This was kind of a rough week with a migraine and a few sleepless nights that made thinking, much less writing, difficult. I did move this draft over 85k, nearly 86k and started Aila’s second POV which I am finding a lot of fun. I adore her character, but she doesn’t get much page time in this story.

I also got to write a very anti-climatic scene that was actually pretty fun.

I might not have written much this week, but I did have fun when I got the chance.

I had so much trouble picking a snippet this week, but here we go, enjoy!

              “Zuriel!”

              They flew apart at the sound of Chiron’s voice. The wizard rushed into the room looking uncharacteristically frazzled. “The wards.”

              “I know.” Zuriel squeezed Aila’s hand and dropped it. “I felt it. Can you take her to Agur?”

              Chiron’s wide eyes landed on Aila, seeming to see her for the first time. He looked back to Zuriel and nodded, his composure returning somewhat. “Yes, of course.”

              Aila turned to Zuriel, grabbing his face, forcing him to look at her. “I love you. We will figure this out, whatever it is.”

              I wish that were true. He thought, but nodded and kissed her briefly, pulling back far sooner than he wanted.

              “Go.” He stepped back. Aila hesitated just a moment before turning and following Chiron.

              The wizard led Aila past Halvar and into the hall.

              Halvar raised his brow to Zuriel who turned and started gathering his armor.

              “You’re kissing again. Did you fix things?” Halvar asked as he helped Zuriel with his armor.

              “There is nothing to fix and no way to fix it if there were.” Zuriel growled.

              Halvar said nothing until they reached the last piece of armor. “It’s just temporary. After you deal with Samael, you and Aila can pick up where you left it.” He handed Zuriel his sword belt. “Try to leave things in a good place.”

              Zuriel stared at him a moment before blinking and taking the belt. His heart dropped as he realized he had made the wrong choice. He had to sell it. The way Halvar saw it was how everyone had to see it.

I had several good writing days this week and the draft now sits just over 84K.

I have scratched out several versions of the scene I am working on so it feels pretty smooth writing it. The previous scene included one of my favorite characters to write, Harkin and I had a lot of fun with him.

Still in a rather sad part of the story, but some how I am still having fun writing. I feel its coming out well which is satisfying.

Snippets from this week’s work:

              “There must be something.” The voice was familiar though the tone was so out of place, Harkin couldn’t immediately place it. “Come on.”

              Harkin slid forward slowly, peering into the room as it came into view inch by inch. He barely breathed as the man shuffled around the room. Finally, the form of the man came into view, his back was to Harkin as he hunched over, searching through the small collection of books that sat in a pile near his bed. The man stood, pushing a hand through his black hair which appeared to have been an action  he’d done repeatedly through his search. He turned to the side and Harkin drew in a sharp breath as he realized who it was. Keiran.

              Pulling back into the vent, Harkin berated himself silently for reacting. If he’d been heard…

              “Harkin.”

              With his eyes squeezed shut, Harkin remained where he was, flattened against the bottom of the vent shaft, hardly daring to breath.

              “Well, that explains how you’ve been getting around then. I already know you’re there; you might as well come down.”

              He made no movement. Perhaps Keiran would assume he’d imagined it and leave. The sudden warmth in his enchanted slave cuffs disabused him of the notion.

              “I knew it.”

              Zuriel froze. Every function of his body seemed to cease at the sound of Aila’s voice. At once it felt like both a balm and a knife. He’d missed the sound of it, but there was a bite to it that cut him to the core. She was hurt and angry and she had good reason to be.

Bracing himself, he slowly turned to face her despite a deep urge to open another bleed and run. He’d been hiding for so long. As hard as it was going to be, she deserved some kind of answer, even if it couldn’t be the truth.

              As his eyes fell on her, his lungs emptied, and his heart crumbled in his chest. She stood with fire in her weary eyes, highlighted by the dark circles under them. The exhaustion and pain on her face and in her bearing broke something in him. He had done that. The hurt, lack of sleep. His choices had left her wounded physically and mentally and he hated himself for it.

I have passed 80k for The Shadow of Vale now. I have a pretty good idea of where the next bit is going, I just need to decide which of the little paths to take to get the characters and story to move where I’d like. Most of my work this week has been in a scene with Harkin laying down some foreshadowing which is always fun for me and is a special relief from Zuriel’s scenes at the moment.

Here’s a snippet of my time with Harkin this week:

              He took a deep breath before nimbly jumping off the bookcase and landing in a crouch on the cold stone floor where he lingered a long moment, taking in the familiar space.

              With a grin on his lips, he stood and ran his fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf as he moved deeper into the library where he’d spent the first fifteen years of his time in Halcyon after the fall. It felt good to be tucked away within the wards again despite his ever-present anxiety that they would finally work out enough anchor points to break the ward, or perhaps just punch a hole large enough to get something or someone inside.

              For fifteen years he worked through Agur’s histories and notes. After seven years he was completely convinced that all would be lost if Samael got his hands on the information tucked away in these halls. In meticulously recorded notes, thousands of years of learning stood waiting to be picked up and brought to life again. What it would do with that life would depend on who revived it.

              From what he read in Agur’s personal histories, he could see why The Great Creator would ordain elders to live such extensive lives. Only through such lengthy study could anyone hope to reach the apex of what magic could do. The things Agur had worked out not only about magic, but the ways of man, couldn’t be learned any other way as far as he could see.

              Though he wasn’t certain that the perspective of a broken odiar mattered even when aimed at the mind of the greatest wizard who ever graced Vale.

I had several really productive writing days and I am just over 79k now.

A lot of what I wrote this week is highly spoilery as it’s a pivotal point in the story and I am having a lot of fun writing it, though I suspect a lot of it won’t survive revision as there is a bit of thinking on the page going on.

That said, I wanted to share a good chunk of it that doesn’t spoil, but hopefully peeks interest. Enjoy!

              Agur nodded, his eyes drifted from Zuriel as if looking at him was uncomfortable. “Vale is a nymph planet. A young one. We aren’t certain how our elder system works yet, but each nymph planet has elders. The numbers differ. The life spans. There is one planet I’ve read of where one of the races has no elder.” His eyes landed on Zuriel with disconcerting focus, though it seemed an action Agur had to force himself to do. “As far as we can tell, there is one Vale elder for each race and we live until we are killed.” He turned and began to pace again. “We might be able to get sick and die, but that hasn’t been confirmed.”

              Zuriel watched Agur’s movements in silence as he seemed to be lost within his own mind. Why had he come to his room, warded it, and went on a rant about elders on nymph planets?

              As if reading his mind, Agur stopped and let out a sigh. “I am nearly as old as Vale.” His was low and carried a note of sorrow. “I have lost track of my precise age, but I am in my eleventh millennium. Ten thousand seven hundred and something years, give or take a century.” He turned to face Zuriel who’s mouth had dropped open. A breath of a laugh escaped the wizard at the sight. “I say this to explain that I no longer remember what it is to be mortal. To fear death.” All humor left him as he dropped his eyes again.

              A deep sense of unease filled Zuriel as the elder wizard seemed to wrestle with himself.

              “I’ve grown accustomed,” he began again, slowly pacing with his hands behind his back, “to creating and carrying out long term plans. Perhaps my decision to avoid marrying again has proven to leave me at a disadvantage. I had sent Cyrus and Akil out to find a nymph son, but when Samael began his attack, I will confess, I was surprised. I believed I had more time.” He sighed and shook his head before continuing.

              “I had planned to create several duelings.” He gestured to the room around them, “This hadn’t been meant to stand as a last bastion against Samael, but was intended as a training grounds. I had meant for you to be better prepared.”

              When Agur’s voice faded Zuriel spoke up, voicing the fear that the wizard’s demeaner and words had been pulling back to the front of his mind. The fear that had taken him weeks to push aside. “You don’t think I can beat him.”

              With another heavy sigh Agur met Zuriel’s eye. The regret in his gaze sent a chill through Zuriel.

              “You were created to be Samael’s undoing, but what you have to do to achieve it…” He shook his head and looked away again. “It isn’t fair to ask of you. I have no other solution to offer, even now.” Raising his eyes to Zuriel’s again he added, “but it isn’t fair.”

              Zuriel felt his mouth go dry. “What do I have to do?”

              Agur held his gaze in silence for a long moment. Zuriel’s heart pounded as he watched the wizard’s internal struggle as it presented itself across his features. He opened his mouth several times before he finally spoke again. “You have to…….[redacted]”