3 May 2024 part 3

Yes I skipped over part 2; that is a short, religious poem that I was less than satisfied with. I will be posting that Sunday, so it’s still coming, just not here.

Over all, I was much happier with this attempt. Still not perfect, by any means; I think Lily is still not “present” enough. Not sure how to change that, or if that’s even what needs changing. Just a thought.

The moment Lily began weeping over her little boy, Ida could restrain her own tears no longer. Losing Eric had been hard enough; to lose Johanne as well… Ida couldn’t bear it. Within the depths of her heart, she pleaded, “Why not just take me as well?”

So lost in her own thoughts as she was, Ida almost missed it when Lily started singing. A chill swept over the room, the light of the fire grew dim, but there was a softness to it. Ida thought it was like she hadn’t noticed the chill until someone wrapped a warm blanket around her. She almost moved in closer, so she could actually make out the woods, but something held her back.

Then Ida noticed that for the first time since the fever took him, Johanne was breathing steadily. His pain was gone; he was at peace. Ida looked up in wonder at Lily, but before she could speak, a translucent figure entered the room. Ida’s eyes went wide. “Eric?”

Her husband gave her a sad smile, then knelt beside Lily and Johanne. Johanne’s breath slowed, then stopped, and then the boy stepped out of his body into his father’s waiting arms.

As Eric stood up, Ida followed, and tried to follow them out the door. Eric raised a hand and shook his head. He said something, and though Ida couldn’t hear him, she knew what he said. “Not yet, my love. Not yet.”

With even more tears flowing down her face, she whispered, “I love you.”

“And I you.” Eric flashed her another sad smile, then turned to leave, one hand holding Johanne’s. The boy waved goodbye to his mother, and the two strode out into the dark.

Ida took another look at Lily. She’d heard the rumors, of course; Lily was a strange girl, even disregarding her unnaturally pale skin. This pretty definitively proved the rumors true. To her surprise, though, Ida found she didn’t care.

Lily noticed when the boy stopped breathing. She continued her lullaby for just a bit longer, before her sobs grew too powerful to contain. She curled in on herself, but only a few moments after she stopped, she felt a hand on her arm.

When Lily opened her eyes, she found Johanne’s mother, Ida, smiling up at her, tears streaked down her face. “Thank you, little one,” Ida said. “Thank you for everything.”

More than a little confused, Lily passed the boy’s corpse to his mother. “I… I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

For a long time, the silence lay heavy between them. Then, with a softer, sadder smile, Ida said, “I’m not so sure you didn’t, at the end there. Now go along home; you need rest.”

She stood up, taking Johanne out to bury him. At the threshold, she turned to look at Lily. “And tell Astrid that if the two of you need anything, especially with certain secrets, you both are always welcome here.”

Lily didn’t quite know what to make of that, but she nodded. Presumably Mama would know what she was talking about.

3 May 2024 part 1

This was my first attempt at concluding this short story for Perish Song and Lily. I wasn’t particularly happy with it; it put too much emphasis on the sorrow and grief of the situation, with very little on either Lily or the comfort Ida and Johanne found. And I think there were connections that needed to be more explicit.

Ida watched as Lily wept over her boy, and nearly started to weep herself. She’d known it was a hopeless fight, and watching the young girl push herself to her limits to try and give Johanne even a slightly better chance broke Ida’s heart.

So when Lily started to sing, Ida was surprised. She couldn’t make out the words, but she watched as Johanne relaxed for the first time since the fever took hold of him. The air stilled, as if the world paused to listen to Lily’s song. Goosebumps covered Ida’s arms, though whether from the strangeness or the sudden chill, she couldn’t say.

Whatever reservations Ida had, though, stopped completely when the spectral form of her husband strode past her into the room. He nodded at her and smiled, then knelt beside Johanne. The boy’s body stilled, and then his spirit sat up, and looked around. Ida would never forget the expression of sheer joy Johanne’s face when he saw his father there.

Ida’s husband helped Johanne to his feet, and the two bowed to Ida before they turned to leave through the back door.

“Wait!” she called out, and rushed after them. As soon as she stepped outside, however, she was greeted by a wall of fog encircling her home. 

Her husband turned back, and held out a hand to stop her. He said something, though Ida couldn’t hear it, and gave her a sad smile. Then he took Johanne’s hand, and the two left, walking into the fog out of sight.

Ida nearly followed them anyway; what was the point of living when her whole family was gone? But she shook her head and turned back into the house. A few moments later, Lily’s song finished, and warmth flooded back into the area.

17 April 2024

I was quite proud of this one. The mother and love stanzas need work still, I think, but overall I like how it turned out. Especially since every character listed, except (maybe) Elliott, is or becomes a dragon by the end of the series. For context, stanzas 1 and 2 are book 1; 3, 4, and 5 are book 2; and the last is book 3, which has a lot more focus on Arylwen and less on Charles, so that makes sense.

I actually started this by trying to see how few words I could use to “tell” the Majesty story. I wasn’t happy with that, and wound up here instead.

There stands a boy

Trembling in fear at the feet of the Pirate’s throne

Yet does not yield

And the Pirate hails him, King

There stands a boy

Looking into the face of an old, tired Mountain

And offers hope

And the Mountain hails him, King

There kneels a youth

His surrogate Mother fading fast

He, helpless, weeps

And the Mother hails him, King

There kneels a youth

A ring offered to the Love of his life

Promise ensured

And his Love hails him, King

There stands a man

Confronting she who has conquered the world

At last, triumph

And the Conqueror hails him, King

There stands a man

Betrayed by one who was once his dearest Friend

Together in death

Only then does the Friend hail him, King

4 April 2024

This is a D&D character I’ve made but never really gotten to play; she was the focus of the June 6 post for last year. This is exploring what would happen if one of the two personalities died or disappeared.

Tarynn woke up in her family’s house. She didn’t have the presence of mind to wonder about that; something was missing, like a giant hole carved into her soul.

Her other half was missing.

The version of her that had lived in the back of her head since she was a child; the version of her the rest of her party had taken to calling “tari” to distinguish between them. The confident, bold version that could do all the things Tarynn herself couldn’t.

She was gone.

Tears started rolling down Tarynn’s cheeks. Then, at the edges of her awareness, she felt a whisper of someone. Without even noticing she was still in her pajamas, she dashed after the feeling. Servants called after her, but she ignored them all, until the feeling led her out to the gardens, to the special place she and Tari would ren to whenever they wanted to be alone.

Of course, Tari wasn’t there.

Confused, wrung out, Tarynn turned to leave. Then she heard a distinct voice from the back of her mind, “Farewell, little Tarynn.”

Tarynn’s eyes went wide, and she sank to the ground and wept.

16 November 2022

This is the first time it’s come up in the story directly, but even a couple days before this, I was playing with this idea of “fate-spinning” - that the fae directly mess with the threads of fate, and witch powers do the same indirectly. Mostly, I think it came from realizing the rules I’d established for witch powers wouldn’t save Hannah and Frederick, but it also didn’t seem like the kind of story that solely built up to their sacrifice, or ended with them still dead/asleep.

The thing is, “fate-spinning” as a general concept is way too vague, so I was trying to come up with rules. Honestly, I’m still not satisfied with it; if I can re-think my strategy to remove it (and that might be easier than I thought), I probably will, but I needed it to come up with some of the plot points that are now so critical to the story.

I also really enjoyed the bit with Isaac as king. That eyesight of his is going to come in handy, even if, again, I need to get a better grasp on how it works.

It took a moment for that to sink in for Aurora. “Wait. You stole from the fairies themselves? That means you’re probably ridiculously powerful, and have access to faerie sight and stuff, right?”

Maleficent dipped her head. Aurora’s posture relaxed as she said, “Maybe you could teach Isaac some things. After I gave him Gothel’s sight, hes been seeing a lot of things that don’t make sense. He can’t do anything with them, either, so he was ignoring it, but…”

Maleficent looked surprised. “Your brother has Gothel’s sight?”

Aurora nodded. “She blinded him, and I got so mad I took hers in retribution.” She averted her gaze. “It’s… kind of why I left at all. I fully intended to stay there in the Tower.”

Maleficent tapped her lips as she though. “Perhaps I will speak to the boy. Not many mortals get a chance to see the threads of fate; as far as I know, I was the only one until now. It would be interesting to see what he makes of it, and how it will serve him as king.”

“Threads of fate? That’s actually a thing?”

“What else would we be tampering with every time we pull a piece of someone into ourselves? How else could the fairies pull from our futures to bless us now?”

Aurora stood up and began pacing. So it wasn’t just a crackpot theory. Does that mean fate-spinning was possible? Hope began to flicker in her chest. “Maybe, if we used fate itself, do you think we could–”

“No.”

Aurora looked up at Maleficent. She seemed to have grown taller, looming a foot or more over Aurora, and her expression was stern. “The risks of fate-spinning are too great, for both you and your parents.”

“But–”

“You think I did not consider this? That I would not do anything for the sake of the only true friend I’ve had in nearly a century of life? Do you think if I, with the combined magics of twelve fairies and decades of experience, had a way to save her, I would not have already used it?”

Aurora flinched and looked down. “Sorry.”

Maleficent stepped back. She took a deep breath, then said, “No, I must be the one to apologize. You were reaching out for whatever hope you could find. There is nothing wrong with that.”

Aurora nodded. She turned to leave, and gave Maleficent one last look as she headed through the doorway. The witch was impassive, just staring silently down at the glass coffins, her fingers lightly resting on Hannah’s.

Isaac was about ready to chuck the crown into a lake somewhere and run away. And he wasn’t even wearing it yet. He’d had to deal with countesses and bankers, earls and the merchant guild’s representatives. Most either wanted to curry favor with him (even offering daughters or nieces for him to marry, despite the fact that he was still only fourteen), or else call into question the circumstances that surrounded his parents’ coma and his sister’s return.

The man before him, Duke Hareln, was one of the latter. “It is unusual,” he was saying, “that you returned with not only some long lost sister, who had been cursed to die three days ago, but also with the very witch who cursed her to begin with. It’s convenient that neither the king nor the queen are available to verify your story, isn’t it?”

Isaac sighed and rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time that day. He looked back up at Duke Hareln. Every word the man spoke looked like smoke spewing out of his mouth, and the duke himself seemed covered in shadows.

Then something caught Isaac’s eye, an image in the shadows. He peered a little closer, only to regret it immediately. He pulled back and shuddered. “Does your wife know you’re sleeping with Baroness Riegan, Duke Hareln?”

The duke stopped mid-prattle, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets. “I… have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Hm.” Isaac risked another look, hoping to find something more useful. And hopefully a little less…stimulating. “Oh, that’s interesting. What about the time you cheated the merchant’s guild on the quality of your wine this past year? I’m sure they would love to hear about that.”

The duke’s face went pale, and then transformed into a snarl. He lunged across the table and jabbed his finger in Isaac’s face. “Now see here, you little–”

Isaac simply snapped his fingers. “Guards!”

The guards posted on either side of the door stepped forward and each clamped a hand on Duke Harlen’s shoulders.

“Escort the duke to the dungeons, until we can verify the full extent of his crimes,” Isaac instructed. “And inform Duchess Hareln she is responsible for the estate until further notice.”

The guards saluted and dragged the duke away, ignoring his numerous protests. Isaac rubbed his temples and left the room as well, making a point to head the opposite direction.

After a moment, he decided to head to the room they’d given to Rapunzel. He really needed to get her a room to paint in, too, assuming she hadn’t already just taken one over.

However, when he entered her room, he found it mostly empty. Or rather, anything expensive was still there; all the gowns and dresses had been left in the closet untouched, for example. It was only the things Rapunzel had brought with her that were missing.

I really did not need this right now. Isaac closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Then he turned around and asked, “Has anybody seen my sister recently?”

After about half an hour of investigating, he learned that Rapunzel had been spotted heading out of the castle on horseback not long ago. He’d taken a moment to shout various insults and epithets at her from the parapets, just to vent, and then began trying to figure out what to do next.

It was at about that time Maleficent found him. “You asked to speak with me, Prince Isaac?”

“Yes, thank you.” He straightened and gave a bow. “My sister has seen fit to leave the capital without warning. I was wondering if you could shed any light on her destination, or at least what might have motivated her to leave.”

Maleficent frowned. “We did speak at some length not long ago, but nothing we discussed should…” She paused, then her expression grew harsh. “Do you know if Gothel had a library, by chance?”

“I’ve never seen it myself, but Rapunzel has mentioned it several times. Why?”

“Well, I cannot say for certain, and I certainly hope I am wrong. But one of the things that came up in our discussion was the idea of fate-spinning; I fear she may have gone to learn more about it on her own.”

“Fate-spinning?”

“Where a fairy or witch directly takes the threads of a person’s fate and twists them, for whatever reason.”

Isaac grimaced. “So, control a person’s future? Their choices, etc.?”

“Not exactly.” Maleficent thought for a bit, then pointed to a large cobweb. “Take this web, for example.”

“Alright.”

“Fate-spinning is like trying to affect one string in it, whether to pull it out, move it, or whatever else, without disturbing the rest of the web.”

Isaac’s jaw dropped, and Maleficent continued. “Even those of us who can see and manipulate fate cannot force a person to make certain choices; their will is inviolable. Most who have attempted it throughout history have tried to manipulate circumstances; however, as we are all interconnected, it can be hard to predict the results anytime we tug on a string.” She grimaced, and added, “Sometimes even when we don’t touch fate directly, that’s still true. Look at what my meddling has caused here.”

Isaac nodded. “So, while fate-spinning could theoretically break the curse on my parents, it could also cause a war or a plague or something.”

Maleficent nodded. “Or erase them, and you, and who knows who else, entirely out of existence.”

Isaac froze. “Has that happened before?”

Maleficent raised an eyebrow. “Would we know about it if it had?”

Isaac’s face paled. He looked to the northeast, where Rapunzel’s Tower was located. “Can I leave the kingdom in your hands for a few days?”

“I doubt that would go over well. I will, however, offer my assistance to the stewards and officials that would be running it.”

Isaac smiled wryly. “Thank you.” Less than an hour later, he was on the road.

He’d barely traveled two or three hours, however, when he found Rapunzel off the side of the road. She breathed heavily, and Isaac could tell the ache in her chest was back. Her horse had been tethered beside her.

“Just when I thought this couldn’t get any more bone-headed,” Isaac told her, “you find a way to prove me wrong.”

Rapunzel started and looked up at him. “What.”

Isaac just glared at her. “You really thought you could just take off and no one would notice? Like it or not, you are a princess. The long lost princess, at that. People know who you are, now.”

Rapunzel scowled and looked away. Isaac groaned and asked, “You couldn’t have at least asked someone to go with you? As you like to remind everyone, you’re weak and sickly. What did you plan on doing if and when you collapse again!?”

“I, just… I don’t know.”

“Uh huh. And what’s all this about fate-spinning and cobwebs and things? Is that really what you ran off for?”

Rapunzel glared at him. Isaac sighed and said, “Look, Rapunzel–”

“It’s Aurora.”

Isaac blinked. “Huh?”

Rapunzel - Aurora - looked away and rubbed her arms. “You can call me Aurora. It seemed rude not to use the name they gave me after they… well.”

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Most recently updated draft of Rapunzel, the Sleeping Beauty (potentially including unposted content)

15 November 2022

The final scene, with Aurora and Maleficent bonding after Hannah’s sacrifice, was really cool. I feel like it’s the closest I’ve come to balancing out Maleficent’s unexpectedly gentle side with her truly vicious nature. It’s going to be a while before that comes naturally to writing her, though, I think.

…hide!”

She pulled her wrist free and closed the door behind her. Isaac was half-tempted to open the door and follow her despite the warnings, but decided that prudence might be the better option in this case.

A couple of minutes later, an archway formed in the back part of the studio. This must be the way out Rapunzel mentioned. Isaac climbed in and began making his way down the stairs.

About one floor down, he caught the sound of voices. When he inspected more closely, he found an arrowslit that looked out onto the “reception room”. He pressed his ear against it to try and make out what was being said.

“...course not. I obviously haven’t gone anywhere, and what would I do with a prince?” Rapunzel’s tone reminded Isaac of some of the more experienced stablehands when they had to deal with an agitated horse.

“No, he’s here. I can smell him.” The voice belonged to an older woman Isaac recognized, most likely Gothel.

The Tower blinked lights at him, urging him forward, but Isaac held a finger up to his lips. “Let me listen a little longer.”

Rapunzel’s voice came through again. “Smell him, Mother? Do princes have a special ‘prince’ cologne I don’t know about? Besides, what business would a prince have with me?”

She probably had this handled, though Isaac was surprised; was Gothel unaware Rapunzel had already figured out the truth? Regardless, he’d heard enough, and he started to head down the stairs. He’d only gone a few steps, however, when the wall behind him burst, revealing a middle-aged woman with brown hair in a deep blue dress. She had a frenzied look in her eyes. “Got you! Skulking about in the shadows like a thief, prince?”

Isaac tried to bolt, but he’d only taken a step when some unseen thing wrapped around his legs and sent him sprawling.

“No, Mother, wait! He’s harmless! He’s not here to take me away or anything!” Rapunzel tried to get past Gothel and get between her and Isaac.

The fairy just ignored her attempts, as if she didn’t even notice them. She kept her eyes locked on Isaac. She raised one hand, and while muttering something Isaac couldn’t comprehend, began pulling the hand back toward her.

Isaac screamed, as what felt like thorns began sprouting from inside his eyes and trying to get out. Everything went black, and he clutched at his eyes; to his shock, there was nothing unusual there.

“You will never look on my Rapunzel again,” Gothel said, satisfied. She grabbed him by the lapel with one hand and began dragging him back up the stairs.

“No! Mother, what are you doing!?”

“Please…no…:” Isaac pleaded. “I’m not here to take her away from you.”

“And you won’t.”

Right as she threw him out the window, Rapunzel yelled, “Tower!”

Isaac had a moment of free fall, before his back slammed into something hard and he began to slide down.

Once he reached the bottom, he began to weep, as he clutched his eyes again.

Rapunzel found Isaac at the base of the Tower, curled in a ball and a weeping. Her own heart ached at the sight.

“Hey.”

Isaac snapped his head in her direction. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me. Rapunzel. You can relax.” Rapunzel couldn’t help but feel apologetic, and that came out in her voice.

“What? How did… Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She reached a hand toward Isaac’s eyes. “I have something for you.”

She touched his eyelids and gave him the sight she’d ripped from Gothel. She still didn’t know what to think about that.

Isaac blinked a few times, then looked up at her. “Rapunzel?”

“Yep. That’s me.”

“Sorry, it’s just…” He looked down at his hands, then at the forest all around them. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

“I bet.” Rapunzel helped him stand. “Now come on. We should get out of here.”

Sometime after Hannah’s sacrifice and arriving in the capital

Aurora sat on a chair, knees hugged tight against her chest. Strange, wasn’t it? So many years of stubbornly insisting that she was Rapunzel, that “Aurora” had nothing to do with her, and now…

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she stared at the still form of her mother. Her real mother. Someone, she didn’t know who, had found beautiful glass coffins to rest them in, along with a beautiful arrangement of flowers around the room. Aurora appreciated that; she wanted to get to know their faces, even if she’d all but lost the chance to get to know them.

She’d been there long enough for her legs to ache by the time Maleficent walked in. For a long moment, the witch just studied her. Finally, she quietly moved up next to Aurora to pay her respects. “They’ve done a lovely job with the arrangement of the room.”

Aurora nodded, and the two waited in silence for a long time. Then Aurora sobbed, “Why? I don’t understand. I’m sick. I’m weak… I didn’t even try to find them, or leave my Tower. Even after I learned the truth. Why would they give up so much for someone like me?”

Maleficent’s face remained impassive. Eventually, she said, “I am told that it’s normal for parents to be willing to lay down their lives for the sake of their children.”

Aurora glanced up at her. “You’re told?”

“I have no children of my own, and, well. My parents ultimately expected me to die for them.” Her eyes narrowed. “Needless to say, things did not turn out the way they expected them to.”

Aurora brushed the tears from her face. “I guess I have it lucky, since my parents actually loved me?” She couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“Not necessarily.” Maleficent shook her head. “I was merely noting the irony. You are unlucky because you never had a chance to know your parents; I am unlucky because I did know mine.”

In spite of herself, Aurora chuckled. “Maybe bad luck is part of being a witch.”

The barest hint of a smile touched Maleficent’s lips. “Perhaps.” The smile faded, and she looked down at Aurora. “I feel I should apologize. At the end of the day, if I hadn’t cursed you, you would have spent the last sixteen years under their care, rather than hidden away in your Tower.”

Aurora shrugged. “I always thought of your curse as a mercy. Right about now, I’d have core pieces of who I am freshly ripped away from me. Is death any worse than that?” After a moment, she frowned and looked up at Maleficent. “That reminds me, though. What exactly happened between you and Gothel? I know it traumatized her, but that’s all.”

Maleficent folded her hands together. “Did you know that back east, the nations use fairy-blessed children as signs of status? For as long as they are blessed, that is.”

Aurora nodded. “Some of the books she hid away mentioned that.”

“Well, my parents had curried a great deal of favor with the fae, and when I was born, a full contingent of thirteen fairies came to bestow their blessings on me. Gothel was one of those thirteen.”

Aurora’s eyes went wide with horror. “Thirteen? One or two is bad enough, but…”

With a wry smile, Maleficent said, “Yes, my entire life was impacted by fairy magic meddling. No one told me the consequences, of course, until everything ran dry and I was left with nothing. I was lucky to steal a bit of wisdom and intelligence by instinct alone. And once I got beyond that, well… I went and found the fairies that had cursed me and ripped my gifts right back out of them.” A cruel smile appeared on Maleficent’s face. “All except Gothel, who had gifted me empathy and called it kindness. I let her go, in part to warn the fae their era was ending.”

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9 October 2022

I am a fairly religious person, and as part of that, I try to follow the law of the Sabbath, in that we don’t work on Sunday if we can avoid it, and try to make sure nothing we do forces other people to work, either. I’ve been trying to figure out how to apply that to writing and I’ve decided I will generally write for a shorter block of time on Sunday, and rather than the action-packed fantasy stories I favor, I will try to focus on something with a more spiritual bent. Not religious, necessarily, but spiritual.

One of the stories in the back of my head I’d been trying to figure out was this concept of a butterfly knight, inspired by this picture by Sandara on DeviantArt (found via YouTube, actually). Butterflies can represent a lot of things, including the cycle of life and death, as well as beauty. So I concluded this butterfly knight might have ties to the idea of “beauty from ashes”, which is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. And thus Aislin was born.

When Aislin (pronounced Ashlynn) lost Matthias, her husband of only two months, she also lost herself. Family and friends offered their condolences; the priests of Father Death offered her what solace they could. Aislin even appreciated it; there was no guarantee she would have made it the next few months without their support.

But nothing really broke through that grayness she felt. Everything seemed meaningless. Rote. Empty. There was a hole where her heart had been, and nothing could help it heal.

One morning in spring, she visited Matthias’ grave, as she often did. This time, however, she felt a presence in the gentle breeze flowing at her back. She turned, and her eyes caught hold of a single, brilliant blue butterfly, floating along as if it hadn’t a care in the world.

Even Aislin couldn’t ever say why that butterfly was so profound to her. But something about the beauty of that moment made her heart overflow, and she laughed aloud for the first time in months. Her grief didn’t disappear, her sorrow for her lost husband hadn’t gone away, but now it was tempered with hope, with a surety even, that things would get better and beauty could rise from the ashes.

At the next opportunity, she traveled into town to thank the Eternal Rose for her gift. For if anyone could bring beauty back into her life after so long in the dark, wouldn’t it be the goddess of beauty herself?

However, what Aislin found at the Rose’s temple was not the gentle beauty that had healed her. Rather, it was a garish, opulent thing that demanded the attention of all who passed by. Many of the priests and priestesses were no different; they dressed in loud colors and hid their faces beneath powders and paints.

Aislin cringed, and her heart ached. To herself, she wondered, “What about this is beautiful?”

For better or worse, her comment was heard by several of the clergy, and a furious debate spread among all the churches of the Eternal Rose. The schism ran the risk of causing more than one war.

Still, that was of little concern to Aislin at the time. She returned home, disappointed, but still determined to move forward. When Old Harper’s crops failed, she shared her food with his family, and invited them to appreciate what they had more abundantly. When little Dory broke her leg, Aislin helped her get around, and when it healed, they rejoiced together at the wonder of being able to walk.

Aislin might have continued like that the rest of her life, quietly promoting peace and quiet in her community, had her town not been raided by a band of brigands. Despite her own lack of skill, she grabbed Matthias’ sword and rushed to defend her home.

The leader of the band was a large man. He easily struck down several of the town militia…

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19 September 2022

I hate the internet here. Just saying.

Anyway, I'm only entering one day’s entry, partially because of crappy internet that's making me work on my phone, and partially because the next two days go well together.

This entry I was really proud of, especially the first half. This is also the storyline I've worked on the most since, and am the most invested in.

Hanako slowly drew her katana, breathing in deeply through her nose. The rage lurked there in her chest, roaring to be set free, but Hanako focused on her master’s words. “Anger can be a powerful weapon, it is true. But if it wields you instead, you become the very monster others fear you to be, rather than the swordswoman you have become.”

She flipped her fiery red ponytail back, glaring at the mob of bandits across from her. They all cowered away from her, glancing between the single horn growing out of her forehead and the sword in her hands.

The monster in Hanako’s chest delighted in their fear and urged her to release it in a whirlwind of blood and steel. Instead, however, she let the barest hint of it creep into her voice as she growled, “Drop your weapons and the loot, and I’ll let you live.”

The bandits rushed to comply, almost tripping over themselves as they rushed back into the woods.

With a sigh, Hanako sheathed her sword and suffocated her anger. By the time she turned to the caravan master, she had her typical carefree smile plastered back onto her face. “Well, I think that went pretty smoothly, don’t you?”

She froze, however, when she saw the expressions on everyone else’s faces. The caravan master was sweating even harder than he had when the bandits first ambushed them, and several of the other guards now pointed their weapons at her.

Hanako looked at Lyra, the only guard she’d gotten close to, and found fear in her eyes as well, even if she didn’t seem hostile for the moment. The beast flared back awake, arguing that if they expected a monster, she should give them one, but Hanako only whispered, “No.”

She mustered up another smile, this one a lot more forced, and told the caravan master, “It looks like I won’t be able to go the rest of the way with you, sorry. Any chance I could still get paid for the part of the trip I did work?”

The caravan master wordlessly tossed her a sack of coins. Before she’d even picked it up, Hanako could tell it held far more than even the initially agreed-upon price. Her smile vanished completely, and even if they didn’t fall, tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She took out enough coin to cover half the wage she’d been promised, then set the bag back down. As she walked back the way they came, she turned and flashed Lyra one last sad smile. “I wish you all the best of luck on the rest of your journey.” Then she turned, pulled her hood back over her head, and walked away.

What kind of man finds a young monster and sees only a little girl? Or perhaps the question should be flipped; what kind of people look at a small orphan girl and see only a monster?

Whichever the case, Hanako thought she had probably been both when her master found her in the burned out ruins of herr parents’ home. Apparently, he’d been part of the auxiliary army sent to help the shogun’s main force end the “monster scourge” once and for all. After the things he saw, however, especially in Hanako’s village, he refused to lend them his sword any more, and took Hanako with him to his own village.

There, he taught Hanako everything he knew of sword fighting. Every time she became frustrated and let her rage overtake her, he would keep her from causing any true damage; after all, even if she could crush rocks bare-handed as a child, that didn’t matter if she couldn’t even touch him, much less grab him, to begin with.

She rarely left the swordsman’s home, which suited the rest of the village just fine. While none of the villagers were openly hostile, they still watched Hanako with a nervous distrust, like she was a bomb with a lit fuse. Hanako didn’t let it bother her, though; she had her master, and that was enough.

However, one day their village was attacked. One squadron of the shogun’s men were out of food, and had heard the town housed a deserter, so they considered it fair game. Hanako’s master held them off, killing many of them, until the captain stabbed him in the chest.

Hanako roared with grief, the sound shaking the very ground beneath their feet and rattling trees the next mountain over. Consumed by her fury, her skin turned red while the whites of her eyes turned black. She flailed about with her sword in one hand and a make-shift club in the other, completely forgetting all the training her master had put her through.

Weakly, her master braced himself up and said, “Don’t give in to your anger, Hanako… Use it. You are more than some mere monster!”

Even through her rage, Hanako heard him, and stilled herself. She breathed in deep, then locked all the fury in her heart, holding it tight. She faced the captain again, using both hands to hold her sword at the ready.

He smiled cruelly and moved to attack. Hanako stepped in underneath his sword, and right as she began her counterattack, she took all the rage she was holding and packed it into her swing.

Hanako barely noticed the surprised look on the captain’s face as his body lay there, cut in two, before she rushed to her master’s side, her rage flowing away like wind.

Her master struggled to lift his hand, and Hanko clasped it in both of hers, tears flowing freely. He gasped, “I am, proud of you. I hope… you find others… who accept you for yourself.”

Hanako shook her head. “No… no. You need to stay here with me! There’s, there’s so much I have to…” She choked up, unable to finish her words.

Her master smiled softly. “Live strong, Hanako. My daughter…” And with that, he closed his eyes, rattled out one last breath, and stilled.

Throughout the whole rest of the night, Hanako’s wails  echoed through the entire village.

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Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)