#I need people to understand my time lords are predators that have given up hunting for social reasons agenda

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

I am a firm believer in the fact that most of what is stereotypically thought of by other species when talking about time lord society is an act

[aspookycrow]

Why Hill Top Road is most certainly not the only portal:

A theory I didn’t type out because I had thought to eventually write a fanfic about it, but here you go because it’s the last possible day for me to post a called shot with my tma theory without tmp lore being involved.

Section 1 - The Tree

When we’re first introduced to Hill Top road in MAG 08, the statement giver provides us with his gut-check instinct about the tree on the premises, which cast odd shadows and “creeped him the hell out”, culminating with him feeling the need to destroy it.

This tree, as we all understand by the end of MAG 196 - This Old House, is a symptom of the crack in reality seeping out from underground, but let me draw your attention to MAG 127 - Remains to be Seen, where Jonah hires Doctor Jonathan Fanshawe to visit Albrecht von Closen in the Schwartzwald, otherwise known as the Black Forest in Germany. When his carriage arrives, what does he see but some absolutely heinous tree that absolutely must be killed:

and then, later on:

A single tree so inexplicably foul, it inspires the urge to kill it dead. Section 2 - Underground In MAG 59 - Recluse, the orphan Ronald Sinclair wanders into the basement of Hill Top Road, and recounts his observations of the room:

Compare this with Anya Villette’s description in 114 of the unlisted HTR basement, involving unfinished masonry and damp earth

As a curious parallel, in Albrecht Von Closen’s experience descending down the strange, isolated mausoleum in the Schwartzwald, the tree-punctured, decaying stone stairway yields to a room with books touching walls so weather exposed, the statement giver is unable to tell if the books are truly touching walls at all, or are in fact bordered in with bare soil.

And what item did Albrecht find conspicuously on the floor of Johann von Württemberg’s mausoleum, the subtler mystery detail hidden by the much thematically larger mystery of the books? Section 3 -The coin anomaly Inside this strangely placed, isolated mausoleum in the Scwartzwald, Albrecht von Closen found a coin, dated the year the count Ulrich II of Württemberg passed away.

Interestingly, in both our universe and the in-fiction one, Eberhard I succeeded Ulrich II, and not any bastard named Johann. Our dear Archivist comments on this in the same breath as dismissing it as coincidence, which historically means it definitely isn’t. 

Preposterously familiar for anyone who’s spent any amount of time thinking about the obvious HTR-based disappearance/reappearance/time skipping of Anya Villette (MAG 114) and Anne Kasuma nee Willette (MAG 08). Kind of curious how this absolutely cursed book collection shows up in proximity of a cursed tree that people are urged to kill, in a weird mausoleum nobody has any record of, alongside a coin of a man who may not have existed and definitely wasn’t a lord or any sort of royalty and yet there’s currency commemorating him? This is not the end of the Scwartzwald anomalies, though. You see, this coin…went missing. Section 4 - Profound violence, and an eyeless man It’s unclear the circumstances of how Albrecht lost this coin, though given that he wrote his statement in 1816, I suspect it fell out from a pocket during Albrecht’s very next encounter which causes him to flee the Black Forest entirely. The encounter where the guy who keeps creeping around the outside of the mausoleum, issuing vaguely intimidating warnings, decides to accost Albrecht and reveals himself to have empty eye sockets, and the ability to “see” regardless. 

The identity of the Eyeless man remains unknown definitively, as he runs off as if he was startled by some sort of predator, but in some Absolute Hunt Bullshit that seems to follow pretty much immediately, there was a murder that same year that investigators briefly thought was committed by Albrecht’s host and nephew, Wilhelm.

An eyeless man, a cursed tree, the profound violence of a hunt, the man who doesn’t belong with a history that couldn’t be true. And that’s not to mention the incredibly cursed vibes of both locations. To wit, in MAG 196 regarding the nature of these cracks in the universe:

Compare this to Albrecht’s description of the Schwartzwald:

AND ALL THIS IS TO SAY, in my heart I know it’s true that there are more portals, because as a patreon subscriber I got to submit a question for the Q&A And do you know what they did? Do you know what happened to my question? They reworded it beyond recognition, to a thing that was NOT what I was on about at all. I asked about the potential for other Cracks in reality to exist currently, like the hints for Schwartzwald or The Eschatology Door in Paris, and do you know what they rewrote the question to be about (but still put my name on so I KNOW it was supposed to be mine) (also please dont go find it, it’s embarrassing how they butchered my ask and also it has my human name on it and I don’t know yall like that tbh, so just take my word for it)? The question they answered was if different places and countries had their own regionally specific fear domains, like Paris for example. Which like, obviously?? I forget how exactly they rephrased it, I was on a walk listening and my ears went hot and my eyes went wide and I KNEW I HAD SOMETHING WITH A MELTY HOT CORE OF TRUTH TO IT. Pure adrenaline, sign me up for the Fucked Up Red String Tower where People Judge Marble Domain I guess, but I feel it in my GUTS now. And you know, maybe the question was rewritten by a staff member before they ever saw it, any number of things could have happened along the pipeline. It seems bizarre to me that they’d even leave it in after choosing to rework it that hard, though. But I’ll tell you what, the question posed was about cracks in reality, not fear domains. And I feel CLOSE to something. In Annabelle’s own words, 

Indeed, few have ever thought much of it at all. Perhaps there are many such places across the Earth. Perhaps it is unique. Certainly, no-one has known either way.

(PS don’t get me started on MAG 134 - Time of Revelation, DON’T GET ME STARTED ON IT)

Transcripts lovingly taken from https://snarp.github.io/magnus_archives_transcripts/ All the screenshots have alt texts with the contents in plain text. Mainly, the goal I set here was to get it out there before TMP, so I can feel very very clever if they ever address it. Also, this is my first effortpost using this editor and BOY YA'LL WEREN'T KIDDING.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Mousetrap pt. 3

Author's Note: There will probably be a reasonable amount of skipping over certain events--provided they go exactly as they would in a standard good run. If I skip over something I won't gloss over it entirely, but I won't be spending as much time detailing it.

Also I'm saving the hyena boy because 🥺

--------------

Seven thousand souls.

Cazador was frightening at the best of times, but knowing he had sacrificed so many made him even more so. Seven thousand spawn, sacrificed so that he may finish this ascension, that was all Tav could think when she'd seen him crossing the path towards her - in broad daylight.

His last gathering had been his first to take place in the sun, and the pit in Tav's stomach that formed when he approached her in the gardens had only soured since.

"So pleasant to walk in the sun again," he'd said. "Isn't that so? After a long winter...one begins to forget that the sun exists."

"Of course, Lord Szarr. Perhaps now you've found a cure for your ailment, you will be less inclined to certain nightly activities?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I find that my unrestricted freedom grants me the opportunity to indulge where I was unable to do so before." A smirk crossed his face. "Is a man not entitled to take that which is within his grasp?"

"Not when it belongs to someone else."

"I find that point of view interesting, considering how you made use of my errant son."

"Does this conversation have a point, Lord Szarr?"

"The point, Lady Gortash," came Cazador's cutting reply, "Is that now I no longer need worry about weakness, I may find vengeance much easier to enact."

"If you think to threaten me--"

"Threaten you? Oh, my lady...were I to seek your downfall, you would never see it coming."

-----------------------------

"Is this really necessary?" Astarion looked with no small amount of disdain on the hyena walking at Tav's side. "I can understand wanting a strong set of jaws, but..."

"They were going to take him back to the shadow-cursed lands," Tav replied quickly, reaching down to pat at the hyena's head. "And given how many of us there are to feed now, having a beast that can hunt as effectively as this little one will be helpful."

"Shouldn't we have gone straight for the grove?" Shadowheart asked. "Isn't that our goal?"

"It is, but there was someone I was looking for out here, someone who would've been helpful...I suppose they've gone."

Scratch, talked to. Owlbear mother, talked to. Karlach hadn't been where Tav thought she would be, and as they approached the Emerald Grove she tried not to panic. Suppose Karlach was the one to remember? She knew she'd get read the riot act if that was the case - how dare you think to call yourself my friend after falling in love with Gortash of all people, how dare you even speak to me after what you caused.

YOU were the one to cause all this, Tav thought miserably, You were so hung up on Gortash you forgot about Cazador.

But if she wasn't the one, then this anger would be directed at her for nothing. Still, it was hard to think of someone worse whom it could be...mortal, anyway. She feared what Ilmater or Silvanus might say if they knew what came before...

You're afraid of everything, aren't you, mouse?

She could almost hear the voice in her ear, as if Raphael were there whispering into it.

I just want to be prepared, she thought.

The hyena whimpered, and in a voice only she could hear, said, "Will you make me run into the dark too?"

"No, of course not," she replied, "If you feel you must repay me, I would appreciate your helping to hunt prey for us all to eat. Can you do that?"

"Oh yes, yes." It bobbed its head, "Not the big predators and things, at least not by myself, but deer I can do."

"Poor creature seems not to be feeling well. I hope we're not going to see a gnoll born today," Shadowheart said.

"Not if I can help it," Tav replied.

"You're just bursting with helpfulness, aren't you?" Astarion went on. "We don't have to stop to help every helpless thing we come across, you know."

"I stopped to help you, didn't I?"

That seemed to surprise him. "Touche, I suppose. Not that I'd call myself helpless, of course."

"Besides," Tav held up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she squinted up the road ahead. "I'm in the business of helping people, it's what I did before I got taken by the nautiloid."

Not entirely a lie.

"Being taken advantage of, you mean," Astarion quipped, "That's all I ever see from Ilmatari. How lucky we managed to find you before some goblins did."

"The goblins," Cald protested, "They like her just fine."

"They're goblins, they don't like anyone."

"They--"

"Astarion, Cald! Stop arguing and--wait, look, that's the gate to the Grove up ahead."

They should be closing in soon...

As if on cue a horn of alarm sounded off.

---------------------------------

The goblin fight ended exactly as expected. Astarion sniped one, stabbed another in the back. Shadowheart healed, and Tav wildshaped into an owlbear and tore through several herself. Cald mainly used his crossbow to keep at a distance, but when one got too close to him he reached up and with a strong jolt burned its eyes out.

The hyena when given permission rushed to devour two of the goblins, while Tav looked up at Zevlor, who was shouting.

"That was the last of them. All of you inside, more may follow! ...Open the gate!"

While Zevlor and the others were opening the gate or waiting for it, Tav busied herself with picking weapons off the goblins. Cald followed suit, and both had tucked things away in their bags by the time the gate opened enough to let them in.

Gale picked up a few things too. "I suppose they'll want kindling for firewood, if nothing else."

As they walked forward, the momentary peace was shattered.

"There are CHILDREN HERE, you fool!"

"We was running for our lives..."

"This isn't the time to be fighting, gentlemen," Tav took the tone with them she often did with Cald when he'd start misbehaving. "Knock. It. OFF. You're close enough to the goblin camp they'd have found you soon enough anyway. They've found you now, so--"

Zevlor and the other man seemed to deflate at that.

"I suppose you're right," he finally said, before wandering off.

Tav stepped forward.

"Ah...thank you for your help out there. I'm Zevlor."

"I'm Tav," she said, giving a slight nod of the head, "This is my son Cald. We're just trying to do a bit of business before--"

"Whatever your business, I'd handle it quickly," he replied, "The druids are forcing everyone out. There's been attacks by several kinds of monsters. Nobody's welcome..."

"I'm a druid, perhaps I can...do something about that."

She could almost feel the roll of Astarion's eyes.

"Or perhaps not...but...I can at least try. Hopefully I can at least buy you some time." Tav gave a slight smile.

"I don't know how well you can...they've started a ritual to cut the grove off from the outside."

She inquired about a healer a moment later, and was directed after a mention of Aradin's expedition and Halsin to the apprentice Nettie. Then she headed off and up the path.

"You move awfully quickly, have you been here before?" Gale asked.

"Oh, yes, several times," Tav replied, "Though I live far south from here...you might consider me a shut-in, in that regard."

"Trying to avoid someone?" Astarion quipped.

"Several someones." Tav gave a slight little laugh. It was all coming back now - over there, the smith, over here, the one shopkeeper. She bought a few supplies for herself, some for the others--crossbow bolts, potions. They'd need better armor later, but there was time to wait. All they were going to face initially was the goblins and their little camp, nothing they couldn't handle.

She stopped suddenly beside an indigo-flowering plant, and pulled out her alchemical bag. A moment later she was picking a few berries from the bush. Not too many, of course, but enough that she could make a good powder out of them with a mortar and pestle later.

"Something for medicine?" Shadowheart asked. "I don't recognize it."

"Chasteberry," Tav replied, "Some of those I've treated take it for ailments of the...womanly variety, as it tends to help soften the worst symptoms of their cycles. With so many women in the group, I thought...could be useful."

"Is it for nuns?" Astarion quipped. "What kind of a name is chasteberry? Sounds terribly boring."

"It also has a tendency to help those trying to maintain vows of chastity...tames down their desires."

She had used it herself to ease the pain of her cycles, but two winters ago the sole plant of it she had, had withered in the ground. Nothing could seem to save it.

"How terribly dull."

"Dullness is sometimes preferable," Tav said quietly, "Some find the lack of desire leaves one's nights free to pursue other things."

Would likely be beneficial to grow at least a small one in a pot in camp...or something like that. I don't remember any of the other women having trouble, but...

She closed her bag and moved on. There was the feeling she was forgetting something...

But it passed the instant she glanced down the ledge at the the idol of Silvanus. Fear moved through her like a shot, and she started walking more quickly, breaking into a run the closer she got to the idol.

-----------------------------------------

"Bury the remains. Continue the rite."

Tav moved forward automatically, feeling an icy hollow in her chest at the sight of Arabella stumbling, falling, and going limp in quick succession.

The first time she'd seen this almost happen, had managed to stop it. Wanted to stop it because it was wrong for the girl to die. Yet seeing it happen here and now, seeing the small body on the ground, there was more than just mere anger that Kagha could think to do such a thing.

There was white-hot rage. The owlbear roared beneath her skin and only with a great effort did she restrain herself from wildshaping and tearing Kagha's throat out.

"You will not NOT," she growled, "Lay a hand on her and you will lose it."

Red in her eyes, anger, surging through every vein. Tav looked then to the snake.

"This was a child," she said, "A child--"

"Mind your tongue," Kagha said, "A fellow druid you may be, but that does not give you the right to interfere."

Tav ignored her, knelt over Arabella's body. She lifted it and bolted outside, laying it on the ground near the idol. The others followed along behind her--she was vaguely aware of Shadowheart kneeling beside her, Gale somewhere nearby, Astarion, saying something snarky, Cald, quietly standing and watching.

I have to try!

That the girl was in danger of dying had never even crossed her mind, and that opened a whole other world of possibility. If she had been too late to save Arabella, that meant...that meant anyone could--

It could just as easily have been Cald here, on the ground, in my arms.

She rifled through her bag, brought out one of her two scrolls of revivify, and started reading, offering a sudden vow to Silvanus and Ilmater in her mind as she spoke.

Please, let this work. Let her live, and I swear, by Silvanus and Ilmater both that the next person I see whose death I crave I will spare, no matter who they be.

The scroll began to glow, and then to burn. The embers fell onto Arabella's body. Tav lay one hand over the child's heart, and lifted her limp head with the other.

"Please," she pleaded, "Wake, Arabella, wake--"

A cough, and a groan. The child's previously lifeless eyes shifted slowly, and came to rest on her own, then widened in fear.

"It's okay," Tav said quickly, "You're alright, I saved you. How do you feel?"

"I...I feel...strange...where is the snake? The--"

"They're not going to be a problem, alright? Let's go back and find your parents."

"Can you stand up okay?" Cald suddenly spoke.

He and Tav both helped the girl to her shaky feet.

"Go on back to your parents," Tav finally said, "And stay far away from that Kagha, and the idol. I'm going to do what I can about the goblins but I know you don't want to feel all that again. Alright?"

Arabella only nodded, and dashed off.

"A breathtaking display of goodwill," Astarion spoke rather sarcastically, "You do realize that those scrolls are--"

"Astarion, if you're ever fortunate enough to sire your own children," Tav cut him off, "You will understand a little better why I did this. Until that point, do not judge me."

"So what are we to do now?" Shadowheart asked, "Do we speak to that apprentice?"

"No," Tav replied, "We go to the Goblin Camp."

She wanted to get moving. Didn't want to think about what she'd just seen, what she'd only just been able to prevent. Didn't want to pause long enough to think, because she knew if she did that she would find herself picturing Cald being the one dead on the ground.

A busy mind could not be an anxious one, and the terror of being in a campful of dangerous goblins and other beasts was more appealing than what happened in her own mind in silence.

The hyena, who had stayed quiet until then, perked up. "More food?"

"Yes, more food," she assured him.

"Perhaps there's a pack of sad orphans in there we can assist," Astarion said, "Or a damsel in distress."

"I was thinking more of Halsin," Tav replied, "You sound like you're eager to get to fighting, eager to see blood. We'll get plenty of it breaking him out."

There was a pause, and then a falsely genial shake of Astarion's head. She realized she'd forgotten how irritating she found his reluctance to help others when first he'd joined the party. Understanding why didn't make bearing with it any easier, though she managed to keep her expression positive. She had to stay polite at bare minimum, in order for him to stay, in order for him to live.

As they were leaving, Lae'zel returned.

"I have established a campsite for us nearby...some goblins had to be eliminated or I would have returned sooner. What have you discovered, besides the price of crossbow bolts?"

"The druid Halsin may be able to help us, but he's being held prisoner in the Goblin Camp to the west," Tav replied. "A potential ally, it sounds like...and the one most likely to be able to aid us in that matter of the tadpole."

"Chk. You insist on wasting time trying to heal what has never been possible to heal. But if ANY of us begins to turn, I will not hesitate to start cutting throats. To become ghaik--"

"Is a fate worse than death," Tav replied, "I know. Let's get moving before the druids decide we're as unwelcome as the tieflings."

"You threatened to cut off the druid lady's hand, mama, I don't think they'll like you anyway," Cald piped up.

"An astute observation," Gale suddenly said. "Though perhaps the goblin camp may not be suitable for a young man such as yourself either."

"A good point," Tav added suddenly. "Cald--"

"No!"

"Let the whelp taste battle," Lae'zel said.

"You have another scroll, do you not?" Shadowheart added, "Of the same sort you used to help that little girl. If anything goes wrong..."

"Nothing will go wrong," Tav replied, with an edge in her voice, before softening up again. She clenched at the hilt of her rapier, and took a deep, steadying breath. "We all go. And we all return. Understood?"

Everyone nodded.

------------------------------------------------------

It had been over a decade, and still Tav remember the Goblin Camp well. A little tower here, a cooking spit there. Walking in had been easy, convincing them of her being there to see Minthara as she had done the last time. No sight of the owlbear cub just yet...

"Looking for something?" Astarion asked. "I can't think there's anything the goblins have that you want."

"Their weapons make good kindling," she replied in a whisper. "Or they will later, anyway."

She squinted slightly up ahead. Volo was there, but there was someone else too, a bald, head-scarred, pale figure she could only see from the back. Woman, from the looks of her, but--

"'Ey, who are you?"

"Here to see the drow," Tav said quickly, and without even thinking said, "We're True Souls, they told us to come talk to her."

"Ah, 'scuse me then," the goblin said, "Ain't seen too many of youse here, just her. 'Ey, before you go in, go and have a look at the bard. 'E's pretty dramatic to watch, especially when 'e's got a partner."

She knew she'd said too much, but thankfully--there were more important things to worry about. At the moment, anyway.

This was not how she remembered things.

The woman with the scarred bald head fell to the ground in mock death, and Volo walked briefly away, only to return a moment later.

"As calling home our exiled friends abroad, that fled the snares of watchful tyranny, producing forth the cruel ministers of this dead butcher and his fiendlike queen, who, as ’tis thought, by self and violent hands took off her life!"

Tav, nearing with the rest of the party, began to to clap. His performance wasn't entirely good, but given the situation he was in it was as good as could be expected. Perhaps Volo WAS the one to remember? Perhaps that was why he wasn't using the same performance as before?

"Up, my dear, I think the goblins shall want something bloodier for the next bit. I shan't ask if you've ever read--"

A cheer went up, confirming his suspicion and drowning out his words.

The scarred woman stood and turned just slightly, just enough for her face to be seen.

Tav's blood ran cold for an instant. She clenched again at the hilt of her rapier, already imagining its use, already plotting how best to skewer the woman before her.

But, said a voice in the back of her mind, a voice certainly not her own, You promised, you vowed, that you would not harm the next person you dearly wanted to harm.

There, standing next to Volo, in the middle of the Goblin Camp, bald and scarred as if she had been through torture of the sort she must have found exciting--

--was Orin the Red.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

A Leap in the Dark | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU. Daniel "Danny" Fenton tried to distance himself from anything that could possibly tie him to magic. However, his world begins to unravel when the powerful Vlad Masters brings charges of witchcraft against him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, descriptions of death

Warnings: Witch trail interrogation and execution by hanging

Parings: none

Notes: Cross-posted to AO3 and ff.net

This entire fic was inspired by a conversation I had on Tumblr

A Leap in the Dark

The old cart creaked and rocked as it slowly moved towards its destination. With the exception of the occasional instruction to the donkeys from the wagoner, the only sounds from its passengers were whispered prayers and weeping.

Daniel (Danny to friends) Fenton closed his eyes as he waited for the inevitable. No amount of crying or pleading would save him now, and he’d come to terms with it. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Several days prior, town guards stormed his home and pulled him into the streets. He demanded an explanation only to be punched in mouth and knocked to the ground. Some of the guards grabbed him and forced him into a kneeling position as another took out a scroll.

“On behalf of his majesty, we the guards of Amity Park arrest Daniel Fenton, son of Jack Fenton, on suspicion of practicing black magic and soliciting with the devil.”

He tried to argue with them. The charges were insane. Sure, his parents liked to experiment with alchemy which often seemed like magic, but he’d done his best to keep his nose to the ground once he moved out of their home. What did he do to get someone so upset with him that they falsely accused him?

His words fell short as someone hit him in the neck.

The next thing he knew, water fell on him, jolting him awake. Glancing around, he found himself in a cell. Trying to stand, he found shackles binding his arms and legs. In front of him, a guard with an empty bucket sneered.

Soon after, he found himself brought before the hallmote. A representative of the town stood before those gathered and explained what the accusations against him were. The other villagers yelled and hissed. The representative waited until they calmed to provide the evidence which involved reports of him meeting with a dark someone in the middle of the night at the outskirts of town.

Danny jolted as he realized someone saw him meeting up with Samantha. She and her family were fairly new to the area and affluent. Her parents didn’t approve of him, and there was an issue of different religious backgrounds.

When he had a chance to speak, Danny explained just that. “I just wanted to spend time with my dear friend without worrying about the judgement of others,” he pleaded to them.

The crowd’s anger softened some. Another rose and asked if any further evidence could be provided. Hope welled within Danny. If no further false evidence existed against him, he might be able to walk away from this relatively unharmed.

The crowd shifted as they waited for someone to speak. When no one did, Danny sighed in relief. He’d be able to go home and live his life. He might have to let Samantha know they would need to move their meeting times to make it safer for both of them, but if that was the only thing he needed to do, he could live with that.

The sound of walking broke the silence. Everyone turned to see Vladimir Masters, another recent addition to the town slowly walk into the room. Danny didn’t know what to make of the man. He had more influence due to his merchant money then the local lord which caused some tensions between them. However, he’d managed to charm most of the villagers and the church with his donations and public improvements. He also seemed to have an unhealthy interest in his parents, particularly his mother.

“Ladies and gentlemen of this fair town, I bring you one final piece of evidence,” he announced as he opened his cloak to produce a large leather-bound book. He waited for the whispers to stop before he continued. “When rumors first started, I could scarcely believe the son of my two dear friends could possibly be involved in such things. So, I decided to follow him to one of his supposed meetings with the Dark One.”

Again, he paused for effect. “I watched as young Daniel meet with a strange man who appeared on a dark mist. Afraid for my life, I didn’t dare approach and instead hide behind a nearby tree. While I couldn’t hear their words, I did see the stranger hand the boy a book before disappearing back into the mist. The boy glanced through it before heading further outside of town.”

“Concerned, I followed at a safe distance. He eventually came to the hang man’s tree that grows at the crossroads and buried it before heading back to town. I waited until I believed he would no longer be able to detect my presence and dug up the book. Lo and behold, I found a tome written in a language I could not read. Images of death and sacrifice littered its pages. Horrified, I returned to town with it in my possession to report it to both the guards and the Church.”

“Are you so enraged that you can’t have my mother that you need to frame me?” Danny spat at the man. “Everyone knows the crossroads are dangerous at night. I have no desire to risk encountering the vengeful and dark spirits that make such a place a home. Besides, don’t we all know the Dark One is more likely to appear at the crossroads? Why would I go there after supposedly meeting with Him?”

Masters just gave him a sickly-sweet smile. “How is a simple man like me supposed to understand the logic of such evil? Besides, you have not denied ownership of this book.”

The rest of the crowd erupted. Even through the symphony of voices, he could tell many of them cursed and condemned him. His heart sang as the shouts grew louder. Everyone knew the if the crowd believed your guilt, your fate was sealed. He would be handed over to the Church. If he was lucky, their interrogation techniques would kill him before he would be hanged.

After the official ruling was given, officials from the church entered and took him. The last thing he saw before being knocked unconscious was Masters’ smug expression.

He came to in another cell. Sore and aching, he took stock of himself. Well, as best as he could due to the chains. He didn’t seem to be injured which the exception of a few bruises. The pain appeared to be from resting in the uncomfortable position. Shifting, he tried to find a position slightly more comfortable and warmer while he waited for his fate.

An unclear amount of time later, a couple guards came to retrieve him. They removed him from the chains in the cell and placed more compact shackles on his wrists. Once they were certain he wouldn’t be able to fight back, they led him to a different chamber.

He figured he’d see the vicar and maybe a deacon. Instead, Vlad Masters and some men dressed entirely in black greeted him. “I don’t… I don’t understand…” he stammered.

Masters clapped his hands. “My dear boy, I don’t expect you to, but I should explain, seeing as you are my most recent guest.” He closed the distanced between them after a few strides and began circling him as if he was a predator. “I’m one of those tasked with seeking out who have made unsavory deals with the Dark One.”

An icy chill raised through Danny’s chest. “Are you telling me you’re one of those moon touched under that Hopkins guy?” While Amity Park wasn’t part of any of the large cities, the stories of the sudden upsurge in witch hunts had reached them. Hopkins was the most prolific of the hunters.

“We have crossed paths on occasion,” Masters responded as he continued to circle. “However, we disagree on some methods and share little more than a profession. While Hopkins believes those he prosecutes are truly evil, I do things a little differently.” He closed the gap between them so he could whisper, “You see, I believe people need to fear evil, and to do so, I need to remind them of its existence, whether it exists in that location or not.” For a moment, Danny could have sworn the man’s features warped into something inhuman and evil.

Danny swore as the man moved away. “You… you monster! How many innocent lives have you destroyed?”

Masters just chuckled. “Not enough. My friends, could you please silence the boy? We need to begin our interrogation.”

The men in black quickly gagged him before ripping off his clothes. They gasped and muttered darkly when they spotted the large birthmark on his chest. When they found no other mark of interest, they poke and prodded the mark. They started lightly before beginning to scratch and jab. Eventually, they brought out a small knife and drew his blood.

“He bleeds,” the one muttered. “Surely this is no brand.”

“Perhaps it is an illusion, or his brand is one of those normally unseen,” another replied.

The first one nodded. “If that is case, then we must locate it.” He then made a series of cuts on Danny’s arm. “No evidence here. Please try his back.”

They continued this investigation for some time. Slices were made up and down his arms, his chest and back, legs, and even his face. All of them bled. All of them hurt. Displeased they could find no sorcery mark, they ordered the guards to take him back to the cell.

The cool stone of the dark cell gave him some relief from the stinging cuts. If any one of them refused to heal cleanly, it could mean the death of him. One of his uncles died from a cut that refused to heal, and it was not one he would like to repeat.

After that, the attempts to get some form of acknowledgement or confession from him worsened. The beat him with their firsts and with whips. They burned him with hot iron. They even tried to throw him in the nearby river, but someone interrupted that one. While it wasn’t much, he silently thanked the unknown stranger for the act of kindness.

While he never confessed to any of the false accusations, he did openly curse Masters. That apparently was enough for him and his cronies. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the Hallmote again with Masters announcing his confirmed guilt. As a result, he was sentenced to hang.

Danny spent the next few days in the prison’s cell. In a different cell across the hall, a few more condemned prisoners also awaited their fates. He heard they would meet their ends on the same day he would. One of the others tried talking to him, but he decided not to respond. Whatever the man did to deserve his fate, he didn’t need a chance to make it worse by speaking with someone accused of magic.

When the day finally came, the guards came to retrieve them. After their hands were bound behind them, they were led to the wagon to be transported to the location of the gallows.

While some of the other men prayed and wept, he just stared at the sigh. He’d made peace with his awful fate. As much as he wanted to blame the Lord, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He learned at a young age that while the Lord could work miracles, He couldn’t always interfere with the evil acts of men. At least he knew he’d be welcomed in Paradise.

Once the wagon reached its destination, Danny allowed himself to glance at the crowd. Many of them were celebrating the day. He almost forgot how an execution could excite the townsfolk. Some were even taking bets on how long he and the others would last.

They were marched into a line underneath the scaffold. After the nooses were placed, the executioners gave the other men the chance to say their final words first. Then came Danny’s turn.

He glanced around in hopes someone might be brave enough to save him. No one stepped forward. Instead, most of the faces visible to him appeared to laugh and jeer. Except one, he spotted Sam who appeared to be weeping.

“I hope that you who falsely condemned me are haunted by your choices,” he stated while trying to keep his voice as even as possible. I know what awaits me on the other side, but can you say the same?” The crowd shouted obscenities at him as his words came to a close, but he didn’t care, not anymore.

With him being the last to speak, the executioner and his assistants began the process of covering his head with the characteristic hood and kicking the supports out from under their feet. Even though he was prepared for death, he didn’t want to die. His weight forced the rope to press harder against his neck, making it harder and harder to breathe. He struggled to free his hands in hopes he might be able to save himself, but with each passing moment, he seemed to be drain of more and more of his strength.

His last conscious memory was to hope Sam wouldn’t be targeted for her show of tears.

... … …

Consciousness came back to him slowly. Feeling groggy and stiff, he slowly sat up. As dirt fell away from his body, he realized night had already fallen. Why had he fallen asleep outside? Had he been stargazing again? After the first time, he decided to use his roof for that purpose as it was safer than sleeping outside the village.

“Danny?”

He jolted at the soft voice. Turning, he found Sam kneeling a couple feet away with her friend and servant, Tucker, standing behind her with a lantern that had an unusual intensity. Both of them watched him carefully. If he didn’t know any better, he would have guessed they were apprehensive of him.

“Thanks for waking me up,” he told them cheerfully as he stood and brushed some of the dirt off him. His voice didn’t convey his feelings though as it sounded gravely even to him. He must have slept much longer than he originally figured.

Frowning as he realized his feet were buried in the dirt, he glanced behind him to find what appeared to be a shallow grave. Disturbed soil with an arm of an unnatural bluish color sticking out of it could be found only a few feet away. He’d been buried.

“Danny?” Sam called out again as she slowly stood and approached him. “What’s the last thing you remember before waking up?”

As he thought about the odd question, flashes of his interrogation and the gallows came to the forefront of his mind. Scared at the implications, he rubbed his throat. The skin felt rough as if it had been injured and pain blossomed at his touch. He had been hanged. Falling to his knees, he thanked the Lord for a chance at a second chance at life.

Standing again once he finished, he glanced at his friend. “I’m glad you came when you did. I don’t know what I’d do if I woke up alone out here. Let’s get you home before something bad happens. Only one of us needs to be accused of practicing magic.” He gestured to the lantern. “You didn’t need to break out the good candles just for me. Actually, they might be too bright if we want to sneak back into town.”

Tucker glanced at Sam, who bit her lip. “Danny, they just seem bright to you. The candle in there is the dimmest I could find. We could barely see where we were going while getting here.”

She wouldn’t look directly at him. Instead, she kept her gaze lowered which was unusual for her. That by itself clued him in something was wrong.

“Sam, look at me. What’s going on? You’re not telling me something.”

“My lady, err… I mean Sam,” Tucker floundered as she turned to stare at him. Even though her parents bought him to be her personal servant, Sam refused to have him call her by an honorific. She wanted him to consider her his friend first and foremost. “Should I bring out that mirror?”

“That might be best,” she agreed as he hesitantly handed her the lantern while he dug through the sack attached to his belt. When he finished, he brought out a black stone and traded the lantern back for it.

“I thought that was supposed to be a mirror,” Danny joked as Sam took a moment to polish it.

“It is… It’s just a special type of mirror. Difficult to come across.” She held it up to him. “It’ll be easier to show you.”

Not sure what to expect, Danny stepped forward until he could see his reflection in the stone. However, whatever person it reflected, it certainly wasn’t him. The stone showed a creature with hair of moonlight and eyes of an unearthly green. Its skin reflected as the bluish pallor of death. Dark bruises were visible around the neck.

Cursing, he stumbled away. Grabbing at his hair, he found stuffs of whitish silver. The skin of his hands matched the color of the creature’s skin. “What happened? What did you do to me?”

“I was trying to summon your soul.”

“I get accused and executed for witchcraft, and you turn around and preform it?” Danny gave a hollow laugh. “Was my death not enough of a warning? And what did you plan to do once you summoned me?”

“I wanted to take down Masters, okay?” she snapped at him. Her gaze fell when they locked eyes. “Not all magic is evil. I just wanted to see if there was anything you could provided to help me make sure he didn’t take any more victims before your soul became beyond reach, but something went wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if I did something wrong.”

“Don’t say that,” Tucker scolded as he placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “The crossroads hold strange powers as its one of those places where mortal and immortal can meet.”

Danny gulped at the implication. He forgot criminals tended to be buried at the crossroads. And even though he wasn’t as superstitious as some, he knew such places could be very dangerous. “So… what did the combination of this good magic and the crossroads do to me?”

“That’s something I don’t really know. It seems to have reanimated you, but you are clearly not as you were.” She fell to her knees as tears began to roll down her cheeks. The Sam Manson crying! Sam never cried.

Hesitantly, he crouched down in front of her and used his fingers to lift her chin. Her skin felt so warm to the touch. “While I can’t say I’m comfortable with what happened, I can say it’s not your fault. You had no idea this would be the outcome. You’re also right about Masters… There’s something wrong with him. During the interrogation, I could have sworn I saw the shadow of evil on him.”

Instead of responding, she lurched forward to embrace him. Not sure what else to do, he rubbed her back in a soothing manner.

“Sam, you’re going to get dirty. Neither of us will want to risk the wrath of your parents.” Tucker spoke softly as he tried to gently pull her off of Danny.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she buried her head deeper into Danny’s chest. Not sure what to make of it, Danny shared a look with Tucker. Eventually, she stated, “I can hear your heart beating. Danny, I can hear your heart! You’re alive.” She looked up and gave him the biggest and purest smile he’d even seen.

“But how? How is that possible? I couldn’t have survived the gallows, and my appearance is of some specter… What the?” As he spoke, a blinding light washed over him. As his eyes adjusted, everything seemed much darker. If it wasn’t for the faint light of the lantern and the visible sliver of the moon, he doubted he would have been able to see anything. Wait, he’d been able to see just fine moments ago.

“Tucker, the lantern!”

Seconds later, the lantern appeared within inches of his face. “Whoa! Watch it! Those metal ones hurt when they hit you.”

“Danny,” Sam’s smile somehow grew wider, “you look like you again! “

“Is that why I suddenly can’t see?” When she rolled her eyes, he quickly added, “I mean, that’s wonderful!”

“I doubt it’s that simple,” Tucker noted as he watched the two of them stand. “You touched death, and that always leaves a lasting mark.”

Sam brushed the dirt off her skirt before she began to walk. “That’s true, but for now, we should return to town. We can figure out what happened to Danny as we work on destroying Masters. He can stay at my place for now. It’s big enough we should be able to hide you for a few days.”

Danny acknowledged that would work for now. Even though he didn’t want to put either Sam or Tucker at risk, it would be easier to discuss the future once they rested.

Perhaps he could even stagger back into town in a day or two just to see how the townsfolk would react. Maybe they would consider his return to life as the will of God. Or, if he could take the form of that creature again, perhaps they’d consider him a vengeful wraith. The latter made him smile. Oh, Masters didn’t know what type of revenge he unleashed.

End of story notes. There are a lot:

Firstly, if anyone would like to expand upon this idea, please feel free. I have no desire to extend this. The plot bunny, now that it’s fulfilled its goal, has run off.

Now for the historical notes.

The hallmote is a court held in a Justice’s hall. In medieval England, this is the lord’s manorial court. For the lord, this primarily functioned for fees and land ownership. However, when it came to issues regarding laws, the villagers acted as prosecutor, legal authority, witnesses, and judge. The lord of the area rarely had anything to do with legal issues.

I know that when it comes to magic, usually that fell under the church’s domain, but I wanted to mention a trial first before he was handed over to them as the accusations against Danny were fabricated.

Moon touched is being used as a euphemism for being crazy.

Vicar is a term primarily used in the Anglican church for parson/minister.

Also, witch hunts and trails did still happen in the 1600s in England – they peaked again in the 1640s and the 1650s due to the English Civil War and the rise of the Puritans.

I did review the interrogation techniques of this time period. While they existed beforehand, the specific ones I mentioned were championed by a man named Matthew Hopkins, who flourished as a witch hunger during the English Civil War. He and his colleagues are believed to be responsible for 20% of the total people persecuted for witchcraft in England between the 15th and 18th centuries. His book is also considered a contributing factor in how the trials in Salem, Mass. played out.

The accused often had their bodies searched for marks which were said to be proof of their pact with the Devil. This was often a birth mark, mole, or other skin manifestation. The area was believed to be unable to bleed or feel sensation.

Hanging. The gallows with trapdoors (drops) weren’t invented until the 1760s. So, Danny is experienced it the old-fashioned way where they put the noose on and cover the head with a hood. Depending on the gallows, the condemned might stand on stools or be on the wagon at first. Then those were removed. Unlike modern hangings which were designed to break the neck upon the sharp drop, the original version had people die by suffocation. Most loose consciousness within 5-10 minutes and death occurs soon after. The title actually is a saying believed to have derived from being hung.

There are some instances where people simply lost consciousness and revived at a later time after they were cut down. Some considered that a pardon from God. Others thought the person made a deal with evil.

Executed criminals were traditionally buried at crossroads. Normally, they couldn’t be buried in a church graveyard, and there were concerns the dead could come back to haunt the town. Being buried at a crossroads helped confuse angry spirits.

Crossroads were considered liminal places where one could meet all manner of supernatural creatures. Some traditions state it’s the best place to contact the dead or conduct spells.

Sam is still Jewish (although secretly since this is the 1640s) in this fic. There are old Jewish spells, which fall under a specific type of mysticism, that call allow one to call forth the dead to ask a question. This is what she was trying to do.

[adoranymph]

I’m not a fan of horror.

I’ve acquired a taste for things that contain horror elements, like Stranger Things, which contains moments of comedic heart and compelling character drama in addition to the horror, more so than say something with similarly disturbing horror moments like Alien or Aliens, and Shawn of the Dead, which is a romantic comedy spin on the traditional zombie apocalypse movie. And I’m more than certainly looking forward to checking out Lovecraft Country when it comes out. I’ve even gotten over my squeamishness concerning the face-melting in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the villain aging rapidly and ghoulishly into dust and then exploding in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. 

Actually, one of my favorite movies to watch with my father was the original Predator, probably because it was as much a movie about an alien trophy hunter hunting humans for sport as it was a macho action movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. And unlike Alien and Aliens, didn’t involve that oh-so-disturbing means of procreation we all have come to know and love about xenomorphs. Which means that no, much as I’m chill with the Predator, I still have little desire to watch its crossover with the xenomorph menace, Alien vs. Predator, all the way through. Admittedly, I have, in the past, watched clipped reviews of the Alien movies, including AVP and even AVP Requiem, which I think if I had watched in full would have made me sick. Because my curiosity just gets the better of me from time-to-time, and I know that about myself only too well.

And as much I love Michael Biehn in a James Cameron movie, and was touched by the concept of the found-family storyline in Aliens, I just don’t think I can stomach those chestbursters (ha ha).

I can’t even watch John Hurt reprise his role as “Kane” in a parody of his iconic horror scene in Spaceballs, and, like Shaun of the Dead, that’s a comedy! Even more so than Shaun of the Dead! Well, I do watch the part after when the CB sings, “Hello My Baby,” but by that point the parody of the worst part of that scene is over and done with, and there’s nothing but the joy of a dancing baby alien with Michigan J. Frog’s singing voice coming out of it while John Hurt “Kane” laments, “Oh no! Not again!”

And however compelling The Exorcist is in terms of character…yeah no, not touching that.

It is weird though given how far I’ve come in tolerating horror gore, but that’s just not a line I’m willing to cross yet as of writing this.

But back on track.

Sprinkling this in to counter-balance the PTSD I get from the mere thought of xenomorphs.

A few weeks ago, I got a taste for a different kind of horror, and honestly the kind I’ll take over gore in a heartbeat, even if both equally can get stuck in my head to an ugly degree. And that was rewatching M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense. Probably because I got it in my head to watch Ari Aster’s Midsommar, and I still needed something else to fill out my creep-factor quota. I thought about backpedaling and watching his film before that, Hereditary, but I already know that that one ends far more bleakly (compared to Midsommar, depending on how you look at it, mind), and I needed something that was creepy and tragic, but had an ending that positively affirmed itself.

Then I remembered that The Sixth Sense sort of did that, and it had been a while since I had seen it, but I remembered it from as far back as childhood, me with my parents, adamantly not understanding how they could be fans of things like Alien and Aliens. More than that, I remember actually being able to enjoy Sixth Sense somewhat, even then. Appreciate it for its horror elements and moments of tragedy, rather than shrink away from it.

So I that’s what I did. And for all that Shyamalan has done (botching the first attempt at a live-action adaptation of Avatar: the Last Airbender chief among them), this one still gets me in the feels. Helps, I suppose, that I faced certain deaths and griefs at a far tenderer age than I was “meant to”, but even so, what Shyamalan does best, he does best here. And probably in Unbreakable and even Split too, but I haven’t seen those, and apparently after all that, Glass got panned so…yeah.

Still, if nothing else, it was fun to remember that Toni Collette was in this, and now that I’ve grown and seen her in things like Little Miss Sunshine, and clips of–that’s right, Hereditary–not be surprised, but no less pleased for her performance. Not only is she in a Shyamalan film that works its earmarks to its advantage, but she sells her character as a single mom at the end of her rope, with both a son, Cole, going through a difficult time that they can’t talk about, considering the kid knows what she’d think if he told her he sees dead people, and haunted by the death of her mother with whom she clearly had a difficult relationship. Not saying that this still couldn’t have worked, but given what The Happening did to Mark Wahlberg, color me double-rainbow impressed.

Bruce Willis too. Plus he had the advantage of working with Shyamalan on Unbreakable. So he probably knew how to play things in either situation. That and it’s honestly not a badly written character, all things considered, any more than Toni Collette’s character was. Or, even if it was, again, he sold it with his performance. He has a handle on subtle gravitas as much as he does going toe-to-toe with Alan Rickman (rest in peace) playing a terrorist.

Picked this one for the nostalgic fondness of, “Rent it on video. DVD’s also an option!”

Then you have Haley Joel Osment as Cole. And again, given he’s supposed to be this awkward kid with the added burden that he can see ghosts when no one else can and they scare him and even if he tells someone no one will believe him, any stiffness that comes with the Shyamalan style makes sense here. Death makes everything…stiff. Moreover, he sells it too. I get a lump in my throat just thinking of that moment when, after he’s at least told Bruce Willis’s character, as his therapist, about his secret, he tearfully demands, “How can you help me if you don’t believe me?”

Then there’s the revelation itself of the probably reason the ghosts come to him in the first place. Even if they’re not appearing to him with any conscious desire, some subconsciousness of their incorporeality compels them.

They need help.

In death, they’re lost, but maybe, as Cole’s still alive, there are loose ends he can tie off that they can’t. Not that he should, or even can–like I’m not sure what good he can do for that deceased housewife who clearly committed suicide to escape her abusive husband–but when he’s visited by the girl who’s mother poisoned her to death in a little fit of Munchausen-By-Proxy Syndrome, and he goes to her wake, finds the tapes that prove her mother’s guilt, gives them to her father, and the father confronts the mother about it, that got me more even than it did when I was younger and still trying to wrap my head around the concept of mothers poisoning their daughters.

That’s when things start to turn around for Cole. It’s still scary, but he takes that leap of faith, if you will, and one of the last times you see him with a dead person he’s conversing with them rather normally. Going over lines with them where he gets to play Arthur in a reenactment of the legend of the sword being pulling from the stone. You don’t even realize they’re another ghost until his teacher asks him who he was talking to and the ghost turns her head and you see the burn on the other side that obviously came from the fire that killed her. There’s just something so pure and honest in that, the idea of not only facing your fears, but doing so for the sake of lost souls who otherwise have no other hope because they’re dead.

After that is the one-two punch feels conclusion.

One being Cole not only confessing to his mother at last that he sees dead people, and her clearly starting to freak out about it, until he tells her that, “Grandma says, ‘hi’.” And communicates to her something that her mother never got to tell her herself. Of course, after thoughts of, “Oh dear lord, my son is insane,”, when the proof that Cole has indeed been talking to her mother’s spirit, that goes out the window in favor of,

“Do I make her proud?”

and she just cries and she and her son hug it out. And again, Toni Collette sells it.

Then you have the revelation of Bruce Willis’s character: he was dead the whole time! His wife wasn’t just distancing herself from him and then maybe cheating on him, he was dead and she was a widow who was simply trying to find love again. A moment of horror, and then tragedy, and then bittersweet letting-go all in the last few frames of the film. There’s the two in the one-two punch.

Not to mention my first experience of a “Shyamalan twist”. One that was set up well. Scenes constructed to lead you into thinking that of course he’s alive, details you glaze over, and then you realize, “Oh sh**.”

Which was probably part of the problem with some of his later works, where the twist became synonymous with his style, so sometimes it felt like they were put in there in future movies of his without any real rhyme or reason other than that the public were expecting them and thus somehow obligatory to the script.

Just as I haven’t seen Unbreakable, or Split, and certainly not Glass, I haven’t seen The Visit, either, though from what I understand, it almost sounds like Shyamalan went back to the same headspace he had here in The Sixth Sense, using the awkwardness that seems to come out in his work to an advantage in the found footage format. And the twist was apparently actually hilarious. Which is nice. Good for him.

Not everything someone makes is going to be a hit, even if they’re getting paid for it. But when things are a hit, sometimes, they hit so well that it can make up for all the misses. Or almost make up for them.

Honestly, Sixth Sense is, ultimately, the only Shyamalan film I’ve seen in full. But I enjoyed it no less this time, in fact, enjoyed it more now that I have a better understanding of death and grief and loss.

Guess that’s kind of a weird thing to say, but it’s that same kind of “enjoy” that comes from feeling like someone understands something about something you understand, and maybe even feel a little bit less alone for it. Not only did I experience a lot of grief as a preteen, but before that, I was the weird one that most everyone else at school generally avoided if not viciously teased, with the exception of a few fair-weather friends. All these elements and story beats used to creepy effect in Sixth Sense, along with that sense that some horror doesn’t so much horrify me as actually make my own life seem brighter rather than darker, made for a viewing experience that I place value in as I write this. (Especially given right now we are all apparently living a Stephen King novel right now.)

  So even if I still can’t handle body horror to the degree of stuff like Alien or Aliens, or David Cronenberg’s The Fly (much as I would love to see Jeff Goldblum in all his 80s hair awkward nerd glory as he romances Geena Davis), there is some horror I can handle. And figuring out why is yet one more thing that I place value in.

Keeping this link up to their donation page!

Sixth Sense Post I'm not a fan of horror. I've acquired a taste for things that contain horror elements…

[dragonologist-phd]

Disillusion and Deliverance

Ooh boy. I finally finished a prompt fill that I started what feels like forever ago for @pillarspromptsweekly Prompt #19- Family. The reason this took so long is because after the newest DLC came out, I went back and rewrote practically the whole thing to center around that storyline. Obviously, if you haven’t played that DLC yet, there will be spoilers ahead. Fic is also here on AO3.

“But above all, the Great Hound celebrates the… the transformative nature of strength. Galawain’s greatest desire is that the prey becomes predator, babes become hunters, and the lost find… um, they find…”

“The lost find their own enlightenment,” High Priestess Elayne supplied, her eyes narrowed slightly at the child standing before her. They were in Galawain’s section of the temple, standing before the elaborately carved statue of the Seeker God. The temple was not large, but it was dutifully cared for and carried its own humble dignity. Galawain in particular received quite a bit of worship in these parts; the Living Lands were full of hunters and explorers hoping to be blessed with the favor of the Lord of the Hunt.

Elayne had hoped the setting would inspire her young charge to show more dedication to her studies. It seemed her hopes had been in vain.

“And the lost find their own elightment,” Desta finished in a rush. She bit her lip and looked up at Elayne with apprehension. They’d been working on this lesson for the better part of the day, and the girl was no doubt ready to move on. But the priestess’s job was to teach, not coddle.

She closed the book in front of her and sighed. “For all the time we’ve spent on it, your recitation has seen little improvement.”

“But I got almost all of it!” Desta protested. “I only needed a little help on the last few words!”

“And there lies your problem,” Elayne said. She rubbed her eyes with a sense of exhaustion. “Even now, you think of these teachings as only words. You’re simply repeating what you’ve memorized. Doesn’t this mean anything to you?”

Desta opened her mouth to answer, then paused as if she suddenly remembered to whom she was speaking. Her shining golden eyes flickered quickly to Galawain’s statue, and she gave a noncommittal shrug.

Elayne closed her eyes, making no effort to hide her disappointment. “I would have thought that if the Book of the Hunt would resonate with anyone, it would be one of Galawain’s own children.”

A strange, contemplative look settled onto Desta’s face. “What if I’m not?”

“Not what?”

“One of Galawain’s children.” Desta looked up at the priestess, her voice challenging and hopeful in equal measures. “I was talking to the hunters yesterday, and one of them said I look like a delemgan. He said they live in the trees, and some of them are nice. I could be one of those!”

Elayne blinked, alarmed. In all honesty, the child probably did resemble a delemgan, with her mossy green coloring and the bits of foliage that sprouted from her skin. Elayne had known Desta since the first day she had been brought to the temple as an infant; the girl’s features, once so strange, were now as familiar as her own reflection. And they could come from nothing but the touch of Galawain. “The delemgan are spirits, and I can assure you that you are most certainly kith. Why would you think anything else?”

The hope radiating from Desta faded into resignation at Elayne’s answer. Her arms crossed and she ran her hands over her skin, fingers tracing the trails of lichen that twisted up to her shoulders. “Some people call him the Father of Monsters. I’d rather be a spirit than a monster.”

A pang of sympathy rang through Elayne’s heart. She kneeled down before the child, taking Desta’s hands in her own. “You are not a monster,” she said earnestly. “You are just as much a kith as anyone else. The only difference is that you have been chosen by a god for something greater than you yet know.”

Desta’s face twisted into a frown and she pulled her hands away. “Are you sure? Because none of the purposes in the book are about good things. It’s all fighting and hunting and killing.” Her golden eyes burned into Elayne’s, full of the certainty only the young possess. “If Galawain chose me for that, I think he chose wrong!”

“Desta!” Goosebumps prickled down Elayne’s back. She could almost feel the eyes of Galawain boring into her. “You should not question the gift you have been given!”  

The priestess took a calming breath. “I know his lessons can be harsh. Galawain is not a god to offer comfort or charity. What he offers is survival. Learning from him means learning how to be strong. This isn’t something to be afraid of.”

Desta’s chin stuck out defiantly. “I’m not afraid!”

“Good.” Elayne smiled and fondly brushed Desta’s hair back. She pressed the Book of the Hunt into the child’s hands. “Galawain’s teachings will help you to realize the potential inside of you. Keep up your studies, and you will find understanding.”

Desta didn’t look completely convinced but she took the book and accepted Elayne’s words as a dismissal. Before she left the temple, however, she turned back, eyes fixed on Galawain’s altar. “I’m not afraid,” she repeated. “And I’m not one of his monsters.”

With that, she turned and ran, back to her own room in the back of the temple. Elayne watched her go, worry and affection and befuddlement mixing inside of her. “You can’t deny she has spirit,” she muttered to the statue.

 Yes, Desta had spirit- a willful, stubborn spirit. Spirit lent itself to strength, true, but coupled with starry-eyed naiveté it could be a dangerous thing. It was understandable in a child, but as Desta grew older her spirit only clashed more and more with the teachings of Galawain, in ways that the High Priestess could not overlook.

It was a strange blessing when Desta finally left the temple of her own accord. Elayne did not begrudge her that choice; the priestess had known for a long time that Desta was too restless to ever be truly happy here.

Perhaps she should have known that from the very start. No matter what Desta thought of Galawain, he was called the Seeker God for a reason, and his influence ran through her veins. It seemed fitting that whatever destiny awaited the godlike girl- and Elayne firmly believed it was a great one- she would find it on her own.

I just hope you know what you’re doing, she thought to Galawain. It was the closest she had ever come to questioning his decisions.

  Galawain did not fawn over his children. There was no point to it- the kith might have borne his touch, but they were still mere kith, here and then gone in the blink of an eye. Some of his fellow gods may have developed particular attachments to their own progenies, but it was a foolish thing to indulge in. The children’s existence served its purpose, and any effort extended beyond their creation was impractical.

And Galawain was nothing if not practical. Even his worshippers received nothing from him without first fighting for it tooth and nail. There was no reason he should offer anything different to whining girls who sat at the feet of statues and asked about things they could not comprehend.

Desta did not truly catch his notice until she became embroiled in Thaos’s plot. Before that, she had been drifting through world, dull and aimless. Her time in those days had been pointlessly devoted to her precious paladins, guarding the weak who by all rights should have been culled from the herd. Even being transformed into a Watcher had happened through blind luck and circumstance rather than any competence on her part.

But she now had his attention. He watched her embrace her newfound abilities, watched her become stronger and accumulate power. She was still soft-hearted and foolish- that much was plain when she squandered the potential of the regained souls by returning them to the Hollowborn. But she had perseverance and a strong will, traits she had learned from Galawain’s teachings whether she acknowledged it or not.

Galawain could almost believe she had a chance stopping Eothas. Almost. What Berath failed to see was that they were already too late. Aside from that, his daughter lacked the ruthlessness and hungry cunning required to be anything more than pawn in a tedious game. She was too easily swayed by emotions, too easily distracted by the need to save every pitiful weakling she came across. She would fail.

Knowing this, Galawain prepared for the worst. He was no fool; whatever Eothas was planning, he would not be around to suffer it. He would draw power from Kazuwari and the souls that worshipped him there. For as long as he needed, he would survive. What happened to Desta was no concern of his.

 Until he realized she was set on entering Kazuwari. That was when his attention to her shifted from disinterested irritation to true anger.

He gave her one chance to turn back. She did not heed him. She had been growing bolder as of late, ever since Berath had foolishly revealed to her the purpose their godlike children served. Whatever respect for the gods that had managed to survive inside of Desta up that point had been obliterated, and now she glared at Galawain with ineffective righteousness.

“I’m not going anywhere. These people need my help.”

Her help. Desta loved to help people. Did she not realize that her help only made them weak?

Galawain’s answer came in a growl. “They will live and die by the ferocity of their wits and the edge of their blades. They need nothing from you when they have me.”

Desta only glared at him. “If you think I’m turning my back on them because you told me to, you really have no idea who I am. These people asked me to come to their aid, and I’m going to, and no bastard pretender is going to stop me.”

She was brave, Galawain would not deny that. But bravery meant nothing if there was no intelligence behind it. Her presence on his island, as grating as it was, did not warrant concern. His daughter had always rejected his teachings, and without those the island would eat her alive.

  Aloth had been worried about Desta since the minute they stepped on to this island.

Before that, even. From the moment she came out of her Watcher state on the ship, he knew something was amiss. After so long in her company, the glazed, faraway expression that came over her when she communicated with souls didn’t alarm him the way it used to. But this time… something was different. This time, she came out of it angry.

He hadn’t had a chance to ask her about it. They’d been fighting for their lives ever since they reached shore. Between the wilderness of the island and the kith that inhabited it, there was hardly a moment of peace to be found. Iselmyr, at least, seemed to be enjoying herself. Aloth quickly learned that it was a good idea to let her instincts sink in whenever they stepped into the Crucible arena.

Between staying alive and moderating Iselmyr’s bloodlust, Aloth did his best to watch out for Desta. For the most part, she seemed herself- valiant and bold and full of light even in the midst of battle. But Aloth saw the expression on her face whenever she looked up at the depiction of Toamowhai towering over the arena. It was the same expression she had when she came out of her Watcher state on the ship- desperate and lost and increasingly angry.

She continued to converse with souls after every match, and that expression kept returning until at last it came to a boil. Her gaze had been fixed in the distance, lost to another conversation, until her golden eyes snapped back into focus and she snapped, “I’m not his!”

Her words stopped short as she blinked, reorienting herself. She was breathing heavily, and she clutched the side of her head, as if trying to force away a headache. Her eyes swept around the room, and she seemed to realize that her companions were staring at her. Without a word, she turned and stormed out of the room.

Aloth followed her. His mind was already racing with the very worst possibilities- he hadn’t seen her this distressed from a vision since their time encounters with Thaos. “Desta, wait!”

At his words she stopped and looked back at him in surprise. She hadn’t even noticed him behind her. Aloth reached out and took her arm, pulling her down the hallway where there were less people to stare. “What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t…” She shook her head and leaned against the wall.

“Is it Eothas? An Awakening? Are you hearing the whispers again?” Aloth was trying not to panic and failing miserably.

Desta’s eyes widened in alarm. “No! No, I- I’m fine. It’s nothing like that. It’s just that I… really hate being here.”

“Oh.” With that reassurance, Aloth’s heartbeat was able to slow back to its normal speed. He leaned against the wall next to Desta. “This may surprise you, but I must admit this isn’t my favorite place, either.”

She grinned weakly. “That spider did give you quite the scare, didn’t it?”

“Hmph. It’s going to take weeks to get spider silk out of my robes.”

A chuckle escaped from Desta’s lips, and she threaded her fingers through Aloth’s. They stood quietly like that for a moment, silently holding hands. Aloth knew Desta better than he knew anyone; if she wanted to tell him what she was thinking, she would. Sure enough, Desta eventually let out a sigh.

“It’s just that this place is like a giant monument to everything I ever wanted to leave behind me. All of this ‘seeker, slayer, survivor’ stuff- it may be the Toamowhai version, but it’s the same Galawain philosophy I heard my entire childhood. For years I thought that was what my life would be.”

Aloth frowned. He’d known Desta was raised in temple, but she didn’t speak much of those days. Now she spoke quickly, as if she couldn’t stop the words. “And then I decided that was all bullshit. I left it all behind, and I thought I was living my own life. But it turns out none of the godlike in the world are living their own life, because the gods could just end it for their own purpose anytime they want, and that’s the only reason we exist!”

Desta’s last words came out in an explosion of anger, and she punctuated her sentence by slamming her fist into the wall behind them. She screwed her eyes shut, fist still clenched, and took a few deep breaths.

“Hey,” Aloth said, tightening his grip on her hand. “It’s okay. You’re here. You’re safe. Just breathe.” He remembered too vividly the night she’d received that particular vision. She’d woken in an angry panic, but hadn’t wanted to speak of it. It had taken weeks for Aloth to piece together the entire story. Thinking about it now, it was a wonder Desta hadn’t blasted the Toamowhai statue to bits when they first arrived. Aloth would have liked to have seen that.

Beside him, Desta was breathing deeply, leaning into his touch. “I’m okay. Thanks. I can deal with it. I hate it, but I can deal with it.” Her eyes hardened. “What I can’t deal with right now is every soul in this place singing Galawain’s praises and being so delighted their candidate for Champion is a true reflection of Toamowhai. I thought I was strong enough to do this on my own, but it’s hard to believe that when everybody else believes that all my strength is really his.”

Aloth felt completely out of his depth. He hated seeing Desta like this, so angry at herself, but didn’t know if he had the words to make any of it better. Desta was the one who was usually good at this sort of thing- the support, the hope, the optimism.

Perhaps she just needed to be reminded of it.

“Do you remember,” he said slowly, “when I told you that my father’s treatment of me was what made me a successful wizard?”

Desta mouth presses into a thin line of disapproval, as it often did when the subject of Aloth’s father came up. “I’m pretty sure I called him some names. A lot of names. Why?”

Aloth smiled. “After you were done calling him names, you told me that was ridiculous. You said I got to where I was through my own actions, and that giving that credit to someone who mistreated me was doing myself a disservice.”

Desta gave him an appraising look. “I don’t say this often enough, but you’re a good listener.”

“And you give good advice. Advice that perhaps you should listen to.” He leaned his head against Desta’s shoulder. She smelled of fresh earth and morning grass- a unique scent, and a pleasant one, and one he’d missed deeply over their years apart. “Family can do things that are unforgivable. Those things can shape you. But they don’t define you. Your strengths, your choices… those are yours. Even being here proves that. Galawain didn’t want you to come, but you came anyway.”

“Because if I don’t do something, this whole island will die and take all the kith here with it.”

“And you wouldn’t be Desta if you didn’t do everything in your power to stop that from happening.”

Desta smiled, and Aloth was relieved to see that her bright, determined look had returned. For once, he seemed to have said something right. She leaned forward to give Aloth a light kiss. “Let’s go. We have a championship to win.”

  Desta could feel Galawain’s anger.

It hit her like a wave, amplified by her Watcher senses. In the distance she could still faintly detect his beast, restless and hungry for a fight. Galawain was there, in the physical world, channeled through his monster pet. And he was here, in the in-between place, standing furiously before Desta.

“This is my temple! My island! My security against Eothas’ madness! What did you do?”

“I saved this place!” Desta shouted, fighting to be heard over the roar of Galawain’s displeasure. The anger in the air lessened slightly at her words. She glared up at the god, wondering why he was reacting in such a way. For all he may have hated her, she could have severed his connection to the island completely. She could have let his precious island fester and rot, and wouldn’t that have been the cunning, ruthless revenge a child of the Hunt would take against their enemy?

But the kith who lived here, the spirits that coursed through the island, didn’t deserve that. Desta had saved them, and Galawain’s temple with it.

“The Crucible lives on, then,” Galawain mused. His form, immense and overpowering, shifted slightly, like mist in a breeze. “I did not expect this. Not from you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“But I do.” Galwain’s gaze was piercing. “You are a willful, contrary creature. You neither understand nor respect that which is greater than you. You blunder into my domain and play at being Champion, but what do you know of this place? The Crucible is a testament to my essence. A safeguard against the rash and foolish decisions of the other gods. It is mine.”

“And is that what the great Galawain plans to do against the threat of Eothas? Retreat to his island, alone?” That was exactly what he would do- Desta knew that. But even here, even now, she had to try and find something worthwhile in him. “You know you can do more than that. You say you’re so strong and powerful- prove it! Help us!”

His reply came as callous as she expected, but it still stung. “Help who? There are none who deserve my aid.”

Desta shook her head. “That’s not true, and you know it. You’re just a coward.”

The rush of anger was expected this time, but it still knocked the breath from Desta. The power of Galawain’s fury pressed in one her from all sides, the weight focused on her very soul. And then just as suddenly as it came, it was gone again, leaving Desta gasping and reeling. From above her, Galawain glowered with satisfaction.

“You forget how fragile your own existence is.”

Desta forced herself to stand upright once more. She was not in any physical pain, but she felt as if she had just walked a mile through a biawac. Galawain had restrained himself from killing her, but only just barely. Why he stopped, she didn’t understand. Maybe it was his way of inspiring fear, of reminding her of what he could do. Maybe the conflicting chimes Berath and Rymrgand had sowed within her were beginning to affect his control.

Either way, Desta was sick of putting up with his threats. Her grip tightened on her mace, and with a familiar rush of certainty she ignited the weapon with flickering blue flames. “If you wanted to fight, all you had to do was ask.”

Galawain grinned mockingly at her. “Very well, Champion.” And with that, his image dissipated completely, leaving behind only the porokoa that now stared at Desta with hungry eyes.

 Desta was almost sorry to kill the creature. It was a mindless beast, created and controlled by Galawain. But it had tried to eat her, and that soothed her remorse as she released its energy back into the island it had sprung from.

A load seemed to lift from her shoulders as she did so. She had done it. She had stood before Galawain- not a statue, but Galawain- and had told him he was wrong. It didn’t change anything. He was still here, hoarding his strength and not caring about anything but himself.

But Desta was here, too. It didn’t matter what path Galawain had started her on; she was forging ahead on her own. And if all Galawain could do to stand in her way was send a pet lizard after her, then he had never been much of a threat at all. Desta was going to go where she wanted. She was going to find Eothas. She was going to save this world.

For now, she was going to go back to her ship, hand-in-hand with Aloth, her friends at her side, all part of a little makeshift family that was strange and messy and hers. As she left the arena, she pulled the Champion’s cloak tighter around her shoulders. Accepting the mantle had felt strange at the time, almost blasphemous. But she had earned it, in spite of Galawain’s disapproval.

And if he ever wanted it back, he could just try to come and take it from her.

[frederickwiddowson]

Exodus 16:13-21 comments: the quail and the manna

Exodus 16:13 ¶  And it came to pass, that at even the quails came up, and covered the camp: and in the morning the dew lay round about the host. 14  And when the dew that lay was gone up, behold, upon the face of the wilderness there lay a small round thing, as small as the hoar frost on the ground. 15  And when the children of Israel saw it, they said one to another, It is manna: for they wist not what it was. And Moses said unto them, This is the bread which the LORD hath given you to eat. 16  This is the thing which the LORD hath commanded, Gather of it every man according to his eating, an omer for every man, according to the number of your persons; take ye every man for them which are in his tents. 17  And the children of Israel did so, and gathered, some more, some less. 18  And when they did mete it with an omer, he that gathered much had nothing over, and he that gathered little had no lack; they gathered every man according to his eating. 19  And Moses said, Let no man leave of it till the morning. 20  Notwithstanding they hearkened not unto Moses; but some of them left of it until the morning, and it bred worms, and stank: and Moses was wroth with them. 21  And they gathered it every morning, every man according to his eating: and when the sun waxed hot, it melted.

God provided quails in the evening. The Bible says also that He provides the prey for the predator and food for the hungry fowls which goes against our wildlife video mentality of the drama of lions taking down Cape buffalo. The lion makes the effort but there would be no success in the hunt without God’s hand in it. Here, God is talking to Job;

Job 38:39  Wilt thou hunt the prey for the lion? or fill the appetite of the young lions, 40  When they couch in their dens, and abide in the covert to lie in wait? 41  Who provideth for the raven his food? when his young ones cry unto God, they wander for lack of meat.

Psalm 104:21  The young lions roar after their prey, and seek their meat from God.

Luke 12:24  Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?

The small, round piece of food that is left after the dew is called Manna, which Strong’s says means, “What is it?” which is also evident from the passage.

It is later called angel’s food.

Psalm 78:24  And had rained down manna upon them to eat, and had given them of the corn of heaven. 25  Man did eat angels’ food: he sent them meat to the full.

But is also a reference to some event in the realm of the invisible world that we can hardly understand.

Psalm 74:12 ¶  For God is my King of old, working salvation in the midst of the earth. 13 Thou didst divide the sea by thy strength: thou brakest the heads of the dragons in the waters. 14  Thou brakest the heads of leviathan in pieces, and gavest him to be meat to the people inhabiting the wilderness.

Some of the Hebrews disobeyed in not consuming all that was given and trying to save it until the next day, incurring Moses anger, but the point here is that there was enough. The concept of having enough is very important in Christianity and very much in opposition to the American ideal of never having enough, of always wanting more. We see the Christian doctrine further illuminated in the New Testament requiring equality in the community of believers.

2Corinthians 8:7 ¶  Therefore, as ye abound in every thing, in faith, and utterance, and knowledge, and in all diligence, and in your love to us, see that ye abound in this grace also. 8  I speak not by commandment, but by occasion of the forwardness of others, and to prove the sincerity of your love. 9  For ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich. 10 And herein I give my advice: for this is expedient for you, who have begun before, not only to do, but also to be forward a year ago. 11  Now therefore perform the doing of it; that as there was a readiness to will, so there may be a performance also out of that which ye have. 12  For if there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not. 13  For I mean not that other men be eased, and ye burdened: 14  But by an equality, that now at this time your abundance may be a supply for their want, that their abundance also may be a supply for your want: that there may be equality: 15  As it is written, He that had gathered much had nothing over; and he that had gathered little had no lack.

This is how the earliest form of the church was physically nourished although this was short-term and fell short of Christ’s commandment to go out to the world.

Acts 2:45  And sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need.

Acts 4:35  And laid them down at the apostles’ feet: and distribution was made unto every man according as he had need.

God sent persecution to them to disperse them as Christ had said;

Acts 1:8  But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.

Acts 8:1 ¶  And Saul was consenting unto his death. And at that time there was a great persecution against the church which was at Jerusalem; and they were all scattered abroad throughout the regions of Judaea and Samaria, except the apostles.

So, while Marx and Engels stole this from the Bible;

…every man according as he had need…

…it does not mean that it is not a Christian ideal. However, it is not a required method of coercion excusing governments like Lenin’s Soviet Union or America’s welfare state for their extortions on the working class in order to create not just equal opportunity but equal outcomes at the point of a gun but it is a voluntary principle commanded in the community of Christians. Still, as it is in conflict with American ideals it is pretty much a non-starter. The church is lacking in spiritual power and force as much by its acceptance of inequality in the community of believers as it is by Christians refusing to love each other as an example to the world and a symbol of their belonging to Christ.

John 13:34  A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. 35  By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.

I can almost hear the teeth grinding as American Christians will be thinking that the Bible’s clear statements must be wrong because what’s mine is mine and you need to go get your own. It is said that the most repeated sermon in the late 1800’s in America was titled “Acres of Diamonds” about the virtue of obtaining wealth and how rich people were usually the best people. But, God’s word says what it says in the context in which it is said. Here in Exodus and in Acts one might argue that doctrinally it is not applicable to us but you can’t argue with Paul’s statement in 2Corinthians or in the next verse.

1Timothy 6:6 ¶  But godliness with contentment is great gain. 7  For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. 8  And having food and raiment let us be therewith content. 9  But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. 10  For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. 11  But thou, O man of God, flee these things; and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness. 12  Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses.

[tenderlywicked]

Carnivora by Lea Bronsen

“Hi, and thank you for having me on your blog!

I’ve always been fascinated by dark psychological thrillers that mess with your mind and keep you on the edge of your seat. I toyed with the genre writing my debut novel Wild Hearted, but labeled it a crime drama. Its sequel, Carnivora, evolved over six years to become a full-blown hold-your-breath thriller that deals with grave issues such as kidnapping, child sex trafficking, and self-harm.

Telling five parallel stories with as many voices, it gives you the perspectives of a police informant, a hunted gangster, a mad avenger, an inconsolable girlfriend, and a psychotic kidnapper. I pull no punches weaving these stories, so be prepared for a dark, gritty, and graphic read – a little dirty on the erotic side – that I hope will play with your strings and stick with you for a long time.

Please note that this is part 1 of Carnivora and I am currently working on parts 2 and 3, so if those cliffhangers at the end are killing you, be patient. The continuation is right around the corner!”

Blurb

Fight evil with evil.

TOMOR


Crime lord Tomor is serving a life sentence behind bars. Without warning, he’s abducted by mysterious men. A sick manhunt is on, with people around him dying like flies. He will need all his street flair and gangster skills to prevent his loved ones from ending up on the death list.

 

LUZ


Luz grieves the loss of her lover while striving to take care of their baby. The last thing she needs is to fall for the new neighbor.



DAVID


A year after he betrayed his adoptive father and sent him to jail, David is slowly rebuilding his life. Then everything falls apart again: he learns that Tomor has escaped, and his police connections lead him to a child sex trafficking ring involving cold, powerful men.

The cops are in over their heads with “Project Carnivora” … Perhaps the only one who can help bust the pedophile predators is an equally vicious devil: Tomor, the country’s most hunted criminal.

Available from

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Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads

See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest

Excerpt

“Time to change your bandage again,” the nurse mutters, voice cool, and pulls my orange-colored sleeve up to the elbow. She unrolls the long strip of bandage from my wrist and tugs at one corner of the gauze plastered on my wound. It sticks as if glued to the freshly grown skin, and instead of removing the gauze carefully, she tears if off hard, discharging pain through my arm, wrist-to-shoulder. I open my eyes and lift my head off the pillow. “What the fuck are ya doing, trying to reopen the wound or something?” “Like you care.” She stops pulling and glares, gauze between her fingers. “I can see who you are inside. You’re playing tough, aren’t you, bad guy? But you can’t fool me.” “Shut up.” I lay down again, huffing, and stare at the white ceiling above me with its rows of long neon lights. “You’re a good man.” I glance back. “I said, shut the fuck up.” Her eyes shine. She rips off the remaining gauze, ignoring my grunt of pain, and throws it in a bin. “Look.” No fuck. “Look at it,” she insists, voice low and demanding. No. I know what I’ve done, and I can imagine what it looks like. A six centimeter-long deep, reddish, scratched-up ridge along my artery. Layers of skin, fat, meat, and whatnot must be visible and sweating a pinkish liquid from the reborn pores. I don’t need to see it. I guess the girl wants me to be so horrified, I’ll never attempt suicide again. That’s right. She wants to shock me into acceptance. You gotta be fucking kidding me, little thing. She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why they gave you the life sentence.” “You mean they shoulda given me the chair?” Instead of responding to my sarcasm, she pivots to look up at the clock and widens her eyes as if realizing she forgot an appointment. Face tense, she returns to her work, applies some cool, gel-like liquid on the wound, and bandages it with quick routine moves. What’s up with her? In my three days in this woman’s company, I’ve noted the things that make her tick. Maybe she’s upset because I’m leaving the infirmary soon. Earlier, she said she didn’t know when I’d be ready to go back to my cell. She probably knows now, but doesn’t want to tell me. The door opens. She jumps. A uniformed guard pokes his head in, checks the small room, and exits. She seems frozen in place, features tense. Staring ahead and taking deep breaths as if trying to regain composure. I cock my head a little. “What’s going on? They gonna transfer me?” She visibly swallows and fixes her gaze on some point on the wall. I snicker. “Are you sad ‘cause I’m leaving?” Ha, I can be so ugly, when the girl clearly likes me. As she sits there avoiding me, I take the time to check out her tits, and drink in the amazing sight of their pressing against her green blouse with each breath. She doesn’t have a name tag. Come to think of it, none of the personnel do. Evidently, so the inmates can’t identify their ‘caretakers’, and should they by some miracle leave the premises, track them down. I nod to her blouse. “What’s your name?” She twists back to me, brows raised, before shaking her head. “I can’t tell you that.” “C’mon, I’ll never see you again.” I grin, then add with an ironic snicker, teasing her, “They’ll never let me slash my wrists, or hang myself.” She looks away and busies herself collecting the medical stuff, throwing a quick, almost invisible glance to the door. What the hell is making her so nervous? Coldness fills my chest. Something’s up. “Come on, Babe,” I coax with my most gentle, sensual voice, wanting to buy time. “Tell me your name.” “Why?” she whispers, fidgeting with the roll of bandage. “’Cause I want a name to your pretty face when I jack off in my cell.”

About the author

Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.

Meet Lea Bronsen on

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[nemesis-nexus]

Full Pink Moon 2019

AVE the Ancient Family; protectors, providers, guides and overseers, hear us! The Earth is beginning to awaken from the extended frost of the Season of Death, a slow process this year but one that will occur in its own time! The trees are barren yet they remain strong, much love to the Dryads who are working overtime to keep them healthy! For those who may not know a Dryad – also call the Lady of the Tree – are Wood Nymphs who watch over the trees - sometimes one, sometimes an entire grove – long story short their work is never done, not even in the Winter! It is amazing to think of how many other Beings are all around us all the time and yet seldom SEEN physically but you know they are their simply by the exquisite work they do with the flora and fauna!

As mentioned in my last sermon, the lesson of the trees is that no matter how desolate a situation might seem, if you stick it out, things will come around as they always do! The other lesson of the trees is that as tall and proud as they stand, they do not stand alone, with the Dryads to help them through, they are strong enough to withstand the weather no matter how cold it gets and to explode into blossoming beauty when the harshness of the Winter cold dissipates and gives way to the warmth of the Season of Rebirth! This lesson is to let people know that no man is truly an island, not even the lone wolves! Those who prefer solitude STILL must count on the herds to be around for hunting and the brush to be there to conceal their presence! We are all connected in the Hoop or Web of Life and without those that we rely on to be there when we need them, whether it’s another human or just the herds and the brush, we will surely perish!

This is why it is necessary for any tree that may need to be cut down, that an offering is given to the guardian and respect is shown before, during and after the cutting! Planting a sprout that will eventually grow into another tree to replace the fell one is also necessary as the guardian of the tree you took down will NOT take kindly to their home being taken from them but not replaced! This is why I have an issue with the lumber industry because a lot of the times, trees are cut down but NOT replaced which compromises the air and NOT just in the immediate area but for miles around! Another ongoing problem is the reckless disregard for the bee population. When ENKI and NINHURSAG created the Flora and Fauna, they made sure that EVERYTHING and EVERYONE was provided for and that all things would work in tandem with one another to keep the ecosystem going, however, that system is in serious breach and in turn, in serious jeopardy!

NINHURSAG tasked the bees with the extraction of pollen and the pollination of the plants and trees, but in recent days we are seeing the bee population dwindle to the point where they are facing extinction and why is this? Because people use poisons in their gardens instead of natural pesticides which the bees consume and if they make it, take it back to the hive thus poisoning other bees. People are also pulling up dandelions mistaking them for weeds that are choking their gardens or flowerbeds but the truth about dandelions is that not only are they a MAJOR food source for the bees, but that every single part of a dandelion is in fact consumable by humans! Pulling dandelions not only starves the bees but also deprives a human of a tasty salad or tea!

I don’t presume to speak for any of the Gods or Goddesses, but I can’t help but think that our Blessed Mother who gave us so much must cry tears of heartache and rage when she sees one group of her children treating another with such reckless disregard! Not just the bees, but the lives of ALL her OTHER children who suffer a result due to the serious lack of pollination because there simply aren’t enough bees left at this present time to do the job as thoroughly as they have been able to since the ancient past! We see the aftermath of this lack of pollination with massive droughts, withered crops and flowers and barely any grass or clover for Forest Dwellers to feed upon! This is unacceptable and has to change, our very existence depends on it!

NINGIZHEDA the Great Healer has also been working overtime, trying to help compensate the ecosystem and help some areas adapt to the changing climate, but he cannot do it alone! We humans need to WAKE UP and face reality that our ONE JOB was to take care of the planet, to only ever take what we need, use all we take, show the proper respect for its sacrifice for our survival and to replace it so that Life can continue to thrive! Instead we have humans taking MORE than they could ever possibly use or consume, wasting VAST amounts of it including food (when there are SO many starving who would eat even just the CRUSTS of a pizza just so they wouldn’t feel the pangs of hunger, even just for a few hours), cars (there is nothing wrong with having a couple vehicles but there are people who have an entire FLEET that NEVER get used, they just SIT there collecting dust) this is not only a waste of raw materials but creates the need for a place to house them which is usually a either a large garage or parking lot. In either case it requires the Earth to be paved over and sealed off from the sun and the air! Multiple homes that they don’t occupy very long - sometimes not at all, they have them because they had too much money and needed to spend it on something - when there are so many homeless that have a hard time getting a job due to the fact that they lack an address! These houses oftentimes fall to ruin and overgrowth of actual weeds that in turn choke out the life of any viable plant that a bee or another insect or animal might have feasted on for their own survival!

ENKI, Virile God of the Sweet Waters, I can only imagine the frustration he feels every time he looks at the lakes, rivers and oceans and sees just how well his children have taken care of the gift that he and his wife gave us! The drugs and other things that are flushed by individuals to the toxic runoff of industrial plants that intoxicates the water to the dumping of materials such as car tires, machine parts, plastics of ALL kinds that result in the strangulation and suffocation of marine life of various varieties including the anemones and coral reefs that fish feed on and utilize to hide from other predators! I saw a video of a sea turtle with a plastic straw jammed so far in its nostril that it took a TEAM of humans to remove it! There are whales that are washing ashore with stomachs FULL of plastic garbage! Richard Branson was curious what was at the bottom of one of the deepest areas of the ocean just to see what kind of marine life – if any – would be found so far down; he didn’t find any marine life at the bottom of the hole, the water pressure is simply too strong for any life form to handle (unless of course you are from the Abz-u of course!) What he DID find was – you may have guessed it – plastic garbage of all kinds at the very bottom of one of the deepest spots of the ocean!

Again, I do not presume to speak for any of the Gods or Goddesses, but also again, I can only imagine the level of disappointment and betrayal ENKI feels when he not only gave us the gift of existence but also the gift of REDEMPTION when he put his own neck and station on the line to save us from the deluge only to have the human race turn around and offer him THIS as a “thank you”! Is THIS how we show our gratitude when someone puts their own wellbeing aside to ensure our survival only to have us turn around and kick them in the teeth with our arrogance and egotism?!

This is in no way acceptable behavior from a race that likes to fancy themselves as gods! I can tell you right now NO HUMAN – myself included – is a god! How do I know? How godly are we when we don’t care what happens to the very Home that enables us to exist? How holier than thou are we when we treat ALL things - plants, trees, animals, other people - like they are only there to be used up and then discarded? How superior are we to anything when we treat EVERYTHING as though it is our right to lord ourselves over it – even Nature itself? How advanced are we when can’t seem to understand the basic needs of our Natural World to the point we act as they don’t matter but want to throw a fit when our favorite foods are no longer available because all the bees are dead so there is no honey or wildflowers or fruit trees? How great are we when we allow the blasting of Natural formations that are home to several animal species, the use of sonic detection underwater that compromises and even kill any marine life that gets in the way, the deforestation that cuts down the woods further and further back but humans want to whine about coyotes, bears, bobcats etc “invading” THEIR backyards and in some cases hunting down their animal companions as dinner NOT because they are overly aggressive but because they are simply applying their natural survival instincts but the humans demand these animals be SLAUGHTERED anyway even though if the human did not destroy these animals habitats, these animals would never have bothered them in the first place?

If we were truly godly in ANY context, we would not act as though we can “do without” any part of the ecosystem nor would we act like we are above the Natural Order! If we were truly godly we would be planting seeds, restoring the forests, cleaning up all the waters AND KEEPING THEM CLEAN NOT DUMPING COAL MINING DEBRIS IN THEM! If we were truly godly we would not be so apathetic to everything else in existence, instead we would exalt it and treat it with the same, if not MORE, regard and respect we would want for ourselves because ALL life matters! There is not one part of the Natural World we can survive without, if that were the case then neither ENKI nor NINHURSAG would have put it here! NINGIZHEDA would not be constantly trying to prevent the extinction of any more animal, insect or plant species! To quote Morgan Freeman as Principal Joe Louis Clark from the movie Lean On Me “We RISE, We FALL, We SINK, We SWIM, WE MEET OUR FATE TOGETHER!” in other words NO ONE is innocent! The ones directly causing the damage are as guilty as can be, but those who ENABLE or ALLOW it to continue will be judged just as harshly for refusing to WAKE UP to just how dire our situation REALLY is, who choose to keep their heads down and turn a blind eye because they either can’t or otherwise won’t accept the truth!

At the end of the day, when the sun sets on the human race for the last time, what will we have become? I believe that we are all Stardust, energy beings that were implanted in flesh suits so that we could live here in the literal paradise ENKI and NINHURSAG created and NINGIZHEDA maintains, when our mortal coil unravels, our flesh returns to dust and our Spirits return to the Qi until such time as it is reformed and ushered along to its next state of existence. However, how can this occur if we allow the annihilation of the planet that sustains us? The reality is the Earth does NOT need us to survive, in fact, at the rate we are going, it would be MUCH better off WITHOUT us! Our Great Mother can (and will) shrug her shoulders and cast us off of her if we don’t start treating her with all the Love and Respect that she has given us since second one! She, in fact ALL of them and I don’t mean JUST ENKI, NINHURSAG and NINGIZHEDA, have been VERY patient with us up to this point but that patience is running out and their compassion wearing VERY thin and I don’t blame them one bit!

Now is the time of the Pink Moon, so named because it’s the time of year when the wildflowers and berries start to bloom and blossom creating a beautiful symphony of color and texture and visual splendor for all to enjoy! The animals still in hibernation come back out and the forest is once again thriving with the hustle and bustle of squirrels running amok, beavers cutting fallen branches to make dams, deer return to the meadows and it’s all such a spectacular sight to behold! Who needs flashing lights and loud cacophonous electronics when you have a pollution free sky full of stars to take your breath away and the sound of a running stream take hold of your soul and reconnect you to this wondrous world we ALL call Home? I admit, I like my cell phone to keep in touch and to play the occasional game, but it will NEVER take the place of the magnificent display that only the Natural World can provide!

Now is the time for the human race to come out of its self imposed trance of materialism, distraction, apathy and disconnection and to reconnect to that which really matters and makes all the difference in THIS world and EVERY other – our Spiritual selves! We have lost the “connector cable” (our sense of self and personal responsibility) that hooks us up directly to the “Motherboard” (NINHURSAG, ENKI, NINGIZHEDA and the rest of the Ancient Family) and it shows! Our egos have gotten so out of control that some of us don’t take care of ourselves let alone each other or anything else in existence and again, it shows! How do we reconnect? The answer is simple but is certainly NOT easy; for starters we need to recognize that without every part of the ecosystem intact and NOT polluted we are simply poisoning ourselves and everything else thereby causing a slow death for everyone! We need to acknowledge that if we cut down the habitats of big cats, wolves and bears, that they ARE going to come wandering our way, not because THEY are trespassing but because WE are guilty of stealing THEIR homes! We need to stop judging other humans based on skin color, ethnicity, country/city of origin, socioeconomic status, mental illness or physical disability and learn to embrace one another as the diverse group of HUMANS that we were created to be! If we don’t do this then we are doomed to be the engineers of our own destruction and I for one have no intention of going out like that!

Like I said, the solution is simple but not easy, especially for the older generations who don’t know any other way but with the help of the younger generation CAN learn that there is in fact another way to look at things! Remember just because we may not be here 50, 75 or 100 years from now, OUR DECENDANTS WILL BE! So for those who have YOUNG children or grandchildren or great grandchildren (or even nieces, nephews or friends with kids) the attitude that WE won’t be here is assuredly UNACCEPTABLE! Unless you can look any ONE of your kids in the eye and tell them directly that THEY DON’T MATTER, then you better damn well start acting like they DO! Remember, our actions say more and speak louder than our words EVER will and what WE do NOW will have a significant impact on what THEY are able to do TOMORROW – like be alive because the ecosystem can still sustain life and because Mother hasn’t kicked our asses off of hers! This will take a concentrated effort and EVERYONE needs to do their part just like they should have been doing all along! There is really no reason why things should have ever digressed this far and gotten this severe but we are here now and the only way to go is forward! We CAN do this if we all just leave our egos at the door and work together! AVE NINHURSAG! AVE ENKI! AVE NINGIZHEDA! HAIL THE WHOLE FAMILY, EACH AND EVERY ONE ABOVE AND BELOW!

“A Call To Armistice

They say to make peace we must prepare for war,

I ask all these humans, what are we fighting for?

Are we fighting for oil? For riches? For fame?

Are we fighting to stay ahead in mans selfish game?

Do you not understand or simply choose to stay ignorant

While the Earth screams with each blow that you deliver it?

Do you care about anything at all or is everything fodder?

You are stealing the future from every son and daughter!

What’s even more perplexing that you don’t understand,

Is that all those health issues you have are by your own hand!

In pursuit of materialism you unleashed poison in the Water, the Air, the Earth,

Not comprehending that you’ve also been consuming it since birth!

But all is not lost, no this battle is far from over and done

We still have a chance, this fight can be won!

If instead we all choose to stop fighting and step back,

To see who it is that is suffering when we’re on the attack!

When we realize that it is not just us, but our bloodline and existence,

We have no choice but to rebound with full on persistence!

The will to live and thrive is possessed by one and all

All we have to do is answer the call!

The call to lower our swords and stop the onslaught,

To remember what it is that we’ve all been taught!

We are all born with memories of existences passed,

Each life we lead takes its lessons from the current and last!

If we are truly to recover our Home and reconnect to the Family,

We need to realize we are ONE even though we are MANY!

We each have a role and we each play a part,

We are all well embraced within the Dragons Heart!

But we cannot stay there if we continue to fuss,

The time will come when they’ve had enough!

So on this Full Pink Moon Night in the name of Justice,

I remind everyone we are all Family and send a Call of Armistice!”

ZI ANA KANPA! ZI KIA KANPA!

MAY THE DEAD RISE AND SMELL THE INCENSE!

Etiamsi MULTA Et Nos UNUM Sumus Nos Sto Validus Ut Nos Sto Una!

Semper Veritas, Semper Fideles, In NINHURSAG'S Nomen Nos Fides! AVE NINHURSAG!

(We Are ONE Even Though We Are MANY And We Stand STRONGEST When We Stand TOGETHER!

Always TRUTHFUL, Always FAITHFUL, In NINHURSAG'S Name We Trust! HAIL NINHURSAG!)

AVÉ THE ANCIENT FAMILY!

AVÉ IGGIGI! AVÉ ANUNNA!

AVÉ DRACONIS! HAIL THE GREAT SERPENT!

HPS Meg “Nemesis Nexus” Prentiss

[tbehartoo]

Moonchild Lucy

For @fresh-princess-is-here, I hope you enjoy it

Summary: The prompt was werewolf, the couple was GrayLu, and the wiki page mentioned witch-hunts, lycanthropy, and “accusations of wolf-riding or wolf-charming” - This is where my brain went. ---------------------------------------------------------------

Gray is worried. It’s something of a new sensation for him. As a member of his pack he had a place and was content with it. He wasn’t an alpha, but he wasn’t at the bottom of the hierarchy either. His place was to be a hunter and soldier. He worked with the other hunters to bring food to the she-alpha and her cubs. As the young ones grew he would teach them the skills needed to track and hunt for the pack. When other packs entered the territory he and the other warriors would drive the encroachers out. His life had been simple before he met her. Now though, life was less predictable, less certain.

He had come across her as she was hiding in some brush just at the outskirts of the forest. Her shape was of the hind-legged predators that he had learned to be wary of, but her scent, her scent was of The Pack. He could also smell her fear and hear the rapid beat of her heart. Her breath caught in her throat when she first spied him, then very softly she whispered to him. The words were unfamiliar to him but The Call was there. It was singing to him, calling him to her pack and he returned the call. Tentatively her hand reached for him and he found himself nuzzling the palm.  A sound caught his attention and he put his nose into the wind.

Two-leggers coming! They were bringing fire with them. He needed to flee and the girl needed to come with him. He bowed before her and she seemed to understand. Quickly she was on his back and they took off through the forest. She held on as he ran along the gravel next to the stream. Then he waded for a bit trying to keep from leaving a scent trail for the hunters, not that they were very good at following such a trail. Gray took one great leap from the stream and landed on the grassy bank far from the hunt. He slowed to a walk. Occasionally he would stop to listen and sniff the air. He didn’t hear or smell the hind-leggers, but that did not mean they had stopped following. He walked all day heading to the far side of the territory where the pack was denned at present. They stopped next to a brook and the girl dismounted. Both drank and then sat near to each other. The girl brought out a pouch and offered some of the contents to Gray. He sniffed at it tentatively, then gave it a small lick. It seemed okay to eat so he gobbled it down quickly.

The girl began to speak softly. Once again the words were unfamiliar but the meaning seemed to come through. Those hind-leggers were trying to hurt her, she was grateful for his help, someday she would try to help him in return. Gray barked with laughter. As if this weak little creature would be able to help him. He stood and again offered his back to ride, but she refused. She merely put a hand on his shoulder and walked beside him in the gathering dusk. When she stumbled in the dark for the third time he put himself in front of her to stop her walking. He nuzzled her hand again and tried to get her to ride on his back. Her voice floated through the air and he could hear the weariness in it. She would probably fall off as soon as she climbed on. Gently he took her sleeve in his mouth and pulled her in a certain direction. After a few steps he was at an old den site. He sat and looked at her expectantly. She seemed to understand his meaning and immediately laid down on the ground. In just a few breaths she was asleep. Gray did a quick patrol around the area, marking it so that others would know he was about, then returned to the sleeping girl. He circled three times to praise the moon goddess and laid down slightly upwind of the hind-foot girl. Then he too fell fast asleep.

Two more days of travel and Gray was finally able to bring the two-footer to the cave he knew existed on the east side of the pack’s territory. Though he still didn’t know the language that the girl was often speaking to him, he seemed to understand her meaning if only in a vague way. She was looking for a safe place to stay where her differences from the other hind-leggers wouldn’t mark her for harm. Gray was sure that the cave would be the best place for her.

He showed her where to get water and helped her find bracken and other nesting materials to make a soft place to sleep. He was going to go on a short hunt to bring her food, but she stopped him. He was confused to find that she did not want any animal killed for her. The look on his face made her laugh and Gray wanted to make her laugh again. She was able to show him some brambles that had berries on them and seemed to indicate that she would eat them for food. He doubted that it was proper nourishment, but he knew very little about the hind-footers so he would let the issue go.

That night the howl of his alpha was calling all of the pack to him, an encroacher needed driving out. He nuzzled the girl till she woke up. Once again the howl rang through the night. It was taken up by a few other voices. She listened carefully and seemed to know that he would have to go. She put her forehead to his and then bid him goodbye. Gray was unsure what that phrase meant, but knew that he was worried about how she would fare without him. She needed a pack to keep her safe, but the hind-footers would not have her. Perhaps his pack would allow her in, after all she had their scent, but that would require the approval of the alphas.

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Lucy laid awake for the rest of the night. The big gray wolf had been so kind to her and she would miss him. She spent the night time trying to plan her future, but could hardly get past what needed to be done in the next few days. Well, maybe she’d worry about it once she made it through the next day.

By sunset she had a small collection of berries, roots, and green shoots for food. She’d also washed out her clothes and applied a willow bark poultice to the various bruises she’d received, first from the mob and then in her escape attempt. She laid down that night thinking of resting but one more day before following the water to a place further away from the people that wanted to kill the witch.

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Pain and fear were the only things Gray could feel now. The bite on his belly the he-alpha had given him was slowly oozing, and the coppery tang of blood was dripping into his paw steps. Gray could only thank the moon that he had been quick enough to keep the she-alpha from severing his hind leg, something she had taught him to do on larger prey to allow the pack to bring it down, though the leg had not entirely escaped her fangs. He'd had other nips and bites from the rest of the pack as they drove him away from the den. He was a shunned one now. No longer would he hunt beside his brothers and sisters to bring food for the small ones and the elders. He would never join his alphas in defending their homelands from every enemy or go raiding into other areas to try to expand their hunting grounds. No more being practice prey for the older puppies. No more family. No more pack. Shunned forever. And as the loneliness of the thought met with the pain in his body he let out a single wail of mourning.

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Lucy heard the howl as it rang through the night and the anguish it expressed brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t stand for others to be in pain and there was so much of it in that plaintive cry. There wasn’t much she could do, and in her need to do something she reached for her bag. Clutching what looked to most people like a simple ring of keys, Lucy moved into the moonlight and began holding them aloft one by one.

“Taurus, send them strength,” she murmured. A soft glow surrounded the key then faded. “Thank you,”she whispered. She held up the next key.

“Great Crab, Cancer, grant them your protection until they find safe harbor,” she asked the sky.

“Lord Leo, put your mighty heart in them, that they may endure well to the end,” she pleaded.

At each key she would pray for a small boon from the great ones in the stars and in tiny or gentle ways they would grant them. She always made sure to return thanks as was proper.

When she had completed the circle she held all the keys clutched in her hands. Upon concluding the rite she usually felt some measure of peace and calm, but her spirit was still troubled.

She knelt on the ground and bowed herself three times to kiss the earth. Then she sat back on her heels and raised her arms in a great circle over her head. She searched the sky and when she found the great orb of the night she cried, “Oh Great Diana, Queen of the Night Sky, Holder of the Secrets of the Dark, and Mighty Huntress, please grant…” she wasn’t sure what to ask from the Goddess. She had a thought but didn’t know how to phrase it in the language of the great ones. She had to hurry as  her arms were beginning to tremble. “Dear goddess, please get that poor soul the help it needs,” she begged. “If I can somehow be of use to them, please let our paths cross.” Her arms fell to her side. She bowed her head. “Please?” she asked.

A great cloud of darkness began to encircle the girl. It entered her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. There was no taste, no weight or substance to it, but still Lucy  began to choke. Lung squeezing coughs followed by several shallow and rapid coughs were being forced from her body again and again. She was fighting for air, for a chance to just take a breath in. When she was about to faint the darkness withdrew from around her. In front of Lucy was a small globe of brilliant light floating in the air. Right before she passed out, Lucy thought she saw the form of a woman with a silvery bow in her hand. As she drew the string back the light was transformed into an arrow and released into the night sky where it was joined by a dozen shooting stars. Lucy felt a different darkness envelop her, but she managed to rasp out a short, “Thank you,” before falling to the earth.

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Gray was sure that he could go no further. There was a small rise in front of him. He had hoped to have one last glance of the girl that had this strange draw for him, but he could hardly put one paw in front of another. He was about to lay down for his last time, too weary to even turn for the moon goddess, when of a sudden he had a surge of strength. Could he at least make the top? Up the hill he went, legs steadied and courage growing. He stopped to breathe when he reached the summit. Here would be a good place. Down he dropped, dead tired. At least he could see the mouth of the cave in the distance. The moonlight illuminated the girl as she was kneeling and bowing. He put his head down on his paws so that he could watch her for as long as possible, but all too soon his eyes drooped closed.

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Lucy awoke with a need to move. Though she felt exhaustion in every part of her body she exited the cave and began to walk. She wasn’t sure where she was going as she hadn’t had too much time to explore the area, but she walked in the way that felt...right. She found herself at a small pool of water when suddenly seized by the realization of how parched her mouth and throat were. Bending down to scoop water to her chapped lips her eyes caught a tattered bit of familiar gray fur. All thirst forgotten she ran to the unmoving shape. Taking a moment to check for breathing Lucy could see a tiny rise and fall. Immediately she reached for her keys

“Aquarius, Star Sister, Bearer of the Water of Life, I am in need of your wisdom and teaching. Grant me, Mother of Miracles, an audience, I pray,” she called and then plunged the key into the water.

Ripples began to stretch across the whole face of the water and the pool began to bubble. A being with a body of pure starlight rose from the frothing liquid. Walking along the top of the now stilled pool she neared the kneeling girl. She lowered the large container she carried.

“What do you want Lucy?” she asked.

Lucy knew that Aquarius could be impatient and liked plain speaking so she dispensed with the flowery language one normally used to importune the gods.

“He’s hurt,” she said gesturing to the wolf. “Please, help me to help him.”

The goddess took in the appearance of the wolf. “It might be better to let him die.”

“No!” Lucy looked at the glorious creature with pleading eyes. “He’s been a friend to me. He saved my life. Please,” she had tears rolling down her cheeks, “please, help me to help him.”

She looked more closely at the pile of bloody fur. “There’s no way to see what damage has been done,” she snapped. “It may be even more than I can help with.”

“Please?”

“You know you will have to pay the price,” Aquarius stated.

“I do and I am willing to pay what I must,” Lucy replied.

“Fine,” the goddess lowered the water jar into the pool. “Give me your hands.”

Lucy cupped her hands together, and even though she knew how badly it would sting, the pain that she felt upon having the living water flow into them made her gasp.

“Pour it into his wounds,” Aquarius directed.

As the water hit the open wounds a smell of burning flesh and singed fur filled the air. Again and again Lucy spilled handful after handful of water into any place she could see blood. The animal began to whine and Lucy placed a blistering hand on his forehead.

“Peace, friend,” she whispered. “We’re trying to help you. Can you roll over so I can get the wounds on the other side?”

Lucy nearly vomited when she saw the opening in the underbelly of her friend. Frantically she turned back to the Water Bearer. She urgently ferried the water between the pool and the wolf.

Aquarius made Lucy stop when the animal tried to snap at her. “He’s obviously healed enough to be miserable,” she looked at the girl, “No need for you to be hurt more.”

Lucy looked at her blister covered, raw palms. She almost couldn’t bear the thought of one more handful of water. “Will it be enough mistress?”

“You know full well that the gift of prophecy belongs to another,” Aquarius answered. “But I would think that you have poured enough to heal him inside and out.”

“Thank you Star Sister,” Lucy said fervently.

“Let’s see if your still thanking me after you’ve lived with him for a few weeks,” she said curtly. “He may not thank you much for saving him now that he’s been driven from his pack.”

But why would they drive him out?” Lucy asked confused.

“Because now that you’ve been his rider he will fully become who he was born to be.”

But he’s just a wolf,” Lucy declared. “That’s what he was born to be.”

“Do you imagine you are the only moonchild to ever exist?”

“H-h-h-he’s a werewolf, too?” she asked shocked.

Aquarius merely nodded with a smirk on her face.

“Is he,” she looked miserable, “is he frozen like I am?”

“Your audience is over,” came the terse reply. “He may need to rest for a bit but then you both need to wash off in this ...puddle.” She reached down and poured a tiny stream of brilliant liquid back into the pool. “Make sure it happens before the moon sets.”

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As the girl and the wolf lay curled together in their nest, their breathing deep and even, two figures of starlight stood watch at the cave mouth.

“I’ve seen that look before,” said one, there was a teasing note to his voice. “What are you thinking Leo?”

The spirit gazed, smiling at the sight they had been called to guard for the evening.

“I’m thinking, Aries, that Queen Diana will be well pleased with the events of this night.” He looked back at his companion. “And I am glad, too, that these two moon children have finally found their clan.”  

[workingabroad]

How to make sure you are part of an Ethical Volunteering Experience

Last month, I went to speak at the Compass Ethical Volunteering and Travel conference in Birmingham. It was the first of its kind and it gathered several great speakers from the volunteering and travel industry to speak about being ethical in our line of business. I was there to provide the perspective of WorkingAbroad, a volunteer organisation that has helped people from around the World to join volunteer programmes in the past 20 years. I was there to provide some insights on what future volunteers should look out for and ask themselves before choosing a volunteer project.

It is no secret that volunteering has in the past years grown substantially in popularity as a way of travelling and experiencing the world. This has been followed by an increasing number of companies and organisations, who are interested in offering people volunteering experiences. This also makes it harder for people to make the decision on where to travel and with whom. In 2015, the documentary “The Voluntourist” by Chloé Sanguinetti highlighted the importance of doing research and being critical when looking for a volunteer programme abroad. Is your presence doing more harm than good? This is the essential and most important question that you need to know the answer to, before spending your time and money on a volunteer programme.

Unfortunately, there are like in any other area of business, profit-greedy organisations and companies who are only interested in exploiting your good intentions for making money. They are the ones destroying the important work that other well-intentioned volunteer organisations and companies are part of. I met people at the conference, who had been scared off a bit with volunteering abroad, as the bad examples of being ripped off on a volunteer programme that had no clear purpose or structure to make a sustainable impact on the community, had imprinted on them. This was another reason for participating in this conference; to show that ethical volunteer programmes and companies do exist! The BORN FREE Foundation was also part of the conference, who announced that they are at the moment working on a database for ethical travel and volunteering companies and organisations. “Animal Footprint” is the name of the database, which is soon to be launched. The purpose is for you as a traveller and volunteer to more easily find the places that are run ethically and sustainably; thus, making it easier for you to make an informed choice. Keep an eye out for it! I recently read the book “Volunteer Voices” by Duncan McNicholl, who has many years of experience with development work in Africa, also as a volunteer. The book raises many important questions that former volunteers have realised upon reflection of their time volunteering and working with development. I recognised several of the questions, some which I realised while I was volunteering abroad, and others not until after I had arrived back home. This book thus provides anyone looking into volunteering, the insight from people with extensive volunteer and working experience in the development field. It will make you ask the right questions and make the considerations before you choose the programme to volunteer with abroad.

I volunteered in Ghana and Brazil for various durations at community development projects back in 2013. This was during a time where the notion of ethical tourism or questioning "voluntourism" hadn't really found its way. While I do remember asking myself questions about my work while volunteering, most of my reflections have come afterwards and in particular in recent years. Fortunately, upon this reflection, I don’t consider my time volunteering at the given programmes as harmful or unsustainable. In Ghana, my main purpose was to build libraries at schools in Kumasi and doing farm work in the Northeast. While I questioned the organisation and effectiveness of my work when being there, I believe the creation of libraries anywhere in the World will only have a long term positive effect. In Brazil, I worked with children in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro. I remember thinking at the time, if I was really making a difference with my presence there. As I gradually got to understand the purpose of the project, I realised that it was needed to secure a less deem future for the children. Once the children reach a certain age, in particular the boys, the drug lords from the larger neighbouring favela would come to recruit the them, while their parents were working. This project provided the children a place to go, while their parents were out working. You can read more about my time volunteering in Brazil here. I would advise anyone to carefully think about programmes involving children, in particular ones linked to work at orphanages. Be aware of the impact that you’ll have on the children while being there, and what you leave behind once leaving the project. I’ve also since learned how the volunteer company that I joined, operates and treats its local project partners, and thus now know the importance of choosing the right agency.

While working with children can have an impact on their learning and social capabilities, it’s not only in these areas that you need to be aware of the footprint you leave behind as a volunteer. In case you haven’t already watched the highly talked about documentary Blood Lions, you need to do so! It helped expose the cruel canned hunting industry in South Africa, and how trophy hunters from all over the World are paying large sums of money to kill lions bred for the purpose. It finally also made volunteers aware that petting and working with lion cubs have no sustainable or well-intentioned purpose. They are bred for the sole purpose of being shot by trophy hunters, and this will be their fate, as soon as tourists and volunteers find them too old and not cute enough to pet. You can read more about this from our blog "The Awful Business of Canned Hunting".

Any true wildlife sanctuary with predators will not allow interaction with them, and if so, will usually be very limited and by permanent staff. The main purpose of true sanctuaries is to re-introduce wildlife back into the wild. If this is not possible, the animals will spend the rest of their days at that sanctuary. This also means that no breeding will ever take place, as no sanctuary will ever continue the circle of breeding wildlife to stay in captivity; because what would the point be of having inbred animals unfit to be released in the wild? Volunteer programmes that have breeding and interaction with predators, in particular big cats, are only part of this for the money. It's a money machine that volunteers and tourists alike keep supporting, because who doesn't want to pet or walk with a cheetah? Don't do it! Only support true sanctuaries that work for the purpose of keeping wildlife wild. You should ask yourself - when has it ever been normal to pet, walk or interact with a dangerous wild animal? You are not Mowgli and this is not the Jungle Book! This brings me back to my purpose of speaking at the conference in Birmingham. I advised the future travellers and volunteers listening, to ask the important questions and do the research. Like going to a new restaurant or buying a new product; the small investigator in you has to try and work out if it’s the right place or product to choose for the money you are paying. While this might seem like common sense, it is now more than ever the most important thing to do, as you can easily end up being part of the problem instead of the solution. You can find all of the questions, which we believe are important to ask the volunteer company that you’d like to volunteer with here, and also find our own answers to these.

In all, don't spend money on projects that you don't believe have a real and sustainable impact on the local community and/or wildlife. However, don’t let the bad stories scare you.  Many projects around the World rely on the assistance from volunteers to keep doing what they do in the name of conservation and community development. Do your research and make informed choices. The experience of volunteering while travelling will most definitely change and enlighten you. You will be part of the difference that the project is trying to make during your time volunteering - just make sure that it's the right kind of change, and that you don't do more harm than good in the long run. In the end, YOU make the decision. Make sure that you will be part of the solution, and not part of the business of volunteering to make money on the cost of animals' and people’s lives and future