Tag Archives: Sunday Snippet

Sunday Snippet, May 17, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“Then we should go.” She turned back to look at the young ogre who had joined them silently, still hanging back a bit, but close enough to hear them. “Do you live far from here? We need you to gather your things so we can leave before more trouble comes.”

He studied her for a moment then turned and darted into the alley, disappearing behind a pile of rubble. 

Veren shook his head. “I doubt he has ‘things.’ Most here have only what they’re wearing.”

 Kestra smiled. “He’s a shaman. He’ll have ‘things.’ We all do.”

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, May 10, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

She joined Veren at the entrance to the alley, and looked up at him questioningly. 

“What you did to those… things… it’s bound to have gotten the attention of the Temple Priests. We should be on our way before they come to investigate.”

“Do you really think they will come here at night?” she asked worriedly. “You and Gundrin both warned me against it.”

Veren shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on how strong they are at the moment. If they have enough militia in-house, they’ll come.” He tried to remember how many troops were at the Temple he had come from, but he was just a Temple Guard – and not freely at that – and not part of their organization. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he repeated, suddenly feeling worthless.

 

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, May3, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“Here.” Veren appeared at her side and handed her a round hard cake. “Give him this. It’s a travel ration.”

She broke off a small piece and ate it, showing the boy that it was safe. As she chewed, she handed the rest of it to the boy who hesitated for a moment and then snatched it from her hand, huddling away from her protectively. She smiled. “It’s all right,” she assured him. “It’s yours.” He took a bite then stuffed the rest into a pocket. “Eat,” she urged him. “You must be starving. We’ll take you to get more food.”

She stood up and took a step backward, offering her hand again. This time he climbed warily to his feet, towering over her even as he cowered away from her.

He was still eyeing them warily but she could feel him wanting to trust, and she relaxed; he would come around on his own, it was best not to push him.

She joined Veren at the entrance to the alley, and looked up at him questioningly. 

 

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, April 26, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“We need to move.”

“A moment,” Kestra replied, turning and kneeling next to the young ogre. “My name is Kestra,” she told him. “I’ve come to help you.”

He looked at her, his body stiff with fear. “What’s your name?” she asked gently. He didn’t reply and she felt a stab of worry that the terrors that had been assaulting him had destroyed his reason.

Veren shifted uneasily, dark eyes watchful. They were trapped here with nowhere to run, and it went against all his training, all his experience.

Kestra glanced at him, then looked back at the boy, rising slowly and extending her hand to him. “It’s not safe here,” she said. “We need to leave. Come with us – we’ll take you some place safe, some place where they can’t hurt you.” She could see the hesitation in his eyes, the indecision, and was at a loss as to how to get through to him.

“Here.” Veren appeared at her side and handed her a round hard cake. “Give him this. It’s a travel ration.”

 

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, April 19, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

As Veren  joined her, he saw the boy turn his attention toward her, gazing at her in adoration as if she was a dream come to life, then the fear that was part of the reaction to all strangers here – and everyone who was not you was a stranger – took over.

“They’re not interested in me,” Veren observed, swatting one with the broad side of his sword. “Just you and the boy.”

“Well, they’re about to become less interested,” she said darkly. She raised her staff and brought it down sharply, speaking a word of command. There was a silent thunderclap and then it was just the three of them.

“That was probably not wise,” Veren said. “You’ve just gotten the Temple’s attention.” He seemed nervous. “We need to move.”

 

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, April 12, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

She was running as she reached the foot of the hill, Veren easily pacing her. Confidently she moved through the streets and alleys, the route imprinted on her mind, barely noticing the ragged figures that ran into deeper shadows, fleeing in fear.

At the entrance to a dead end alley she pulled up sharply and got her first look at the source of her Calling. He – at least she thought it was a he – was a Mutant, an Ogre. His skin was a combination of green and blue-grey and his body held the promise of being powerful, but he was far too thin. He was wearing a long skirt and a blouse, obviously scavenged from a refuse pile. They were torn and dirty, and hung awkwardly from his gaunt frame.

At the moment he was cowering in a corner next to a tumbled down wall, waving his arms and half-sobbing, half-shouting for something to go away.

Kestra glanced at Veren, wondering if he could see the attackers. They looked like crows, but with scales instead of feathers, and their talons dripped what she could only assume was some sort of poison.

Veren frowned. He hadn’t known the Temple had grown strong enough to summon creatures like these, but what else could they be?

He started to draw his sword, but Kestra stayed his hand. “I’m not sure your weapon will be effective against those.”

“Only one way to find out.” He started forward and she sighed and stayed with him.

One of the creatures turned and dove at them, focusing primarily on Kestra, and Veren’s sword flashed and sliced it in two, each half instantly forming a new whole. He swore as the two of them dove at Kestra again, but she ducked through the flock attacking the boy and placed herself between them. One dove at her and she swung her staff, connecting solidly and sending it tumbling to the ground, stunned.

 

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

4 Comments

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Sunday Snippet, March 29, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

She was running as she reached the foot of the hill, Veren easily pacing her. Confidently she moved through the streets and alleys, the route imprinted on her mind, barely noticing the ragged figures that ran into deeper shadows, fleeing in fear.

At the entrance to a dead end alley she pulled up sharply and got her first look at the source of her Calling. He – at least she thought it was a he – was a Mutant, an Ogre. His skin was a combination of green and blue-grey and his body held the promise of being powerful, but he was far too thin. He was wearing a long skirt and a blouse, obviously scavenged from a refuse pile. They were torn and dirty, and hung awkwardly from his gaunt frame.

At the moment he was cowering in a corner next to a tumbled down wall, waving his arms and half-sobbing, half-shouting for something to go away.

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, March 22, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

The street sloped down from here and below them spread… squalor: half-collapsed buildings, makeshift shelters, fires whose smoke gave off a putrid greasy smell. “What –?”

“Shack Town,” Veren murmured, his gaze troubled as looked down at the ruins below them. “This area was hardest hit during the Magic Wars and the Uprising, and it was never rebuilt. It was felt to be ‘contaminated’ and not worth the money and effort. Almost all of the Mutants end up there, regardless of where they were born.”

Kestra did not reply, her attention focused on the wreckage below her. The Call was definitely coming from down there. She let her gaze travel over the buildings, hoping she would be able to see where to go.

A shimmer of energy caught her attention and she frowned, focusing on it. The fear in the Calling escalated as the shimmer intensified. “There!” she said, pointing. “Let’s go!”

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, March 15, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

He led her through streets and alleys that grew more run down and decrepit as they went, and she shuddered. “How do people live like this?”

“It’s surviving, not living. But there are worse areas.”

She shuddered despite herself, despite his arm that was somehow around her shoulders, guiding her and comforting her.

She stopped suddenly and stared. The street sloped down from here and below them spread… squalor: half-collapsed buildings, makeshift shelters, fires whose smoke gave off a putrid greasy smell. “What –?”

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

2 Comments

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Sunday Snippet, March 8, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

She had no idea where she was going – she was merely running blindly through streets, barely even registering the crowds around her. Reaching a dead end she turned around with a sob of frustration and collided with Veren who grabbed her arms to steady her.

“Easy,” he murmured. “Calm yourself.”

“He’s afraid,” she said. “I need to get to him. He’s in trouble and he’s scared… terrified.” Large dark eyes seemed to glow with their own light as she looked up at him pleadingly. “But I don’t know where he is.”

“Shh. It’s all right. I think I know. At least, I know what part of the city you’ve been heading toward. We’ll find him.”

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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