# Life/Finale



## Nevermore (Oct 10, 2011)

*The Antiquities Saga: Haunted*

_Ah, finally figured out a name I can stay on._


The Life and Death of Skylar Parish: The Jericho Rose




_Chapter 1:  Into the Inferno_​












Darkness swirled around the boy, as icicles slowly crackled to life  around the rafters.  Frost started to form on every conceivable surface,  while ominous, indigo fire licked around the edges of the burnt room.   Low voices moaned in the gloom, as the clanking of chains pervaded the  air.   Dark shapes flitted across the walls, as my quiet voice murmured  in the shadows,  'What.... Do you want?.....'

To my eternal frustration, the boy in front of me remained unfazed.    "You know very well what I want.  And cut it with the theatrics."

Burying my indignation for a moment and, invisible, making an exceptionally rude  gesture at the kid, I took the time to rustle up my most sinister voice.  The sound rippled off the walls, coming from every direction.  "You  presume too much, boy."  Slowly, the purple fires went out and we were  plunged into an inky-black darkness.  

With a crackle, however, a blue blaze of ghostly smoke burst to life in  his hand, illuminating the shadows.  "Emet."  He called out, muttering a  quick '_Nivizati'_ under his breath.  A low rumbling  filled the room, as from the darkness, a sifting shape emerged from the  dark.  It was vaguely man shaped, but the Presence the kid summoned was also translucent  and smoky, strange angles bending into space, disproportional shoulders  and a heavy, neck-lacking head.  "Give our friend here a well deserved  drubbing."  

"All right!  Fine!"  I threw up my hands in frustration before the  Presence had a chance to act, the darkness slowly receding.  Voice  considerably higher, I noted irritably.  "No need to resort to such  churlish methods."  I slowly flickered into visibility without any more  extra effects, an ethereally transparent, simply dressed girl with short  cut, dark brown hair flecked with blonde highlights  that framed a, currently annoyed, angled face.  "So, you've come to try  and make a Pact?  Well, what the hell do you need me for?  You've got  that bloody thing already." 

I gestured at the ominous looking being behind him, which I guessed was  Emet.  The boy looked a bit sheepish when I said that.  "Er, that's a  bit besides-" 

 Something clicked in my head and I cut him off, pointing a ghostly blue  finger at him.  "Aha!  You're nothing but a novice!  That Emet thing is  too powerful for you, so you need a ghost that doesn't knock you  unconscious every time you summon it!  So then,"  I let my form flicker,  the haunting blue glow around me deaden while I faded, darkness  slowly creeping forward, violet fire swirling around him.  "Since you've  clearly got next to no control over that Emet thing, give me one reason  why I shouldn't just smash your stupid, adolescent head into the  ground?"

With an indignant splutter, he tried several times to command that Emet  thing, before, to my displeasure, he finally got it right with a hastily  muttered, _'Vipadyate.'_  Emet grew more  substantial, stalking forward, the floorboards creaking loudly.  It  made a gesture with what I assumed was it's hand, and the darkness  vanished. The room illuminating itself, my evil-looking violet fire  became faded, and I was forced back into visibility, gasping and feeling  very out of breath as I stumbled backwards.  

"Here's a reason; I've got enough control to make you _very_  uncomfortable before I have to release Emet."  He said, face red with  anger.  Despite the altogether unpleasant situation I was now in, it  still gave me a bit of satisfaction to push the kids buttons.

Glowering, I let the violet fire around him die, the ghostly cyan glow  around me flickering with annoyance.  "All right then brat.  What do you  need?"

The boy crossed his thin, fingers, pale face flickering in the blue light.  "So."  I would have very dearly liked to say _'So what, asshole?'_  but felt it would have been more prudent to stay silent.

"Is this what the famous Skylar Parish has been reduced to? Scaring passerby's to occupy the boredom of death and ghosthood?"

I remained silent, as his words were, unfortunately, true.  There wasn't  much to do when you're dead, especially if you didn't live long enough  to have enough pleasant memories to relive in your mind.  He continued.

"So, Ms. Parish, I have a proposition for you.  Care to hear it out?"

A gave him a dirty look before sighing regretfully.  "Don't think I have much choice.  Alright then, what's this proposal of yours?"

Φ      Φ      Φ​












After our confrontation at the old mansion, the brat had annoyingly  refused to tell me anything, and, after a pathetic exchange of verbal  abuse between the two of us, I ended up following him back to his home,  an abandoned hotel off the main road that ran through the desert.  Most  of us ended up living in places  like that, assuming we weren't institutionalized.  It reminded me a bit  of what happened to me , and for a moment, I felt a trickle of pity for  the kid.  Not much, mind you.  Just enough worth mentioning.  As he  entered and plopped down on a musty looking old couch, I leaned back,  floating lazily in the air, glaring at him until he had blurted out,  "I  need your help."

"Gee old friend, I'd love to help after.  After knocking me around with  that high level Percussion, threatening me, and being a general idiot,  what wouldn't I do for you?"  I said with my signature biting sarcasm,  responding to his rather meek request.

The boy ran a tired hand through his hair, looking out the window.  "Look, Ms. Parish-"

"Don't call me that, brat."

The boy gave a low swear, saying.  "I-"

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit too impressed by my own clever use of rhyming to care about what you have to say."

Letting out strange, frustrated sound, he turned to face me.  "Look, I really do need your help, Ms. Pa-,  er, Skylar."

I waited impatiently for him to continue, the kid having stayed silent  until he finally realized I wasn't going to subject him to any more of  my charming wit, and went on.

"I- All right, so you may have been correct, back at the mansion.  I'm a  novice, and I can't materialize Emet for more than five minutes.  And I  need him for a damn bit longer than five minutes.

I'll admit, I was a bit curious.  "Why?"

"These _things_ have all been after me."  He ran a hand though his hair  once more, and for the first time I noticed dark lines under his eyes.

"The first ones were men.  Somber looking, quiet, they knew something about my ability-"

"Sensitivity."  I cut in absentmindedly.

"What?"  The boy said in a very distracted manner.

"It's called Sensitivity.  If you don't want to embarrass yourself in  front of the ladies, call it right."  I gave him a flirtatious grin,  flipping over and floating upside down, keeping my eyes trained on him.   With a kick of my legs, I floated up right behind the kid.

He turned an amusing shade of purple and red, embarrassment and  annoyance bundled into a single wonderful hue.  He continued tiredly as  if he didn't hear me, "The first time they came, they offered money  to my parents.  Of course, they were only too happy to comply."  He  paused uncomfortably before continuing sourly, " After all, who wants  the shame of having defective product as a son?" 

The grin on my face slid off like wet cement.  Turning myself upright, I  looked at him and, for the first time, saw myself.  Seeing lights,  shapes, people no one else can see, strange creatures telling you about other's secrets.  Sensitivity can lead to a lonely  and loveless life.  I knew friends who turned brittle and sour pretty  quickly from it.  

The boy moved on, "The ghost who was with me at the time warned me about  them while I was in my room.  He helped me escape.  I ran.  As far away  as I could.  The next time they found me, I had Emet.  They didn't  stand a chance."

He looked horrible in the pale light of the candles, weary and cold  beyond his age.  "But more came.  The third time, I timed out with Emet  and ran for it.  I managed to run into a ghost on the sidewalk, used him  to fire off a Compass Juncture, and in the chaos I escaped."  

I paused,  "Hold on a sec. You said the first ones were men.  What were the others?"  

He looked at me uncomfortably and was about to speak, when the wall  exploded.  The force sent me cart wheeling through the air and passing  unpleasantly through a moldy book shelf.   

"What the hell?"  I shouted.  The boy tried to summon Emet, but tripped  over the materialization signs, swearing.  "That would be the others."

It was a hulking thing, almost resembling Emet in a way, but it was  much, much more substantial, not quite living, but not as transparent as  ghost, or even a Presence.  The creature was hulking and twisted, of  foggy steam and shifting lights.  Baleful eyes of dark indigo glared  from what I thought was it's face, with multiple pairs of viciously  curved horns curling up haphazardly from it's head.  It raised a twisted  arm and spoke a syllable I didn't recognize, as a heavy thudding filled  the air.  Moving towards the boy, I pushed him aside with a somewhat  unnecessarily forceful Percussion, forcing him out of the way of a  bounding streak of poisonous green light.  The creature howled and dove,  while I floated blearily towards the ceiling.  Something was off.  It  was causing direct damage to the things around it with it's body, yet it  gave off a spiritual pressure, which meant it was ghostly in nature.

"Skylar!"

I turned with surprise as the boy yelled,  "You have to watch out!  That thing can-"

A cold, clammy sensation spread across my body as the thing grasped  forward.  It was becoming more substantial now, twisting veins of heavy  gray winding up it's body, mutilated armor of bone erupting from the  truculent skin.  But as it pulled down, to my surprise, I was dragged  with it.  I was aghast.  Ghosts can't be touched by anything.  A heavy  breeze can be annoying as hell and sort of push you around, and there are a few spells that can  indirectly affect a ghost, but you can't directly touch a ghost.  It's  impossible.  Yet somehow this twisted monstrosity was doing it.  I felt  jabbing streaks of pain running up my body as I glared at the thing.  I  tried to raise my arm for a Pressure Bolt, but the thing gave a  shuddering intake of breath, like crumpling paper, and I felt a painful  tug in my gut.  My form was fraying at the edges, streaks of light drawn  towards the creature.  I was actually panicking now.  I didn't like to  think what would happen if the thing did whatever the hell it was trying  to do.  I sent out a heavy Concussor at it, but the creature managed to  deflect it, drawing me closer with extended tentacles of spiraling  mist.  _Well,_ I thought blearily through my biting pain.  _At least I'm  going out in style._

Suddenly, with a loud eruption, the creature was thrown asunder, it's  form flickering, and I fell down with  gasp of breath, sudden clarity  returning to my head.  The boy was huddled in the corner, ashen-faced,  his hand outstretched, and the pale spectral image of Emet lurked behind  him.  The boy yelled out,  "_Vipadyate_!  Restrain!"  and Emet fired off a Vise of Mourning, pale blue bands constricting  around the creature.  It thrashed around, misty tendrils slowly  grappling and fraying at the bands.  

"Skylar!"  the boy had stood, very pale and feeble looking, but more defiant than afraid.  "We have to go!"

"Nice observation, Sherlock!"  I yelled back, floating with high speeds  out the hole.  With a crack, Emet forced his way through, the boy  trailing uneasily below.  I swore loudly at his lagging speed, drifting  near him and wrapping him up in a Gale.  With a squeak of protest from  the kid,  I raised him overhead, Emet unfurling forward behind me,  leaving the rubble in the distance.


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## MadBen (Oct 11, 2011)

Truly fascinating! Here I was thinking that I should return the favor and read your story as well, but after the second paragraph that motive was all but forgotten. Interesting that we both chose a somewhat similar genre as well.

There is some typos and a few repetitions but the writing itself is easily on a higher level than even the Bartimaeus trilogy (which, given the level of world creation you use in the genre, you probably know). I also like how well you are hinting at the cost of living in that kind of world. While it's great to read about it, it's never a good idea to motivate people to try it themselves.

Well, a good start is great. Now I'm curious if you can keep it up. You just got yourself a fan


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## Higurro (Oct 11, 2011)

Well, this is a nice surprise! I was thoroughly impressed with the whole thing, one or two puctuation errors aside. I really enjoyed the quality and pacing of this, and overall it reminds me somewhat of John Dies at the End, by David Wong (well worth a read, if you've not). I'm very interested to see how things go from here.


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## Nevermore (Oct 11, 2011)

Thanks for reading!  Well, you're right in that I don't tend to edit enough and end up with typos, which I, unfortunately, will probably never fix, but I'll make sure to go over Chapter 2 a bit more.  Expect it up sometime tonight (Which largely depends on yor time-zone).


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## Nevermore (Oct 11, 2011)

_


Chapter 2: Sojourn_​



I slid to a halt through the air, hair covering my face wildly.  An electric blue Flare ignited to life at my finger tips as I scanned the horizon.  Emet loomed ominously behind me, while the boy lay collapsed on the ground, the force required to maintain Emet sapping at his strength.  “I don’t see it…  I think you can Dematerialize Emet for now.”  With a weary wave of his hand and a briefly muttered _‘Vigacchati’, _Emet slowly faded out of sight. 

“What the bloody hell was that thing?”

The boy looked up at the stars above our heads, gasping for breath.  “Like I said.  That was the others.  After I escaped or killed the men that kept coming after me, that thing started following me.  I’ve fittingly christened the creature the Azrati.” 

"After the forbidden Banishment Command?  Clever."   I admitted grudgingly.  "But why was it chasing you?  You're not exactly important or interesting enough to bump off with some horrible creature."

As the kid tried to protest, I continued seriously.  "And more importantly, why was that thing able to touch me? I know there are spells that can hit a ghost, like the forbidden _Azruti_, a Percussion, or a Compression, but they're all done indirectly.  Whatever the hell that Azrati thing was, it came pretty close to ending me, or some other form of unpleasant nastiness."

"In all..... respects, it is.... similar to the _Azruti_ Command.  It turns a ghost... into nothing more than a bundle of spiritual pressure."  Emet commented unexpectedly from the shadows.  The kid nodded sadly.  "It managed to get Nicholai, the ghost who helped me escape from the men the first time.  He was faded into a drifting image on the things skin."

"Worse than death, worse than death for the dead."  I muttered quietly.

"And I saved you from it."  the boy commented absentmindedly.

"Technically it was Emet."  I responded, but his words did make an impression on me.  Thinking a bit, I inquired quietly,  "What's your name kid?"

"Isaac Renfield."

"Like the Dracula character?"

"What Dracula character?"

I gave him a shrewd look.  "What on Earth do they make you read in school these days?  You'd think a brat who could see ghosts would be inclined to read one of the greatest horror novels of all time."

"I do read!"  He said indignantly.  "I happen to like Poe's works."

"And the way you're going, you'll end up like that Prospero guy, dead on the ground at the hands of a sinister, mysterious figure.  You need training.  Any reasonable Sensitive would have hit the thing with a Pressure Grip once they saw how concentrated its spiritual pressure was."

He gave me a blank look.  "What's a Pressure Grip?"

I sighed rather dejectedly.  Novice now seemed like it was a bit too kind of a description for his level of skill.  "God, your talent stinks worse than that corpse in the wall in _The Black Cat_."

He grinned.  "If anything, you're more like the corpse, seeing as your dead.  You personality is just as tasteful too."

I made an unfortunately obscene, but generally good natured(ish) gesture at him.

Isaac made an odd sound between a laugh and a scoff, before pausing uncertainly.  "I've never really had a friend before now.  Someone who understands me.  Likes the same things I do."

And for the first time in both my life, and death, I couldn’t think of anything to say.

Ф                     Ф                     Ф​



We had found a place to camp out at a nasty motel at the edge of the city, the kind of place serial killers stab people in the shower and dead bodies are chopped up in the bath tubs.  Isaac payed with a few crumpled bills to spend the night, and while he walked dejectedly up to his room, I amused myself by hiding the clerks pen, mixing up the order of papers with light Gales,  or scorching obscenities into the wood of the rickety bench in the corner. 

Once I got the clerk to the stage where he was banging his head on the desk, I floated up through the ceiling, a rather bad idea in retrospect after passing through multiple cobwebs and rat nests before I hit Isaac’s room.

Isaac had already curled up on the couch, so I looked out the window at the heavens, thinking about the nights events.  It looked like the kid didn’t know much more than I did about the creature, other than that it could do something similar to the _Azruti_ Command.  This was one of the worst of the worst when it was originally designed, one of the Spectral Commands, which are used in correspondence to the type of ghost.

Basically, there are two different forms of ghosts.  First, there are regular ghosts like me (though I obviously have more wit and panache than your run of the mill ghoul), who can, by the mixing of the elements of Life and Death, cast and be used to cast spells.  Then there are Presences, like Emet, which are capable of shedding their humanity to achieve incredibly powerful levels of strength.  However, while they can speak and appear while Dematerialized, they can’t usually act on their own, and need Sensitives to Materialize them.  That’s where the commands come in.  The Dispersing Command, _Vigacchati,_ for Dematerialization, the Realization Command, _Nivizati,_  for Materialization, the Intervention Command, _Vipadyate,_ which tells a Presence to actually do something, rather than just float around looking bored, and the Cessation Command, _Pramujcati_, which is basically an order to halt or defend. 

Later, it was discovered that through a dangerous process called Enpacting, in which a bond, or ‘Pact’, was formed between a ghost and human, regular spirits like me could have their general potency drastically increased when subjected to the Spectral Commands, as well as metaphysically binding the Sensitive and the ghost together.  Unfortunately, there was a fifth command when the summoning of Presences was popularized. 

_Azruti_.

 Older ghosts pale at the idea of it.  The Banishment Command basically purged a ghost off the face of the earth, death for the dead.  Though it was banned with a death penalty set to anyone who so dared to use it, this strange Azrati appeared to be a walking Banisher. 

Even more troubling was that the Azrati creature physically affected its surroundings, as if it wasn’t even a ghost.  And there was too much spiritual pressure given off by it for the Azrati to not be one.  Ghosts can’t physically touch their surroundings, only influencing things with spells like Gales, Flares, Junctions, and so forth.  I can’t even imagine the level of strength necessary to  Materialize a ghost to that extent.  I've never even heard of a Sensitive with that much power, either in real life or legends.  As the kid gave a particularly loud snore, I sighed.  “All this mystery will be the death of me.”


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## Reavyn (Oct 13, 2011)

I have to agree with the others, this is a really good read! I really like the lead character a lot (she fits my sense of humor very well). With the exceptions of the aforementioned spelling/punctuation errors I really didn't see anything wrong. You also have garnered another fan!


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## Nevermore (Oct 13, 2011)

Thanks for reading!  I may not finish the next Chapter until Sunday though, but I completely intend to double check it for punctuation and grammar (that's Nevermore-nese for 'I'm not going to go over it more than twice and not pay the slightest bit of attention to punctuation')


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## Nevermore (Oct 16, 2011)

_

Chapter 3: The First Day of School_​_


Crack_


  The snap filled the empty air of the desert as I reflected and sent the kids unfortunately half-assed Junction spiraling off into the air.  He grasped his knees, gasping for breath.  “Did I hit anything?’

  “You might have fried some unlucky bird.”  I commented, squinting at the remains of his spell on the horizon as he gave a groan of dissatisfaction, slumping to the sandy floor of the desert, heat rippling around us in a scorching embrace.  

  That morning, the kid had elaborated more on why he had sought me out.

  “I need your help, both as a Verse, and as a teacher.” Isaac said to me.  I shrugged.  It made a lot more sense when the Azrati was taken into the equation. He didn’t have time to seek out a teacher before the Azrati caught up to him, and he also needed a Verse besides Emet.  Verses are basically ghosts who have made Pacts with a human, letting the Sensitive to use the Spectral commands. A Pact is also necessary to enlist the services of a Presence, which, assuming I’d agree, (unlikely) meant he’d have two Verses.  

  Blowing a lock of spectrally glowing blond hair out of my face, I gave him a wink.  “Teacher?  Cool.  Of course, I’m going to make your life hell in process.  But otherwise, no problem.”

  Isaac looked unsure how to respond, before nodding. We ended up trekking out towards the desert, finding a suitably secluded area for him to fire off as many Flares as he wanted without calling down the Azrati or the National Guard.                               

  “Right then.  Try again, and concentrate this time.  Remember, Conjecture class spells rely on a single fluid strike.  _And aim away from me.”_
    Sighing, Isaac raised his palm again, clicking his fingers and splaying out his hand.  A Junction erupted outward, a deep, virulent crimson, which bounced across the sand before spluttering out.  Floating up behind him, I hissed in annoyance.  “You’ve got raw skill, which means nothing without the ability to use it.  Watch and learn, kid.”

  I raised my hand, blue trails of mist floating off my arm, and snapped my fingers.  A flash of blue illuminated in the air as a cyan spear of burning light shot forward, skewering the sky.  “Try again.”

  Flashes lit the sand as Isaac sent Juncture after Juncture into the desert.  I wouldn’t admit it, but he was pretty good.  Unfortunately, from what I gathered during a brief interview with him, he didn’t know any basics, just memorized a few spells for all purpose use.

  After a particularly explosive Juncture hit the ground next to me and send me head first into a sand dune, I called Isaac to stop.  

  “Alright, so you may be a bit better than abhorrent.  Now quit blowing up the desert and settle down for a sec.”  

  Hovering inches above the ground in a sitting position, I continued.  “As you may or may not know, all spells are classified into four groups, Divinations, Conjectures, Realizations, and Spasms.  Divinations are high level, pretty much beyond your pathetic scope of ability, so we won't go over tham.  Conjectures are fluid motions of magic, like Junctures, Shocks, Needlebites, Gales, those types of spells.  Spasms, like Conjectures, are mostly offensive spells, and rely on vibrations, so they can do things like Sparks, Flares, Illusions, and the rest.  The last branch of spells, Realizations , manifest spiritual pressure, making them a much more versatile branch.  For now, we’ll be concentrating on those.”  

  I raised my left hand, making a spinning motion with my fingers.  A blue Pulse erupted to life in my hand.  “Pulses are basically scouts, great for anything from spying on people you fancy in the shower, to keeping watch for unpleasant characters.  ‘Course, your painfully male mind would probably be rooted in the former rather than the latter.”

  Isaac turned an indignant shade of red, “Just show me how to do it.”

  Grinning, I flicked my fingers and the ghostly blue Pulse rocketed up into the sky, circled our heads, and zoomed off towards the east.  Flicking my hand as if shooing off a mosquito, a second, less turbulent looking sphere of blue came to life at my fingertips.  “The second Pulse is called a Watch-Eye.  Think of the Pulse as a third eyeball with 360 vision.  The Watch-Eye lets you see everything the Pulse see’s.”   I waved my arms around the Watch-Eye, expanding it to the size of an extra large bowling ball.  I peered inside to see. . . sand.  Lot’s and lots of sand.  Obviously.  To the distance was the dingy hotel Isaac was calling home for the moment, beyond that was the dark, smog-lined horizon of the city, stretching in every direction across the sky.  “The commands to activate a Pulse are pretty simply.  Materialize a clump of spiritual pressure, imbue it with magic, and split it in two, the initial Pulse, and a tiny sliver of leftover pressure.  Fire off the Pulse, then expand the Watch-Eye to a good, decent size.  The Pulse should respond to your mental directions through the Watch-Eye. "  

  Nodding smartly, Isaac, raised his hands.  He paused, then clicked his fingers, a bubbling well spring of white haze appearing in his hand.  Surprised, Isaac promptly released his fingers in shock, the Pulse detonating in a minute shockwave that engulfed his head, leaving him ashen faced and wide-eyed.

  "God, could you suck _any_ less?"  I asked scathingly.   "Try again."

  Mumbling some feeble excuse under his breath, the kid summoned up another sphere of swirling white fire and haze, a drifting orb of meandering energy.  Slowly putting his hands together, then spreading then apart, the Pulse drifted to the left, while a tiny sliver of flickering light staying in his right hand.  With a shaky flick, he shot the Pulse upward, were it careened left and right in a rather haphazard motion.

  Nodding, I said, “Alright, now try making the Watch-Eye.”  

  Face creased in concentration, Isaac slowly turned the sliver over in his fingers, the tiny moving shard slowly curdling inward, webs of translucent spiritual pressure entwining it as it expanded jerkily.  Eventually, he was holding a basketball sized sphere of lazily drifting white haze.  

  I shrugged, dematerializing my own blue Watch-Eye and Pulse.  “Not bad.  See if you can see anything in it.”

  He looked inside warily, as if he expected it to detonate as well (I can only hope).  “Hey, it worked!”  He exclaimed.

  Looking over his shoulder and pulling back a curtain of my hair, I gazed into the Watch-Eye.  His Pulse was a bit badly woven, and there was quite bit of interference as the image frequently skipped between an episode of _CSI: Miami_ and the Pulses view of the desert.  

  “Stupid interference.”  I muttered, jabbing the Watch-Eye with a transparent finger, sending a Spark into the depths of the sphere.  Ever since cable TV got widespread, badly woven Pulses have had a tendency to flip between the Pulse’s vision and television shows.  Exceedingly awkward if it tunes in to the Playboy channel, especially if you happened to be in the middle of presenting something to your bosses (it’s a really long story).

  The shimmering voltage danced around inside the sphere, before dissolving, along with the interference.

  The kid looked into it closely and, not seeing anything even remotely interesting, swept his hand through the misty orb, breaking the connection.  “Realizations are the more versatile branch, right?  So, what are some of the other techniques you can use with it?”

  I counted off on my fingertips.  “The ones you should probably know are Petrifications, Astras, Geists, Inward Thorns, and Mantles.  Given that thing that's chacing you, I'd recommend learning Petrifications and Inward Thorns first."

  "Didn't you say that those are best for things with really big spriritual pressures?"  Isaac inquired.

  I nodded, glad the kid was actually paying attention.  "Yep.  Petrifications solidify spritual pressure into heavy bands of force, as well as congesting pressure into a heavy, stone-like substance.  It's not only for enemies, it can be used if you're confronted by any inanimate object with a spritual pressure.  For example-"

  I broke off and gave a flick of my index finger, as if brushing off a droplet of water.  A red rune glowed on my forhead and a spectral, pearly white image swirled to life next to me.  It was an image of a 15 year old girl with brown hair and blond highlights, eyes blank and devoid of iris of pupil. The image flickered like fog as the red rune vanished from my head and appeared on my image.

  Isaac looked at it curiously. "What's that?"

  "That's  a Geist, an imprint of spiritual pressure from the user.  It can solidify as well, making it useful for various tasks.  Anyways, here's a small example of a Petrification."

  I splayed my hands, letting out a ripple of force.  The white aura around my Geist rippled, and slowly bands emerged from the frothing haze.  The heavy shackles of force wound around the image, as slowly the white glow grw dull and stoen like, rippling like an avalanch, until the Geist crumpled on the ground, the vices of my spell, grinding into it.  Eventually, it vanished in a puff of smoke.  

  Drifting quickly in a circle until I was facing the kid, I rustled up anotherr Geist.  "You try this time.  And avoid hitting me, Petrifications on actual ghosts can be very, ah, unpleasant."

  Frowning in concentration, Isaac flared his left hand forward, and ripples of force writhed around the Geist, a few various bands of constricting force appearing.  With a sound like paper ripping, crystalline smoke grew along the Geist, as, gaining confidance, Isaac poured more force into the Petrification until the Geist imploded with a sharp crack that threw Isaac backwards a good ten feet.  

  Grinning, a drifted lazily forward.  Grasping my hands behind my back and bending over to observe his stirring form, I commented,  "Forgot to mention that if you pour too much power into a Petrification, it has a tendancy to reflect back at you."

  Swearing and grasping up at the air, Isaac pulled himself out of the sand.  Giving me a look akin to a bull dog that sat on a thorn bush, he said.  "Let's just get his finished."

  We continued with it well into the afternoon.  Hours passed by as I gave Isaac a crash course in pretty much everything, something that occasionally ended up quite literal when a spell rebounded and sent him crashing into the ground.  The kid worked pretty hard, and I myself was feeling pretty good.  Skylar Parish, mentor to Sensitives.  I should add that to my resume.  If, you know, I wasn't dead.  

  AS time danced past us, the stars rose up along the horizon, slowly blanketing the heavens like a necklace of diamonds.  We had finished a quick sparring match and I had managed to dissolve his Mantle, sending him falling unceremoniously to the ground.  I looked up at the sky.  

  "It's getting pretty late.  Practice using a pulse one more time, and we'll head back to that creepy nightmare house you call a motel."

  Leaning back in a sittign position, I watched as Isac smoothly brought a sphere of light to life in his fingertips.  He sent the Pulse high into the air, and expanded in the Watch-Eye with a few minor errors.  Flicking his fingers, the Pulse zoomed off in the distance.  As scenery rushed by in the Watch-Eye, something caught my attention.  

  "Stop the Pulse."  I muttered quietly, looking closely into the Watch-Eye.  Sticking my fingers into the swirling orb, I overode Isaac's command over the Pulse, causing it circle the area a few times.  As it meandered to the west, I caught what had grabbed my eye.  It was a pillar of dust, something plowing through the sand.  Zooming in, I managed to catch a large hulk of bone, a cold indigo eye, and knotted gray veins, before the Pulse dissolved into filaments of spiritual pressure.  The now blank Watch-Eye vanished at the shaky command of the kid.

  "What was that?"

  "The Azrati.  It must've eaten the Pulse."  I said seriously.  "And if we don't get moving, we'll be next."


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## Nevermore (Oct 22, 2011)

_Chapter 4: Shades of the Past_​
Wilderness trundled past us.  Gnarled tree's clawing towards the sky, sloping silhouettes of far off cities, dark steppes that stretch for miles, all moved past as we put as much distance between us and the Azrati as possible.

After the narrow escape in the desert , we fled as quickly as possible towards the west.  I managed to sneak us through the Grand Terminal and get us on a train to San Francisco, though it was all done with much looking over our shoulders and provocative swearing if someone was taking too long in line.  Isaac was sitting next to me, spinning a coin repeatedly on the trains table, while the faintly visible outline of Emet lurked opposite us.  With a loud clink and another stream of clicking sounds, Isaac turned the coin over and spun it again.  Temper growing, I exploded. "Will you stop!" 

Isaac got a bit of a mortified look on his face, before sullenly staring out the window.  "There's so much."  He commented.

"Of your abundantly springing incompetence?  Yes, there is.  Good that you're acknowledging it."

My tact and charm barely elicited a frown from him.  On the inside, I screamed with frustration, before commenting out loud.  "All right, I'll bite.  So much of what?"

"The world!"  Isaac looked excited, which was impressive considering we were being chased by a giant bloody monster that eats ghosts and shoots green lasers, and . . . ah, you get what I mean.

He continued, eyes shining.  “I never really left the City until the Azrati started chasing me, so it’s not like I got to see much.  But  . . .”  He gestured out the window of our compartment, and Emet and I leaned in to get a better look.  The train was now rippling along a desert, golden dunes stretching for miles, lonely green cacti standing in the heat.  Shimmering waves of heat traced mirage-like images across the desert.  I had to admit, it really took my breath away.  Emet was unreadable, but he eventually sighed.  “It is . . . very pretty.  Reminds me . . . a bit of my home.  From . . . when I was . . . alive.” 

I looked at him curiously.  It was pretty hard to imagine the hulking spectral being to have at one point been a human.  Kind of like imagining Isaac as intelligent and full of forethought, or me as vain.  Like I said, just downright strange.  I waited for a moment, sure he was going to extrapolate, but Emet simply remained introspectively quiet, his image fading a little bit.  Isaac was still entranced by the passing landscapes, though I shrugged.  “Pretty as it may be, this’s got nothing on the Neverglades.”

Isaac gave me a blank look.  I sighed reproachfully, “Alright, well, the Neverglades are the ghostly reflection of the material world.  The two sort of overlap.”  I made a complicated movement with my hands, and Isaac’s look became even blanker.  Continuing irritably, I said, “The Neverglades coexist on top of the material.  It’s a dreary place, with silver mist and a giant moon that hangs over the horizon.  Newly dead are confined there for six months upon entering ghosthood.  It’s a beautiful place, in a melancholy sort of way.”

I noted, “There’s a spell that can let someone jump between the material world and the Neverglades, apparently.”

“What is it?”

“Erm…”  I trailed off.  The first year of ghosthood has a habit of muddling your memories.  I only ever Neverjumped once before, and for the (metaphorical) life of me, I can’t remember the spell.

 “Doesn’t matter, it’s beyond your ability.”  I told him haughtily.

Isaac simply gave a deep sigh, looking out the window.  It _was_ kind of relaxing.  I felt a bit heavy.  When was the last time I rested?  Too long, thanks to the idiot sitting next to me.  Maybe I’d just shut my eyes for a little . . .

Φ            Φ            Φ​
“Ahh!”  I woke up with a yell, jerking my arm.  This, in turn, woke up Isaac, my arm having passed through him, a ghost’s touch being rather like extremely cold water.  The outside was dark, and it stirred bad memories in me.

Isaac gave a yelp, a red flare sparking at his finger tips.  When he saw we weren’t in immediate peril, he extinguished it with an annoyed look on his face. 

“What was that?”  Isaac demanded.  I was silent, completely ignoring him.  Images flashed through my head; a foggy night, a single gunshot, cold rain all around me.  In the compartment, ignoring Isaac's now concerned looks, lifted up my jacket, pulling it out of the way of my shirt, as if in a dream.  It was still there. The round gunshot wound that marked me, right below the torso.  As I touched a ghostly finger to it, a chill ran down my spine.  The red, transparent splatter of blood, subtle and barely there, was forever marked on my shirt.  Such is the curse of ghosthood.

“Bad dream.”  I muttering, turning away from him.  My face felt clammy, and I shut my eyes tight.

I felt his eyes boring holes in the back of my head, tension slowly building in my gut.  Why couldn't he just get the hell away?  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emet, still as the grave.  I wondered if he could read minds.

I felt something warm pass through my shoulder, Isaac having tried to touch me, but his hand had just passed straight through.  I whirled on him, a shockwave of force rolling of my body and throwing him against the wall.  The small cracks ran down the windows, as the ground beneath us creaked dangerously.  “_Don’t _come near me!”  I screamed. 

All three of us were frozen in place, when, with a bump, the train rolled into the sunlight, the bright light making Emet virtually invisible.  I realized we had been in a tunnel the whole time.  _Tunnel.  _Another stream of thoughts cut through my head like a dagger, of myself running through a dark tunnel.  The sound of rain clattered endlessly, while I felt a burning near my chest.  Blood was blossoming below my jacket.  With a gasp, I fell to the ground.  Alone.  Dying there, with no one to hold my hand.  No one to care.  And everything went black.

I blinked, and saw Isaac in front of me, pressed against the wall of the train car.  Emotions danced across his face; hurt, shock, curiosity, concern.  Breathing deeply, I tried to calm down.  I remembered what he had said earlier, _'"I've never really had a friend before now.  Someone who understands me.  Likes the same things I do."  _I remembered Vance, back at the Library of Anax, his words to me before I died, '_"There will always be someone to care for you.  You just have to find them."'  _

Shaking my head, I took a deep breath. The floorboards halted their creaking, and the horrible mood that suffused our compartment receded.  "Anyways,"  I said, slowly regaining a bit of my wit, before continuing with a flirtatious grin, "I'm way out of your league kid."

Isaac looked completely unsure how to respond, torn between embarrassment, frustration, and concern.  He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, saying heavily.  "Don't.  Please, I don't need the shades of the past following me.  There are a lot of things I'd rather forget, and it's hard to do that when people try to bring them up."

Isaac closed his mouth, looking down pointedly.  The three of us were perfectly silent as the train sped along the track, dazzling sunlight illuminating the landscape that swept across the horizon.


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## QDOS (Oct 25, 2011)

Comments on Chapter one
  Interesting, engaging and in places descriptively colourful. I take it this is not your final edit and so hope you take no offence at my observations. 

  Try not to repeat content words especially in the same sentence, and personally I don’t like the use of ‘peoples’, people is already plural. 

  “Seeing lights, shapes, people no one else can see, strange shapes telling you about other peoples secrets.”
  As an example this is how I might have written your sentence. 
  “Seeing the strange transformations that others cannot comprehend, revealed to me their innermost secrets.” 

  But I also note that your sentence follows on from this:- 
  “Turning myself upright, I looked at him and, for the first time, saw myself”.
  So should it not be reflected in the following sentence:- 
  “Seeing the strange transformations that others cannot comprehend, revealed to me the true nature of my existence.” 

  I also suggest you check out your use of “it’s”, the short form of “it is”, “its” being the possessive form of it.
  For example “things around it with it's body”, you wouldn’t say “it is body”. This should be “its” as it is the possessive form of it. 

  Comments Chapter Two 
  Good move to provide some explanations:- Presences, Sensitives, Enpacting.
  One or two typos that should be picked up with a basic spell checker.

  Comments Chapter Three
  A few more of those typos that should be picked up by a basic spell checker. 

  Comments Chapter four 
  Four chapters nearly 7,000 words - Skylar is a girl ghost instructing Isaac (the boy ) in the use of his paranormal abilities, abet teaching magic! He is being sought by the Azrati and has a Presence called Emet. 
  There’s been some hints, but what I’m looking for is that definitive *Inciting Incident* the primary cause for all that is happening and what puts into motion the four elements of story - *Progressive Complications, Crisis, Climax and Resolution*. I hope the details are to be revealed soon. 

  Please continue, has great potential. However, please avoid turning it into a Harry Potter style school of magic.  

  QDOS :cool2: 

  Note: My English spelling is UK not US.


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## Nevermore (Oct 25, 2011)

Wow, thanks for the review!   

Well, as you said, I have to work on small grammar and repetition of words more.  Several were things I added as I was checking for errors, so those didn't get looked over.  

Also, as to your last comments, the following chapters become more event oriented, with obvious points of conflict.  Also, whil there are three school type places important to the plot, the Great Library of Anax, the Academy of Tokaire, and Orchard Manor, Isaac doesn't, like, stay there or become indentured as a student or anything.  I've actually gone to several lengths to ensure those places don't resemble a Hogwarts-esque area.

Anyways, I've just started Chapter 5, expect it sometime on Sunday.


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## Nevermore (Oct 27, 2011)

_Chapter 5: Dreams and Nightmares_​


The train continued to trundle its way across the countryside.  No one came to our compartment, luckily, so we remained in silence for most of the trip.  Day rolled by, and dusk settled in, light slowly vanishing form our compartment.   Though several stops passed us by, we were apparently on a closed off section of the train, as no one embarked or disembarked on our car.  We didn’t get off the train until it’s final stop, to try and cover as much ground as possible.  As the long, iron vehicle shuddered to a stop, we pushed out of the small compartment into the cars hallway.  With a crack of force, I broke the door open, floating out into the frigid air.  Isaac jumped off the car behind me, then jumped up in the air with a loud yelp.  We had disembarked in a cold, snow-laden freight yard.  I looked back at the train car to see several workers on the other side.  


“Looks like they’re stopping to refuel.  Maybe repairs.  We should probably get going.”  Isaac gave a brief nod, before returning to trying to light up a flare.  Turning to the north, away from the train, we made our way forward into the cold night.   I stared very pointedly at the ground as we moved through the snow.   Emet drifted ominously behind us, while Isaac trundled forward in the snow, an awkward silence filling the air.  Clicking my fingers, then making a complicated motion with my hands, two orbs of light came to life in my hands, a Pulse and Watch-Eye.  I fired the Pulse into the air, where it circled the area cautiously.  I minimized the Watch-Eye, enduring another minute of silence, before finally asking.  “So, what’s your destination?  Where do you actually plan on going?”

Isaac looked surprised.  “I never really thought of where I was going.  Just as long as it was away from that Azrati thing.”

I gave a derisive cough.  “That was your plan?  Run around like a mouse in a cage?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s some castle I could hide behind!”  Isaac said indignantly.  

Ah.  Right.  I’d forgotten how little he knew.  Well, the Orchid Syndicate normally does things like that, tracking down Sensitive’s and giving them financial support, as well as general tutoring and information.  Unfortunately, the world is big, and it’s not like there are giant signs taped to Sensitives backs saying ‘I can see Ghosts!  Come and help me!’.  Even if there were, it’s too large a world to find everyone, to help everyone.  Not to mention there aren’t enough Sensetives in the Syndicate to help with the search.  This isn’t usually much of a problem, as long as the Sensitives that couldn't be reached can stay out of an asylum.  Unfortunately, with the Azrati hunting Isaac down, it’s not like he could just settle down.

“Technically speaking,”  I told him patiently, “There _are_ metaphorical castles you could hide behind.  Orchard Manor.  The Great Library of Anax.  I’d guess Sensitives there could probably help you out.”

Isaac blinked.  I guess he never really thought about the other Sensitives in the world.  “Are there really places like that?”

“That’s where I worked before I died.”  I gestured at the transparent bloodstains on my shirt, and a chill ran down my spine.  “ The Great Library of Anax uses information received from ghosts to record the worlds history, since the dawn of mankind to the 21[SUP]st[/SUP] century.  It’s pretty interesting work, actually.  I assumed that was where you were going,to  try and see if they have some information on your predicament.”

Isaac looked excited, and was about to say something, but his enthusiasm caused him to lose track of where he was going and trip.  As he tumbled face first into a mound of snow, I gave a badly disguised giggle.  Smiling pleasantly, I bent over and told him,  “Smooth move.  Bet you’re a real hit on teh dance floor.”

Face red from the cold, Isaac gave me a sour look, “Gee, thanks.  So, do you actually know where the Library is?”  

I gave a noncommittal jerk of my head.  The Library is somewhere in San Francisco, on one of the islands off the bay.  It was actually built half in, half out of the Neverglades and thus has a ghostly nature, so regular humans are unable to see it.  

“It’s in California.  But it may as well be on Mars, unless we figure out where the bloody hell we are.”

I floated to a stop, as snow slowly started to fall on the dark, rusted train yard.  Isaac gave a heavy cough, and his Flare fizzled pathetically.  Giving a half glance into the Watch-Eye bubbling in my hand, I noted, “We should get inside.”

“There . . . is an abandoned . . . work house about . . . a quarter of a mile from . . . here.”  Emet noted, his quiet, whispering voice echoing unnaturally in the gloom.  He gestured with a smoky translucent hand to the left, and I could vaguely make out a dark, building-shaped lump in the distance.  “Well, your eyes are better than mine.  Let’s go.”

Ф                             Ф                             Ф​​​​
​ The work house was a pretty nasty place.  The door was hanging off its hinges, and the metal shack’s cold iron walls sent an unpleasant tingling sensation down my body.  ‘Course, when you pretty much live with ghosts, most scary things lose their effect on you.  I floated through a wall to the left, and discovered a cramped room with a musty sofa and a shattered television set. 

“Looks like you can sleep in there.”  I commented as I floated back into the main area.  Isaac gave a tired nod, pushing open the heavy door, with a screech like a dying mans last breath.  Isaac settled down on the couch, shivering slightly, while I lit a stack of dried out dead branches on fire.  The room was filled with a cozy cerulean glare from the fire, which somewhat deadened the work houses effect of bringing the most morbid and macabre thoughts to mind.  I kicked back in midair, reclining in a cozy position near the fire, right behind Isaac’s couch.  I didn’t see Emet, but he was lurking somewhere, invisible.  I stared into the cheerful blue fire as it danced and crackled.  Tiny ember floated up like sapphires as the world slowly slipped out of my grip and dreams engulfed me.


Ф                             Ф                             Ф​​​​
​ Isaac woke with a start, as a cold, watery sensation went up his spine.  Leaping up sleepily, he saw a ghostly blue arm sticking through his chest.  Turning blearily, he saw the arm retract back to a girl floating next to him, a black bomber jacket over a short sleeved white shirt.  Blonde highlights ran down brown hair that curtained an pale, angled face.  Her lips curved up in a smile, Skylar said,  “C’mon Isaac, I just remembered something.”

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Isaac stood, and a dusky image appeared behind Skylar.  A dull, heavy figure, not exactly visible, but his form made out by watery rays of light bending at angles at his outline, rose up.  What appeared to be Emet slowly moved behind Skylar, as she insisted.  “Hurry!  I remembered something that could help us travel faster!”  Gesturing with the flick of her hand, Skylar slowly drifted to a door Isaac hadn’t seen before.  Giving a slight yawn, Isaac struggled to his feet and followed the two ghosts into the next room, the door banging shut with a clang.

Ф                             Ф                             Ф​​​​
​ I awoke to a loud clang.  Swinging my head from left to right as I floated into an upright position,  I looked around to a cold, bleak surrounding of iron and snow.  For a moment, I was at a loss to where I was.  What happened to the burnt mansion?  Where were the opulent, soot stained chandeliers?  The events of the last few days suddenly came back to me, hitting me like a sucker punch from a biker on steroids.

With a groan, I gave a stretch, slowly floating over to the couch.  Oddly, Isaac wasn’t there.  Looking around, I called out,  “Emet!”  


With a soft rumbling, Emet appeared behind me.  “Where’d Isaac go?” I asked

Emet gave a sloping shrug.  “I . . . cannot say . . .”  
I looked around curiously.  Where was he?  Then I blinked, noticing the biting cold for the first time.  “Hey, did you put the fire out?”

Emet raised his shimmering, barely visible hands.  “De . . . materialized.  Remember?”

Something was off.  Clicking my fingers, a ghostly blue Flare came to life.  A haunting whisper was echoing in the room.  

“Try . . . A Scentcast.”  Emet suggested.  Nodding curtly, I raised my hands, holding my index fingers straight in front of me.  “_Satyagraha_!”  The world around me spun, then suddenly righted itself.  The tones and hues of the room were dull, the edges of shapes frayed and blurred.  Emet was suddenly visible in full, a tall imposing figure of shimmering, ghostly white flames and bending, watery rays of lights.  The area where my fire had been shifted with a pale, cerulean aura.  

A Scentcast reveals remnant of magic and ghostly presences, making it extremely useful.  I looked down to see white, noxious tendrils of smoke trailing off me, which I guess were remnants of the Azrati’s attack from a few days ago. Then I noticed the red.

A malignant trail of baleful crimson was scattered across the room.  Wisps’ of red and black smog floated quietly above the ground.  Dark stains were prominent across the walls, and they gave me an uneasy feeling to look at.  A peculiar effect of the Scentcast is that it reveals things of significance that were once there, though aren't any longer.  And those newly revealed bloodstains couldn't bode well.

Now worried, I scanned the room, finding the strongest black aura.  It clustered around the couch, and trailed towards the hatch to the left of the room.  Canceling the Scentcast, I drifted hastily for the door, blowing it open with a fierce Junction.  

Inside, I saw Isaac, standing next to . . . me?  A ghostly girl that looked exactly like me floated next to him, while the spectral image of Emet loomed quietly behind them.  

Turning in shock at the sight of my appearance, Isaac exclaimed,  "Skylar?"

The  look-alike spirit hissed,  "Watch out!  It's a Doppelganger ghost!" I spluttered with indignant fury.  Doppelganger ghosts are bothersome, genderless, and unintelligent ghouls that mirror someone's image, stalking them for 13 days before killing them.  

   Yelling an unprintable obscenity at her, I hurled a heavy Thundershock straight at the strange spirit, but with a lazy flick of her hand, my spell was reflected into the ceiling.

  "Isaac!"  I screamed.  "Get away from that thing!"  Isaac sort of edged away, but on the whole did very little.  I gave a groan of frustration.  The idiot was completely torn on what to do.  I'd seen refrigerators with better reaction speeds than him.

  I nailed Isaac with a week Percussion, sending him stumbling backwards away from the ersatz duo.  Striking my hands together, I chanted out a line of syllables, before snapping my fingers.  A torrential hurricane of black and blue light came down from the ceiling and struck the two ghosts, but the fake me stamped her foot and spoke a word I couldn't recognize.  Ghostly blue swords appeared in midair, creating a ring round them.  My Grave Twister vanished almost immediately.

  That was troubling.  The Ring of Nullification that ghost just used is an advanced Divination spell. _ I_ can't do it.  I doubt even Emet could.  Now extremely anxious, I held out my hands and yelled,  "_ Satyagraha_!"

  Once again the world spun before me and the outlines of the room became blurred and unsettled.  I floated backwards in shock, completely appalled.  

  With my Scentcast running, the two ghost's true form was revealed.  

  An inky black snake of writhing dark fire curled around the room.  It's two separate head's, each bearing a grotesque human face, were located where the fake Emet and Skylar where.  Yelling in shock, I backed up, and lost my grip on the spell.  The world spun back to normal, though the fake me was now horribly still.  

  "YoU cAN SeE uS?"  A voice asked, though the fake me never spoke, simply staring with empty, opaque eyes.

  Isaac, shivering at the sound of the creatures voice, sprinted over next to me and Emet, crying out, '_Nivizate!_'

  The room rumbled and filled with a heavy pressure as Emet materialized.  But Emet wasn't the only thing that became visible.

  With a crack like a mirror breaking, the illusions in front of us vanished, as the horrifying, twisted creature slowly became visible.  "No OnE mAY sEe uS.  No oNE MaY EveR sEE us.  FoR tHIs yoU mUsT DIe."  It whispered in a clattering voice.  Slowly, it reared up, and with a sound like hundreds of bones breaking, dark wings of deep shadow unfolded, multiple pairs emerging from the nightmare body.  A wind slowly began to pick up, howling cruelly in the night.  Isaac yelled something , and even though I couldn't hear it over the wind, I gathered it was an action command since Emet immediately raised his arm.  A heavy Percussion, rather like a drum beat from a fifty foot tall drum echoed in the room, and the creature's form temporarily split into hundreds of slivers of shadows.  However, an instant later, it reformed, it's figure frothing like boiling water.  "YoU dARe tOuCH Us?"  It shrieked wildly.  "We WiLl dEvOuR YoUR SOul!"  Arms, folded like the claws of a praying mantis, emerged from the Presence and the serpentine body coiled around the room hungrily.   

  The creatures faces twisted from expression to expression, sometimes one of malodorous woe, other times of desperate agony, other times of horrible glee.  As one head slowly moved towards us, Isaac raised his hands.  "Don't."  I hissed at him.  A creature this powerful couldn't be injured by anything even _Emet _could rustle up, much less something from me or Isaac.  "I have an idea, just wait for my signal."

  Stepping forward arrogantly, I announced to the being,  "Yes I dare touch you!  What could you possibly do to me, you blithering homunculus?  After all, my ace in the hole trumps everything."  In my head, I prayed to any God I could think of: Allah, Jehovah, Cthulhu, Morgan Freeman.  Anything to get us out of here intact. 

  The creature was shrieking unintelligible curses in tongues I couldn't recognize.  The mouths of the monster frothed with spittle and it's eyes bulged.  Burying my disgust, I announced,  "After all, I can - CHICKEN!" 

   I screamed the final word so loud, several floor boards cracked.  With an explosion of green fire, a chicken Illusion burst to life and flew straight at the heads, squawking uncontrollably.  The heads recoiled in surprise and curiosity, at that moment, both Isaac and I pointed our fingers at the creature and shouted the command for a Percussion.  The combined spells of myself, Isaac, and Emet crashed into the creature and completely dispersed it into tiny wisps of night.  I felt it's presence roil around, trying to make sense of the powerful combination of spells that had temporarily inconvenienced it.   I flung my hand at the wall and, summoning up the last sliver of strength I had left, blew the weak, rusted wall apart with an explosive Combustion.  Fire streaming across the room, the nightmare creature slowly reforming, I yelled at Isaac,  "C'mon!"


  Streaming out the hole in a blur of color, I turned to see Isaac had abandoned running, and instead he had conjured up a flying Mantle with Emets help.  The two were flying forward, and, after a brief pause in order to let me get on, we fled desperately into the snow.


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## MadBen (Oct 29, 2011)

I just got some time to read more. For now I have to stop after chapter  3, but I bookmarked it there. Hmm, we really need an android app that  automatically downloads new chapters or something like that, because I  really like the idea of taking this stuff along. I downloaded the HTML  of the page, that should do for the moment.

Anyway, keep up the great  work and make sure to sell the finished novel on Amazon Kindle - if you  keep the price below 3$ (because I would never pay more than that for  any virtual book on principle) I will buy it.

It's a promise and also one I have until today not given to somebody else before


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## Nevermore (Oct 29, 2011)

Wow, thanks.  Of course, if I finish it, the Chapters will probably be reshuffled, and I feel I might have rushed a bit on Chapter 5.


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## Deyo (Oct 30, 2011)

I really enjoyed this fantasy story.  It has a lot of potential I believe.  The way the world functions, including the magic, spells, and spirits. They are really well thought out.  You also use very nice desccriptions for your creatures and action scenes. 


My biggest complaint would have to be the male protaganist. I mean the character is fine, a little cliche' for a male protaganist, pretty standard. The biggest problem I have with him is the fact that he said, "I've never really had a friend before now. Someone who understands me. Likes the same things I do."  I think this line was delivered far to early. First I don't know how he noticed Skylar's sympathy towards his situation, considering you made only a small mention of it in the first chapter. And the second part of that sentence also through me for a loop.  I'm not to sure what he likes that she likes too. I also don't know if he should be as happy as he is to be in his situation. I thought all of Skylar's comments would piss him off, which might cause him to try harder, but not like her in such a short period of time. He doesn't seem like the character to shovel sarcasm at people, So I don't see why he would like it, even if he does defend himself a couple of times against Skylar's mouth in a friendly way. (which I also thought wasn't like him) changing those things may make him a little more annoying towards the beginning, but I think that line would makes a lot more sense later in the story. Or I would recommend changing that specific line.  As long as it makes sense and makes Skylar feel something towards the character I think it can work.  I noticed how you referenced that line later at an important time, So i know what your going for. And please don't get me wrong, Skylar is a good character and I like her a lot. But the reason we get to understand her so well is because it's in her perspective.  I just don't' think the male protagonist would be so attentive as to understand Skylar in such a short time.  Which he would need to do to really believe a line like that after the way she treats him. 


I really like the pace of your story, and I dont' think your spending too much or too little time on any one spot.  Take your time with this wonderful world you created, you don't want a weak lead affecting the potential of your work.


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## Nevermore (Nov 1, 2011)

Thanks for the review.  I suppose I should shuffle around the interactions, but perhaps not as heavily as you suggest.

I'm pretty swamped in exams, projects, and homework this week, so I won't be able to put up a chapter until sometime late next week.


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## QDOS (Nov 3, 2011)

Hi Nevermore

Exams are important, I hope you do well.  

You Draft of Chapter Five is warming up the level and detail of conflict, which is good. Your descriptions are colourful, oiled with a smudging of the comic. All very enjoyable. 

A look at the first paragraph:- 
I suggest you drop the ‘_luckily_’ from second sentence. In the third a simple typo when you’re in a rush ‘_vanishing from’_ not ‘_form’. _Fourth sentence I’d write - _Our section of the train was closed off so no one embarked or disembarked at the several stops we made_. - My reason, I wasn’t happy with the phase ‘_Though several stops passed us by..._’ In the filth ‘_its final stop_’ not ‘_it’s’_ and I suggest dropping the ‘_try and_’.

Another to look out for is locations:-  
Second paragraph - _Turning to the north, away from the train, we made our way forward into the cold night._
Fourteenth paragraph - _I floated to a stop, as snow slowly started to fall on the dark, rusted train yard._
I felt the implication of the first sentence was they were moving away from the rail road. 

Suggestions for the work house section and second paragraph:-
_‘Isaac gave a tired nod, pushing open the heavy door, [/FONT]__it gave__[FONT=&Verdana] a screech like a dying mans last breath.’_
Second use of cozy, can ghosts get cosy - comforting warmth and shelter especially in a small space. 
_‘I kicked back in midair [/FONT]__and settled into a snug__[FONT=&Verdana] position near the fire, right behind Isaac’s couch.’_


  QDOS  
  [FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]  Note: My English spelling is UK not US.[/FONT][FONT=&Verdana] (cozy N.Amer elsewhere cosy)


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## Nevermore (Nov 5, 2011)

Yeah, I plan on doing an overhaul over Thanksgiving weekend and doing a bleach-esque cleansing of my story.  In the meantime, a draft of chapter six

_Chapter 6: Flaws, Weaknesses and Valentines_​

“_Satyagraha_!”  I cried out.  The world spun before me as my Scentcast took effect.  I pored over the minute details revealed to me, long past ghostly presences, ancient mementos now lost to time, the spiritual aura around myself and Isaac, before ending the spell.  Behind me, Isaac was busy creating multiple Pulses, which he was sending up into the air.  Notwithstanding what I told him, raw talent can get you place’s, and despite the kids lack of training, he was strong. 

Eventually, after triple checking the small hollow we had made camp in, I settled uneasily inside the ring of Watch-Eyes.  Multiple different scenes unfolded in each, each scene a different perspective of the snowy forest where we were camping.  After escaping the horrific creature that had cornered us at the work house, we had fled south a bit, eventually finding a secluded forest to camp out at.    

“What _was_ that thing?”  Isaac finally asked, shivering.  I had a feeling it wasn’t from the cold. 

“A Malignancy.  Dark ghosts, they’re weighed down by sin from their lifetime.  It clogs them and fills them with hate.  Kind of like,"  I spun my finger in the air, trying to think of a good analogy, "Bad cholesterol.  Of evil.  Very, very nasty, and unfortunately powerful.”

Isaac’s face was still dark, “I wasn’t strong enough.”

“No, you weren’t.”  I agreed. “There aren’t many people who are.”

Emet adjusted himself, in the light reflected off the snow he looked like a moving heat haze.  Neither of us spoke.  I didn’t want to admit it, but wallowing around that old mansion had left me soft.  Rusty.  The idea of being weak riled me, set a burning anger in my gut.  There were too many things in the world against us.  We needed to get to the Library as fast as possible, but we were still so far away.

_Snap!_

Call me unnecessarily paranoid, but the instant I heard the sound, I fired off a heavy Junction straight into the bushes with a long string of swearwords.  There was a loud boom, a flash of light, and two loud yelps (one was from the bushes, the other came from Isaac when he slipped in shock).  

“Hold your fire!”  Someone yelled.  I shot off another Junction.  However, I heard a lazily spoken “_Grasisnu_” and my spell struck what appeared to be an invisible orb, washing over the unseen obstruction as if my attack had turned into multi colored water.

A ruggedly handsome looking guy stepped out of the bushes; a calm and confidant look on his face.  He looked maybe a year older than me, and held a heavy looking gold cane that gave me a sense of prickling unease to look at.  I immediately hissed to Isaac, “Do you think he’s single?”

He commented in a low voice, “I’d need an extra hand to count off all the reasons that would never work.”

Bah.  What did he know?

Brushing some hair behind my face, I floated up to him, smiling sweetly.  “Hey there.  I’m Skylar, you?”

The guy looked a bit thrown off, “Valentine.  Erm, Who are you all?”

Damn it, he said 'All'.  The kid was cramping my style.  I resolved to nail him in the head next time we were alone.  “The homunculus behind us is Isaac,” Isaac gave me a rather uncalled for gesture of unequivocal rudeness,  “And the Presence is Emet.”

The guy narrowed his eyes, muttering, “_Satyagraha_” under his breath.  Observing us under the Scentcast for a moment, he immediately canceled it with a look of relief on his face.  “Aha, sorry about that.  Ran into a nasty Malignancy masquerading as a little girl, and just wanted to make sure you lot weren’t secretly a multi headed cockroach or something.”

I raised my eyebrows.  “Er, did said Malignancy have two heads?  Look like a snake?  Talk like it was gargling marbles and high on helium at the same time?”

Now it was Valentines turn to raise his eyebrows.  “Yes, actually.  It kept talking about chickens, too.  Very strange.”

Isaac and I shared a glance.  “Was there a gaping hole in the wall too?”  Isaac asked.

“Okay, seriously, who are you?”

I drifted back lazily, muttering to Isaac, “He must’ve run into ol’ two face, and fought him off just like us.”

“Yeah.”  Isaac muttered, his eyes narrow.

“Handsome _and_ strong.” I sighed.

“Shut up.”

“How do you all know about it?”  Valentine asked.  Isaac winced, apparently at the mere memory of what had happened, informing him.  “We tried to camp out at the work house, but the creature attacked us.”

I shivered.  Something about remembering the creature’s voice set me completely on the edge. 

Valentine sat down in front of us, leaning the gold cane on his shoulder as he grinned.  “I have to admit, you’re an interesting group.  So, I suppose you have an explanation about the chicken thing too?”

“I’d rather not go into it.”  I said evasively, not wanting to sound stupid in front of him by telling how we escaped with a _chicken_ illusion.  Honestly, I still can't believe I did that.  It should have been something much more suave, like a lion.  Or a robot version of Emet.

"So what's your story?"  I asked, hoping it didn't come out as evasive as it sounded in my head.
Valentine unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing a gold, teardrop shaped object jammed into his chest.  The flesh around it was knotted and crossed with scars, as if it the trinket had been driven into him while burning hot.  "I've got a long and tragic story, probably like you two.  I think what  you think happened is more interesting than what actually happened, so I'll leave it at that." 

Valentine buttoned his shirt, commenting,  "Are you going to Notgeist too?"

Isaac got a rather blank look on his face, though I responded,  "We're going to the great Library of Anax.  Why would you want to get to Notgeist?"

Valentine chuckled in a rather annoying way, and I had to resist the urge to nail him with a Junction again.  "I've got my reasons.  But why are you going to the Library?  Does it have something to do with the doors locking?"

Something about the way he said that gave me an uneasy, prickling feeling.  And when a ghost is getting a sixth sense type feeling, you know damn well something is afoot.  "What locking?"

Valentine got a serious look on his face,  "The Library doors locked, mysteriously, about a year ago.  A few days later, Orchard Manor was completely sucked into the Neverglades, and hex sealed it's doors shut.  To top it off, Sensitives have been disappearing left and right."

Subconsciously, my had drifted below my jacket.  _'A year ago.'  _That was about when I was killed.  Trying to bury the thoughts rising up in my head, I commented to Isaac,  "Strange, huh?" Seeing him, I blinked.

Isaac had an expression of horrible, torturous shock on his face.  I felt a sinking feeling when I remembered why we were going to the Library in the first place.  That had been his only shot at getting answers, getting a solution to his problem.  I felt horrible, I had given him hope of freedom, only for him to get it taken away mere hours later.   Trying to Isaac out of it, I said,  "I worked at the Library before I died.  They might open for me."

Valentine was silent, though I thought he just didn't want to break what little hope Isaac had left.  Giving his heavy cane a rattle, he stood.  "As it happens, Notgeist is in the direction of the Library.  I'll give you what help I can." 

Valentine rapped his fingers along the gold, before asking,  "If you don't mind me asking, miss,"  I blushed a bit at this.  "Why are you going to the Library of Anax anyways?"

True to the dramatic self-explanation that was becoming it's calling card, the Azrati burst through the tree's.  From the Watch-Eyes we had neglected to keep track of, multiple angles of the path the beast had carved into the ground in its pursuit gleamed at us.  Isaac raised his hand with a hollow look to the dark creature, its horns gnarled to the sky, eyes cold and trained solely on Isaac.


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## QDOS (Nov 6, 2011)

Hi Nevermore

_[FONT=&Verdana]Valentine got a serious look on his face, "The Library doors locked, mysteriously, about a year ago. A few days later, Orchard Manor was completely sucked into the Neverglades, and hex sealed it's doors shut. To top it off, Sensitives have been disappearing left and right."
 [/FONT]_
_[FONT=&Verdana]Subconsciously, my had drifted below my jacket. 'A year ago.' That was about when I was killed. Trying to bury the thoughts rising up in my head, I commented to Isaac, "Strange, huh?" Seeing him, I blinked.

Isaac had an expression of horrible, torturous shock on his face. I felt a sinking feeling when I remembered why we were going to the Library in the first place. That had been his only shot at getting answers, getting a solution to his problem. I felt horrible, I had given him hope of freedom, only for him to get it taken away mere hours later. Trying to Isaac out of it, I said, "I worked at the Library before I died. They might open for me."

 [/FONT]_In this latest chapter I feel I’m getting near to that Inciting Incident, can’t wait to see how it all pans out. 

  A few typo’s easily sorted when you edit/proofread. I consistently make similar errors when in draft mode.
  -Subconsciously, my had (hand) drifted below my jacket. - hex sealed it's (its) doors shut.

  When I started writing, and still today, a lot of editing advice I receive is about phrasing or word usage. Maybe this is not the time to start thinking to deeply about this aspect, but as an example:
_only for him to get it taken away mere hours later._
to get [/FONT][FONT=&Verdana]implies to take or in receipt not ownership. In this instance you are taking something away.
mere [/FONT][FONT=&Verdana]is specific,when I believe you are making more of a general estimate. 
  As a suggestion:
_only for him to have it taken away a few hours later. _

  Look forward to your next posting.

  QDOS 8)


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## Nevermore (Nov 6, 2011)

Thanks, I know I've been having problems with grammar lately.  I'll have a bit more time to work on Chapter 7, so it might be a bit more well done than 6.


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## Nevermore (Nov 12, 2011)

Well, Nevermore again.  Unfortunately, I am still writing chapter 7, a somewhat one sided duel between the Azrati and Skylar + Co, so this is not a stroy update. However, I've been rolling around some interesting ideas for a spin off involving Valentine, a backstory of sorts.  So, would anyone be interested in that?  It takes place in an artificial version of the Neverglades, a strange world called the Twistwilds, but before I put more effort into it, I'd like to know if anyone would be interested.


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## Nevermore (Nov 13, 2011)

Note, the Chapter name has a double meaning, since the spell Skylar uses towards the end literally translates as 'Destiny Downfall.'  Just, you know, random useless trivia.


_Chapter 7: Downfall​​​​_​
The ground shook as all three of us were blown asunder.  I spiraled backwards a good few feet, drifting to an unceremonious and altogether unpleasant stop.  Thoroughly riled, I blasted an extremely heavy Combustion straight at the Azrati, but the spell smashed into its bony armor and fizzled to a halt.  Damn it, does anything actually hurt this thing?  I swooped forward, trying to see if I could spot the others.  Valentine had managed to erect another Barrier, though the force of the Azrati seemed to have winded him, even from behind his defensive spell.  Isaac had similarly reacted with haste, using Emet to throw up a Mantle of glimmering pearly light.  Wait, but that meant . . . I was slower than Isaac?  Those two managed to stop it, but I was the only one that was nailed?  What the hell!  I’ll be damned if I come out as weaker than the kid! 

Yelling an unfortunately necessary obscenity, I conjured up a raging Glimmervoid in my left hand.”_Presati Bala_!”  A ring of blue surrounded my spell, and with a small flash, the Glimmervoid launched forward in a streak of white.  It hit the Azrati with an impressive bang, engulfing the creature in a white-gold inferno while my ring of blue fire kicked up around the blazing figure.  “Isaac!  Valentine!  Let’s go!”  I screamed.  Valentine scrambled to his feet, running over.  “What the hell is that?”

“It’s been chasing Isaac for a while, but I’ve got no idea what it really is.” I responded, turning to the shimmering Glimmervoid that had engulfed the Azrati, my ring of cerulean fire still spinning around the swirling mass.  A Glimmervoid is a powerful enough spell, designed to create a continuous state of reflecting light within a set area, that area being the Glimmervoid itself.  The infinitely rebounding light creates an effect similar to golden-white fire.    The ring of blue light is a more simple type of spell, designed to hurl forward whatever other spell you conjured, at the same time amplifying it.  Unfortunately, the blue fire was now dwindling and fizzling.  The Glimmervoid was beginning to fray into threads of golden light, as beneath, a thrashing figure was becoming visible.

Isaac and Emet raced over, twirling the heavy looking Mantle into a shuddering nebula of force.  "Skylar!  Valentine!  Move!"  He yelled.  For a fifteen year old brat, Isaac looked dead serious.  I slid swiftly in one direction, Valentine in the other .  Isaac spread his hands forward while Emet swelled in size behind him. 

It was all very dramatic, with Isaac standing there, his arms splayed forward, Emet swirling behind him, growing ominously like some perverse shadow of bending light.  Before them, the golden fire of my Glimmervoid was starting to fall apart.  My azure ring of spellwork had dissolved, and the Azrati was struggling violently, horns curled coldly to the sky, purple eyes fixed murderously on the four of us.

With a loud, chanted hex, Isaac's Mantle blew forward, blowing apart the ground and smashing into the spectral horror before us.    Isaac and Emet's combined spell bowled the creature over, smashing it straight through the trees.  The flailing edges of the spell tore through the air, the huge, clawed arms of the Azrati involved in a similar action.  Then everything stopped.

Dust was thrown around us, with rubble lying in a haphazard display across the snowy gound.  A heavy silence filled the air as Isaac took a hesitant step forward.  A trill of fear ran down my heart.  Something was wrong, the sudden stillness that had set over the area following the magical duel.  Isaac took another step forward and my head snapped towards him, some unseen sense riling me.  "Isaac!  Get back!" 

Surprised, Isaac took a step backwards, just as a heavy, almost laughably long arm ripped out of the cloud of debris and tore at Isaac.  The attack probably would have knocked his head clean off if he was another few feet closer.

Raising his heavy staff, Valentine called out a syllable in a voice too deep for me to make out.  A dull, golden haze appeared over the battlefield, but for the death of me, I couldn't figure out what Valentine had done.  The the golden mist made me shiver, not from cold, but from a creeping sensation I got from being near it.

Another spectral gray arm swiped forward and the Azrati's head became visible.  However, as it passed through the golden haze, it's form shivered and faintly began to unravel.  Valentine looked grim, if somewhat smug. 

The Azrati looked hesitant, withdrawing its arm.  As it's limb passed out of Valentines spell, the frayed, dissolving edges began to nit back together with a curious sweeping noise.  Letting out a grinding shriek, the Azrati whipped it's hand forward and a blue shockwave of rippling light flew across the forest, passing straight through the golden haze.  Valentine managed to deflect the part of the spell directed at him with a flick of his staff and hastily muttered syllable, but even though I managed to yell out "_Grasisnu!" _and pull up a shimmering sphere of protection over myself and Isaac, the shockwave blew right through, as if nothing was there.   I stumbled over as if winded and my Barrier shattered.  Something ran through me, a cold watery sensation.  Isaac doubled over, shivering.  I looked up. 

The Azrati was bigger than it had seemed when we last confronted it.  It towered above us, blotting out the moon.  A trill of fear echoed in me.  What were we doing?  This thing killed _ghosts_.  How could anyone fight that?  Every spell we threw at it fizzled apart.  I crumpled to the ground, my aura of light blue fading.  Why bother?  We'd never win, we couldn't outrun it.  We-

I glanced over at Isaac, curled over, face contorted in fear.  For a moment, I tried to think logically.  Why didn't the Barrier Spell block that strange blue light?  It'd didn't even slow it down, it was as if the Barrier wasn't there.  I blinked, trying to ignore the freezing terror that was paralyzing me.  It was the spell, it had to be.  I struggled to my feet, trying to ignore the creeping fear eating me alive.  No, this wasn't fear.  It was nothing but a stupid spell. 

C'mon!  I'm Skylar Parish, one of the strongest Sensitives of the 21st century!  I'd rather die before I get beaten by some stupid fear manipulation spell.  Well, not _die_ die, since I already did.  You know, die.  Ah, well, you know what I mean.

I struggled to my feet, the fear suddenly turning into pain.  Dark blue sparks of electricity ran along my body as the Azrati's spell started to amplify in a freezing, piercing agony.  "Damn."  I spat out, raising my hand.  I felt like the world was pressing against me.  I could barely see, though I made out Valentine jabbing at the creature with lances of white light, and Isaac gasping in shock, unable to recover from the strain of both the powerful Mantle he had used and the Azrati's ever amplifying spell.  I struggled, fighting off the pain, the fear, the urge to run and never look back.  I shivered, and for a moment completely vanished.  I returned to visibility, shaking violently.  I felt the horrible weight pressing down on me, the immense torment ripping me apart.  Gasping for breath, I pushed against the engulfing agony that kept me bowed with pain.

Raising my left hand, I screamed, at the unfairness of this unstoppable brute, at my own weakness, at my anger, at my pain, at the world.  "_AVANATI NIYATI!_"

The world spun, but not from the pain the Azratis spell was inflicting.  I swore loudly, for a moment thinking my spell hadn't worked.  Then, a pressure filled the clearing.  Valentine leapt back, just as a crushing weight descended from the air, streaks of nightmarish shadows swirling violently.  A horrible, indescribable weight descended on the Azrati, breaking apart the tree's, ripping apart the ground.  The moon and stars faded, though that might have just been the pain blotting out the world.  I fell, floating a centimeter above the ground, the blue glow around me slowly dying.  I stared at my ghostly hands, each becoming more faded, more unreal with each second.  The howls of force from my spell filled the air, overriding the shrieks of fury coming from the Azrati.  The world began to vanish in a low buzzing.  The spells tax on my strength was to great, the Azrati's power to strong.  Blackness ate away at my vision, as the last things I saw were Valentines face, yelling something lost to the breeze, and Isaac, bent over on the ground, face contorted by pain and anger.  Then, everything was gone.


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## Nevermore (Nov 23, 2011)

Yep, another short chapter



_Chapter 8: Sunrise_​ 
Darkness.  Pure darkness.  Everything was a heavy shade of black.  Where was I?  I felt the memories right within reach, but they slipped out of grasp as I struggled to recall.  I tried desperately to remember why I was here.  There was something important I needed to do.  It had to do . . . it had to do with . . . Argh!  I knew it was important, something, a matter of life and death, but the memories were a foggy haze, right out of reach.  I think I was fighting at some point.  Yes!  That was it, a fight!  Did I get knocked unconscious?  In the blurry haze, I thought how horrible it would be if I lost and Isaac won.  That     would . . . Wait!  Isaac!  That’s right!

A spark of light loomed overhead as memories flooded forward and my eyes flew open.  I struggled up, gasping.  The Azrati!  That’s right, that curse the Azrati used and my Downfall Destiny spell sapped up all my energy.  Mumbling weakly, I tried to ignite a Flare, but the spell fizzled with a sound like a balloon slowly leaking out.

“Skylar!  You’re awake!”  Isaac and Emet appeared above me.  Blinking, the drunken numbness vanishing from my pale, transparent arms, I struggled up.  Valentine came over, looking relived.  “Skylar!  You’re all right!”

I shook my head with a groan, “What happened?”  

Isaac shuddered.  “That spell the Azrati used crippled me, but from what I saw before I blacked out, you collapsed after knocking it back with some enormous spell.”

Valentine nodded.”I used an Amplification combined with a Petrification to stun it, then managed to get you two away from there.” 

Glancing at my hand, I saw that my blue aura that normally suffuses ghosts was colored with ugly dark blue streaks.  Isaac noticed too, saying, “Remnants of the spell that thing used.  Do you want to rest some more, wait a bit before we get going?”

I shook my head, pulling myself up until I was floating upright.  I wouldn’t slow us all down just for a stupid little thing like comfort.  “No,” I insisted, “We’ve got to keep going.  The Library of Anax was, and still is, our best lead.”  Despite the dull ache within my form, I got a sort of joy, a burning drive.  Sure, there weren’t any drastically dangerous events at the burnt manor, where my undead life was at risk, but it felt good to finally have something to strive for again.  A goal, a destination, something to reach and struggle for.  Get to the Library before the Azrati got us.  Yeah, I could do that.

Placing a hand on my chest, I exclaimed, “C’mon guys!  This is nothing!  If something’s worth doing, than it's worth fighting for!”

Isaac grinned, saying, “How I missed your biting big headedness.”

“An adventure!  Well, put it like that, and this dismal arrangement of events sounds downright fun!”  Valentine laughed.

“I’ll . . . stay with . . . you until . . . the end.” Emet rumbled powerfully.  Scratching my head, I looked around at our surroundings for the first tie.  We were in a gully full of huge boulders, as if the ravine had been frozen in the middle of a landslide of rocks.  Moss trundled along the stony brown surfaces around us and the air was crisp and chilly in the sunlight.

“Erm,” I said slowly.  “Where are we?”

Isaac scratched his head, stumbling slightly.  “I only woke up a few minutes ago, so . . . “

“I saw Four Corners from a distance, so I’d guess we’re somewhere in Utah.”  Valentine explained.  He propped himself up on a mossy boulder, frowning.  “All right, so seriously, who are you people?”

Isaac got a dark look on his face, hesitantly explaining to Valentine the story he had told me back at that abandoned hotel.  It had only been a few days, maybe a week since I left the manor, but it felt like years.

When he had finished, Valentine was silent, his face dark and unreadable, something perversely out of place in the bright, sunny hollow.  The creepy aura from Valentines staff seemed stronger than ever, and I had to fight down the urge to edge away from him.  He started to rap the edge of the golden object against the ground, creating a clicking noise.  And with the clicking noise of Valentines staff, something clicked in my head.  I blurted out, “Do you think it’s a coincidence?”

Valentine shook his head slowly.  “No.  There’s no such thing as coincidence.”

“What coincidence?”  Isaac asked.  I answered rather grimly, “Remember what Valentine said?  Sensitives have been disappearing left and right lately.”

A look of dark comprehension started to come over Isaac’s face as I finished, “What if you were one of the ones that got away?  The men couldn’t catch you because of Emet, and I prevented the Azrati from catching you back at the abandoned motel.  What if the Azrati’s hunting Sensitives?”

“It’s a nasty possibility.”  Valentine muttered.  “You got away because you had Verses with you.  Without a ghost nearby, a Sensitive would fall instantly to something like that.”

Sensitives have to derive their power by mixing the elements of life and death, two things that can never normally mix.  This requires a ghost and a living thing, and since many Sensitives don’t actually travel everywhere with a ghost, something like the Azrati would plow straight through them.   Even with a ghost, we had only managed to escape through a healthy mix of dumb luck and my own prodigious skill. 

Isaac had a determined look in his eyes as he spoke. "Than we've got to get to the Library as quick as possible.  We need to warn _someone_."

I made a rapping motion with my fingers on a boulder nearby, slouching in midair as I muttered,  "There's a chance I won't be able to open the doors."

Isaac brought himself t his feet, Emet swelling behind him like a shadow, "Than we blow the doors off their hinges!"
I grinned, "Rampant destruction, now I like the sound of that!" 

Valentine gave a smile, "Well, I suppose this merry parade should end with a bang, if you'll forgive the pun."

I looked up into the sunlight.  The cold winter air felt warm beneath the orb of fire in the sky.  Isaac and Valentine were both standing now, as I started to drift to the west.  "Well then?  Stop grinning like a pair of idiots!  Let's go!"


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## QDOS (Nov 24, 2011)

Hi Nevermore
  Chapter 7 
  The ghost Skylar, I feel shouldn’t experience pain as such, being dead, may I suggest substitute ‘_pain_’ with the word ‘_fear’._ 

  Chapter 8
  In your hurry to blast words on the page don’t forget basic rules, such as to separate individual’s speech from the following paragraph of text.  

 “I’ll . . . stay with . . . you until . . . the end.” Emet rumbled powerfully.  [/FONT]*< >[/FONT]* Scratching my head, I looked around at our surroundings for the [/FONT][FONT=&Verdana]first[FONT=&Verdana] tie.[FONT=&Verdana] We were in a gully full of huge boulders, as if the ravine had been frozen in the middle of a landslide of rocks. Moss trundled along the stony brown surfaces around us and the air was crisp and chilly in the sunlight.
_[FONT=&Verdana]
‘first tie’[/FONT]_ did you mean ‘_first time’_ 

    These words of guidance are given in knowledge that I make the same errors myself. When editing / proofreading  I follow a set of notes – if you or others are interested I can copy them in my next post. 

  QDOS :hurt:


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## Nevermore (Nov 29, 2011)

Yes, T'm rather plagued by smaller errors.  I'll try and fix them on my actual manuscripts.  Anyways, here's the long overdue chapter 9.

_Chapter 9: Dark Moon​_
"So try not to blow the cafe up while I'm gone, okay?"  Valentine commented.  I blinked out of a sleepy daze, pulling myself upright as he moved to get up from our cafe table. 

The four of us were huddled up in a coffee shop somewhere in southern Utah.  The city was heavy and bustling, unusually more businesslike than how I normally perceived Utah to be.  I had, at one point, been assigned a cushy job in Salt Lake City for the Library, but after roller-skating down the grand stairwell and accidentally releasing a minor but troublesome Malignancy, I was instead sent to the Arctic Circle, and was nearly eaten by a polar bear. 

As Valentine swept out the cafe door, Isaac pushed around a half eaten pastry drearily.  He pulled out two one dollar coins from his pocket, and began rubbing them together.

"You can rub 'em together all you like, they're not going to breed." I commented dryly.

"You never know." Isaac said bracingly, "But unfortunately, we're nearly out of money.  Don't suppose you have some magic ghostly bank account we could use?"

I curled a lock of my hair around a finger, thinking.  "As a matter of fact, I do have this."  I snapped my fingers and a black credit card appeared in midair.  It was adorned with a golden moon at the center, the moon wearing a face with baleful eyes and a rather unfriendly smile.  "Got this a while back.  I don't know exactly how much money is in it at this point, but it's certainly enough for another croissant."

I picked it up, looking at it shrewdly.  The card looked out of place between my ghostly blue fingers, and it sent a trill of unease into me.  "I don't trust it though, partially because of where I got it, partially because for some reason I'm able to touch it."  This in itself was remarkably unusual.  As I explained earlier, ghosts are not physical beings and, with the exception of the Azrati, can't touch their surroundings.

Isaac picked it up curiously, "That is strange."  As Isaac examined the sinister credit card, I looked around at the other patrons of the cafe for the first time, noticing their expressions.  Ah.  Right.  Well, better tell Isaac.

I snapped my fingers beneath his nose.  "Don't make any sudden moves, but I think everyone else thinks you're insane."

Isaac looked up, finally noticing the wide stares he had earned from practically every person in the shop.  I coughed, trying not to laugh.  "Remember, I'm invisible.  To everyone else, it looks like you've been chatting to yourself for the last few minutes." 

A waiter walked over to Isaac and said very slowly, as if speaking to a rock, "Excuse me, but do you know where your Mommy or Daddy is?"

I bit back laughter as Isaac bit back what I assumed was a long string of exceedingly repugnant swear words.  Muttering, "Let's go," in a manner were his lips didn't move, the three of us rose and exited the shop, Emet strolling behind us, his image so faint all that was visible was his left hand.
"What you need is one of those bluetooth earpieces.  You could talk away as loud as you please and still look moderately sane." I commented idly, leaning next to him as he marched down the road. "You may or may not look like an ass though, I'll have to warn you." 

Isaac's face looked hot enough to barbeque a steak.  Grinning, I ruffled his hair (or rather, gave him a cold feeling as if someone cracked an egg open on his hair) and giggled, "Don't worry, given that you're you, I'm sure this will be the least of your mistakes in a long lifetime of misadventures."

His face even redder, Isaac snapped, "Oh, shut up." as we turned down a rather dingy alley.

"That's not very nice."  A gruff voice said form behind us. 

We both spun around to see a big kid, maybe a bit older than me, wearing expensive but torn clothing and a knife in his hand. "Hand over anything you've got and I might let you go in one piece."  He snickered.

Isaac and I snorted derisively, as Isaac said, "Why don't you go terrorize a puppy or something you fat-headed idiot." 

We turned around as the kid gave a furious squeak of protest.  "I think some of my wit is rubbing off on you."  I smiled.  Suddenly, the teenager behind us yelled in anger and came straight at Isaac, knife bared like a cats fang.  Neither of us even bothered to turn as I spun my finger in mid-air and Caused the teen's knife to blow apart in his hand.  He screamed in shock, as if it was the first time he'd ever felt pain.  I made it sound horribly flashy, but honestly, all he got was a tiny cut, there wasn't even any shrapnel or anything.  Without a second glance, the two of us turned the corner and left.  As we turned, I felt the credit card buzz in my pocket.  Surprised, I reached for it.  Well, that’s strange, but surely he’s not . . . damn, he is.  I tapped the yellow moon on the card and the circle at its heart spun, vanishing.  A slow, cunning voice came out of the hole, “Hey Sky.  Mind if I pay a visit?”

“Yes.”  I replied irritably.  “Why don’t you go torture someone soul or something?”

Isaac looked over curiously.  “What’s that?”

I frowned, dropping the card to the ground, were in vanished in an explosion of starry light.  Stepping out of the light was a well dressed elderly man.  He wore a bowler hat, and his face was adorned with a pencil moustache, narrow, plotting eyes, and a fat cigar, its smoke trailing around his head.  I curled my hands into fists.  Being around him riled my temper.  I wanted to be alive again just to sink my fist into his teeth.  I saw his presence had Isaac similarly tense.

I sighed reproachfully, “What do you need this time, Nic?”

Nic waved his hand airily.  I could hear swanky violin music coming from behind him, though there didn’t appear to be anything there.  “What, can’t a guy drop by and visit an old friend?”

I frowned, “Well, for starters, you’re certainly not human, much less a ‘guy’.”

Nic shrugged amiably, “Guilty as charged.”

Isaac had a rather unhappy expression on his face.  “Who’s this?”
I scowled, gesturing at Nic, “May I introduce you to the immortal, indestructible, and eternally annoying Devil.” 

Nic gave a toothy grin, “Again, guilty as charged.  Now, I hear you’re making for The Library?”

“How did you know that?” Isaac asked.

Nic made a noncommittal sound, “I’m the Devil.  I find things out one way or another.”  He gave an unpleasant smile, commenting through his cigar, “I _dislike_ not knowing things.”

I had gotten into a sticky situation when I was confined to the Neverglades a while back and Nic made a deal with me.  I won, so instead of him getting my soul, I was liberated from my predicament.  After that, I learned that Nic had an insatiable desire to know things.  I offered to find out answers to various curious phenomena for him in exchange for supernatural services.  You know, supernatural services beyond being an undead teenage girl who can shoot lightning out her pinky. 

Nic leaned forward, blowing a puff of smoke straight in my face.  “If you must know,” he said slowly, “There’s a specific person I want you to investigate.”

I gave him a rather impolite suggestion of where he could shove his cigar, before sighing, “And in return you’ve got some information about the Library?”

Nic leaned back and propped his arm up on thin air, saying, “In a roundabout manner.  I can get you to the Library extremely quickly, which brings me to my second request.  Find out what’s going on with those bloody confusing happenings.  But you’d better hurry.  If you can’t finish my task in time . . .“ He glanced at a heavyset, gold pocket watch, before stowing it again, “Your ride west dies rather painfully.  And I mean that in a very literal sense.”

Isaac got a pensive look on his face, before saying, “So our ride west is . . . a person?”

Nic laughed, his mouth unusually wide. “Very nice deduction, Mr. Holmes.  Yes, your ride west indirectly hinges on you finding a certain person alive.  So hop to it.”

I folded my arms, “You haven’t told us what you want.”

Nic frowned.  “Didn’t I?  Ah well.”  His hand caught fire and he tossed the flames to the ground, where they spluttered and died to reveal a crumpled, slightly singed piece of paper.  He snapped his fingers and the world spun around me.  Colors blended together as I felt a horrible sense of vertigo.  When the world righted itself, Nic was gone and Isaac was standing next to me with a dazed look.  He rubbed his eyes, asking, “Where’d he go?”

I coughed, “I’d don’t like to think about what the Devil does in his free time.”

Isaac nodded in agreement, before saying, “Er, shouldn’t we go find Valentine?”

I swore quietly.  Wasn’t he going to meet us back at the café?  Damn, I can’t believe I forgot!  Well, that’s what you get for getting absorbed in laughing at another person’s shame.  Not that that’ll stop me from doing it any time I can. 

I gestured at Isaac, “Better get back to the coffee shop.” 

“What did he write on the paper?”

I glanced forward, leaning over.  As I pushed my insubstantial fingers through the paper, I somehow physically touched it.  I withdrew my hand sharpish, wary of some nasty trap.  Isaac bent over and picked it up.  “’Locate a certain Heath Coulter, and figure out how he’s alive.’”  He read.

“Well that’s maddeningly unspecific.”

“Yeah, I-  Wait, more words are appearing!”

The thin piece of parchment unfolded, ink letters dancing across the now enlarged page.  I examined the paper.

_Locate a certain Heath Coulter and figure out how he’s alive._

Followed by a new bit of writing.

Too unspecific for you?  Fine.  A man by the name of Heath Coulter has been stirring up trouble around town.  From what I can tell, his Death Limiter was set at 1 month through 3 years.  Somehow, he’s still alive and kicking, and stirring up all sorts of trouble.  Souls that should’ve gone straight to me upon death have been disappearing around him, and I have a feeling it has to do with the curious red markings on his neck.  Apparently only Sensitives can see the markings, as no normal humans have noticed them so far.  He’s been hanging around a local casino called the House of Cards, so that’s where I suggest starting.  Well, what are you waiting for?  Go!
-Sincerely, Nic.
“What’s a Death Limiter?” Isaac asked as he looked up from the paper.  

“A Death Limiter . . . is the set range of time . . . unique to every person . . . within which fate will kick in at . . some point and the person must . . . die one way or another.”  Emet rumbled.

I narrowed my eyes, “Nic claims to be able to judge a person’s Death Limiter fairly well.  If what he says is correct, this Coulter guy should have died as a baby, between the age of one month and three years.”  I trailed off, suddenly remembering something.  I pulled the paper out of Isaac’s hands, staring at it.  Nic’s assignment slipped out of my mind as I marveled the paper, my blue aura giving it a sinister blue glow.  

I frowned, something I seemed to do a lot after being within ten feet of Nic.  “It’s like the credit card.”  I murmured.  Suddenly, a spark kicked up along the paper and I dropped it in shock.  It exploded in a gust of fire, crumbling away into shards of ash.  

After a moment, Isaac said, “I don’t like it.  Touching the paper was like touching that weird credit card Nic gave you.  It gave me this creeping unease . . .” 

I nodded in agreement when suddenly, a voice shouted, “That’s him!”  I turned around in mild surprise.

A gang of teenagers quickly had us surrounded, though of course, they only saw Isaac, not Emet or I.  I saw Idiot Number One, the kid that attacked Isaac earlier, to the left of Idiots Two and Three, as well as a menagerie of other teenagers.  He pointed his good hand at us, proclaiming, “That’s him, the one that attacked me!”

I raised my eyebrows.  What an idiot.  I observed the group, all white kids in expensive clothing and unpleasant leers on their faces.  It made me scoff, a bunch of rich brats trying to be bad boys.  Idiot Number Two  approached us, knife raised, and said, “You don’t have much respect in you, do you, brat?”

The nerve!  Only I get to call Isaac ‘brat’! Or kid, ass, idiot, fool, and any other derogatory word that comes to mind.  In indignation, raised my fingers to blast Idiot Number  Two  from here to Uzbekistan,   when a heavy think sounded from behind and one of the teens in the posse of brats fell forward, an unpleasant lump on the back of his head.

Valentine stood behind the group, a faint but confidant smile on his face.  “I rather think you’re the ones without respect.  Now scram.”  

Idiot Number Two licked his lips and advanced with his switchblade, oblivious to Valentines warning.  With a sigh of regret.  Valentine flicked his hand and Idiot Number Two was thrown off his feet into a cinderblock wall.  Idiot Number Three must have been brave or incredibly stupid (most likely the latter), as he advanced on Valentine still.  Not wanting him to steal the fun, I cracked my knuckles, then clapped my hands together.  Idiot Number Three’s belt buckled snapped and his pants fell down cleanly.  As he yelled in surprise, I snapped my fingers and an invisible hand seemed to grab the scruff of his neck and hurl him backwards.  

Isaac, who had burst out laughing when Idiot Number Three lost his pants, muttered, “Better finish up here, we’ve still got to find this House of Cards Casino.”  Hmm, well, maybe I’d had enough fun.  Better finish this up, we _did_ have a job to do.  “Valentine!”  I called, “We’ve got to go!  Everyone, cover your eyes!”

As Isaac and Valentine shielded their eyes, I lit up an Illumination, a sudden spark of blinding light filling the alley with a violent flash.  The group of assailants fell, clutching their eyes in pain as Valentine moved toward us.  “Let’s go before I really do have to kill one of them!”  I called.  With a quick turn, we hurried out the alley.  As we moved into the street, I noticed a dimly lit shop entitled ‘Grimm Funeral Home.’ How nice to see the world hasn’t lost its sense of irony

“In here!”  I called, floating through the door.  As we moved quietly into the dark shop, I noticed a group of four people at the counter.  A tall man with a long, sallow face was talking solemnly with them.  Something about him was . . . unpleasant.  I almost thought I saw his eyes flick towards me, but of course, normal humans can’t see me.  He was probably looking at Isaac.  Not that I’d blame him, if a sniveling idiot like Isaac suddenly strode into _my_ shop I’d probably blast him back onto the street with a well placed Junction.

The four of us hurried behind a rack of coffins, as we huddled in discussion.  “I think I may have got us a ride west.”  I whispered to Valentine.  Following a questioning glance, I repeated everything that had happened after Nic confronted us.  He nodded, “So we need to find a place called the House of Cards, locate a mysterious fellow who should have died years ago, and do it all before our mystery courier is killed?”

I nodded, “That’s pretty much it.  And let’s be honest, this is definitely not the worst challenge we’ve run into.”

“That’s not exactly a comforting thought.”  Isaac added.  

“Your pessimism isn’t comforting either.”  I hissed.  

“All we really need to do is find this casino.”  Valentine said thoughtfully.  “Maybe we could ask around?”

“But we’re not a hundred percent sure that Coulter will be there.”  Isaac commented.

 “It’s the best chance we’ve got.  So, I suppose we’ll have to ask around about where this House of Cards is, then see if anyone’s heard of Heath Coulter.” I said with a bit of finality.  

“What was that about Heath Coulter?”  A cold voice asked. We whipped around to be face to face with the funeral direct, the guy I assumed was Mr. Grimm.  He had a thin smile on his face, and up close was unnaturally pale, with dark lines under his eyes and a neutral expression on his face.  Muttering _‘Satyagraha’_ under my breath, I felt the world spin around me as a Scentcast took hold on the world.  Before I could observe the funeral director closely, however, he stated, “You can cancel the Scentcast girl, I’m nothing more than a Sensitive.”

Blinking in surprise, I took a quick look at him to see if he was some evil spirit, then canceled the spell, eyeing him warily.  Two Sensitives in a few days?  As Valentine said, there’s no such thing as coincidence.  Eyeing him warily, I asked, “Who, or what, are you?” 

Mr. Grimm let a frigid smile touch his lips.  “Me?  Well, I suppose I could say I’m nothing more than a Sensitive who runs a funeral home.  Or.”  He drew a dark token from his pocket, “One could say that, like you, I’m a Sensitive who’s had extensive dealings with the Devil.”

I eyed the thing he brought out reproachfully.  It was a credit card just like mine, black, with a leering cartoon moon at the center.  “So,” Grimm said, “What’s this I hear about Heath Coulter?”

“Never heard the name before in my life.” I said blithely.  Grimm’s cold smile became more pronounced.  “Maybe this will jog your memory.”  

He pulled out a white blossom from the same pocket as the credit card.  It appeared to be preserved through some spell, and glowed with an aura that was every color of the rainbow.  It meant nothing to me, but heard Valentine breath, “The Orchard Syndicate.”

I recoiled in sudden apprehension.  Of course!  The badge of the Orchard Syndicate. This creepo was an Agent of the Orchard Syndicate! If he wasn’t, then the Rainbow Petal would burn him.  I glanced at my ghostly blue finger.  It still bore the faint scars of when I tried to steal a friends Rainbow Petal badge.  Well, just because Grimm’s a good guy doesn’t mean I have to like him.

There was a brief moment of silence before I finally said curtly, “Alright, so Nic told us to figure out how Coulter’s staying alive in exchange for a ride west.”

Grimm observed us with unusually glittering eyes, before asking, “And why exactly do you need a ride west?”  

“Regardless of why we need to get west, according to Nic, if we can’t get to the person who would supply us with the ride in time, they’ll die.”

“People die every day.”  Grimm said softly, running a long finger down the side of a coffin, as if he’d forgotten we were there.  “Why is one person more important the thousands of others who are killed?”

I balled my hands into fists.  “Because if you can save even one life, that’s worth it!  Not that someone obsessed with death like you would understand the value of a life!”  

Grimm turned on me so fast I took a step back.  His eyes were like chips of ice as he rose up, towering above me.  “Do not mistake my logic for apathy, girl!”  He thundered.  Isaac and Valentine both raised their hands defensively, but Mr. Grimm snapped his fingers and spoke a spell in a dark voice.  Gray, flailing shapes rose from the floorboards and bound Valentine and Isaac, as Grimm turned his furious gaze upon me.  The cold and deathly man looked like he was about to explode, before he suddenly looked down his eyes attained a dull sheen.  The gray shades that had risen from the ground vanished, as Grimm slumped and muttered, "So long . . . So long ago."

My enmity for him vanished on the spot.  I could understand how horrible the ghosts of the past could be, and I knew I must've crossed some line.  I didn't know what to do other than stare at the ground.  Mr. Grimm rose to his feet and moved for the backroom.  I looked around to see the place was empty, eerily so.  Just us and the mortician.  He turned, saying "Follow me"  before entering the darkness of the room behind the counter, his thin frame vanishing in the shadows.


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## QDOS (Nov 30, 2011)

Hi Nevermore

  You’re fast and furious and that’s fine, your story burning to get on to the page. However, I see the need to resort to a little more forward planning of your scenes and the flow from one to another. Do you have a general outline of the chapters and a total word count? You have the start and by implication, I believe you already have the idea for your climax.  Now is the time to fill in chapter by chapter a note or two so you can structure better the progressive complications that lie between.

  Rules of speech 
  [FONT=&Verdana]"So try not to blow the cafe up while I'm gone, okay?" Valentine commented. <NP Following sentence applies to a different character > I blinked out of a sleepy daze, pulling myself upright as he moved to get up from our cafe table. 

 [/FONT]
  Adverbial use 
  As Valentine swept out the cafe door, Isaac pushed around a half eaten pastry drearily.
  I’d delete the word altogether or perhaps use it this way.
  As Valentine swept out the cafe door, Isaac drearily pushed around a half-eaten pastry. 

  QDOS  :cool2:


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## Nevermore (Dec 1, 2011)

Hmm, I do think I may want to slow it up a bit.  I wasn't especially satisfie with this chapter, and plan on rewriting it to some extent.


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## Nevermore (Dec 6, 2011)

This Chapter is in between 8 and nine.  Officially, it is the chapter nine, and Dark Moon is Chapter ten, but I won't bother to change anything right now.

_Chapter 8.5: The Cask​_

Wind swept across the quiet  steppe.  Streaks of grass stretched in every direction, and in the distance, I could vaguely make out lines of trees.  A fire crackled softly in the middle of our camp, as I leaned back, looking at the stars.  We were so far from civilization that light pollution wasn’t casting its obfuscating haze, and the full glory of the night sky blazed above.  I felt at peace, sitting beneath the blanket of lights that stretched to infinity.  Isaac was curled beneath a blanket on the opposite side of the fire, and through the smoke from the embers, I could faintly make out Emets outline.  Valentine had fallen asleep next to me, lying with his back to the earth and his face to the stars.  I hovered a centimeter above the ground, the grass touching my back, as my ghostly blue aura flickered and shifted like morning mist.  It was so peaceful, so beautiful.  I wished I could stay in this moment of my life (and by life I mean death) forever.  Surrounded by friends, with only the feeling of the gentle breeze across me and the quiet blades of grass below, I felt more content than I ever had while alive. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”  Valentine said quietly.  I jumped slightly, my arms passing straight through the ground as Valentine grinned sheepishly.  “Ah, sorry Skylar.” 

I sat up, drawing my knees towards my body and wrapping my arms around them.  “It’s all right.  So, you’ve been awake all this time?”

“Yeah.”  I thought Valentine sounded almost sad as he said this.  I wondered what skeletons haunted his closet. After all, I don't know much about him.  I don't know him at all, actually.  But despite meeting him barely a day ago, I still felt at ease near him (as long as the stupid, creepy golden staff wasn't near).  I felt like I could trust him.

Valentine propped himself up with his elbows behind him.  "So, what do you plan on doing after this is over?"

I shrugged, "No idea, really.  I guess I could stay at the Library, or maybe just continue travelling with Isaac.  Why are you traveling to Notgeist anyways?"

Valentine chuckled enigmatically, "Personal affairs."

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever.  Well, what do you plan on doing when your little escapade is done?"
Valentine rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Hmm, well, I plan on raising the dead, killing an evil overlord, and taking over the world."

I scoffed derisively.  "What, planning on whipping out the Jericho Rose and making yourself a god or something?"

Valentine smiled, "Absolutely."  He paused pensively, before adding  "Of course, when I was little, it was always called the Rose of Judas."

I smiled, remembering the old story my brother used to tell me.  I could see in my mind the two of us, curled up in front of the fire place.

_I pushed a dark, dog-eared book into my brother’s arms, pulling open to a page bearing a flowery illustration of a mad looking magician holding up eight shining stars. “Again?”  He asked, smiling.  _

_“Yeah!  Can you read it to me?” I had responded excitedly._

_Of course he said yes, and we leaned back in the couch, the cheery fire of the Library’s main hall dancing merrily, as if chuckling.  My brother read out, in a deep, comically dramatic voice, “’Once upon a time, there was a Sensitive.  This Sensitive was both a genius, and completely insane.  Perhaps he needed both to do what he planned on doing.  The Mad Magician was the first out of every other Sensitive to figure out how to cast spells.  This brought him great fame, for though he was mad, he was a good person, and traveled the country side, fixing the petty problems of those he encountered.  One day, while crossing al lonely bridge at midnight, the Mad Magician was confronted by Evil.  The devil, Nicodemus, approached the Mad Magician, applauding his creativity.  But Nicodemus was crafty, and was ever plotting.  He planted a seed of longing, of curiosity in the mind of the Mad Magician.  ‘You know.’  The devil said, ‘While ingenious, you’ve barely scratched the surface of what you’ve discovered.’  He whispered tantalizing possibility to the Mad Magician, and the Magician was enthralled.  So he went into seclusion, all other affairs forgotten. For thirty days and thirty nights he stayed there, without the company of living or dead. On the thirty-first day he emerged, eyes gleaming with joy, inspiration, and madness.  Flying to work, without any care for the damage it could have, the Mad Magician sought to cut a hole in reality, to go beyond where the limits of the mortal world shackled him.  To achieve godhood. He set about creating his Witch Engine, powered by the power and life force of him and all his friends who wished him success, though they never knew the extent of his ambition.  As the Witch Engine was activated, something went horribly wrong.  It sapped at the world, drawing upon every spark of life.  The great machine plunged through the gaps of reality, but the strain was too great.  His friends, his ghosts, and every living person within a mile of the Engine was eradicated from existence, and still, the Witch Engine never fully cut through reality, and all of the Mad Magicians dreams came crashing down around him, and the guilt of the deaths he brought down on the world broke him. Lost in more ways than one, the Mad Magician fled to the ends of the earth, until Nicodemus confronted him a second time.  The Mad Magician howled how his experiments killed his friends, how he murdered hundreds of people and still his experiment failed.  But then Nicodemus planted a second seed of inspiration in the Mad Magicians head.  The Mad Magician realized that he could amend his mistakes, return those he lost to life, and still possibly achieve his desires. Sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, the Mad Magician returned to the toxic rubble of the Witch Engine.  Breathing in the powerful ghostly aura that pervaded the air, the power of death and his life mixing together, the Mad Magician felt at the seams were the fabric of reality as wrinkled and damaged beyond repair. He wove complicated spells, a net of cants that slowly created his masterpiece of achievement.  Folding and refolding the crease in reality, the Mad Magician wove the crease into a catalyst of extraordinary power.  He took the power, the twist in reality, and gave it a material form, a goblet from which sprung the power to rewrite the world to its bearer’s whims.  Using his Cask of Wonders, the Mad Magician brought his friends back to life, cured the land of the poison the Witch Engine had inflicted on the land.  But even as he wove for himself a palace and beautiful kingdom, he began to feel unease.  “What is this thing I have created?”  He pondered to himself.  The Cask from which miracles spouted had grown sinister and dark in the Magicians eyes.”Such a thing shouldn’t exist.”  He decided.  He attempted to turn the power of the Cask of Wonders inward, but though the material form shattered at first, it reformed minutes later.  He raised the Cask in frustration, and dark smog poured from its lip.  Before the Mad Magician appeared Nicodemus.  “Are you unpleased with your triumph?”  Nicodemus asked._

_The Mad Magician sighed.”I don’t know anymore.  This thing, this so called Cask of Wonders should not exist.  It’s is an unnatural evil.”_

_“You have done great and kind things with the Cask.”  Nicodemus remarked with the air of one confessing to a loud fart._

_The Mad Magician’s frown became more pronounced. “Yes, but think of what would happen if anyone other than myself got the Cask?"_
_Nicodemus shrugged, "I see what you mean.  A less savory, or even less intelligent person would cause massive destruction with this.  And you won't live forever, so eventually some fool will get their hands on it.  But still, this isn't my problem."_

_The Mad Magician continued as if he hadn't heard the Devil (he was mad after all), saying, "What I need is a way to destroy it.  But whenever I try, the power within the Cask forces it to reform. Perhaps a greater power could destroy?  But that would just leave me with  second, even more powerful Cask . . . "  He continued in this vein for some time, in several different languages, and in one or two strings of meaningless gibberish,-"_

_I always laughed a this part, my brother chuckling with me. I would ask him, "Was it rally gibberish if he understood what he was saying?"  And my brother would respond kindly, "Who can fathom the mind of a mad genius?  Now, are you going to let me finish?" With that he continued _

_"- until Nicodemus snapped his fingers, "I suppose you don't have to destroy it, just weaken its power."_

_The Mad Magician leapt to his feet, exclaiming, "I know how!"_

_Nicodemus smiled rather nastily, glad he would no longer have to be summoned like a dog to its master by the Cask, and departed, his work done.  The Mad Magician was oblivious to the Devils exit, and set about his third and final project._

_It took him a year, but at its end, he emerged, carrying not the Cask of Wonders, but eight small tokens.  With him he bore the Lunar Helm, the Primeval Verbatim, The Eye of Eternity, the Mirror of Beyond, the Aftermath Pact, the Nightwatch, the Right of the Evening, and, most powerful of them all, the Jericho Rose.  He had ingeniously split the Cask into eight parts, a Heavenly Octet. Each bore only a fraction of the Casks godly power, but were still remarkable in their own right.  When the Cask was split, many, thinking him now weak, rained down on him and his kingdom.  But the Mad Magician simply used the Octet, and they fell like dry leaves to a fire.  _
_With the Nightwatch he froze time and moved among their ranks unopposed!  _
_With the Aftermath Pact he reversed any consequence felt on reality!  _
_With the Mirror of Beyond he caught glimpses of worlds beyond even his insane imagination!  _
_With the Right of the Evening, he bent the seasons to his will!  _
_With the Lunar Helm, he was invulnerable to magic!  _
_With the Primeval Verbatim he worked fantastical creatures into reality!  _
_And with the quiet grace of the Jericho Rose, he could grant any wish, return the dead to life, and use it to empower the others of the Octet.  And so he embarked on a quest across the land, attempting to destroy or hide the now weakened shards of the Cask of Wonders.  In his final years, with only the Mirror of Beyond in his belt buckle, he glimpsed within to see Death waiting.  Death extended His hand to him, and with a spring in his step, the Mad Magician took his hand, ending his life an old man, eager for what adventures lurked beyond deaths door."_

_My brother shut the book close, and I would exclaim excitedly, "I want to be like the Magician and have all sorts of great adventures!"_

_Brother would always laugh, ruffling my hair and grinning, "And I'm sure you'll be an even better adventurer than even the Mad Magician."_

I sighed, lost in dreams of the past.   “I loved that story.  The Mad Magician and his Rose.”  Valentine smiled as well, saying, “An Orchard Syndicate Agent once gave me a copy of the book as child.  I memorized the entire thing from front to cover.”

 I snorted, "It's no wonder we found you alone. " 

I put my arms behind my head, leaning back as Valentine asked me amiably, “If you had the Jericho Rose, or even that Magicians Cask of Wonders, what would you do?”

A hundred thoughts went through my head (most of them illegal), as I responded, “I think. . . “  He touched my black jacket, the aura of ghosts shimmering faintly around me.  I knew that below was the spectral bloodstain from where I was shot.  “I think,”  I said slowly, “I would like to return to life.  That would be my wish.  But if I had the Cask . . . “ I shot Valentine a mischievous grin, “You probably would be aghast if I told you what I’d do.”

Valentine grinned back, “Try me.”

Raising my transparent fingers, I counted off, “Well, first I’d firebomb every tabloid building in the world.  I hate the tabloids.  Leeches that feed on the misfortune of society.  Than I’d put golden statues of myself everywhere,  build myself a crown made out of bacon, get a giant robot, an unlimited supply of lipstick and heavy artillery, a personal sniper squadron, paint the Library of Anax bright pink, give Emet horns. . . “  I paused, before adding thoughtfully, “And I’d give Isaac a handlebar mustache.” 
Unable to hold it in, we both burst out in silent laughter, while Isaac rolled over in his sleep, muttering something about Azrati-shaped cabbages.  “And while we’re on the subject of things that would totally get me in trouble, I think I’d like to put a waterslide along the Library’s Grand Stairwell.”

“How the hell did you not get fired?” Valentine asked, eyebrows raised.

“Natural beauty.”  I responded haughtily.

Valentine responded, and I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic when he said, “I can see.”

I blushed a bit, hoping he wouldn't see the tint of red in my ghostly blue face.  Why do boys make things so awkward?  Stupid idiots.  Brains like cold tapioca.

"You know, you're a lot like me, Skylar.  It's been a while since I actually met someone who I felt could understand me."  Valentine said lazily, plopping back on the grass and staring at the sky.  I smiled.  Under the night, I felt close to him.  Then, Valentine then continued softly, "We both understand death."

I stayed silent.  If anyone else, even Isaac, had said this to me, I would have hit them with a Percussion or  respond sarcastically with a "Oh really? I didn't know were shot to death too!  We should start a club!"

Valentine remained quiet as well, as if the past was too painful for him to remember.  He said very slowly, " Your own death isn't the only one haunting you, is it?"

I froze.  My hand unconsciously reached down my shirt.  I grabbed numbly at the chain around my neck, the thin golden necklace, now irremovably bound to my body.  I wanted to open the locket, to look at our faces from back then.  Before he died.  But despite everything, despite the time that had passed, I couldn't.  I hadn't in two years.

Valentine looked down, still as the grave.  I didn't know what to feel.  Sadness?  Anger at Valentines prying?  Or just the weight of guilt that was on my shoulders?  After what seemed like a lifetime, I said, my voice heavy with the emotions that tore at me, "How did you know?"

Valentine sat up, looking away from the stars that spangled the blackness of the night.  There was no moon, but the far off starlight still filled the secluded steppe.  He said to me, "Did you know that viruses don't sleep?  I suppose in that respect, I am like a virus.  I am physically unable to sleep.  The gold token in my chest prevents this from killing me, but it's still hard to bear.  Every night I stay awake, watching the world around me." 

I inhaled sharply, on the verge of fury, "You saw-"

Valentine nodded quietly, " I saw you the other night, staring at the golden locket.  As though you were afraid to open it.  Crying."

"That's not technically true."  I looked down, eyes screwed shut.  "I can't cry.  I can sob and wail all I want, but I can never cry true tears."

Valentine sighed heavily.  "I hate the world.  I hate people most of all."  After a dark pause, he asked, "Who was it?"

I frowned, unable to answer. 

He shook his head, “I’m sorry Skylar, I shouldn’t have pried.”

“It’s alight.”  I said, my voice barely audible.  We sat there, staring at the ground, the only sound the wind brushing across the grass.


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## QDOS (Dec 7, 2011)

Hi Nevermore

  This is a better link to join the end of chapter eight to nine, although I feel there is still a sentence or two to make the jump from open steppe to the café scene. A few typos you can sort when you proofread. 

  Two observations:-
   One the use of ‘But’-  consider using, ‘Yet’, ‘However’ or ‘Nevertheless’ to vary your options. 

  Two is Skylar’s brother reading from a book. [/FONT]Expressing dialogue within dialogue can be such a bind and [FONT=&Verdana]always contentious, the rules at times seem at odds with each other.
  1) _Begin a new paragraph whenever the speaker changes._
  2) _When a speaker is relaying descriptive passages (i.e. reading from or quoting from a book), you could choose to keep everything in one paragraph or separate them into their own paragraphs. The decision uses the same criteria when deciding to start a new paragraph. In other words, if you have more than one action to portray or a change of speaker give each its own paragraph. _

“Double quotes ‘single quotes’ within.”[/FONT]  You have a long paragraph applying the first option of rule 2) including text and speech by the devil. Then break it into individual paragraphs for the _devil_, [/FONT]_Nicodemus _[FONT=&Verdana]_and Mad Magician _[FONT=&Verdana]speakers following rule 1) using double quotes. As this is still part of Skylar’s brother telling the story, shouldn’t they be single quotes? 

    I have an even bigger head ache as UK Publishers quite often apply the use of quotes the opposite way round. 
QDOS  :cool2:


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## Nevermore (Dec 10, 2011)

Yes, I will do that for future chapters, though, again, I am far too lazy to immediately edit this Chapter.  Also, I'd like to say thank you for continuing to read my story and for the comments, it really helps to know someone is reading these.



_ Chapter 11: Bright and Grim Encounters_​
Mr. Grimm sat quietly behind a humble desk of ebony.  The entire room around us looked brittle, and even though I was floating above the floor, I felt like it could _still_ splinter under my weight.  Isaac shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and the room felt cold.  I floated a bit closer to Valentine, moving towards his warmth, as Mr. Grimm spoke.  "So, in detail, explain why you are searching for Heath Coulter?"

 As he calmly interlocked his spider-like fingers, I leaned in with Isaac and Valentine, "Should we tell him?"

"I don't see why not."  Valentine murmured.  "He is an Orchard Syndicate Agent."

"Whatever we do, we need to do it fast.  We're on two time limits here."  Isaac said quietly.  "We need to get this done before the Azrati catches up and before Nic's mystery person is killed."  I could almost feel the world begin to close in on us as Isaac stated what I'd been trying to push to the back of my mind.

I turned to face Grimm, finally stating, "Nic offered us a deal.  Apparently Coulter's Death Limiter would have had him set to die as a baby, but somehow he's still alive."

"And Nic didn't miscalculate?"  Grimm asked lazily.

"I doubt it.  What's more, sinners souls have been vanishing off the planet near this Coulter character.  So, Nic wants us to get to the bottom of all the various shenanigans going,  andi n return, he gets us a lift to the Great Library of Anax."

Grimm nodded slowly, his blank, gaunt eyes staring straight past us.  After what seemed like eternity, he stated, "I've heard of this Heath Coulter.  In fact, the Syndicate contacted me days ago.  Apparently, Coulter used the _Azruti _Command several times over the past month, and I was instructed to kill him."

I felt apprehension stir inside, and pulled backwards, drifting up a bit higher.  _Multiple times?_ Was he insane, evil, or an unhealthy mix of both?  "Does this have to do with the strange markings on his neck and his Death Limiter?"  Is asked carefully.

"I would assume so."  Grimm said neutrally.

Valentine looked like his mind was racing a mile per hour.  "I think that the best solution is to find him first.  I think I have a source that could try and get the gist of these mysterious markings."  I noticed his eyes flicker darkly to where I remembered the golden token was embedded in his chest.  Before I could ask, Isaac cut in, "Do you know were the House of Cards is, sir?"

Mr. Grimm looked rather taken aback, "Of course.  It's right down the street.  You can see it out the window. 

All of us, save Emet, leaned out the window.  A huge, neon decked building with lights flashing every color of the rainbow peeked out the window about a block down the street.  Of course. 

"Why . . . did you pull us . . . aside?"  Emet asked softly.  "I . . . doubt it was to tell us your . . . entire background."  Well, glad to see the Presence has _some_ wit in him.  But Mr. Grimm simply smiled thinly, "Oh, I never tell anyone my background.  It would likely drive them insane."  I had a feeling he wasn't exaggerating.

Mr. Grimm leaned in close to us, speaking three sentence that shattered the world for me,  "I know who you are, Skylar Parish.  What's more, I know something about your death.  Rumors spring eternal that all the exact details have been privy to the Vox Nobilis since the very hour you were shot."

I reeled backwards, passing straight through Valentine.

Mr. Grimm looked dead serious, a perfect reflection of the dark mood.  Anger started to rise up in me again, as I demanded softly, “What do you know.”

Mr. Grimm kept his eyes trained on me as I floated to his lofty eye level, my eyes blazing with barely constrained fury.  “What do you know?”  I demanded, my voice louder.  Grimm looked at me, cold, and with a hint of . . . pity?  Sadness?  Regret?  He said unflinchingly, “I apologize for dropping it so suddenly.  If you wish, I can tell you what I know.”

I floated down stiffly next to Valentine.  Grimm knew what happened?  A thousand thoughts whirled through my head.  How?   Why?  And more importantly, what would happen when I knew?  Truthfully, I was a bit afraid of having to face this.  I’ve tried to make light of my death, especially around Isaac and Valentine, but that doesn't change the cold numbness of ghosthood, the dark loneliness of death.  I settled  into a cross legged sitting position, arms folded coldly,  "Why would the Vox care about my death?  For that matter, how did they know about it?"

Isaac coughed uncomfortably, "You never asked me how I knew where to find you, did you?"

I turned on him, eyebrows raised.  I'd totally forgotten that.  "How-"

Isaac folded his arms as well, a quiet, sad look on his face.  "I ran into someone while running.  They got me away from those men the second time I timed out with Emet.  A short woman, mousy hair, nervous looking."  He frowned.  "She told me . . . She told me that I needed a friend, a protector, and a teacher, and told me she knew were the ghost of Skylar Parish was."

He looked at me, a bit of admiration in his sad gaze, "I heard a lot about you from a passing ghosts, a powerful and talented Sensitive.  I thought it was my best shot.  I never realized . . ."  He gazed at me guiltily, "I'm sorry Skylar, I should've known it was important."

I couldn't bring myself to lash out at him again.  I'd rather die again than admit it, by Isaac was pretty much my best friend.  "It's alright.  Now,"  I turned to Grimm, repeating my earlier question, "What does the Vox Nobilis care about my death?"

Mr. Grimm interlocked his fingers, looking at me with an unreadable expression.  "I have heard that several of them were responsible.  That they orchestrated it."

I didn't know what to say.  The Vox Nobilis are pretty much the government for Sensitives.  the fund the Library and the Syndicate, and pass all related laws.  I was torn between disbelief, scorn, and blank shock.  My frown deepening, I said bluntly, "And why the hell would they do that?  Talented and pretty as I may be, why would the Vox bring themselves so low as to common murder?"

Mr. Grimm shrugged, "I don't know.  All I know is that they were well aware of your death, and were somehow involved with it.  What your friend says seems to reinforce this."  He nodded to Isaac. 

Turning to us, rather business like, Grimm stroked his sallow chin, saying, "There is a chance that Coulters antics could draw the ire of the Vox Nobilis, in which case they would send a representative or, if you're lucky, a Noble.  Along with that, you could inquire to Nicodemus the nature of the Vox's knowledge.  Now, you must be careful when confronting Coulter.  From what I've seen, a shadow always hovers behind his shoulder, like a mirage of darkness.  This could be a simple conjuring, a Presence, or even a Malignancy."

He fingered the Orchard Syndicate badge, the petals warm light out of place in the morticians office.  He turned to us, and said, "Be on your way.  I need to file a report to the Syndicate immediately, but will follow when I get the chance.  Now, you best hurry, unless you want Coulter to elude you and your ride west to die."

A goal.  Something to accomplish and fulfill, and more importantly, a drive to focus on to blot out the turmoil of thoughts in my head.

Without another word, I turned, hair flicking wildly across my face.  Though my knuckles clenched, I tried to say in a forcefully cheerful voice, “C’mon, lets go.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Valentine and Isaac share an uneasy glance, before moving to follow me.  However, as I was about to exit the threshold of Grimm’s office, he called to me from his desk, “Skylar.”

I turned unsure about what to expect.  Mr. Grimm called calmly, with the faintest ghost of a smile touching the corner of his lips, “I hope you find your answers, Ms. Parish.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I gave a confidant nod, striding through the door with Valentine and Isaac beside me.



We moved out onto the street, sun glaring overhead.  Following the flashes of neon coming from the ostentatious casino, the four of us moved, unnoticed, through the streets.  Within minutes, the luminous jester and his hat made of playing cards buzzed above us.  Isaac scratched his head, “What do you think that shadow thing Grimm mentioned could be?”

“Something like that would have to be a spell or a Presence.”  I responded, possibilities churning in my mind.  An esoteric arrangement of people poured into and out of the building, as Valentine commented, “It may be some kind of Curse related to the markings Nic mentioned.” 

Isaac said with finality, “Well, nothing for it but to find the Coulter guy.  Assuming he is here.”

Out of pure annoyance, I zapped him in the butt with a Spark, commenting, “You’re pessimism is starting to bring down the mood.  Drink some sunshine or something, it’s not like this is the most dangerous thing we’ve done so far.”

Giving me a nasty look, Isaac moved into the front doors, closely followed by Emet, with me and Valentine bringing up the rear.  Our eyes were immediately assaulted by hundreds of bright lights, sounds, and voice.  Glaring slot machines, bubbling with light practically blinded me, and within the first five seconds of being within the damn place, I had to restrain myself so as to not blast one of those stupid money sucking machines out the window. 

Isaac made a face.  “This place is horrible.  Like the worst parts of a carnival and a traffic jam rolled into one.”

We skirted around a wildly cheering man at a poker table, a wildly sobbing man at a poker table, and a man in a white suit surrounded by women, until I finally found a secluded corner were most of the casino was in view.  Raising my hands and whipping up a Scentcast, I quickly scanned the room for any sight of our mystery man, or any ghostly aura, really.  Heavy streaks of woe and joy were blown across the casino, the wild emotions that had been etched on the buildings walls.  Trying to look past the now revealed essences of the living, I scanned for any ghostly auras, hints of a fuzzy red glow dotted a few of the machines.  That was odd.  I didn’t see anything remotely remarkable from this viewpoint, just a few sharp spikes of magic here and there.  

Curling up in a squashy looking chair and cancelling the Scentcast, I said, “I can’t really see anything.  Maybe Coulter isn’t here?”

“We could ask around?”  Valentine suggested halfheartedly.  Isaac shook his head, “We shouldn’t unless as a last resort, so we don’t have to give away our presence.  He might just scarper.  Eyes narrowing, Isaac flicked out his hands in front of him, chanting, “_Satyagraha_.”

He gazed around at the casino, then stopped, staring at the man in the white suit.  “Skylar,”  He said slowly,  “What the hell is that?”


I squinted at the guy.  He hadn’t seemed that remarkable when I saw him through the Scentcast, but something must’ve shocked Isaac (though I was prepared to guess it was jealousy).  Muttering ‘_Satyagraha_’ under my breath, I stared at the figure in the white suit.  At first, I didn’t see anything, just another idiot on a brief spit of luck at a casino.  Then I noticed his spiritual pressure.  There was none, not a single drop.  It’s like he was a black hole, and every aura around him was sucked in.  Not a single trace of ghostly aura was around him, but that was impossible, every living thing has a spiritual pressure of some sort. 

Valentine whistled, apparently having looked at him under a Scentcast as well.  “This guy a robot or something?”

 “Even if he was, there would still be remains of spiritual pressure, outlines of significant things that came in contact with him.”  Isaac said. 

I floated upwards slightly, saying, “It could be some kind of shielding spell.”

“More likely an after affect of surviving past his Death Limiter.”  Valentine said.

I guess Valentine was right, but something was bugging me.  I couldn’t place it, but I felt we were missing something.

“Nothing for it but to go confront him.”  Isaac said bracingly.

“Shouldn’t we wait until he’s alone?”  I asked.  “May not be best to attack him while he’s surrounded by those fluff headed idiots fawning over him.”

Valentine tapped his foot with his golden staff, “We need to get this done as quickly as possible.”  Ignoring the nagging feeling in my head, I sighed.  Valentine was right. 

“Alright, let’s go.”  I said.  The four of us moved silently through the bustling crowd of people and emotion.  Within the shining steel of the machines, Emets image could be seen in the reflection.  As we neared the bright table where the man I assumed was Heath Coulter sat, Valentine held a hand out in front of me and Isaac.  “Wait.”  He murmured as I passed through his arm and stumbled to a stop.

“Why-“  The words died in my throat, as a figure moved towards Coulter.  A serious, but somewhat nervous looking woman dressed in a white, proper looking coat was moving intently towards Coulter.  Trailing behind her was a heavyset ghost in flowing robes of gold and black, a look of pompous smugness on his face.  She quickly sidled in next to Coulter, tapping him on the shoulder and muttering something extremely rapidly to him.  Rising with a start, the two, locked in conversation, moved for a shadowy backroom, eventually vanishing behind a bright red door.  After a moment, the rather fat ghost followed them.

"Well that was . . . mysterious."  Valentine said with finality.  Isaac said, "Something about that woman looked familiar, but . . ."

The ghost looked familiar as well, but I couldn't place him.  And to be honest, I'd rather not place him, as that would involve being associated with a fat, pompous, dead guy.

Drifting forward slowly, I said with finality, "Well, better get this thing done.  I'm going to come back to life just to puke if I have to spend another minute in this place."


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## QDOS (Dec 11, 2011)

[FONT=&Verdana]Hi Nevermore, 
I know this is just a draft, but just to keep you on your toes, my observations and suggestions. 
Paragraph 7(andi n - and in), 11 (were -where) 12 (, "Of  . “Of) 23 (from a passing ghosts, - ghost or from passing ghosts ) 24 (, by Isaac – but Isaac) 26 (the fund the Library – they fund) [/FONT]


_All of us, save Emet, leaned out the window[/FONT]_. _[FONT=&Verdana]A huge, neon decked building with lights flashing every color of the rainbow peeked out the window about a block down the street. Of course. _
  [FONT=&Verdana](peeked out the window - replace with maybe - lay) (_Of course. _Delete doesn’t add anything.) 

 [/FONT]
  Dialogue confusion:- Three different identities Emet, Mr Grimm and Skylar
"Why . . . did you pull us . . . aside?" Emet asked softly. [/FONT]NP?[/FONT]"I . . . doubt it was to tell us your . . . entire background." [/FONT]NP? [FONT=&Verdana]Well, glad to see the Presence has _some_ wit in him. But Mr. Grimm simply smiled thinly, "Oh, I never tell anyone my background. It would likely drive them insane." [FONT=&Verdana]NP[FONT=&Verdana] I had a feeling he wasn't exaggerating.[FONT=&Verdana]

 [/FONT]
_Rising with a start, the two, locked in conversation, moved for a shadowy backroom, eventually vanishing behind a bright red door.[/FONT]_[FONT=&Verdana] (for – suggest towards)

  QDOS 8)


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## Nevermore (Dec 22, 2011)

Cool, I'll make sure to look at that.  However, its doubtful I'll actually edit this until I've reached the confrontation with the hidden antagonist in the Chamber of Riddles.  Until I finish the first draft, I'm not looking back much.

In the meantime, chapter 11

_Chapter 11: Confrontation​_​​​​
The round bellied ghost gave a cautious glance around the room, though I managed to duck behind Isaac so he wouldn't see me.

"He's gone through the door."  Isaac muttered.  I passed straight through him, causing Isaac to give a violent shudder, then marched towards the door.  We ducked through the cacophony of people, Valentine in the lead, Emet and I closely on his heels, with Isaac bringing up the rear, still shivering uncomfortably (to my delight) at the feeling of having a ghost walk straight through you.

As we neared the door, Isaac held a hand out to stop me from barging in and blasting everything within reach with Thundershocks.  "Wait.  Maybe we should check before we just throw ourselves in?"

Valentine stepped forward lazily, "Allow me."  He waved his golden staff across the door, and a spinning circle appeared in front of it.  It was like the area of the door seen through the circle of golden light simply wasn't there.  I peered through the magic peephole to see, not a block of unyielding wood, but the inside of a dark room, lit only by a sallow-looking lamp.  The woman was gesticulating nervously at the man, whose eyes were narrowed.  The ghost hovered ominously behind them, purple fire cringing around his fingers.

"Everyone is pretty focused on each other."  Valentine whispered.  "We should be able to slip in, at least confront them without walking into an ambush."

I took a cautious step forward, letting my hand hover in front of the door.  Isaac gave me a quick nudge, and I Caused the door to swing open silently.  We slipped in, Isaac raising his hands cautiously, the Materialization command just waiting to roll off his tongue.  The nervous girl, fat ghost, and man I guessed was Coulter were all staring at each other, locked in serious conversation.  Coulter was seated pleasantly at a desk, sprawled backward with an annoying arrogant posture.  The woman was saying with surprising firmness. “You know you won’t get away?  The Vox are closing in on you right now.”

The ghost chuckled presumptuously.  “Give up Coulter.”

I frowned, slowly moving forward, Valentine and Isaac right next to me.  This is wrong.  Those idiots are acting like they’ve already won.  Grimm said that Coulter was always accompanied by some strange shadow, but I didn't see it.  Regardless, these people were being novices, and we needed to step in case Coulter was as strong as I thought he was.  The woman brushed at her hair in a twitchy manner, as Coulter said with a theatrical sigh. “Oh well.  I suppose you got me pretty good.  I guess I have no choice but to submit.”

Instead of getting annoyed at him or (as I probably would have done) nailed him with a Scouring for his sarcasm, the woman laughed nervously.  "That is good to hear. "  The idiot was actually taking him seriously!  The ghost appeared to be made of sterner stuff, as he leaned in unpleasantly and hissed, "Don't try anything.  Even if you get past us, there is an Orchard Syndicate Agent barely a block from here, ready to stomp you out."

Valentine gave a light groan of frustration, whispering so low I barely heard him, "He just gave away Grimm!  Now Coulter knows about him!"

Though Coulter looked relaxed, I noticed his hand begin to slip beneath the desk, pulling a silver pendant from beneath a hidden slot.  Suddenly, I flashed back to four years ago, to an Artifact Studies lecture I had to go to.  I remembered the one other time I'd seen such a thing, on a projector in the Libraries West Wing.  The one other time I'd witnessed such an evil device.  Yelling out in anger, forgetting the mission Nic had assigned us, I raised a hand and screamed out, "_Zocayat_!" 

The Scouring blew forward,  a whiplash of bent air and a menacing fiery outline.  Just as Coulter drew the silver pendant, he noticed my incoming spell.  He dropped the pendant in surprise and a gray shade of flickering shadows drew up in front of him.  Coulter, the shade, the fat ghost, and the nervous woman all leaped out of the way, as my spell struck the table, sending streaking scorch marks across the surface.  There was a moment of heavy silence, then the table exploded into black slivers of scorched wood.  I turned at Coulter, blind with rage.  Flicking my hand five times in rapid succession and a row of Junctions were sent at him like a volley of arrows.  Faster than I would have thought possible, Coulter made a hex sign with his hands and shouted out, "_Vipadyate_! _Anulepa_!"

The Presence behind him writhed, as the Unction it cast reverberated in the air and my spells were turned into a rubbery, petroleum like oil, splattering across the ground.  Swearing, I raised my hand for another spell, hopefully something potent enough to not be deflected by an Unction again, when Isaac said weakly, "Skylar, we're not supposed to kill him yet.  What's wrong with you?"

Valentine caught sight of the silver pendant as well, and swore in surprise.  The dark token bubbled with malevolence, just looking at it made me want to wretch.  Heath Coulter smiled lazily.  "Oh, you recognize this?"  The shade raised its hand and Caused the pendant to fly into Coulters hand. Isaac looked blank, but the woman and the robed ghost looked extremely pale.  Breathing heavily, I raised my hands again, prepared to Scour him off the face of the earth, when Valentine held a hand out in front of me gently.  "We need the information.  Trust me, I want to kill him just as much as you do, but we need the information he has."

Coulter moved forward swinging the pendant around his finger.  It's not common knowledge, thank God, but the device is . .  . is . . . it's horrible beyond words.  I doubt you'd know about it, but the pendant is an artifact called a Regency Nail.  Regency Nails are hexed containers, completely unremarkable on their own.  But when a Regency Nail is charged, it acts as an enormously powerful catalyst.  To charge it you need . . . you need human beings.  Lots of them.  There was apparently a spell that converts human beings into a silver, liquid-like substance dubbed the Regency Panacea.  If you have enough of the Panacea, the silver stew of what used to be humans is then compressed and placed into a Regency Nail to give it power.  The last charged Regency Nail that was known to have been used was in 370 BC by an unknown King of Atlantis.  He turned the entire population of his island into a Regency Panacea, before placing it within a Nail.  However, the hexes placed on the Nail were too weak to contain the power he placed in it, and the entire island of Atlantis was engulfed in force, sucked below the sea by the pressure of power the Regency Nail created.

Raising my hands weakly, I backed up slowly, bristling in fury.  I wanted Coulter dead, no matter what Nic said or who might die if we didn't do what he wanted.  But . . . we had a job to do, and I'll be damned if Skylar Parish screwed up such an important job.  Unless the job was paperwork.  I always hated paperwork.

Valentine whispered to us.  "Do you think we can take him?  The Regency Nail may not be charged enough for him to take down the four of us fighting with those two over there."  He gestured at the ghost and the thin woman.

I crossed my fingers, brain churning.  How could we get around the Nail?  "I could use an Unction."  I suggested.  "Weaken the Sealing hexes, but then re-Seal it.  It would be stable in resting state, but unstable if used."

Isaac frowned, Valentine having just whispered to him what the Nail was.  "If you misjudge how strong the hexes are, you could kill us all!"

I looked impatiently at him, and Isaac turned pink, saying awkwardly.  "Just because you can't die doesn't mean we want to join you."

I winked at Isaac, causing him to turn an interesting shade of red.  "Good thing I'm a good judge then."

I laced my fingers together, as Coulter laughed.  "What?  Another Junction?  Please.  Even without the Regency Nail, I could deflect it without a sweat."

Trying not to let his ass-headedness get to me, I muttered "_Anulepa_" under my breath.  Purple runes glowed at the Nails edges, as I narrowed my eyes in concentration.  I had to time this just right, otherwise we could kiss all our collective assess good bye.  Even if I was already dead, the force of the raw Regency Panacea could easily forcibly Banish me.  The runes began to glow dangerously, and Coulter said, his voice noticeably higher.  "What are you doing you stupid girl?" 

The ghost in black and gold robes swept near me, all in a huff.  "What on earth are you doing?!  Do you realize what could happen?" 

Valentine swept his staff across the ghost, and the fat man stumbled backwards, winded.  "Let the girl concentrate."

Letting my fingers loosen, I prepared to re-hex the Nail, make it stable in its resting state.  I let a second layer of red runes appear with a muttered, "_Trayate._"

Coulter held the nail away from him, too afraid to drop it, now panicking.  "Are you insane?"

"Probably."  Isaac commented.  I resolved hex him as soon as we weren't in danger of oblivion. 

I felt the huge power nudging at me, unseen, but there.  Emet stiffened, suddenly saying.  "Feel it . . .  I can feel it . . .  Evil device evil . . . evil."  He rambled off as the room creaked and groaned.  Dark eyes seemed to peer with insanity from the within the Nail.  Then, with a flourish, I yelled, "_Nibidayati_!"

The Regency Nail glowed bright, poisonous yellow, then fell still, vibrating slightly.  Coulter dropped it in shock, wide eyed.  He looked curiously sallow now, almost . . . older.  Then it hit me.  "He's been using the Nail to extend his Death Limiter!"  I said.  Valentine blinked thoughtfully.  "Hmm.  Very ingenious, if disgustingly perverse."

Isaac appeared to have been hiding his face behind his hands in horror, and said in a trembling voice.  "I had total confidence in you."

I punched him playfully in the shoulder, my ghostly fist passing through him and causing him to shudder.  "All in a day's work."

Suddenly, something clamped around me like a vice, rippling across my body.  I fell to the ground with a heavy thunk.  Thunk?  I didn't feel it, so I hadn't suddenly come back to life, but then, what was that?  Stony, transparent crystal was crawling up my body, and faint bands of force were constricted my form. 

A Petrification. 

I let out a gurgled gasp of pain as I saw Coulter advancing on us, a bulb of force gurgling in his hand. 

"You'll pay for that."  He hissed, looking extremely exhausted.  An explosion of force sounded around him and debris was thrown everywhere.  Isaac had materialized Emet, and with a look of vast anger on his face, sent a Compass Juncture straight at Coulter.  The shade of coiling darkness had deflected it, however, and swept forward.  It began to rain down a blanket of Concussers at Isaac, and he and Emet were forced to busy themselves deflecting them.  I gasped in agony and tried to mumble out a countercurse, but the stony Petrification grew over my mouth.  The, I saw a word form on Heath Coulters lips, word that could easily mean the end of the road for me.  He spoke with anger dripping from every phonetic, "Azrut-"

A crash of crimson.  Hot liquid passing through my ghostly form as the Petrification vanished.  I blinked, slowly floating up off the ground. 

Valentine was there, a mask of cold fury on his face.  Gone was the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, only unbridled hatred.  His golden staff had split straight through Coulters body, the coiled, pointed end of the staff protruding from Coulters chest.  I looked down to see blood below my transparent body, the hot liquid that had passed through me moments before.  Valentine tugged his golden staff out of the man's gut, letting Coulters body fall to the ground. 

We were all frozen, even the mysterious shade that had been fighting Isaac and Emet.  Then, with a shakily spoken, _"__Sampidayati" _The nervous looking woman raised her hands, holding out a brass urn the size of my fist.  With a sound like a plunger being unstuck, the shade was sucked into the urn, and with a muttered hex, Sealed within.  The robed ghost looked perfectly calm, however, looking at Coulters body with a neutral imperiousness.

Valentine appeared unfazed, and wiped the blood from the staff off on the ground.  "Well, that was close."

"T-Thank you."  I stuttered.

The robed ghost swept forward, black and gold gown moving majestically as he observed the body.  "It's probably for the best.  That Coulter fellow just attempted an Banishment Command.  Even if your friend hadn't killed him, we would have had to execute him anyways."

The woman stepped a bit close to us and I saw her clearly for the first time.  A short woman, maybe 27, with mousy hair tied back in a neat pony tail.  She wore round, circular glasses, and had a very thin, pale face.  Isaac and Emet both drifted over, as Isaac muttered a Dematerialization under his breath. 

The woman spoke, very prim and proper sounding though with a heavy weight of gratefulness in her voice.  "Thank you for your assistance in capturing the fugitive Heath Coulter."
I eyed Coulters corpse, noting dryly, "I don't suppose you'll have much trouble arresting him then."

The woman gave a nervous laugh, as the ghost eyed me, amused.  "Very clever miss.  So, what are you doing here?"

Valentine drummed his staff on the ground lazily, responding, "We could ask you the same question."

The woman slipped slightly, before straightening herself and saying, "We're representatives from the Vox Nobilis.  My name is Rachel Rissel, and we were sent to execute Coulter, under the, oh dear-"  She had attempted to pull out a serious looking file, but dropped it and spilled its contents on the floor.

The ghost eyed her scathingly, before admitting to us.  "Don't get the wrong idea about young Ms. Rissel here.  Clumsy and twittering she may be, but she's a perfectly capable magician."

Straightening herself up once again, she stated, "Er, yes sir, thank you sir.  AS I was saying, Coulters execution charged are under 'the use of the Banishment Command on a ghost, assaulting a Vox Nobilis Agent, and for his involvement in-"

The ghost cut her off smoothly, though I saw a trace of panic in his eyes,  "Yes, well, the possession of a Regency Nail fairly much cemented his death sentence."

I glanced at a paper on the ground, and suddenly, the atmosphere turned ice cold.  A corner of a file was poking out of a manila folder, with my picture on it.  Isaac had noticed it as well.  "Skylar, what . . .?"


Slightly alarmed, Rachel Rissel quickly slipped the file into the folder, stating nervously.  "I'm sorry Ms. Parish, but these are highly classified documents and-"

I blotted out her incessant blithering, mind still fixed on the words I had seen.

_Skylar Parish_
_Age: 16_
_Gender: Female_
_Number: #00789_
_Operation Downfall: Once Subject 00789 has been terminated successfully, the operation can pr-_

Valentine looked extremely alarmed as well, but I thought I caught a trace of . . . panic in his eyes?  But the next moment, he looked as cool and composed as always, and I chalked it up to my imagination.

Isaac cleared his throat, a trace of anger sneaking into his voice as he said, "May inquire what exactly Operation Downfall is?"

Rissel was now thoroughly rattled, eyes wide as dinner plates, while even the fat ghost seemed perturbed.  The ghost stated, "Classified operation.  I'm afraid I can't give the details, but rest assured, it is done for only the greater good."

There was an awkward pause, as I glared at the girl, trying to see what was going on in her head.   Suddenly, Valentine spoke up, his voice blank and devoid of emotion.  "Rachel, how did you know Skylars last name?  We never introduced ourselves."

Rissel caught her breath and the ghost winced.  No one breathed.  The room was frozen with an electrified silence, and not a single person moved even the slightest muscle.

Suddenly, Rissel burst out, eyes round as dinner plates as I took a step back in shock.  She said hysterically,  "Please!  I didn't want to do it!  It was orders from the top!  I couldn't disobey, You can't say no to the Resurr-"

The ghost cut her off angrily.  "That's enough!  You're-"

But Rissel continued, looking on the verge of fainting.  "I'm begging you Skylar!  I didn't want to kill you!  It wasn't my fault!  It was orders!  I was only following orders!  They told me to, the Cabinet!  they already have the Engine near completion, what was there to gain by-"

The ghost snapped his fingers and red ribbons inscribed with cryptic black runes rose from the ground, tangling themselves across Rachel Rissel's mouth as she fell to the ground, sobbing. 

Valentine and Isaac turned at me in surprise.  Emet rumbled to me, his voice tinted with shock, "You mean to say . . . this woman is . . . ?"

Isaac finished Emets sentence in a voice that sounded very far away.  "She's the one that killed you."


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## QDOS (Jan 8, 2012)

Hi Nevermore,

  Sorry for not posting any recent update, but I have been having problems with Internet Access. [/FONT][FONT=&Verdana]My landline has been disconnected for the last three and a bit weeks following a power outage (strong winds).  More details will be found on my postings *Devil Incarnate* on the main fiction page.

  Ok down to this latest chapter. Still keeping my interest going, my main comment, even though this is still a draft watch out for those missed new paragraphs in dialogue when you change speakers. 

  If you have the time, for my own interest over your chapter layouts, please can you provide some an update: Here’s my summary:

_Chapter 1: Into the Inferno               _
_Chapter 2: Sojourn _
_Chapter 3: The First Day of School  _
_Chapter 4: Shades of the Past _
_Chapter 5: Dreams and Nightmares _
_Chapter 6: Flaws, Weaknesses and Valentines _
_Chapter 7: Downfall _
_Chapter 8: Sunrise _
_Chapter 9: Dark Moon - Possibly chapter 10_
_Chapter 8.5: The Cask - Possibly Chapter 9_
_Chapter 11: Bright and Grim Encounters_
  Chapter 11: Confrontation 

  QDOS  :?


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## Nevermore (Jan 8, 2012)

It's not problem, I've been taking a short break from this as well.  Again, I'd like ot thank you for reading this, but I'd also like to say, I have finished a complete rewrite of chapter 1.  I plan on starting a new thread soon for the newly rewritten story eventually, so watch out for it.  Also, I've completely outlined the entire series.

*The Life and Death of Skylar Parish*

*First Arc: Antiquities*
Book 1:The Jericho Rose
Book 2: Eyes to Beyond
Book 3: A Trail of Mirrors

*Second Arc: Apocalyptica*
Book 4: The Burial Guild
Book 5: The Starling Wars
Book 6: Ark Ascendant
*
Final Arc: Broken Recovery*
Book 7: Scars of Anax
Book 8: The Bitterblossom Seed
Book 9: ? ? ? (Plot is thought out, just not the name)


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## QDOS (Jan 9, 2012)

Hi Nevermore,

  Look forward to reviewing the rewrite. 
  I’m working in similar mode on the beginning chapters to my *Inception Trilogy.*

  If you have time have a gander at my short -* Devil Incarnate -* on main fiction page.


  QDOS 8)


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## Grape Juice Vampire (Jan 9, 2012)

Nevermore, this blew my mind. It flows nicely, and i will have to go back through it when i have more time. Some wording is awkward, but this may actually be my fuzzy brain, so i won't try to pick one out right now.


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## Nevermore (Jan 9, 2012)

Some wording is very awkward, it's mostly because I haven't posted the edited scripts. Thanks for the review, I'll work on posting the rewrite soon.


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## SeaBee1 (Jan 10, 2012)

HI Nevermore!

Kind of late to the party, but I had time to read chapter 1 this morning, and glanced over the others to get a feel for the story in the main. Intriguing! Since others have already pointed out the typos, word usage, character development and other sundry small quibbles, I won't comment on that, except to say that I am sure the final edit will address those issues. As writers, I think first drafts ALWAYS contain those kind of problems due to the rush to get the stuff down while it's fresh! Well, that's the way it is for me...

General comment: While I am not a huge fan of the pure fantasy genre, I do enjoy a good story, with good character development, plot twists, etc. and this story seems to have those elements. Good job!

Best regards

CB


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