The last writings of Tevos

WARNING: this snippet contains some spoilers for the main story. The protagonists find this document at the climax of the book, revealing some very important history. Just a warning, in case you’d rather discover this information at that same time as the characters. I include it here for fun and for feedback.

The last writings of Tevos, Rabh Alai of the pannari

Year One of the Hegira

I am not to be trusted, that much is clear. I fear She has already taken too much control. My thoughts are not my own, more than not. There are times when I can no longer discern the difference between Her will and mine. But for now, in the darkness of this vault, I feel her presence lessen and wane. Perhaps she takes her own power for granted. Regardless, I will endeavor to write down as much of it as I can, while her attention is elsewhere.

Brother, I beg you, take heed. Do not trust your own memories, for we have all been deceived. Do you remember His name? It sits on the tip of my tongue, as if I can taste it, and yet I cannot bring it to voice. She has erased His name, His memory, His grace. I feel that once He loved us, as we assume She does. Once, He guided me and spoke to me. But now all I hear is silence.

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Lady of Silences: Prologue

Second draft of the prologue of Lady of Silences. In which we meet the main characters and witness a defining moment in their lives. 4,700 words.

Corinus drew his cloak tighter against his chest as he walked out of the manor. It was difficult to balance the large pine frame kite in his left hand and walk through the half-open door, but he made sure to close it tight behind him as he exited. When there were guests, his father was especially strict about keeping the door latched  He stopped a moment to adjust the platinum lion broach closed on his cloak, freeing up a hand to help maneuver the canvas kite. The broach had been a tenth birthday gift from Marquis Kiant, and Cor made sure to wear it proudly now that they were visiting the Marquis’ manor. Standing a little taller he drew his shoulders back and climbed down the stone steps to the garden.

“Master Cor, is that you?”  The head gardener waved at him and put down his trowel. “Got’cher self a kite, eh?” Cor nodded as the man stooped to pull a small root vegetable from the ground. “Is that a dragon I see on it?”

Cor grinned, holding the canvas higher to show the bright yellow and black design. “It’s a Horned Wyrm, like Arcantis and the Wyrm!”

“That’s a fine representin’ of it too, Master Cor. You paint that cher’self?”

“Yes sir. My father gave me the canvas yesterday.” He shifted his feet, trying to remain polite but aching to let the dragon loose upon the sky.

“Well you must be looking for the girls, then?” The gardener smiled as the boy before him nodded enthusiastically. He pointed past the gardens. “They left that way just a tick or so ago, you’ll prob’ly find them easy.” He tipped his hat and turned back to the soil, giving the boy his leave.

“Thank you sir!” Cor shouted his gratitude as he turned and galloped up the path.

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