Riding on Zammar’s horse (Arion), Ren, Tristan, and Zammar arrived at The Blacklands' city of Candahar only hours before it was assaulted by an enormous horde of Und'kal. As the dark skinned people of the city took arms, Ren too swore herself to the cause. Even Tristan picked up a sword, making a promise to Ren that he would not hesitate to fight the aliens he had come to love.
Ren and Maria, the guide assigned to her by Chief Hirat, took station on top of the city’s walls. With her bow ready, Ren’s intentions were to lead the city’s boomerang throwers. Tristan found himself in the middle of the main army, forced to fight in deadly melee.
The fighting raged in a desert valley, but was soon halted when a large Und'kal, a “Kal Prime”, confronted Zammar. The two clashed in fierce combat that had both sides struggling to gain the upper hand. However, when Tristan attempted to intervene, the unguarded Zammar was caught by a merciless attack, an attack that may have proven fatal for the mighty man.
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Her arrows bounced uselessly off the giant creature's tough hide; still, Ren fired them one after another in desperation, ignoring the sting of the bowstring on her hand.
"It is no use, my Queen." Maria said sadly behind her - not for the first time. Ren loaded another arrow and let loose. It glanced off the writhing monster, flopping lazily to the ground at its feet; she threw down her bow in frustration.
"It's okay. He's fine..." She replied, reaching forward to grasp the sharp palisades of the wall with shaking hands. It's Zammar. Her gaze fell on the medical soldiers stationed directly in front of the wall. Like the rest of the army, their eyes had remained glued on the brawl as Zammar alone fought the Und'kal. None had raised their arms to aid in his melee, not even now when he most needed their help. The only person that had even tried was Tristan.
But look what happened because of him...Ren shook her head violently to clear the thought. She would have done the same, no matter how hopeless the gesture. After all, no one man but Zammar could stand against that thing. But there was the entire Candaharran army...Surely together they could take down the large Und'kal? Abejide and Hirat have probably already thought of that. Maybe they just didn't want to help him. The paranoid part of her said that Zammar's skin colour had something to do with it. Ren turned back to the vast desert, squinting her eyes against the strong sun. There had to be something, some way to defeat the beast.
She made to move towards the wooden stairs leading down to the city behind her. "I need to get down to the fight..."
"No, my Queen." Maria's hand whipped out to grab Ren's arm. The tight grip startled her out of the focused state she was in. "You must not abandon your post, my Queen." The guide added sternly.
Ren was surprised, Maria hadn’t been strict with her before. "But...I need to talk to Abejide."
"Your battle is here, my Queen. Believe in your comrades." The dark girl pointed a long fingered hand. "Look, this enemy will not last much longer, already its life blood drains."
Ren stared at the girl for a moment before nodding; it would have taken too long to get to the chiefs. Not to mention that there was nothing she could do against any Und’kal with a sword - she’d learned that the hard way. At least with her bow she could be of some help.
"Yeah..." She whispered, turning back around to lean over the wall and gaze at the pillar of dust that was rising from where Zammar had smashed into the base of the hill. "I'll finish it off myself if I have to..." she muttered under her breath, ignoring the sharp sting of splinters on her hands as they squeezed the wood. Despite the pretense, Ren had never felt more helpless.
The giant, monstrous creature was writhing and groaning in agony. Blood poured profusely out of the deep wound in its front. It seeped out sluggishly from the alien's side, and dripped down from under its belly. Another stream of the thick liquid dribbled from where Zammar's blade was embedded at the base of the Und'kal's neck, colouring its back a deeper black. After launching Zammar, the monster had completely ignored Tristan, and tried desperately to pull Calesol out of its back. The long, muscled arms were still swinging at where the hilt of the sword was.
Finally, the dangerous talons grabbed it, and pulled the blade out. The Und'kal screamed, tossing the sword in the same direction as Zammar, where it cut into the ground and quivered delicately. The moment it let go of the weapon, the creature's right arm fell limp by its side and was quickly clutched at the shoulder by the left. After a moment whimpering, the alien let out a deep growl before craning its demonic head to roar at the sky victoriously.
The alien turned around to face its Und'kal allies. It threw its one good arm in the air, flexing the talons and roaring triumphantly; cutting the performance short to clasp at the gash across its torso. The massive Und'kal army erupted in a cacophony of hissing, shrieking and strange alien celebratory noises. The black horde of monsters, that had held still for so long, suddenly began to move. The motion was slow and hesitant; the aliens were still waiting for confirmation from their leader as they began pushing each other forward in eager anticipation. The alpha himself turned maliciously to the humans.
A shudder seemed to pass through all of Candahar as the eight eyes gazed down on the city-folk, causing the human army to shy away before the alien might. "Hold the line!" Chief Abejide's loud voice carried above the din of the Und'kal, steeling his peoples’ resolve. Slowly, the humans began to reorganize. The soldiers at the front line found their courage, shuffling quickly while preparing their poisoned spears and shouting with growing fervor. Eventually, the entire gathering came to a suspenseful stop, waiting for the enemy's charge.
Tension was high as both armies waited for some signal, something to tip the delicate equilibrium and send them charging at each other.
Suddenly, the clamour of the Und'kal army died down. In an instant, the entire valley fell quiet. The large Und'kal leader halted in surprise, turning around to gaze stupidly at its compatriots. Slowly, it followed the vehement gazes of the other aliens, revealing a mouth of needle teeth that dripped with virulent saliva in the process.
Ren followed its gaze and gasped, letting go of a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She fell to her knees and allowed tears to blur her vision. At the base of the desert hill, the thick cloud of dust that had risen so ceaselessly was finally starting to clear.
Eddies of dust swirled around the emerging silhouette of a large man, revealing glimpses of his muscular body and the trail of blood he left behind. Zammar was limping forward, his good arm clenched on the giant gash that had opened across his torso. His right leg strode more favourably, almost dragging the left, and his left arm hung helplessly by his side. A strong gust of wind cleared the last of the dust, blowing Zammar's cape heroically behind him and fully revealing the prodigious man. His hair blew wildly, unveiling the immensely fierce determination sown across his face as he approached the giant Und'kal.
The beast laid eyes upon the man and its face went from victorious to furious. Its deadly mouth opened to release an enraged roar, allowing thick chunks of spittle to whiz through the air. Slowly, it began to hobble towards Zammar. Three of its six legs had stopped functioning. They dragged behind the others, leaving thick indentations in the ground that soon filled with the monster's own blood. It hissed in pain with every step, but all eight eyes were brimming with rage. The blood lust behind them was unreal.
Zammar stopped by his sword. His cape, turned a deeper red through blood and tattered with holes, blew wildly behind him as he pulled Calesol out of the ground. Less than twenty meters in front, the monstrous Und'kal stopped to watch him maliciously. The two stood staring at each other for a tense minute until in just one short moment of exhaustion, Zammar's left knee buckled, and he fell down onto it. The Und'kal lashed out instantly, its one good claw whistling loudly as it flew straight for the man.
Zammar lunged forward so that the claw whizzed through the space where his head had been. Landing on the ground, he pivoted hard on his right arm to bring his left leg in a powerful kick. It had no effect on the tough hide of the monster, but he hooked it around the beast's arm. As the Und'kal pulled its arm back, Zammar swung himself onto it and cradled the limb. From his seated position he jumped up so that he was crouching just as the Und'kal bent its arm to try and dislodge him. With a powerful thrust of his back leg, Zammar began to sprint up the limb; he raised an arm, swinging Calesol before launching it overhead. The blade shot through the air remarkably fast and straight, stabbing straight through the inside of the Und'kal's elbow joint.
The monster screamed in pain, trying to flex the arm that had been locked in place. The useless limb began to fall limply by its side, still bent as all eight eyes stared at it incredulously. Zammar, still sprinting, pulled Calesol out of the ruined joint as he ran by, dislodging thick white tendons with it. He leapt up the arm, bringing the blade over his head to cut into the bicep. The alien's arm was completely vertical now, not giving him ground to land on; but the moment his sword penetrated the flesh, Zammar's left leg kicked hard against the side of the alien's limb and propelled him towards the monster’s abdomen. His grip on the embedded blade allowed him to swing around and plant his feet on the Und'kal's shoulders. He straightened quickly. Calesol, still in his hand, ripped violently out of flesh to follow his torso up.
The blade was coming up behind Zammar when the Und'kal's tail lashed forward with lightning speed.
"No!” Ren cried desperately as the sickle shaped blade at the end of the tail punctured Zammar's torso, directly above his hip bone. It pierced through to the other side, followed dramatically by a voluminous spray of blood. Zammar's head fell forward, a thick gob of blood flying out of his mouth. In a slow and deliberate motion, the monster began to raise the unmoving man. Zammar was brought up to the Und'kal's eye level; his sword dangled helplessly by his side, slowly beginning to slip out of a weakening grip. The beast opened its mouth to let loose an immense roar that shook the wall beneath Ren, and blew Zammar's cape and hair wildly behind him. The tail began moving into the dark chasm of its mouth.
"SOMEONE HELP HIM!" Ren screamed, her voice muffled by clasped hands and tears.
The long, rich, blood matted black hair that had fallen to hide Zammar's face suddenly parted as he raised his head to stare at the big monster. His mouth opened in a devilish grin as a trail of blood streamed down from its edge. With a strong flick of his wrist, Calesol swung in an arc from below, slicing through the Und'kal's tail. Zammar's broken arm whipped out, grabbing the severed appendage before he could fall too far.
The monster yelped in surprise as it instinctively pulled back the remainder of its tail. Zammar hung on until he was directly above the evil, hammer shaped face. There, he let go, swinging Calesol beneath him. The blade led the man, falling straight down and through four of the Und'kals eyes. Zammar didn't wait a second, he pulled the severed tail blade out from his torso and stabbed it through the other four eyes.
Beneath him, the creature let out another shriek of pain that slowly died to a whimper. Its legs finally collapsed, dropping the parallel section of its long torso to the ground with a thunderous thud. The tall, upright portion stood for a suspenseful moment before folding back on itself. One arm continued twitching desperately as the last breath of life left the vile beast.
The sudden silence that fell over the valley lasted a long time before being broken by the deafening cheers of the human army. Zammar had collapsed to his knee with one hand holding Calesol while the alien fell. With a groan of effort, he managed to stand and pull his sword out of the creature's eyes. He turned to look straight at Ren, making her heart skip a beat. Even from the distance, she could make out the apologetic look on his face. He took one step forward, before teetering and falling limply off the giant monster.
The Und'kal response was instantaneous. As soon as the listless, muscular body smashed into the ground, the entire horde growled and hissed. They began to charge across the clearing that had been created to accommodate the battle of colossi.
"CHARGE!" Abejide's strong voice carried up to Ren as the human army ran forward. The two groups raced towards each other, vying for who would reach Zammar's body first. Ren slowly got up, grabbing her bow with renewed conviction. Zammar wasn't dead, he would never die...and she would never let him. I will shoot down anything that tries touching him. She loaded an arrow as the two armies clashed.
***
Tristan's legs pounded the ground hard, his sides ripping apart in effort as he sprinted towards the mass of Und'kal charging straight at him. He glanced behind, desperately trying to maintain the tiniest lead on the rest of the Candaharran army and soon losing it as long black legs pounded out in front of him. In a flash, he was surrounded by bare, sweaty bodies and shouting men. The least he could do in the confusion was try to keep up and not get trampled.
He craned his head, looking over the endless crowd of people to see the giant corpse of the Kal Prime. Dust was thrown up by the charging armies, enclosing the body and his surroundings in a whirling cloud. Still, the hammer shape of the creature’s head could be made out as a silhouette against the high sun. Tristan had been pushed off course, forced closer to the Und'kal army without covering the required horizontal distance. Now, he was right at the front lines almost directly to the left of the Prime. In front, he could make out the Und'kals finally engaging in bloodthirsty combat with men and women.
Once again, pained screams ripped through the zealous war cries that filled the air.
Tristan looked away from the battle with a regretful sigh - there was nothing he could do to stop the fighting. But Zammar...he had to save Zammar. Tristan turned and began to run perpendicular to the charging army.
The change was instantaneous. People began running into him even as he sprinted or sidestepped as fast as he could to avoid it. "Sorry!" he cried, as his flailing hands slapped a fat woman's breast, but then she was gone and replaced by a young boy yelling high pitched, impassioned war cries. Tristan jumped by him, running into a large man that grunted and kept going. He almost fell backward, reaching out his arm by instinct to grab someone else's limb and pull himself back just in time. The limb was wrenched out of his hand just as he started running again.
More bodies buffeted him, pushing him closer and closer to the Und'kal horde. Still, he carried on, hardly making any progress against the mass of people. Then, a burly man pushed him aside with enough force to topple him over. He moved to get up, but a foot came to kick him in the belly. Another stepped on his hand painfully, someone tripped over him, yelling as they hit the ground behind him.
Tristan cried out in pain as he was bruised repeatedly, slowly curling up tighter into a fetal position. A deep instinct permeated through his bones, locking them in fearful paralysis. The impulse to survive rang incredibly loud in his ears; his body was rejecting the notion of death at a physical level. Tristan became numb to the pain. Above him, the ceaseless movement of legs and flashing of blades created a cacophony of endless, repetitive colour and clamour.
Then, a large shadow fell across him and the noise suddenly stopped. No, it didn't stop. It just didn't invade every inch of his being any more, as if he was in a safe bubble. The noise of the charging army surrounded him still, but it seemed distant, like a dream.
Something stirred within Tristan. He had been threatened, his life in danger. The perpetrators, whoever they may be, must have their blood shed.
His eyes opened suddenly, burning with blind fury. Slowly, he clambered back to his legs, ignoring the numerous aches that echoed across his body. His arm reached down for his sword, unsheathing it as he turned to look at the source of the shadow.
Arion reared up on his hind legs, taking an eternity to fall back to the ground with a loud whinny. The sun glinted off his lush brown fur, rippling down the elegant body like a wave. He shook his head, sending the long mane rippling in a flurry of gold. Behind the horse, that stood with eyes fixated on the body of the Kal Prime, the Candaharran army, which was finally thinning, forked in half to its sides. The people regarded the horse with great trepidation and surprise, quickly changing their course to run around it.
Tristan approached confidently, reveling in the moment. He stared lustfully at the base of the horse's neck; one single stab there. His mind played the scene over and over, the jab of the sword, the outpouring of blood, the muted struggle and finally, the limp body at his feet. The beast was majestic - a truly riveting hunt. Oh, how satisfying it would be to feel its hot blood pour over his skin.
Slowly, he raised the sword with both hands so that the sharpened tip pointed straight at its target. A maniacal grin started to creep across his face. The world around Tristan no longer existed - it never had. It was just him and his prey, that was all that ever mattered.
Even as Tristan moved within striking range, Arion stood remarkably still, staring intently at the Prime's body. Then, just a moment before Tristan struck, the horse turned its long neck around to stare straight at him.
An incapacitating shiver ran through Tristan's body, halting him in place. His pupils dilated as they stared deep into the ancient, black eyes. Without realizing it, he began to lower his sword. Arion looked at him with archaic wisdom and impenetrable resolve. This isn't you, the horse seemed to whisper to his mind. The animal's sheer presence seemed to overwhelm the blood lust that raged in Tristan's heart, banishing it to some nether region.
Slowly, Tristan began to absorb his surroundings. Apart from a few stragglers, the majority of the army had deserted him in their rush to meet the aliens; the two groups engaged in bloody combat less than ten meters behind him. The air rang with fervent shouts and pained screams that slowly began to gain resolution to his minds eye, bringing him back to the battle. He looked down to stare at the sword in his hands, twisting it cautiously to examine the other side. Then his eyes rose up to gaze at the majestic horse. Arion's deep black eyes regarded him with complete neutrality. The horse snorted softly, and then dropped both front legs to kneel on the ground.
Tristan stepped forward cautiously, laying a hand to stroke the rich fur. "Sorry..." He managed to whisper.
What's wrong with me?
A snort, almost forgiving, from the horse reminded Tristan of the urgency of the situation. "Quick! We need to hurry!" He cried, clambering onto the ornate saddle on the horse’s back.
Arion whinnied in response and began to charge forward, piercing the crowded battle with graceful ease.
The fighting seemed most concentrated in the shadow of the Kal Prime. As Arion galloped through the lines, man and Und'kal both stopped to stare incredulously at the horse. Many of the latter chased after it, leaving themselves open to the human spears that pierced their sides.
Yet, despite the chaos that defined the battle, the ground directly beneath the giant corpse seemed strangely calm. Human soldiers had managed to form some sort of protective circle around the entire thing, barely holding back the endless Und'kal that were charging their front line. Arion took a burst of speed to leap over the confused men at the front, landing smoothly in the empty clearing behind them.
Tristan glanced up at the colossal, unmoving corpse of the Kal Prime for just one short moment. He leapt off the horse’s back and ran to the group of men that were huddled around the Prime's fallen arm.
Chief Abejide was standing on top of one of the collapsed legs; his ornate halberd was covered in black blood and his bare chest showed fresh, deep cuts.
"Heave!" He yelled, as a group of his men strained to lift the alien's arm. When it finally got some clearance from the ground, he stamped the spear down hard. "Hurry! Pull him out."
More men ran forward, ducking under the limb above them. With loud groans of effort, they struggled to drag out the limp body of Zammar.
Tristan stumbled forward awkwardly as the heavy arm was dropped with a loud thud that threw up more dust. He managed to stop and fall on his knees just before the body of his mentor. Tall, dark pillars of sweaty soldiers blocked out the sun as the men all leaned over him to look at Zammar with wide eyed admiration.
Zammar's eyes were closed, his beautiful face resting in peaceful tranquility. If it wasn't for the blood matted hair, he looked almost asleep. Tristan stared at his face for a few seconds, wishing silently to himself, before turning hesitantly to look down at the muscular body. Despite the large grains of sand that clung to it, the thick gash across Zammar's chest still glistened red in the sun. It stretched from his right hip bone, where the fur covered leather kilt had been slashed, right up to his left shoulder. Beneath the thick clumps of sand, Tristan could just make out the fibers of the immense muscles, and white chunks of bone that stuck out of them disturbingly. Blood dripped down from the giant wound, soaking into the deeply red, tattered cape beneath the still body. It was joined by a more profuse outpouring from the large hole above the left hip, where the tail had penetrated through the man’s body. Here, it gushed out in alarming volume, tainted black by some poison.
Where it wasn't discharging the thick, scarlet liquid, the entire body was covered in dark bruises. More damage was discernible on the left side of the body where the torso caved in slightly, and both limbs twisted out at unsettling angles.
Around him, the group of Candaharran soldiers began a slow chant. Tristan didn't notice. He simply stared at the man, his beloved mentor.
Zammar was not breathing.
"We were too late." Abejide's soft voice spoke through the chanting that had drowned out the battlefield around them. "He was a great man." His hand landed on Tristan's shoulder, who still did not notice. Arion slowly trudged through the crowd that had gathered around the body and settled down on one leg to lay his head across Zammar's body.
"No..." Tristan replied finally, weakly, looking into the horse's deep black eyes. "He can't be."
"Friend, he is gone. This is not the time to mourn, we have a battle to fight."
"NO!" Tristan yelled at the Chief. Arion knelt down on both front legs just as Tristan pushed the man's arm off and made to get up. He placed his hands beneath Zammar's body, ignoring the hot blood that stained them, and strained to pull the man to the horse.
He didn't get far. The body was incredibly heavy.
"Help him." Abejide commanded softly to the warriors that had stopped chanting and were staring at Tristan. "We respect strength above all else; the least this man deserves is to be taken to a better place."
Three of them stepped forward, and with Tristan they heaved Zammar onto Arion's back, placing him on the saddle gently. In response, the horse whinnied sadly, motioning with its head to Tristan. He clambered on its back, hardly regarding the other men as the horse turned to the face the city.
"Wait!" A voice yelled out from behind him. Two men ran up, carrying Calesol. The greatsword was soaked in black blood, which dripped down to the ground. Tristan reached for it awkwardly, but the men ignored him and sheathed the blade on Zammar's back.
Arion, who was waiting patiently did not even seem to notice the extra load. The moment the sword was sheathed, he began to gallop towards the city gates. They escaped just in time, for behind them the front lines broke, allowing Und'kal to flood into the clearing.
Tristan held onto the limp body, struggling to keep it still as the horse charged towards the Candaharran gates, stopping in the shadow of the large wooden structure. He clambered off the mount, dragging Zammar down with a sickening thud. Blood immediately started to seep into the ground even as a man and woman ran forward from the medical teams posted beneath the gate.
"Help him!" Tristan cried desperately, turning to the medics. They were dressed similarly to the rest of the army, the only difference being the red of their loin clothes. The woman had a large leather purse hanging around one shoulder. The man had a similar container, a case he ran forward with in his hands.
They stopped to stare wide eyed at Zammar's body. "Please, do something!" Tristan cried as the man began to shake his head and back away.
"No...I won't help a man that white." He replied, still unable to take his eyes off Zammar.
"What?" Tristan managed to utter incredulously.
"My comrades need me!" The medic turned and ran to one of the large groups of injured people that were being dragged from the battle by children. Tristan stared at his back with wide, disbelieving eyes.
The woman knelt by Zammar, laying two fingers on his neck. "He is gone," she whispered sadly. "He fought well." She added when Tristan turned back to her with desperation painted across his face.
"Please..." He pleaded. "He can't be...He can't be gone. Please do something."
The woman shook her head sadly, reaching into her purse to pull out a sharp scalpel. She used it to cut through the leathery fabric of Zammar's kilt, pulling out brown fur from the end of the wound that crossed his torso. She then ripped it off to reveal his bare hip. There was a white tattoo - a circle containing a crescent moon to the left of three waves. The symbol was identical to the strange marking that adorned the space between Arion's eyes.
The woman reached into her bag to pull out a wad of thick gauze and some adhesive strips that she pressed down on to the hole above Zammar’s left hip. She kept compressing the wound for over a minute, all while chanting a mysterious prayer.
Tristan knelt down and watched apprehensively.
“He’s gone,” the medic repeated, giving Tristan a sorrowful look.
“Please...Just do something.”
"I can bind together the wounds and stop the loss of blood...But it won't bring him back." She said, reaching a dark hand into her purse to pull out a needle and thin thread.
Tristan nodded, brushing long strands of blood matted hair from Zammar's peaceful face. He remembered first seeing the man, and staring into those mysterious brown eyes. There had been something there beyond Tristan’s understanding. All this time, Zammar had always seemed lost in his own world, alone.
"Why do you carry such a heavy burden?" He whispered to the man. "You're not alone..." It's all my fault. I killed him. I killed Zammar.
Hot air blew across his neck as Arion's head nudged his shoulder. He turned to the horse, stroking it unconsciously. "He'll be okay, won't he?" Tristan whispered. No, he's gone.
Arion whinnied lightly, backing away and turning his snout to point at one of the pouches on his saddle. When Tristan didn't notice, the horse bit lightly into his shoulder. "Ow!" Arion backed away and turned his head to point at a pouch again. "In there?" Tristan asked, standing up to reach for the saddle.
He reached inside to grab a loose rope and pull it out. It was a necklace attached to a small, ovoid vial. The crystal glass contained some clear liquid that flowed freely when he turned it, refracting sunlight to cast a rainbow with incredible clarity on the ground. By all manners of appearance, it was water. But there was something mysteriously captivating about the fluid, something beyond Tristan’s understanding. It was pure, incorruptible and somehow different.
"What is it?" He asked, prying his eyes off the alluring liquid to look at the horse. Arion had moved to stand over Zammar. He looked at Tristan blankly, before dipping his head down to point at the man's head. "You want him to drink this?" Tristan asked, stepping forward and pulling the stopper off the vial. He knelt by Zammar's body, raising his head gently and dribbling the entire contents of the container into his mouth. Even down the dark chasm, he could make out blood that had made its way up the throat.
"Will that help? Will that save him?" He asked, sitting back to watch the dark lady begin stitching together the deep wound. She simply shook her head sadly in response.
Hope slowly drained out of Tristan as he turned up to look at the battlefield. The human army was being pushed back, they now fought half as far from the Candaharran gates as previously. The corpse of the Prime was lost in a sea of Und'kal; even as they moved forward, their army seemed to stretch beyond the horizon. And, when Arion slowly sat down to curl himself around Zammar's body, tears began to stream out of Tristan's eyes.
Zammar was gone.
"I'm sorry!" He whispered between stifled sobs. "I should have warned you about the Prime...I should have stopped the fighting." He clutched Zammar's hand, rocking his body in distress. "I'm sorry I got in the way...It's all my fault." He whispered. "Please don't go...Ren needs you...The world needs you." His head fell on the hard chest, an inch from the closed cut. "I was going to stop it..."
Then, just as the tears began flowing freely from his eyes to fall on the blood stained body, a single powerful heartbeat thudded beneath him, shaking the ground with its urgency.
Author's Note:
Hello, this part is much overdue (as usual!) My primary excuse is exams, but it's not really a good one.
Either way, the editing process has become much more stringent, and I hope that reflects in the quality of writing. Another big thank you to my editor for taking the time to go through the story with me. He makes me feel bad about myself, but I suppose that's a good thing?
I also introduced a convention that I hesitated and implemented occasionally previously, that is to use italics for thought. Additionally, I decided to change to a broader perspective, i.e. the reader knows more than the character, where previously I was trying to maintain the viewpoint through a character. So for example, Ren doesn't really know what a Prime is yet, so I avoided using that terminology when we're following her. Moving forward however, the universe for the reader remains constant. Decision making is hard :(
Anyways, thanks for tuning in, I hope you are enjoying the story!
As always, criticism is much welcome. Also, I don't think there's anything most authors like better than discussing their story, so please do get in touch about what you think!
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