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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Edward DyerMale/United Kingdom Group :iconliterature-accepted: Literature-Accepted
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Thanks for contacting me! I hope you find my quick words helpful. The aspect that stands out the most for me here is the vision: it's a...


Hey there Jason, I’m back again from #GrammarNaziCritiques Since you’ve said that this is a true story, I’m sort of wary about critiqui...


:devgrammarnazicritques: here. I’m Ed, and I’ll be writing some detailed feedback on your work. I love the title, I think it works well...


Hey there, sorry it’s take me a while to get to this! But I said I’d read through it, and I have. I’ll start off by saying that you hav...

Proofreading and Editing for Literature


Hello there, my name is Ed and I work as a proofreader of prose literature here on deviantART. I've been editing short stories and novels for many years, but have only recently discovered how many pieces there are uploaded to dA. So far, I've critiqued over 200 pieces.

I will critique:
-Short stories
-Chapters Novels
-Scripts
-Poems
-Comics

I will not critique:
-Fan fiction (unless I've been contacted and I know of the subject)

Here are a few examples of my work:


Have a look through my Critiqued Literature Gallery to see everything I've proofread on deviantART: here!

Rates
Because of how varied different literature pieces can be, my rates vary. Generally, the cost ranges between:
Note: There is no flat rate that many other editors charge.
  • $2-3 (£1.50) per 1,000 words.
  • $5 (£3) per 1,000 words for pieces needing more depth/time.
  • Poems vary within this price range depending on length.
  • There may be a discount for full length novels (contact me for more details).

The Process
If you would like hire me under these conditions then the first step would be to send me a 'sample' of your work, along with how much detail you'd like from the critique (rewrite, comments only, grammar, suggestions, character work, narrative structure...) I will read through the sample (first chapter etc) and gauge how long it will take, as well as offering a price. If you are happy with that price and estimated time I will send you my paypal details. 
For one-off pieces: Half the agreed payment is sent before I start work, half once you have received the edited script.
For chaptered novels: After the first chapter is returned, payment for that chapter is sent. From then on, all payments should be sent before any more chapters are edited.

I prefer to work using the comments system on Microsoft Word, but I'm just as happy to use dA's commenting system to send your critique.

All rights to the work remain the property of the original author (you). All I ask is that I'm mentioned in any references to editing or general assistance :) (Smile)

If you have any questions feel free to contact me here (note) or through my email: edward.dyer@me.com 


The Fallen Star


When I first started writing this story, I didn't realise where it was going to take me. I started off with just a few words scrawled on a piece of paper about 'the light of a fallen star', which I then lengthened into the beginning of a short project at school. But, when that was done, I really wanted to carry on and find out what was going to happen next.

I kept writing, and now over 250k words later, here I am! Of course, that's spread over four books I've written so far.

My goal throughout this series to create a whole new world, with new plants, animals, places. From the very start, I knew I didn't want to steal ideas from others, such as Elves, Dwarfs, Hobbits etc. For example, The Fallen Star takes place on Truaine, MAP UPDATED one of three planets that are referenced throughout the book.

The first book is now officially FINISHED


Chapter 1: fav.me/d5asm06
Chapter 2: fav.me/d5atfty
Chapter 3: fav.me/d5b16ue
Chapter 4: fav.me/d5b1i79
Chapter 5: fav.me/d5b6xwl
Chapter 6: fav.me/d5b6yfn
Chapter 7: fav.me/d5bbo4r
Chapter 8: fav.me/d5bbwl5
Chapter 9: fav.me/d5bcihg
Chapter 10: fav.me/d5c5hit
Chapter 11: fav.me/d5d1uka
Chapter 12: fav.me/d5dfmfl
Chapter 13: fav.me/d5edh3h
Chapter 14: fav.me/d5edmqs
Chapter 15: fav.me/d5edocs
Chapter 16: fav.me/d5edqrl
Chapter 17: fav.me/d5eh6kl
Chapter 18: fav.me/d5er5p6
Chapter 19: fav.me/d5fieho
Chapter 20: fav.me/d5firh4
Chapter 21: fav.me/d5fk0mx
Chapter 22: fav.me/d5fqtov
Chapter 23: fav.me/d5fvtzy
Chapter 24: fav.me/d5gyu89
Chapter 25: fav.me/d5gywkh
FIN.

The Fallen Star: Trapped Within Cover by TheFS

^^ The second book, The Fallen Star: Trapped Within, is underway...



TFS: Trapped Within is technically a two-parter, but will be uploaded as two 'books'. This means that the parts will be shorter than book one, but together, probably longer.

Chapter 1: fav.me/d5iurnv
Chapter 2: fav.me/d5j0onl
Chapter 3: fav.me/d5ju1wl
Chapter 4: fav.me/d5k1oiq
Chapter 5: fav.me/d5qv6j3
Chapter 6: fav.me/d5qvcoc
Chapter 7: fav.me/d5qvdxg
Chapter 8: fav.me/d6ptdhb
Chapter 9: fav.me/d7xxu2g
Chapter 10: fav.me/d7xxtia
Chapter 11: [Coming Soon]
Chapter 12: [Coming Soon]
Chapter 13: [Coming Soon]
Chapter 14: [Coming Soon]
Chapter 15: [Coming Soon]
Chapter 16: [Coming Soon]
Chapter 17: [Coming Soon]
Chapter 18: [Coming Soon]
Chapter 19: [Coming Soon]

Please Write a Critique by LumiResources

Characters


The Watchers
Rantil - The main character.
Lakor - Rantil's friend, and colleague
Hamsol - Rantil and Lakor's teacher. He is teaching them the skills of the Watcher.

Nichal
Saru - The leader of the village, Nichal
Ganarth - Second in command of the village
Bora - The Hunter
Qzen - The Doctor
Neetha - Rantil's neighbour
Neico - The Schoolteacher

Wrestek
Putoko - Rantil's best friend, when they were children
Yaneria - Putoko's sister

Siale
She - Leader of the Sett: the governing body of Truaine
Filoto - She's slave and cruel minion
Torku - Takes lead of the Council in the Watchers' absence

Ciameth
Kantou - Chalder from Ciameth, who comes to Truaine to correct a mistake she made
Ulmak - a powerful Ciamethian
Dawren - Kantou's father
Evron - Atarpa's brother

The Degarn (Book 3)
Atarpa - head of the Degarn, carries a great wisdom
Hungaru
Verrat
Taivas
Sile
Jinova

Demons
The Demon - a demon from Dremnor, who seeks revenge for the inprisonment of his race
The General - Head of the Demon Army, which invades Truaine

Others
Shieef - An old woman, living in the wilderness
Worral - A lost, alone man, who has kept and hidden the key to the Temple for many years
Bal'si - the Shaman of the Uraal-si'tu

There are plenty of other characters, but these are the important ones.

Activity


Critiqued Literature
81 deviations
Thanks for contacting me! I hope you find my quick words helpful. The aspect that stands out the most for me here is the vision: it's a great idea, you just need a little help with the direction.

The subject is a good one: why are we afraid of the dark? The story seems to find its feet when the hare starts moving past all of the different other animals. There was no sense that the hare should ever have been in the moon, so it doesn't quite follow through to me. If there was a way to make the poem loop around (an introduction of the moon at the start, and then the hare returning there at the end) - to bookend the piece, as it were. It depends what age range you're working towards. If it's quite young, we need to see in every couplet why you shouldn't be afraid of the dark. What are the different sources of light - fireflies, the moon, the stars, what is out there protecting you - the owls, what are the scary things really doing at night - the bears are watching films, the wolves are knitting (for some slightly absurd ideas). Anthropomorphising animals always works well with children.

As it's an illustrated book, I would advise that the onomatopoeic animal sounds are not included in the poem (and are added in parentheses between the couplets). They should still be drawn on the accompanying image, though.

The couplets themselves don't follow any sort of rhythmic pattern. You have 8,8 11,11, 8,10 15(strange, unique one line) 11,12 ... etc. It might be a good idea to find a pattern of syllables so you can find a rhythm throughout the whole piece. The same goes for the rhymes. There are some that don'y rhyme (sky, wide) or half rhyme (long, belonged). I would try and find all, true rhymes. If children are using this as an aid to help their reading, half/no rhymes could throw them off and make it harder for them to read.

Also keep an eye on your punctuation: you sometimes have full stops, and sometimes don't.

It's hard for me to give more specifics than that, since I believe the structure needs some tweaking before we can look into the content more deeply. It's a very good idea and a very good start, but I think you need a little more structure to not only the story, but to the way you're delivering it too.

Let me know if you have any questions!
Several hours had passed since they woke, but both Kantou and Torku were resolved to sit and hope for rescue. They thought it wouldn’t be long before the small shaft of light, shining from high above in the rubble, would start to shift as someone pulled at the rocks from the other side. Their hope, like the sunlight, though, was beginning to fade. They had no way of knowing of the true threat facing the world above.

The bottom of Kantou’s robes were ripped, where she’d torn the material to bandage a wound on Torku’s leg. The cut was deep, but with gentle pressure and a firm knot, she had been able to stop the bleeding. It was enough for him to think he was strong enough to climb up the sheer wall and back up to the Council Chambers, but with a misplaced footing, he fell back to the ground with a splash - along with several rocks.

Kantou spoke very little, which was unusual, even for her. Rantil had made sure she was welcomed on the Council, and for the most part, she was. After all, she helped him save his world at the cost of losing her own. She was out of place on Truaine, and was doing her hardest to build a new life for herself. She spent a few minutes gathering scraps of parchment and broken chairs that had fallen from above and started a small, but welcoming, fire.

Torku kept his gaze away from the stream, where Taehor, the recently deceased Council member, had come to rest. His limp, bloodied corpse, blocked the flow of the stream and had built a small waterfall across his body where the water grew red and thick.
Occasionally, against better judgement, Kantou glanced at Taehor. His eyes were open, and glistened in the flickering of the fire. She thought of her father.

It had been many years since her mind last recalled his face. It made her feel ashamed.

As a single parent, Dawren had raised her, but she grew into an adult alone. She spent much of her time away from home, and away from her father. Arguments forced an unsettled homelife, and she found herself sleeping in the wilderness where she could learn to live off the land. By the time she heard of Dawren’s illness, she barely had enough time to return to Ciameth and reconcile with him before he died. She was thankful for that, at least.

Every time Torku looked in her direction, Kantou’s expression was sullen. Firelight danced shadows across her eyes; her mind was far from the tunnel they were trapped inside. He gave a sigh and squatted down by the fire to warm his hands. Still stinging, he slumped back onto the floor and stretched his leg out to the side. He gazed into the fire and let himself fall prey to the silence that Kantou had already been consumed by.

The stream flowed across smooth rock, and vanished into the darkness beyond the firelight. From what Torku could see, the tunnel extended for quite some way in opposite directions. He recalled Siale’s ancient aquifer system, built when the city was just a small town.

He knew that there must be a way back to the surface, but Kantou’s solemnity ushered him into silence once more.

“Kantou?” he said at last.

She remained still. The only sign she’d heard was a gentle hum.

“We need to find a way back to the surface.”

“Yes. We do,” she replied.

“Or do you think we should wait?”

Kantou raised her head, and for the first time in an hour or so, looked away from the fire. “No, you’re right. I’ve spent too long lost in my memories. I’m sorry, Torku. You shouldn’t be here.”

Torku took a breath and then said, so there could be no confusion, “It was my choice to come back to save you.”

She smiled. “I know. Thank you. Do you think you’ll be able to walk?”

He pulled back his robes and showed her the bandage on his shin. The cloth was reddened with blood, but he assured her the pain was almost gone. She was doubtful, but accepted his answer.

“I guess we should make a torch, something to guide us back to the surface?”

Kantou reached behind her and beside the rock she was leaning against. “Take this.”

She extended something to him, and at once he could smell Jennica Oil.

“Where did you get that?” he said in shock. “I’ve heard stories of your... powers... but I never thought they...”

Kantou laughed softly and stood from the floor. “Rantil does have a habit of exaggerating the mundane.” She paused. “The roots, over there. They’re Jennica roots. Squeeze out the oil, soak them in a strip of my robes, and wrap it around a broken chair leg... that’s no power.”

Embarrassed by his foolishness, Torku laughed as well. He took Kantou’s torch and held it into the fire. It took a minute or two but the oil took to the flames, and the torch lit. Holding it high, Torku tried to peer into the tunnel downstream, but the shadows were still too thick.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

Glancing behind himself when Kantou didn’t respond, he saw she was standing in the stream behind Taehor. She bent down to him, and whispered something behind her fingertips. Before taking another breath, she brushed her middle finger across Taehor’s forehead and closed her eyes. Torku watched her foreign ritual and waited for her to rejoin him. When she did, she looked at him and said, “There are many things that you, or indeed Rantil, don’t know about me.”

The path quickly led them away from the remains of the Council Chambers. The walkway narrowed slightly, and they were left with no choice but to continue, ankle-deep in the bitter chill of the underground stream. Kantou, more than Torku, relished the chance to cool her feet.

They walked for quite some time without speaking another word to each other. Torku held the torch above his head, but, whenever the roof lowered, found it difficult to keep the light ahead of them. Neither of them could think of what to say. Having spent much of her life alone in the wilderness, Kantou felt at ease in the silence, but Torku preferred the continual chatter of the city. He feared what wasn’t being said, more than what was.

“If you found a way, do you think you’d go back home?” he asked, suddenly.

Kantou was a little taken back. So much so that she paused in her tracks.

“I’m sorry,” Torku muttered in quick apology. “I didn’t mean to... I mean, I thought you...”

She brushed off her initial shock yet stuttered, “No, no. It’s fine. I didn’t realise Rantil had explained my situation to you all.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I just wasn’t expecting it.” She started walking again. “How could you ever compare two places that are so different? Of course, I miss my home. But our worlds are more alike than you realise.”

“I hope’ve come to call Siale your home,” Torku offered with humble sincerity.

“There were times when I would have given anything to go back home. Ciameth is something magnificent to behold. I wish I could be back in the expanse of the Southern Forest, waiting for the next thunderstorm, or watching the sun rise behind the Citadel on a warm, bright morning.” She lowered her head to pass under a jutting section of rock. Her tone changed. “Yes. I do miss it.”

“Rantil never mentioned, do you have family back on Ciameth?”

“No. Not any more.”

Torku diverted his eyes and tried to keep his gaze on where he was stepping. “Oh.”

She continued and with a few words turned his embarrassment to pride, “My family is here now, on Truaine.”

They continued walking, a little faster than before.
It wasn’t long before the ceiling began to rise, and the stream cascaded over a small waterfall into a large cavern beyond. They stood, overlooking the huge underground lake presented before them. There seemed little choice for them, but to jump.

Torku lifted the torch higher.

“I think there’s an exit over there,” he motioned to the far side of the lake. “This could be one of the old aquifers. It should take us back into the city.”

But before he could hand her the torch so he could plunge into the lake and attempt to swim to the far off shore, she bent down and peered into the water.

“I see a light,” she whispered. As her eyes strained to see something, resting at the bottom of the lake, her heart grew colder. “It can’t be.”

“What?” Torku asked. “What is it?”

Kantou’s mind raced back to the Temple, to where Rantil was able to kill the demon. She could see the brightness of the altar in her mind, but also the light of her sword: Sanity. It bathed Rantil in an orange glow that reminded her, yet again, of home.

But now, at the bottom of the pool was a sword of exact design, shining with a vague violet light.

“Wait here,” she muttered. She paused for only a second longer, and then dove headfirst into the pool.  

The freezing water encouraged her to dive faster as she swam deeper and deeper towards the light. She was overwhelmed by a sense of dread, but she knew not why. The light grew brighter as her movement unsettled the grime resting at the lakebed. Once the dust had settled, she could read the inscription along the narrow blade of the sword.

Calice.

Her mind flurried with thoughts: but above all else was a persistent desire to take its handle and feel its power. The sword beckoned her with shifting light from beneath its blade. She was running short of breath and conceded to the urge in her mind.

As soon as her fingers touched the hilt, her stomach churned, her mouth opened and any remaining air surged to the surface as bubbles.
Immediately, the sword began to burn, and the surrounding water boiled with a flash of heat. Kantou’s hand fused with the handle and her dwindling strength couldn’t pull her away. She screamed, but her hand would not release its grip. The blade shone purple, black and white, and crackled thick, oozing sparks into the bubbling water. Her body began to shake under the might of the sword which grew ever brighter.

Even from the ledge, above the lake, Torku was blinded by the intensifying light. He stumbled backwards and dropped the torch into the stream. It extinguished with a fizz, dwarfed by the growing rumble bursting out from beneath the once calm surface of the lake. He could just about see the water, boiling and steaming. Kantou was drowning.

The sword raged and blistered the water into swirling funnels of air. Kantou desperately tried to pull away but her knuckles were seized in a death-grip around the woven handle of the sword named Calice. She had to turn her head away when the blade grew white-hot and began to pulse with tendrils of purple energy.

Suddenly, Torku was thrown from his feet as an explosion erupted from beneath the surface of the lake. Water, hissing and steaming, was thrown high into the air and the cavern shook. Rocks ground against themselves as huge boulders fell from the high ceiling. Torku was just able to catch a final glimpse of Kantou who was tossed across the cave towards the far ledge. She slammed into the back wall and fell unconscious.

The ceiling gave way and the cavern caved-in.


‘I think I can see another’ came a whisper ‘There’
Pause
‘Welcome’
No
‘Something’s happening’
‘This isn’t her time...’ came another voice
No
‘...her time will come: when her spirit is free’



When Torku knew the dust had settled he opened his eyes. They were hazy at first, but they soon became accustomed to the dimness of light and he glanced around the cave that was now so different.

The lake was gone; the water had evaporated from the heat of the explosion.

The path was blocked; the ceiling had collapsed, bringing tonnes of rubble into the cave.

And what was worse, Kantou was trapped on the other side.

He glanced to the soddened torch, lying in the stream that trickled fruitlessly into the deep pit that extended down into darkness. Its light was gone, yet somehow, the cavern was still alight. He took a moment to crawl out on the waterfall’s ledge and stare upwards. His initial thought, that the cave-in had given him a route to the surface, was short lived. But there, he saw, lodged into the rock just within reach above his head, a sword. It glowed with remnants of purple light, which burnt across his vision and lingered even after he looked away. He quickly found he couldn’t think of anything else. The sword was all his mind would allow him to focus on and all his body sought for.

Kantou faded from his mind: extinguished by blinding light behind Torku’s eyes.

He, like Kantou, couldn’t resist the song of the sword and he stretched out to touch its smooth, pure surface. He didn’t care for his safety, and even when his foot skidded on the wet rock, he still pursued the sword. It wasn’t until his fingertips touched the handle when, for a brief second, he realised his mistake.

Rage consumed him; malice devoured every innocent thought in his head.

He couldn’t hide.

He couldn’t shy away from the sword as it led him back through the tunnel, back past the ruins of the Council Chambers, and into the unknown.

He stopped dead.

It wasn’t far that he’d followed the stream back to its source before he came out on another cavern. The rush of a huge waterfall tainted the air with a fine mist, but Torku failed to notice. His gaze was fixed on a portal, floating just above the ground. Shouting echoed through the cavern, but he didn’t stay long enough to find out what it was.

The sword began to vibrate. It shook his hand softly, almost as though it was urging him through.

With a burning in his eyes, he stepped forth through the portal.
TFS: Trapped Within - Chap9

The Fallen Star Journal


© All rights reserved.
My work, including cover image, may not be reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted in any way without my permission.

Visit the Map of Truaine.

<<< Chapter 8 <<< --|||-- >>> Chapter 10  >>>
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TEN

Whatever medicine the Uraal had given her, She was beginning to blister again in the heat of the sun. Darkness was approaching for yet another night, but she was reluctant to give up the search. Her body was thin and light enough to leave only faint footsteps in the cooling, soft desert sands.

The Cansae Valley carved its way through the desert, like a gorge filled with water, turned to stone. The ground was earthy in colour, but had the strength of rock. She approached over its southern ridge and gazed down into the canyon.

There, carved into the cliff face, where the two sides of the valley met, was the concealed entrance to the Library. The pillars and the carved stone totems guarding the entrance were old and worn, but in She’s eyes they were just as they once were: grand, ornate and adorned with such majesty. In the eyes of the Uraal, they were an omen of death - never to be discussed, never to be mentioned.

Consumed again by her irrational fear of the world, she thought at once that she was being watched: eyes that could pry from beyond the desert mirage and across the horizon. She cared not for her wellbeing as she shifted to the edge and glanced down. Crumbling rocks and jagged arêtes were her only footholds on her hurried descent. Despite all Filoto had done for her, there were times she almost believed the look in his eyes: ‘The Library doesn’t exist.’ But she knew, from that first whisper in her dreams, that the Library was the only thing in her life that was real.

She shifted her footing when there was a glint in the corner of her eye. Taking a moment for the bright light of the sun to find shadow under her hand, she watched something glisten, glint and glide across the highest peak of the canyon edge. Thinking it was nothing more than sand, caught in a wind she couldn’t feel, she turned herself back to the Library and her thoughts back to the vast knowledge lying within.

The sun vanished.

The sounds of the desert passed.

Inside the tall, narrow corridor that led away from the Nourich sands, time was frozen. Beyond was darkness. Her eyes quickly readjusted to see the smooth carved rock that stretched for what seemed like forever down into the depths of Truaine. Her mind quickly raced ahead of her footsteps and gave her a pristine image of what lied beyond the tunnel: books, piled high to the ceiling on an ever-expanding floor of shelves, the smell of paper, the flicking of pages drifting through the otherwise silent stacks. The title of each book was as clear as on the day it was printed - etched through with gold. Even in her thoughts she picked up the first book she could reach and, immediately, she knew the secrets of the world from reading only a single word. By the time she finished the first page, everything glowed in etherial light, shining with that new-found wisdom the book had imparted unto her.

She was pulled from her radiant daydream when her heart leapt in her chest. In the darkness of the tunnel, the floor dropped down a single step. Gulping, she took a final look back to the distant light of the sun, far out towards the desert and turned back to the unknown.

She stepped down again; the walls either side of the passageway vanished.

Upon reaching the bottom step of the hidden stairwell, light erupted into the Library.

It flickered and faded, shone and dimmed, for several seconds and everything became clear to her. The furthest reaches, every nook and cranny was illuminated by the unnatural light. The Library was no longer hidden in darkness, as it had been for thousands of years.

Just like the visions in her mind, she was surrounded by bookcases, sawn from the rarest of darkwood timbers. Each bookcase held hundreds of books, of all differing shapes and sizes. She’s mind span. It was like she was a child again, running through the Regallum, where every corner was a new, exciting adventure. She ran - faster than her wearied legs could carry her.

She came to a railing where the bookcases stopped and gave way to a huge expanse. Like the Library was a huge sphere, she’d come to the empty core. She clasped onto the railing to stop herself from falling. It curved around in a circle, puncturing a huge hole through the centre of the Library. She strained across the rails, looked down and gazed across a never-ending swathe of floors. She looked up to see the same.

High above, suspended by an unknown force, a huge mysterious light shone down and lifted everything from shadow. She imagined millions of stories, thousands of tales, spanning hundreds of years: eons to be read. She imagined that if she could jump over the railing, and float into the middle of the sphere, she would be the centre of the world, the centre of the whole of creation. The Library was more than just a dream to her now. It was her destiny to reclaim her place in the Sett and regain control of Truaine. It was her birthright.

Gazing into the light, she thought about all those days she’d spent alone in the Valkar Mountains. Everything she’d known had been ripped from her grasp, and her life was beginning to fall through her fingers, too. She could feel the pang of hunger every second of her waking nightmare.

She closed her eyes and turned away from the light.

Upon opening them again, she noticed another, much fainter glow, coming from the very bottom of the Library. It glowed like candlelight, flickering from within a secret room, concealed. She quickly found the staircase that led downwards and started the long trek to the lowest level. On each floor was a plaque, listing a group of dates and periods - but on the lowest floor of them all, the sign was too faded to read. Even the books seemed wearied, neglected and in woeful spirits.

The thought of calling out, to find out who, or what, was in the room beyond lingered only briefly. For all its wonder, for all its extreme beauty and magic, the Library was filled with secrets far beyond her understanding. The Uraal feared its name; the world abandoned it for good reason.

Following the glow of orange candle light she entered the room. It wasn’t small, but was dwarfed by the enormity of the floors above. The walls were black, the ceiling was lost in shadow and the floor was buried beneath a dusty sheet. She coughed, failing to stifle her echo.

Beyond, where the candle flickered, was a man. He sat, motionless on an old, wooden chair, behind an equally archaic-looking desk. His posture was so feeble in stature and his blank, lifeless gaze stared back at her with a misty, pale intensity. She moved closer. His skin was cracked, as though his body was baron ground, caught in drought. His clothes, equal in state, were covered in the decay of years.
A few steps closer still, she could see his arm was raised upon the desk, quill in hand. There was no accompanying pot of ink, nor any words marking the parchment spread before him. She chuckled to herself and wondered how he died.

Beneath his hair, she saw something she couldn’t explain: there were two ridges, two protrusions, jutting out from his skull. She was about to brush his mangled hair aside, so she could see more clearly when she suddenly heard something scurry along the floor at the back of the room. The echo it left was only faint; faint enough, she thought, that there was nothing there. The light was dim, and she shrugged off the noise with apparent ease.

Her brave face quickly faded, though, when she turned back to the table.

Where the man had been sitting, motionless and devoid of life, now sat an empty chair. The quill, once grasped in dead fingers, was lying across the parchment, having freshly etched three simple words for her to read: ‘Leave this place’.

But She was not so easily deterred.

“A trick, or some game,” she said.

Bending forwards, she pressed her fingers against the ink. Still wet.

“Try. Try and scare me. There’s nothing you could do that would force me to leave this place.”

The candle light flickered and went out. Darkness.

“I will not leave.”

The light of the candle returned.

When it did, she could see the man, standing under the doorway into the room. Despite his age, he stood resolute and unwavering and glared at her from behind his misty eyes. She wanted to move closer to him, to show how unafraid she was. But before she could take that first step, he took one of his own and began to make his way towards her. Although she held her ground against his advance she laid her fingertips down on the tabletop behind.

“Leave this place,” he said, without ever moving his lips.

“Who are you?”

He took another step forwards. His skin was beginning to chip away from his bones.

“I am the Guardian of this Library.”

She lifted her hand away from the table. “Then I am here to ask for your help.”

The Guardian paused. “My help?” He continued staring at her. “Your questions will go unanswered here. There is nothing I can do for you.” He began walking again. “Now. Leave this place.”

With each shuffled thump of his feet, his skin began to crack and drop away. Each staggered step he took towards her caused his clothes to disintegrate and fall to the floor as dust. The features on his face shattered like a stone thrown into broken glass.
“Leave this place,” he repeated again.

“I am the rightful heir to the Sett. Truaine is mine to command. As are you.”

The Guardian began to laugh. “I am not of your world. Truaine is only a shade of what it once was. And you, child, are nothing but a lingering shadow.”

“I am not a child.”

The Guardian looked at her, and saw within her something deeper. “No,” he whispered. “It appears you are something different.” His refusal to break his eye contact with her forced she to blink against his stare. “No. No! You must leave this place. You must leave this place!”

She lifted her chin above his.

“No.”

Between the cracks in his skin, something began to shift. Like his skin was the prison of a creature trapped for thousands of years, his mask began to fissure and his true self was revealed. His body shifted and contorted with the breeze, grew and shrunk like smoke rising from a fire and lifted from the ground, away from his bodily remains.

He kept his gaze with her. “I am the Guardian of this Library. It is my duty to assist you should you wish it. If there is no price too high, then you can ask your questions. Think carefully, child, think carefully upon your reply.”

She looked up to the spectre and without missing a second, spoke, “You will answer my questions. If you truly are the guardian of this Library, then you are the only one who has the answers I seek.”

The Guardian, for the first time, looked away. “Then, poor child, what is it you wish to know?”
TFS: Trapped Within - Chap10

The Fallen Star Journal


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Lake Mountains by TheFS
Lake Mountains
A single canoer crossed the crystal clear waters, Wanaka, NZ
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TheFS
Edward Dyer
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
I've spent the last few years writing a full length novel called 'The Fallen Star'. I've reached a point where I really need some feedback, so I thought I'd come to one of the best known sites on the web =)

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:iconwalt-marsters:
Walt-Marsters Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday. :party:
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:iconthefs:
TheFS Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks =D
How's life going for you?
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:iconwalt-marsters:
Walt-Marsters Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Can't complain. :)

Writing isn't going as smoothly as once it did, but those things happen. I'm getting a bit tired of the current storyline and I just want to conclude it. Only very vague ideas yet of what the next is going to be.

On the positive side, I am revising and compiling the material for the second book, which I think may actually be finished by the end of the month. Which is a lot faster than I thought, because quite honest, I've been doing that so long now, I thought it would never be finished. lol.
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:iconpixx-73:
Pixx-73 Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Thank you so much for the watch. :thanks:
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:icontheneva:
theneva Featured By Owner Mar 28, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Do you still offer Feedback services or not? How much? :)
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