmering beneath his tone. “A malevolent entity born of shadow and hatred. It sought to twist everything around it into its own image. People. Places. Souls.”

Luna’s brow furrowed, her voice trembling. “You fought it?”

Alex nodded. “I wasn’t alone,” his voice low and burdened. “I brought an apprentice with me. He was young, barely out of training, but eager to prove himself. I needed the help. We confronted the entity together, and somehow... we pushed it back. But I didn’t see the corruption it had left behind.”

Elena’s sharp intake of breath filled the silence. “Corruption?” she asked, her voice soft but no less biting.

Alex nodded, his gaze distant. “It was subtle at first. It buried itself in him like a seed, feeding on his doubts, his fears, his very life force. He didn’t say a word — nothing about the headaches, the fever, or the nightmares. I thought we were both fine, but by the time I realized what was happening, the person I knew was already gone. The man he became...” Alex shook his head. “He was something else entirely. He couldn't be saved.”

Luna gasped, her free hand flying to her mouth. “He died? Because of the corruption?”

Alex’s shoulders tightened, and he looked away. His voice was quiet, deliberate. “I tried to help him, Luna. I did everything I could. But in the end...” His gaze flicked toward Elena, then dropped to the floor. “There was no other choice.”

Elena froze, her breath hitching sharply. Her wide eyes locked onto Alex, narrowing as understanding crept in.

Luna’s voice was barely above a whisper. “That’s awful,” she said, her tone trembling.

Elena’s composure wavered, her voice rising. “And you thought that by leaving us, you’d spare us from the same fate? That we’d be better off without you?”

“Yes,” Alex whispered, the word falling from his lips like it pained him to say it. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I looked at him, and all I could see was you. Both of you.” He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. “I convinced myself that if I left, the darkness could never touch you. But I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Elena’s voice sharpened with alarm.

Alex’s gaze darkened. “Every time someone uses magic, it tears open a breach between our world and the spiritual realm. If it isn’t done properly, the breach doesn’t close and corruption seeps through. My people monitor those breaches. They investigate whoever opens them.”He turned to Luna, his voice grave. “And they’ve been investigating you.”

“Me?” Luna widened her eyes. “But I don't deal with the heavy stuff. I just help my friends with little things.”

Alexander shook his head. “Whatever you're doing, it's causing trouble, Moonbeam. I need you to stop.”

Luna scooted back on the couch in resentment. “No, I'm not going to stop. I like magic.”

Elena stepped closer, folding her arms. “Come on, Alex, you know that's all a game. You're taking this way too seriously.”

Alex exhaled noisily. “Elena, I know you don't really believe in magic, I've never truly showed you, but believe me: that's not a game at all. And also the people I work with take it very seriously.” He shifted his attention back to Luna. “The Entity targets people like you. It'll use you to open more breaches. If you don't want to stop, fine, but then you need to learn. I will teach you, if you let me.”

Alexander looked down at his ring, his thumb running over the silver engraving. The raven’s eye caught the dim light, unblinking.

There is no third option.

They didn’t need to know that if she refused to stop — or if she failed to learn — someone would come for her.

Elena's voice cut in, vibrant with poorly contained outrage. “This is ridiculous. That's your idea of being a father?”

Luna hesitated, glancing between them. Her fingers tightened around the hem of her sleeve. “I don’t know... but I want to learn.” She swallowed, her voice small but firm. “I don’t want to be afraid of it.”She looked up at Alex, uncertainty flickering beneath her cautious hope. “I just... I’m happy you’re back, Dad.”

Elena stayed silent for a long moment, her shoulders tense. Alexander and Luna looking at her with caught breath.

When she finally turned back to him, her voice was steady but laced with reluctance. “You will see Luna twice a week for now.”

Luna smiled satisfied. Alexander nodded.

Elena continued. “You can either stay here or bring her to...” She paused, her voice faltering slightly. “...where do you live now?”

Alex lowered his head “I have an apartment in East Greenthorn. Got a new job at Saint George.”

“East Greenthorn, huh?” Elena raised a brow, a little incredulous. “And now you're at the university? Congratulations.” She said dryly, then she weighed her next words for a moment. “Let me be very clear, Alex: if you hurt her again, if you let her down even once... you’re gone. Do you understand? Gone for good, this time.”

“I do,” Alex said, meeting her gaze without hesitation. “I won’t fail her again.”

Luna's gaze drifted, her expression shifting — a carousel of relief, realization, doubt, and sadness. She let out a long, shaky breath, as though trying to release the weight pressing against her chest.

“All right,” she murmured, her voice low and resigned. “I guess that’s a thing now.”

The words felt like a quiet surrender, her shoulders slumping as she rose to her feet. She didn’t look at either of them, her focus fixed on the floor. “I need some air.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed for the door. Alex made to rise, but Elena’s sharp look froze him mid-motion. She waited for the sound of the elevator before speaking again. “Alex, you never truly shared that part of your life with me, but I saw how it consumed you. I patched your wounds and cleaned your clothes from blood. Promise me you're not going to drag her into your shit.”

Alexander turned his gaze to the ground. “I don't want that for her either. I'll do whatever I can to avoid it.”

Elena turned back to the window, her reflection in the glass faint but resolute. “Good,” she said finally, her voice steady. “She deserves a father, not only a mentor. You’ll have to prove you can be that, Alex.”

That was far from a reconciliation, but it was a start.

The Entity wasn’t the only thing he had to protect her from.If she lost control, if she made one wrong move, there were people who would make sure she never got the chance to try again. And no one knew that better than him.

Is it expected to have specific properties, like crystal? What real world stones would make the best manastones?

Is it made of mana, or a range of stones infused with mana? If there are no 'standards', what is most common or makes the most sense to you?

I need cheap and expensive manastone. I kind of assume infused crystals and gems work, but... I also need the cheapest manastone to absorb and release mana easiily, into water or via an easy recipe for mana potions. It has to be as easy to acquire as bread.

I have thought about pumice, but question it. It's a huge departure from crystal, so... am I breaking some rule or creating a plot hole? What else would you use?

I’m writing a story for Royal Road and I feel there is a lot of room for improvement, but I also feel as if my ideas and concepts are very good and very interesting. I will link the second chapter, so please critique me as openly as you can, any feedback is very much appreciated. I am very much a novice writer and have never written more than a single fan fiction, but I think there is interesting material here. I also want to iterate that there is an initial first chapter so some context may be lacking, please review this chapter in isolation regardless. Thank you.

Here is the second chapter of A Brother’s Wrath.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/19l153CtIXGuXMAnF-oLGGXFzLpW6zin0F4JBB505dgM/edit

Title: Beneath the Ember Skies

The kingdom of Ithria has flourished for centuries under its unified rule, but under the reign of King Thalric, it begins to crumble. Haunted by the death of his queen, Elysia, the once-powerful monarch has become a mere puppet in the hands of Malrik, a cunning and shadowed figure who has manipulated the king’s grief to tear apart the very fabric of the realm.

Leona, the fierce and unyielding leader of the rebellion, has spent years fighting for the freedom of her people. But when the rebellious sparks ignite into an inferno, her resolve is challenged by a man she never expected to encounter: Evander, a general loyal to the king, whose honor and heart are being torn in two.

As the kingdom teeters on the edge of destruction, and the Uncharted Forest whispers of ancient power waiting to rise, the lines between enemies and allies blur. Forced into an uneasy alliance, Leona and Evander must confront the darkness inside the kingdom and in themselves. Each step they take toward saving the realm brings them closer to a dangerous truth—one that could shatter everything they once believed about loyalty, love, and duty.

With Malrik’s grip tightening and the threat of war looming, Leona and Evander must choose between what is right and what is just—before the world they’ve fought to protect is lost forever.

A kingdom teeters on the brink of collapse. Loyalties will fracture. Hearts will break. And a rebellion’s spark may be the only hope left.

Edit: Changed Thalros to Ithria

Fellowship of the Ring ends on a depressing note.

Boromir dead, Merry and Pippin kidnapped, Frodo and Sam alone and likely to die on the road to Mordor.

It works for me, but it's the first book in a series, so it's not really the end.

I can't think of many stand alone fantasy books that have a sad/depressing ending.

Brave New World was the one that came to mind, and that's sort of genre adjacent.

What do you guys think? Do most people dislike these types of endings and find them unsatisfying?

Is it just hard to do well?

What are some examples of endings you liked that are tragic, depressing, sad, or bittersweet?

Why do they work for you?

I'm currently working on a story and brainstorming various cultures. Initially, I envisioned a setting similar to medieval Europe, with many nations and kingdoms sharing similar cultural elements. However, I decided to abandon that route as it risked becoming too monotonous.

Now, I’m focusing on creating vastly different cultures and nations. I want to avoid overwhelming the reader with a number of different cultures. At the same time, I want to maintain enough diversity to make the world interesting. For example, Fullmetal Alchemist primarily explores only the Ishvalian culture outside Amestris. While this approach prevents unnecessary clutter, I found the limited cultural and geographical scope somewhat lacking for a story of that scale.

I thought of having three different nations that will be sufficiently explored, but I want to know if that's too less? Or too many? Or just enough? Of course how the story is written will play a huge role, but I want a general consensus on the topic.

I'm laying the foundations for my worldbuilding and the mechanics of magic. It started as something for tabletop RPGs, but since I enjoy writing, I'm developing it with such depth that I plan to use it as a base for writing adventures.

Here's the thing: I've started creating a Google Sites webpage with text, graphics, and illustrations—everything very dynamic so that players can understand the rules, the foundations of magic, and how it extends into stories and novels.

What do you think about including an annex/appendix (at the end or as a separate book) that explains magic in this way? Like a tutorial or an instructional guide? Or perhaps as a book written by a mage explaining it?

It would serve as a reference to consult or read before starting the main story. That way, it wouldn’t always be necessary (though learning alongside the characters is great too) to have a character explaining the magic system. This would allow characters to speak naturally in certain contexts—like two professionals conversing—without needing to insert explanations.

Personally I like it, from a vocabulary like a dictionary, until bassicaly an small encyclopedia with lore acurate draws and explanaitions. Like a "3D/IRL" reading experience

Also it works as an optional chance to sell 2 books instead of 1 if you want to make it something separate ahahaha

Chapter 1: The Archway

Mariner’s Hollow

The wind tore through the cliffs of Mariner’s Hollow, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed as it whipped Marizelle’s scarf behind her. She climbed the narrow, rocky trail with slow, deliberate steps, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Below, the restless waves crashed against the jagged rocks with a fury that mirrored the chaos in her chest—chaotic, unrelenting, impossible to quiet.This place had always been her refuge. As a child, she’d come here with a sketchbook tucked under her arm, filling its pages with drawings of gulls and distant ships. But now, standing on the same cliffs, her hands were empty. The notebook she once cherished sat untouched on her desk, a painful reminder of what she had lost.The wind pulled at her coat, and she shivered against the damp chill. She closed her eyes, hoping the cold would numb the ache inside her. But the tightness in her chest only grew, a hollow pressure that refused to let go.She opened her eyes and stared out at the gray horizon. The line where sky met sea blurred in the distance, as if the world itself were unraveling. A faint drizzle began to fall, the droplets clinging to her hair and lashes.“What’s the point?” she whispered, the words carried away by the wind.The waves answered with a roar, as if mocking her.

The First Shift

The air changed.Marizelle froze, her breath catching. The wind fell silent, replaced by a strange stillness that pressed against her ears. The world around her seemed to hum, a low, resonant vibration that resonated deep in her chest.And then she saw it.Nestled between two jagged rocks at the edge of the cliff was an archway. It hadn’t been there before. She blinked, her heart hammering in her chest. The archway was impossible. Its twisting frame of glowing vines pulsed faintly, their light shifting like waves on water. Symbols were etched into its surface, their shapes flowing and reforming as though alive. The air around it buzzed softly, and Marizelle felt the pull in her chest grow stronger, insistent.Her instincts screamed at her to turn back, but something about the archway called to her. It was beautiful and unsettling, like a half-remembered dream. Slowly, she stepped closer, her boots crunching against the gravel. The glow of the vines reflected in her eyes, casting faint patterns across her skin.When she reached the archway, her fingers trembled as they brushed against the glowing vines.

The Crossing

The world shattered.Light exploded around her, flooding her senses with a cascade of color. Marizelle stumbled, her breath catching as the air around her twisted and warped. It was like falling into a kaleidoscope—colors merged and separated, forming shapes that dissolved before she could name them.The pull in her chest became overwhelming, as though an invisible thread were dragging her forward. Her pulse raced, her mind spinning with fear and wonder.When the light finally dimmed, she found herself standing in a forest unlike any she had ever seen.

The Borderland

The trees around her glowed softly, their bark etched with faint, luminous patterns. Above, the sky was a swirling expanse of color, ribbons of light flowing gracefully across the horizon. Stars dotted the expanse, their light shimmering faintly in the surreal glow.The ground beneath her feet was soft and cool, made of silver sand that sparkled faintly. A gentle mist drifted through the trees, glowing with an ethereal light. The air hummed softly, a melody that seemed to vibrate in her chest.Marizelle turned slowly, her breath caught in her throat. The Borderland was impossible, yet it felt familiar—like a dream she had forgotten but never truly lost.“What is this place?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.The air seemed to respond, its hum rising and falling like a distant song.

The Watcher’s Warning

“You do not belong here, dreamer.”The voice froze her in place. Low and resonant, it echoed with an unnatural cadence, each word layered with faint whispers. Marizelle spun around, her pulse racing. At the edge of the trees, she saw it—a shadowy figure, tall and indistinct, with glowing eyes that pierced the mist. Its form flickered like a broken image, dissolving and reforming as it watched her.“Who’s there?” Marizelle called, her voice trembling.The figure didn’t answer. It raised a hand—long, shadowy fingers stretching outward—and the mist around it swirled into shapes. Symbols, like those on the archway, glimmered briefly in the air before fading.“Turn back,” the Watcher said, its voice quieter now, but no less commanding. “Or you will lose yourself.”Before Marizelle could respond, the figure dissolved, leaving behind only the faint echo of its warning.

The mist thickened as Marizelle moved deeper into the forest. The hum of the Borderland grew louder with each step, resonating in her chest. The pull was relentless, guiding her forward even as the Watcher’s warning echoed in her mind.Through the trees, she saw a faint light flickering in the distance. Her heart quickened, a mixture of fear and curiosity driving her steps. The Borderland seemed alive, its shifting shadows and glowing patterns both beautiful and unsettling. As she approached the light, the shadows around her deepened, and the ribbons of the sky seemed to ripple with anticipation. The air was heavy with possibility, as though the Borderland itself was waiting.The Watcher’s words lingered in her mind: “Leave, or lose yourself.”But Marizelle couldn’t turn back. Not now. The Borderland had called to her, and she had answered.