Spoilers? Unreleased content? New chapter? Yes, yes, and yes. Read at your risk.

"Hello, would you like to buy some jewelry, Miss?"

"No thank you."

"What about you, sir? We have a fine s---"

"No."

I let out a tsk as the man continues to walk on his way. The clouds littered the sky, but the sun managed to peek through. Little patches of frost were scattered amongst the ground, and when anyone spoke, a cloud seemed to form from their vocals.

"Is it always this hard?" I ask Celia and she lets out a little laugh while holding a necklace in her hand, looking for a mannequin to place it on. It is a silver necklace with an argentin gem placed in the middle. For it sparkles with purple in the middle that fades into orange at the edge.

"What can I say, I am not really here to sell jewelry. It is more of a, well, you remember."

"An overseeing gig, yeah yeah, I got you."

"You know," Celia finds what she was looking for and she manages to put it on one of the mannequins. It looks truly beautiful, and I can't help but admire the beautifully crafted with each little chain.

"Are they magic enhanced, Celia?" I ask as my eyes catch the little aura that radiates from the gem. When I was human I would have never noticed it, but, now, it seems to be as clear as day. How odd, things do change.

"Just a small luck spell is all. I figure more customers deserve something if they're willing to spend the money."

"How come it didn't work for me?" I mumble quietly, but Celia lets out a fit of laughter as she wipes a tear from her face, mumbling something to herself that I can't quite pick up on.

"How can you be so positive," I ask Celia, and she seems to be in thought for a moment before releasing a little smile.

"I suppose that, despite the uncertainty, that Tyche might have a bit of fate on our side."

"Well, I don't believe in fate after this entire fiasco."

"That's where you're wrong, little one." She messes with a bit of jewelry, this time a bracelet, whilst talking to me.

"Even if you stop believing, she will be there to help."

"Or hurt," I mumble quietly to myself. I shake my head while taking a necklace in my hand and continue to showcase it to anyone who might spare a glance in my direction.

Things are going just fine until a scent seems to enter my nose. I have to gag as it seems foul, overall just . . . vile. I try not to gag, but I alert Celia with a little nudge to her shoulder. I try to let her follow my hand signal as I slowly point into the direction of the smell. Only then do I spot a mop of blonde hair, and there is a robe that is worn with royal blue. I narrow in my eyes, and I recognize it to be Aiden if I remember correctly.

"Aiden," Celia whispers, and she walks out from her shop, jogging even. She disappears into the crowd, and I am left to man the shop all by myself. I simply just smile and, sometimes, flip and curl my hair around my fingertip. Only then do I pick up on a conversation,

"Did you heard about Joseph Naneif?"

"No, what happened?"

"Apparently he was found in the forest brutally mutilated. His shoulder was ripped off and his organs were found scattered around the area. They say it must have been a murder but from a beast. Some suggest a werewolf."

"Shame, we were only drinking with him the night of. Though he was plastered beyond words."

I let out a shiver because I know they are likely talking about the man I killed, so he has a name now. . . Joseph Naneif. What if he had a family, children, a loyal wife? I just took that away from him because I couldn't control my primal urges. My Gala what have I done? I can't help the guilt, for it rolls off my body in waves. I can only let out a sigh.

I'm a huge fan of the very start of my novel! While it doesn't make sense at first, and the "lore" and "metaphysics" behind this will be explained only wayyy later, the sense of both dread and apotheosis that it fills me with is still unrivaled.

After all, what is a saint but a martyr?

It stretched on, towards the sky, towards the heavens, towards infinity; a tower with no beginning or end, no sense or purpose as it simply went on, an eternal spiral of madness ascending from where the boundless ocean met the edge of the world and fell towards oblivion, its darkness changing and shifting as if ink in a bottle, swallowing all that fell towards its abyss whole like a hungry mouth — and yet, if you were to find its bottom, the tower would still be there, forever unchanging.

There, he slowly found himself becoming one with it.

It was a behemoth, not unlike the empty bellow, consuming him thoroughly as it digested him, eating away the remnants of his self until only the bones of what once was were left behind — and even they were slowly corroded by the unliving beast’s stomach acid, melting his flimsy existence until he became liquid and distorted, just like the starlight coming through the thick glass panes of yet another majestic window that drew pictures of scenes that his fragmentary and vacuous mind could not comprehend, as if they required him to seek a higher plane.

He then took another step.

Oh man, too many favorite scenes to choose from!

“Mark, you’re lucky to have Lynn cook for you everyday,” Sandra said, her voice muffled by the food in her mouth.

She grinned at the man, expecting him to agree and voice his contentment. But when he returned her smile, the flicker of anger in his eyes caused a chill to settle in her bones.

“Today’s dinner is special, actually.” Mark tossed a side glance at his wife. “Normally we have leftovers. Sometimes, she doesn’t even cook.”

The undercurrent of tension in his voice spoke volumes. So did the unpleasant look that Lynn shot him at his remark. Trapped between the warring couple, Sandra was lost for words. She gulped hard and reached for the glass of water, downing it in a flash.

Her eyes darted around the table, from Mark’s stern look to Lynn’s dark expression, and then to Ray. She couldn’t see the teen's expression from across the table given his bowed head. His lack of a reaction suggested that fights between the couple were a common occurrence.

Deadly silence fell over the room like a blanket. Sandra shrank into her seat. Her chest tightened as she recalled the same feeling of being small and invisible in a stifling cold war. Desperate to escape the encroaching walls of nostalgia, she let out an unnatural, shrill laugh.

“Maybe I should come over more often then,” she joked, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere.

It took a second before Lynn recovered her cheery look first. “Yes, you should! We would love to have you over. Wouldn’t we, Mark?”

Shooting one last glare at Lynn, Mark turned his attention back to Sandra. His lips cracked into a forced smile. “Yes, we would.”

When I was younger, it was my dad who decided to cut ties and move away from my mother. Knowing this to be true, you wouldn't expect him to have been the first to give her a second chance, but he did. He seemed to think my rebuilding a connection was worth the risk as well. I loved my dad, but he was always more optimistic than I could ever have been. It was odd how I shared a pessimistic world view with my mother, but couldn't bring myself to forgive her like my father. The sad part is I still loved her, just as much as my dad, but I dealt with life constantly dealing me bad hands. Naturally, I couldn't overlook my mother's nature having the potential for catastrophe. If anything, I saw it more clearly than anyone else.

Walking inside, it was like an unwanted game of hide and seek. The house wasn't the biggest on the block, but there were enough rooms to make searching for my mother seem eerie and uncomfortable. There was a silent heartbeat to the tension until I heard her.

She was in the kitchen.

I approached slowly as if she were a masked gunman. She was going through the refrigerator, throwing out old food.

"I see your father hasn't learned to cook anything new," she said.

Of course, she knew I was there. You couldn't sneak up on my mother. I suppose that was a skill she, my father, and I all shared in a way.

"What are you doing here," I asked as I still crept into the room, keeping my distance.

"You don't call. You don't text. You don't write. I didn't know what else to do to see you," she said in an almost aggravated tone.

She turned around, and with careless magic, she shut the refrigerator without touching its door. Magic that didn't require words was rare, but magic that could be done with the wave of a hand was even more so. My mother knew so many spells she was basically a witch.

"You'll be happy to know I'm still seeing doctor Dan," she said

There was a nonchalance to the way she sat at the kitchen table sipping from a can of soda while I was noticeably on edge.

"You know your grandmother thought life's problems could be solved with a tall glass of something strong. Therapy was never an option for my sisters growing up or me," she added.

I stood with my back against a wall as if it were the only thing keeping her presence from knocking me over.

"Talk to me," she demanded as she set her drink on the table and kicked out a seat for me to take beside her.

I swallowed my anxiety and took the seat.

"You're not supposed to be in the house without dad around; he told me that," I said.

"Your father will live," she replied in a playful tone.

I looked away and laughed sarcastically under my breath. She had no respect for boundaries, not even the ones set by courts.

"Talk to me Pitch, what's been going on in my beautiful boy's life?" She asked as her hand reached across the table to hold my own.

Of course, I pulled away.

Dad wouldn't be home for hours, and I didn't have it in me to tell her to leave. I doubt she would have listened, but if she did, it would not have been good. In the end, I played along as best I could. As I said, I still loved my mother, but I understood the dangers of having her around.

"I got into an internship with a friend," I said begrudgingly.

"That's wonderful," she said.

Her aura literally glowed with excitement, but I kept my same disinterested look as usual.

"You don't seem too happy," she deduced out loud.

"My friend Wes invited me somewhere too. I can't do both," I replied.

She chuckled, and it broke through my weak defenses.

"Those are better problems than your father and I had at your age," she said.

"Sorry I was such a problem child," I remarked.

"That's not what I meant," she defended.

"Is it safe for you to be here? I know you haven't stopped."

"I have, and I'm doing better every day."

"Where did the car come from? You didn't have it the last time I saw you."

"The car isn't magic," she said.

My mother's addiction was never to magic, but the act of taking what wasn't hers. Whether she stole a spell book or a car, it proved she was the same.

"Did you steal it?" I asked with demand in my voice.

"I can help you," she said, ignoring the question.

She tried to change the subject, but in doing so, she gave me a definitive answer nonetheless.

"With what?" I asked.

"Your problem. You don't want to choose between your friends. I can give you something so you don't have to."

I laughed.

"I don't need magic if you stole it."

"It's an old spell I've long returned by now, but you know photographic memories run in the family," she said in an attempt to persuade me.

"I don't need it," I protested as I got up from my seat and pushed it back under the table.

"But you want it, and there's a way for you to have it, just ask mamma,"

"No, thank you," I said coldly.

"Why not get yours where you can?" She said, still in an attempt to persuade me.

It was middle school all over again. At least I was at an age where I could understand the repercussions of taking my mother's help.

"You know dad thinks you're changing, but I don't see it."

I turned to walk away, but her voice clutched my body still.

"You are just like your father."

"Better than my mother," I said.

It was the wrong thing to say. She used some sort of spell to pull me back into the room and flung me into the fridge.

"Mistakes or not, I am still your mother."

I scrambled to get back to my feet.

"You need to leave," I exclaimed.

"You think I'm a monster. I made the decision to take what I wanted. I made the decision to take what my family needed. You think anyone with power hesitates to take more however they can get it? I did the bare minimum. I took what I wanted without hurting anyone."

"You hurt dad," I said.

She went silent.

"You hurt me. Every time you get in trouble the cops come looking for us first," I said.

She stood up from her seat, and I stumbled backward almost tripping over as I feared her next step. As she approached me, I found myself boxed in between kitchen counters. And then she stopped. I was stunned as she pulled a piece of paper from a hidden pocket of her leather jacket. She sat the piece of paper on the counter beside me, and after a moment of tension, she walked away.

"Use that to go two places at once," she said as she left the room.

"I'm not using this," I exclaimed, but she was already gone.

Good idea! Here's a scene that's not too far ahead of what's been published, and not too spoilery, either.

Jack clicked through the articles until he came across a photograph of Delaney standing next to a gorgeous blond man. He froze as he stared at the photo. Delaney knew Farragut.

He tugged on his sleeves and looked around the library. No one else was hanging about in the research stacks. He was alone. He was fine. He was safe. He should hurry up and head over to Sam's house.

Jack's thoughts ran wild as his eyes fell back on the photo. Delaney had to be an official suspect. Sam had said there was a certain style to the murder.

Farragut liked amputation well enough, but… Jack frowned and stared at his keyboard. That wasn't right. Farragut never killed anyone. Not that Jack could remember. He'd even testified that Farragut was innocent on that front. Beating and cutting someone up under orders wasn't the same as murder. But his gut reaction to the questions asked were the complete opposite of the words that fell from his mouth.

His heart beat faster as he tried to remember more from his time with Farragut. Something besides hungry smiles and whispered promises of keeping him. He had seen things. He knew it. He was certain of it. The images were just on the edge of his memories, slipping into a fog.

He pulled his left sleeve up and twisted his wrist, eyeing the scar that circled it. A flash of a knife slowly dragging over his skin and the threat of losing his hand hit him, and he screwed his eyes shut at the venomous words spoken in a serene voice.

That wasn't right. He'd tried to off himself as a means of escape. Farragut...Michael had been so concerned about all the blood. Had kissed Jack's wrist and… Jack rubbed at his wrist as the memory of holding the knife in his right hand solidified over the one of Farragut gleefully licking at Jack's wrist.

He needed to get away from his thoughts and the wrongness he felt. He needed a distraction. He slammed his laptop shut and decided to head over to Sam's house early. He'd deal with the extended tarot reading. Anything to stop feeling like he was crazy.

I'm really pleased with how I wrote the following scenes!

His sneer, laced with the vengeful syrup of a molten sun, would not leave Suli’s recollection. The way he spoke of his own mother, like she didn’t mean a thing…

-ch.12 "Suppuration"

"Because I trust you.”

Stellar moved through the murmuring glow until she was in a crescent of shadows. A hot breeze filtered through the area whipping Stellar’s hair and dress into a hallucinatory spiral. Beneath her, terrain groaned mechanically. She reached out and grabbed a nearby pole when the planet’s surface shuddered momentarily.

-ch.13 "Congeal (Part One)"

Twisted metal spiraled into the blue; a sculpture marking the molten planet’s failure. Embers crackled and popped into steam as they hit shallow water cradling the now useless cargo pod.

It hurt.

To say the least. Charred fingers caressed the smooth tiles they laid upon. All she could hear was a current of water trying to penetrate her eardrums. It was like the blades of eternity were trying to catch up to her soul… But she wasn’t deceased. Just partially submerged and wishing she was dead. Sunshine warmed her body but Stellar did not want to open her eyes. All she could see behind her eyelids were tangerine smears from Binaria.

-ch.22 "Come To The Surface"

I'll post quotes!

"It’s not that I want to love him; it’s that I can’t stop loving him.” —Nari

“You may be one crazy bitch, but I respect the motivation you’ve got. It’s kinda scary—borderline intimidating if we’re being honest here—but it’s something I wish I had more of.” —Yuri

“To me, love without trust isn’t love at all." —Sarang

And finally, this scene:

The funeral was the first time I’d seen my grandfather cry like that. He’d always been a strong man, but losing his wife must’ve broken something in him. I wasn’t able to cry at the funeral, and the thought of that had haunted me in the week since then.

I’m sorry Grandma.

With that thought, I cried harder, and the girl moved closer to my seat. Without hesitating, she gave me a hug.

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know what kind of life you’ve lived. I don’t know how much pain you’re in, and I may never know, but the one thing I’m certain of is that you needed to let this out.”

I choked out the words, “But I’m not supposed to cry! I wanted to stay tough so that she doesn’t feel sorry for me up in heaven!”

I was bawling and she hugged me tighter. She pat my head like before, softly shushing me. “It’s okay. Even if she’s not here on Earth, she wouldn’t want you to feel hurt. I can feel how loved you were just from how sad you are right now.”

I calmed down a little as she went on. “Never be afraid to cry. All humans have tears for a reason, you know? If you hold them in for too long, you might erupt like a volcano and hurt the people you care the most about.”

What a fun and interesting idea~!

This is one of my favorite scenes! That coincidental meeting is cliched but I can't help but fangirl over it

Running his 5th lap around the beach, Yohan panted, struggling to keep going. Eddie whooped and hollered as he watched from the stairs, encouraging the author to run faster while he sipped on his venti iced matcha latte. Yohan glared up at his friend, flipping him off as he continued to jog around the area. He was exhausted, but it felt nice to be running around while watching the ocean waves come and go. He hadn’t had a chance to relax like this for the past week as he had been finishing up his draft for his first meeting with Andrew on Tuesday. The thought of Andrew soured his mood as he started to sprint down the hill.

“Yo! Yohan, slow down or you’re gonna fall over, dude! HEY!” Yohan ignored his friend’s warning as he continued to sprint down the small hill. Just as he was reaching the foot of the sandy hill, a tall man with jet black hair and toned, tan muscles emerged from the right side, about to cross paths with the oncoming author.

“Fuck… hEY MOVE. MOVE AWAY!” Yohan yelled out, slamming hard, against the man in front of him, causing them both to topple over one another.

“Urgh…” the man groaned, his right arm still holding onto Yohan, who was on top of his chest.

Taking off his sunglasses, Andrew squinted at the bright sun as he looked down at the person who had crashed into him. His eyes widened, making eye contact with Yohan. Andrew panicked as his heart started to race with vigor, his first love was on top of him?! Scrambling off of Andrew’s bare abs, Yohan stared at the editor in horror, his face flushed pink. Of all people he had to run into, he had to run into him?! What were the odds that they would meet each other like this again?!

The two men gaped at one another as bystanders stared down at them, confused. Andrew felt his ears turn red, realizing that Yohan could have easily heard his thrumming heartbeat. No! He heard it! Oh no… What do I do?! Andrew panicked, looking away from Yohan before wincing in pain. He glanced down at his bleeding palm… This was just like eleven years ago.

From Chapter 13 when the two mains meet

While there are a few revelation scenes in my novel that make me go whoo every time I re-read it. I will have to post chapters of content to show it. So take the funniest scene from my novel.

“God, are you in for a ride.” I slid a bottle of Absinthe towards her and held out an opium cigar from its front end. She leaned over and bit the cigar. Swiftly producing a matchbox from my coat, I lit her cigar and then lit one for myself.

Taking in a deep puff, I could feel the smoke going through my chest, heating it. The opium went deep in my core and slowly rose to my head, giving it a nice hit. I slowly uncorked the bottle of Absinthe and took in a gulp. The alcohol burned my throat as it passed through my neck, leaving behind a myriad of sensations.

In front of me, Nea let out an exaggerated “aah” after taking a sip of her own Absinthe. Her satisfied smirk made her look very refreshed.

“Ay, don’t be hasty aight? It’s not laudanum but you can still overdose with the drink and smoke together.” I said.

“Woah, this stuff’s killed?”

“More than both of us combined, I say.”

“That’s fucked!” Nea exclaimed, then took a deep puff and a large gulp. Her brutish behavior made me chuckle.

We were still sober, so I used this opportunity to tell her about the 7 “objects” which I have settled to call artifacts. And the past of this world/ “Listen here while you still can. I’ll explain some things...”

“Spit it, fustilarian!”

She is still sober, right?

**

“Sooooooo~” The rosy-haired girl spoke with her rosily flushed face swaying up and down. “These artiwhatchamacallits give magic to the world?”

“Huh~? I guess they do? Rightttt~?” I replied. Haha, she can’t even speak properly. I started giggling uncontrollably at her low tolerance. How stupiid. Aaahahaha.

“And those bad guys will destroy them~?”

“Huh~? I guess they will? Rightttt~?”

Nea’s head jerked back. For a second, everything was silent. A second later, she bought it back up at godspeed and then smacked the ground with it. “Makes me wanna become an earthwurm~”

I clapped. How very brave, few can cast away their humanity for such a noble purpose. Truly admirable. “Let’s practice being earthworms!” I suggested.

“Brilliant! Are you sure you aren’t a genius?”

“Watch me, follow properly” I got down on all fours and started barking, just like an earthworm does. Nea looked at me and laughed.

“You fool! That’s not how earthwurmsss act!”

She too got on all fours and started meowing. Ahh, I confused an earthworm with a snake, figures.

After about an hour of fruitful training. Nea, who had made a hole for herself in the ground. Looked straight into my eyes and asked. “You’ve never had a girlfriend, right?”

She looked down to her hand, remembering his warm touch in her palm. Her pen and a little piece of torn paper with a frog drawn on.

A cute frog named Olivia.

“So I am a frog, huh?”

If it was Serina she would probably be something else.

Olivia held in that little piece of paper tightly, it didn't matter if it ended up creased. It was still a piece she had of him.

I don't have much to share, but I really like this part!