Beasts Made of Night by: Tochi Onyebuchi [Review]

 

CONS: 

1. For some reason this was a book that I put down and didn't pick back up for a few months to finish. I can't pinpoint a specific reason as to why I put this book down. I think it had to do with pacing. 

2. It felt like after the main conflict was revealed, that they story just kind of skipped a bunch of content. Like the Tochi just couldn't wait to write the conclusion of the story and skipped over a bunch of (possibly boring) character development sections. The specific part I speak of is after Taj Eats a particularly large sin-beast of a particularly high profile character, he suddenly is a teacher of some aki school. There's maybe one scene of him actually training these students and then suddenly we are swept into a time whirlpool where months go by.

3. The ending just kind of lingers. It's not even an open-ended type ending, it just kind of sits there. I didn't like it. I found it to be kind of annoying. 

4. Taj, the main character, and his love interest, whom is WAY beyond his social status, just kind of seems to "happen." I don't know. Seemed sudden and didn't feel authentic. 

PROS:

1. The concept of people having sins inside them that can be pulled out of their bodies as sin-beasts and "Eaten" by aki, is awesome!

2. There was a pretty epic battle at the end that I thought made the whole thing pretty worth it. 

3. I loved the concept of the sin-beasts forming into tattoos on the akis' skin after they are Eaten. This isn't the first time tattoos appear in a fantasy book where animals are involved with being consumed or absorbed into the body, but it's still a cool concept. Creates a very cool visual. 

4. I loved the social structures of race and class. I loved how the very people that saved royalty from their own sins, are the people they fear and oppress. It's like their society was built on the fact that aki have power, but the royals didn't have power, so the royals needed to quickly oppress the aki to control them. It's a classic structure of power within a society. But it worked in an interesting way here, because the aki were responsible for Eating the royals' sins. 

3/5 Stars

Wolfsong by: TJ Klune [Review]

Cons: 

1. The book felt dense, but not particularly in a bad way. However, it was dense without much happening. A lot of the plot is internal conflict, which is great, but I'm not sure if some points needed to be driven home nine-thousand times. 

2. Rude to make the pinnacle sex scene the epilogue!!! Fan-service me a little. But so worth the wait. (This point probably doesn't belong in the "con" list).

3. I think in order for the main villain to be as "bad and scary" as the characters make him seem, we needed to see him do something terrible on screen. I don't know. I knew he was a horrible person, but I didn't see him do anything "horrible" enough on screen to really merit that. But the villain isn't really the point of the story. 

4. I love witches and werewolves and vampires etc. But I feel like sometimes when you start throwing all these monsters and themes together it just feels "over-done." I'm still deciding how I feel about the witches being a part of this story. I know the sequel deals more with the witch as the main character, so maybe that will help me to understand why witches are so important in this universe. 

Pros: 

1. It's a gay romance that's not hokey. I'm not even sure if it's REALLY a romance -- I guess I haven't read that much romance so I can't be the judge of that.

2. If it IS a romance, the romance I don't really think takes center stage. I mean, the main character thinks about his "significant" other quite often, but it's not all pining and annoying. However, it is angsty. There is a LOT of angst. 

3. I loved the writing style. I loved the choppy paragraphs (if they can even be called paragraphs). It was very stream of consciousness and I don't read enough books written this way and I SHOULD, because I love it. It makes it a whirlwind to read. 

4. I loved the science of how the alphas worked. I think it was done in a way that many other werewolf stories tried to tell, but didn't quite get the "feeling" of it. I felt it.  

Final Score: 5/5

The Eye of the World by: Robert Jordan [Review]

Cons: 

1. Loooooooooong. And I don't just mean on the size of the book. You can see how long the book is going to be by how thick it is, but there were moments in The Eye of the World where I was praying for something to happen that would keep me interested to keep going forward. Trust me, length of books are not a problem, I read the Stormlight Archive by: Brandon Sanderson. But length, for me, has EVERYTHING to do with keeping me interested. Keeping me wanting to read more or continue. This book lost me a few times. A few too many times in that it took me a year to finish this book. Truth be told, I've tried reading this book twice and listened to the audiobook once. I had to read it twice because the first time, I stopped halfway through and to much time had passed before I picked it up again, so I decided to start over. This second time, I read about three quarters of it and then spent nearly 9 months before I picked it up again -- and FINALLY finished it. 

2. The entire story wraps up in basically two chapters. I agree that in order for epic endings to be "epic" you need to have build up. But there were too many spaces of zero plot movement for the ending to really pack a punch for me. Or perhaps it's because I took so long in between reads that perhaps I lost all the hype when I picked it back up. 

3. The concept of the wolfbrother wasn't explored too much. I'm sure it will be expanded upon as the series goes on, but I was sad that we didn't get a little bit more information. Or see the wolfbrother abilities in a true battle. At least he has cool yellow eyes!

4. I realize that the Wheel of Time is an "older" fantasy book, but I'm bored of the medieval or renaissance era fantasy stories. I'm also sad by how boring the journey trope was in this story. I know this is unpopular opinion, but it reminds me of the Lord of the Rings. I just hate endless journeys where it just doesn't seem like things move the plot forward. Like the characters didn't learn their abilities and grow in those abilities -- we hardly even met new monsters or cultures. But I can tell you what type of ale or wine each town specializes in...!

 

Pros: 

1. I know that elemental magic is over-done in the fantasy genre, but I LOVE elemental magic. 

2. The ending was VERY satisfying. It had one of those horror movie endings where there is this ominous feeling that it's not really over. I liked that. Plus, the final "battle" was pretty cool, though I feel like I didn't know enough about the magic system to truly grasp what I was seeing happen. 

3. Girls Rule the World! In this universe there is something called the One Power. This power works differently for women than it does for men. Also, the men's side is "tainted" with darkness. Men ruin everything (our current world is proof). But anyway, I think it's awesome that women are literally responsible for this great power, the knowledge of it, and responsible for making sure no men ruin the world with their version of the power. 

4. I LOVE stories about people who bond or commune with animals. The concept of the wolfbrother is awesome! Literally this concept alone was enough for me to string myself along to read more.  

FINAL SCORE: 3/5

Prologue of the Universe [rough draft]

Prologue to the Universe

NAHANDRIEL FOCUSED ALL OF HIS ENERGY ON OPENING THE PORTAL WHILE TRYING TO FLY THE STARSHIP AS LEVELY AS HE COULD. He lassoed a random tree that he’d been flying by. Truth be told, Nahandriel la Jaguar wasn’t the best flyer. 

“Sir, you’re going to slice one of the wings off!” Bernard informed. The cinderform sounded kind of panicked. He looked humanoid in shape, but his body was made from black charred stone. Nahandriel knew that sloshing back and forth inside that stone casing, was hot hot magma, that made up the cinderform’s innards. Right now, only Bernard’s eyes were glowing red, to give any hint of his inside consistency. 

“We’re going to make it!” Nahandriel had his teeth clenched.

Strapped across his chest was a large tube full of violet ink and embryonic fluid. The case made it extremely awkward to drive. Rolling around in the liquid was an unborn baby. The baby let out a little giggle. <I didn’t know it could do that yet.> Just the other day the baby was an embryo about the size of a pea. “You like my flying — don’t you?” Nahandriel said to the baby.  

“We have a 30% chance of making it,” Bernard reported. 

“Foundation! Who expelled you and gave you sentience!?” 

It was meant as a joke, but the cinderform didn’t completely understand humor, “You did, sir.”

“Will you stop calling me sir!” Nahandriel yanked the wheel counter-clockwise to veer left — but it was a lot sharper than he was expecting. Anything that was loose in the cockpit, went flying. The baby thumped to the left-leaning side of his tube. Again, the baby giggled and Nahandriel could swear that he caught the baby clapping out of his peripheral vision. 

Bernard was making a blaring alarm-sound. “Sir, there’s a 98% chance we are going to crash!” 

Nahandriel yanked the wheel in the other direction in an attempt to level out, but now even the instruments on the starship were blaring. Everything was blinking red and screaming at him. “Would. Everything. Just. Shut up!” 

Nahandriel felt the lasso, a golden-bronze light that only he could see, that reached from his gut to the tree a few yards back. Maybe it was a mile now. He felt his lasso thinning and thinning. He needed to use the essence before his lasso snapped! He pulled the wheel towards him and up, in an attempt to swoop the craft up into the air and potentially gain some drag on air resistance. He needed to slow down, and the brake under his foot felt like there wasn’t any pressure, which he assumed meant that it was broken. 

“Sir.”

“Not now, Bernard!” Nahandriel pressed his power into the lasso. The poor tree disintegrated into dust. With that chaos of destructive energy, Nahandriel willed it before the starship and ripped open the fabric of reality, etching a portal in the sky before them. Only the foundation of a living thing, something as big as a tree, could open a portal from the Dreamscape into Truth. 

“The wing!” Bernard screamed. 

Nahandriel yanked the wheel counter-clockwise again. Everything was still mostly on the left side of the cockpit from the first time. The baby released a squeak of excitement. The sound of ripping metal sliced through the air as the starship’s right wing collided with the lip of the portal. With the speed, trajectory, and current angle of the starship, this collision caused the ship to spin horizontally. Nahandriel felt like he was on a Tilt-A-Whirl!

Their starship collided with trees as it spun and fell towards the earth. Everything happened far too fast for Nahandriel to do anything about it. He could smell burning. Then the starship slammed into the ground!

Nahandriel woke up when the hatch snapped open. The baby in the birthing capsule was crying now. Nahandriel instinctively cradled the tube and shushed calmly at the baby inside. It was enough to quiet the baby. Nahandriel pressed the release on his seatbelt. “Bernard?” Nahandriel called. 

“Sir! Thank the Zodiacs you’re awake. You might want to come out here.”

Nahandriel groaned. He had pains in various places. Some, he didn’t even know could hurt. “What do you think I’m trying to do!?”

“There’s a 100% chance that we might be gathering an audience.”

Nahandriel ignored the cinderform. He gingerly slipped from his tangled seat and fell! He slammed onto domed glass and slid, falling about three feet, to grass. He landed on his ass with a grunt. The baby in his birthing tube started giggling. “You think that’s funny?” Nahandriel groaned. “Think you can help me up Bernard?”

There was a tiny school of maybe five fish swimming in front of his face. He waves the fish away, but it was only seconds before they were back. “I think I might prefer gnats!” Nahandriel said, hoisting himself onto his knees. Bernard was too occupied to help him up. <I’m gonna make that cinderform stay inside for a week!> 

Nahandriel had forgot about the wildlife here on Searth. Everything was adapted to life under or above water. And that included swimming creatures being able to float and “swim” in the air. Nahandriel had never been on a planet quite like Searth. At least he’d arrived during low tide. 

“What seems to be the prob…!” Nahandriel had been walking around the hull of the crashed starship. A huge streak had been dug out of the sand. Strategically placed coral trees rose up and around the ship. Luckily, they hadn’t collided with any of them. Nahandriel wasn’t sure how strong those trees were. And honestly, they were too beautiful to be run over by a starship. 

Standing about a foot away from the starship was a little girl. She had purple hair — which Nahandriel had to remind himself was common for Searthians. And she was staring up at the ship with her chin nearly on the ground. She never looked away from the ship. <The Zodiacs are watching out for you, child.> Nahandriel thought. Nahandriel slung the testtube to his back so that the strange baby was out of view. Nahandriel began crouching down to get eye-level with the girl. He felt aches groaning. “Are you okay?” He asked calmly. 

The girl, mouth still hanging open, never looked at Nahandriel, and simply nodded her head. “Good! Now, can I ask you a favor?” The girl nodded again. <She’s gonna be catching fishes if she leaves her mouth open like that.> “Think you can keep an eye on my ship for me?” Again, the girl never looked away from her near death experience and nodded. “Great! You’re already doing such a good job!”

Nahandriel turned, slinging the baby back to his chest. The baby giggled. “Let’s go Bernard.”

“But sir!”

“Bernard!” Nahandriel commanded. “And that reminds me…The next time you leave me to get off the ground after a crashing landing, you’re fired!”

Bernard hurried to catch up with Nahandriel. “But sir,” he said. “I don’t work for anything.”

“True,” Nahandriel replied. 

He began walking aimlessly towards something. It was obvious that they were in a park. The coral trees were planted in some sort of pattern. Nahandriel guessed that the pattern was visible from the sky. He hadn’t remembered seeing it. <Shame,> he thought. There was a playground off to the right, behind a swath of tall seagrasses. A throng of green, blue, and purple-haired kids were playing on the swings and taking turns down the slide. The grasses prevented the little children from seeing the excitement of a crashed starship. 

He felt the slits on either side of his neck open. Slipping through were feathery-like gills that waved back and forth as if they were in the push and pull of the ocean. These gills tasted warm ardor. Nahandriel knew that it was the happiness of the children playing — and he was almost certain that he’d taste it. However, just tasting it made him hungry and he regret even doing it at all. He pulled his gills back into their pockets as he pressed through a line of seaweed and coral branches. 

“Sir, where are we going?” Bernard asked. Nahandriel looked back to see the cinderform struggling with coral branches. Bernard shifted the black rocks that made up his flesh as if they were flakes or islands that he could easily manipulate. In between each black rock revealed the red and orange glow of molten lava. Bernard used these breaks in his flesh to burn through the scratching and reaching coral branches. 

“Bernard! We can’t just go around burning through all of our obstacles.”

“That’s not what you said when we were leaving the Nweatish lab with that baby.”

“That was different,” Nahandriel said. 

They emerged into a backyard. The sand was a different color than the sand from the park. It was nearly white, finer, and seemed to glitter like diamonds. “This is the place.” Nahandriel said. The hovel was typical of Searthian homes and architecture. It was domed in shape and made from compacted sand and clay. The buildings were all domed shape to prevent too much friction when the tides rise. It minimized damage, considering the tide would rise so high to cover all land masses on Searth twice a day. 

“Where are we?” Bernard asked. 

“Just let me do all of the talking. They have probably never seen a cinderform before. They aren’t common on Searth.” Nahandriel explained. 

Nahandriel stepped to the back door, which was a window, and knocked. He immediately saw Lake peek around a wall at him. Lake Green had green-yellow skin with darker green hair. The baby in the tube was more a baseline green. Either way, the pair were a match. Nahandriel saw Lake call for someone else within the hovel. 

Lake opened the door, “I’d thought you’d come through the front.”

“Can’t do anything conventionally.” Nahandriel said. 

“Oh! Nahandriel!” Lake’s wife squawked. She threw her arms around him. Nahandriel felt some new places where he’s acquired bruises. 

“Hello, Shell.” 

Shell grabbed Nahandriel’s shoulders and pressed him away at arm’s length so that she could get a good look at him. Then she saw the birthing tube. “Holy shells!” She swore. “Is that him!?” The baby turned towards Shell immediately, as if he knew that he was on display. 

“Yes. And we need to get him out of this tube soon. Just a day ago he was the size of a melon and didn’t have eyes.”

“Is he okay?” Lake asked. 

“Yea. The ink. I guess it caused him to develop faster than normal.” 

“Oh Lake! We have a baby boy! You have a son!” Shell snatched Lake into a strong embrace. “Can I see him?” 

“Sure,” Nahandriel swung the strap over his head. He was hyperaware of Bernard acting as his shadow. He handed the birthing tube to Shell. 

“Would you like anything to drink?” Lake asked. “Does your — uh…”

“Bernard doesn’t drink,” Nahandriel said. “I’ll have something with a kick please.”

“Oh he’s so beautiful!”

“Yea, the Sidhe’fae are not shy about their enhanced appearance.” Nahandriel said. He’d had way too many run-ins with the Sidhe’fae. They were a court of people that valued beauty above all things — even if that beauty was a lie. If anything, Nahandriel saved the child from a lifetime of self-hate and judgemental eyes. 

“He nearly has Lake’s skintone. You almost can’t tell.”

“Almost.” 

Shell was purple-haired, eyed, and skinned in various shades that didn’t make her appear monochrome. “Thank you,” Nahandriel said when Lake came back with a cocktail. Nahandriel took a small sip, just to test what it was. Then he took a second sip that finished the drink. 

“His eyes are so weird.” Lake said. “But he is quite handsome.” 

The baby had black scleras with purple irises. “His eyes are like that from the ink.” Shell looked up at Lake suspiciously. <Fuck, Lake didn’t tell her.>

“Is there something wrong with our baby?” Shell asked Lake. Her eyes were piercing. There was no way that Lake could lie to her. 

<At least she was calling the boy her baby.> Nahandriel thought. But he wasn’t going to be the one to explain what was going on to Shell. 

“You know the Gardeners…” Lake began. 

Shell snapped a glare towards Nahandriel. “They might be extremists.” She said. “Please tell me this isn’t some ‘greater cause’ type thing for them.” Shell pleaded. 

Nahandriel saw Lake’s cheeks flush and the bead of sweat falling from his forehead. “Look,” Nahandriel stepped in. “It’s not that serious. It was the only way that I could get you a child…”

“Don’t. You. Speak your honeyed words to me Nahandriel la Jaguar!” Shell was pointing at him now. The baby still gingerly tucked under her other arm in his birthing tube. “Where did this baby come from? Is he legal? Is it even legal for us to have him!?”

“Shell…”

“Don’t you lie to me!” She seethed. 

It was never a good idea to show someone the continuum if they weren’t ready for it. It took years of opening your mind and learning how to relax your body, in order to receive the tolkens of the past or the future for what they are. Psychometry and foresight could break the mind. Nahandriel winced at thinking about his sister. He’d broken her. 

But Shell was a strong woman and Nahandriel was certain that he could control the continuum just enough to show only a single strand. The strand that he hoped would come true — concerning that baby that she was holding in her arm. Nahandriel pulled a marble from his pocket. He plucked that particular string and pressed his finger into Shell’s forehead. 

Shell’s irises split into three different shades of violet and began to pinwheel opposite directions from each other. The wheel spins. Nahandriel rolled a marble between his fingers on his free hand. Before the marble was able to roll between his ringfinger and his pinkie, it had completely dissipated into dust. 

The moment only lasted seconds, but it took Shell a few minutes before she spoke. She turned from Lake and Nahandriel and went to sit at the dining room table. She cradled the baby and rocked it like she would every night before bed, until the little boy was old enough to ask for bedtime stories. The future had been just opened up before her and it seemed to blow her mind. Foresight had that effect on everyone — except maybe Nahandriel himself. He had become so used to seeing the possible futures that often each read like a story to him. Like some new TV show that he needed to binge for hours until someone yanked him from his daydreams. 

“Where were you?” 

“You looked like you were far off.”

“You with us?” They’d say. 

After a long time, Shell let out her breath. It was audible. Nahandriel could see that Lake seemed to let go of some tension he was holding. “We’ll do it.” She said. She rolled her neck, relieving clenched muscles there. “We will raise him as our own.”

“For the good of the universe?” Nahandriel asked, a stupid smile plastered on his face. 

“No.” Shell snapped. She looked Nahandriel dead in the eyes. “We will raise him as our son. He will be family. And we will do what we think is best for his well-being.”

“Well that’s great!” Nahandriel said. He pulled out some crumbled papers from his pocket and handed them to Lake. “Sorry,” Nahandriel said sheepishly. “I had a rough landing.”

“Sir, it was a crash landing.” Nahandriel had almost forgot that Bernard was even there. Cinderform could stand so still, not breathing. 

“Bernard,” Nahandriel warned. 

“I know, I know, ‘let me do all the talking’ you said.”

“When will we get those here?” Lake asked. He handed the paperwork to Shell’s free hand.

“Hopefully never,” Nahandriel replied. 

By this time Shell was able to read the crumbled papers. “Lake!” She gasped. 

“What is it?” He sounded concerned. Nahandriel just smiled — because he knew what was coming. This happened often for him. 

“These…” Shell couldn’t finish. She looked at Nahandriel, tears in her eyes. “I never thought I’d have a baby…With my problems and all…My mother was so sad for me…We were so sad…I — I was ashamed.” She tried to catch her breath. “I thought our family was done…Our marriage done…” She stumbled into Lake’s arms and squeezed him, crying on his shoulder. 

“What is it?” Lake asked over Shell’s shoulder, directed at Nahandriel. 

“He’s really ours,” Shell cried. 

“I thought you couldn’t get legal adoption paper.” Lake said. 

“No,” Shell pushed off Lake. She cradled her son, pulling the baby’s face close to hers. The only thing separating them was the thin birthing tube glass. “He’s made from our combined DNA. He’s truly our son.”

“Nahandriel!?” Lake asked. 

“It’s true…” Lake pummeled into Nahandriel, wrapping his arms around him in a bearhug. “…I pulled some strings,” Nahandriel tried to say. 

Lake turned to Shell and they hugged and kissed. “We have son,” Lake said. Nahandriel could hear the tears on his voice. “How will we ever repay you?” Lake asked Nahandriel. 

“Just raise him as I know you will. And if the weave of the many futures I’ve seen are true — he will become one of the greatest heroes in the universe.” 

The Brotherhood (chapter 1) [rough draft]

 The Brotherhood

One

IT WAS A HOT SUMMER DAY IN NUEVA KROY. People were practically walking by in their bathing suits. The brothers sat with their office door propped open. The AC had bust again! “Look at her!” Dravite hooted. He was the youngest and most immature of the three. “I mean, what’s the point in wearing shorts at all, if they’re going to be that short!?” His exclamation was followed by a whistle that the passerby couldn’t hear — thankfully.

“You know,” Nephrite grumbled, “Girls don’t like to be cat-called.”

“Come on! It’s a compliment,” Dravite said. 

Nephrite was sitting at the desk covered in papers and an unused scheduling book. He was desperately trying to stop himself from having a quarter-life crisis. <Where are we going to get the money for this damned AC unit!?> Nephrite rolled his eyes at his younger siblings, “You two look like a pair of drooling hyenas. Why don’t you come over here and help me figure out where we’re getting the money for this AC repair or start tinkering with that thing.”

“Look,” Dravite scooped himself gracefully out of the chair in a way that only a teenager could, “I fix cars, not AC units.”

“Well you better start learning, man. AC repair ain’t cheap.”

“How much are they asking?” Chambersite was sitting nimbly on a stack of hardback books. Just your typical fodder on how to slay demons, what to do if you think you’re a werewolf, and where to find unicorns. This stack of books tumbled as he stood. 

Nephrite just glared, “You’re going to pick those up.” He scrolled through another email with another estimate based on what he’d explained was happening to another AC repair company. The prices were daunting, “More than we can afford.”

Chambersite was re-stacking the books, which Nephrite thought it would have been better for him to just organize them into the bookshelf where they’d originally come from. But he deduced that that would have been too much work. He proceeded to watch Chambersite carefully stack the books, as they were, about twelve books high. “We need a job, an investigation.”

“You know,” Dravite began, “Maybe we should remove the fact that we are weremane from the ads. People really think we are crazy because of that.”

“Yea,” Chambersite chimed in, “People don’t take us seriously. The last six customers, at least, just came by to see if we’d shapeshift!”

As if on cue, their company computer flicked to the screensaver, which showcased their logo: THE BROTHERHOOD, then had a little blurb about how they were weremane with the knowledge and power to exterminate wraiths. The general public didn’t believe in wraiths or weremane. Folktales! But Nephrite knew that there were a few people who saw their ads and knew exactly what it was the brothers fought — because they were victims, prey. Despite the lunacy of it, Nephrite kept their weremane identity in all of their ads for those people. The people that were alone and afraid, fighting something they didn’t understand. For the people fighting the darkness alone. 

And also — it might help them get into contact with their missing sister. 

“Yo! Neph!”

“Huh.” He was pulled from his thoughts, “What?”

“Where’d you go, buddy?” Chambersite asked. “Looked like you were in la la land there.”

“Oh,” Nephrite shook his head. “Sorry. I was just thinking about Brezinaite.” All of the brothers grew silent and kind of averted their eyes from each other. 

There was a knock on the corridor, “I’m sorry. Excuse me?”

Nephrite shot to his feet and wiped the gloom from his face with a fake smile. “Hello! Welcome!” He moved his way around the giant desk and pushed Chambersite off the arm of the chair that was meant for clients to sit in. “Come in, have a seat. What can we help you with?”

The woman standing in the doorway was clearly a skinner. Weremane have a certain smell to them. Except maybe weremane with reptilian genetics. She had a blonde bob — and Nephrite immediately hated himself for knowing what the hair style was called. She was fair-skinned, lighter than all of the brothers’ skin tones. Her eyes were blue and piercing. “Um…” She clutched her purse nervously. She obviously wasn’t here to watch them shapeshift for shits and giggles.

“Welcome to The Brotherhood!” Dravite blurted with too much enthusiasm. Nephrite caught Chambersite rolling his eyes. 

“I’m Nephrite — and these are my brothers Chambersite and Dravite.” 

“You — slay wraiths right?” She appeared as if she was on the verge of crying. Nephrite prayed she wasn’t going to cry! He wasn’t good with people crying — especially women. She still hadn’t entered from the doorway. 

“Yea,” Chambersite said. He sort of led the woman into the brothers’ office and ushered her into a seat. 

“Thank you,” she said absently. 

The brothers all waited while the woman seemed to gather the strength to say whatever it was that she wanted to say. Nephrite assumed his rolly-chair on the other side of the desk from her. “It’s my brother.”

“What are his symptoms?” Dravite asked. His older brothers both glared at him. 

The woman looked in Dravite’s direction and seemed to recoil at his words. It took her another few minutes to say anything more. “This probably sounds so stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid in our line of work, miss.” Nephrite pulled a box of tissues out of a drawer and slid them across the desk to her. “Tell us what’s going on.”

“He never comes out of his room…” She began. Every word seemed so hard for her to say. Nephrite was starting to get the feeling that something drastic had already happened. That perhaps they were already too late. But he didn’t want to rush the woman, or he might not get any information. “He keeps calling out of work and skipping class.” The woman’s breath caught in her throat. 

She smelled like so much sadness, with just the slightest bit of fear dashed on top. Weremane senses weren’t any better in human-shift than a skinner, a non-weremane, but after spending so much time in beast-shift, they learned how to use their other senses. The dull scent of sadness was hard to discern in human-shift, but fear — now that sweet scent was easy to pick out. Weremane quickly learn how to read scent and hearing in ways that their human-shifts were never meant to. 

“Does he do anything to you or himself?” Nephrite asked, almost in a whisper. He started off slow. Something flashed over the woman’s eyes. Then her eyes glazed with unshed tears. 

It took a moment before she answered. Nephrite blatantly glanced down at the box of tissues. The woman took two. “This morning…I found him in the tub…” She began dabbing at her eyes with the clump of tissue. That was all it took for the tears to start flowing freely!

This was why Nephrite hated woman to cry in front of him. He was never sure if it was okay to consol them. If words were just enough — or if it was okay to put his arm around them. Would it be crossing some social anathema to hug her? His years as a weremane had blurred the societal norms where physical contact is concerned. Weremane were very physical. “I’m sorry miss…” Nephrite settled on just using some words. 

“Crystal. Sorry.” She wiped tears from her cheek and let out a little chuckle, “I should have told you sooner.”

“It’s okay — Crystal.” Nephrite was hyperaware of his brothers sitting or standing perfectly still where they were. In weremane culture they would have been rubbing their cheeks on hers, hands on her back in support, — there might even be some licking of her neck, but not in a sexual way. “Can you tell me anything else about how he’s acting? What makes you think it’s a wraith.” 

“You think it’s a wraith!” Crystal’s eyes went wide. 

“Why else would you be here?” Nephrite snapped. Both of his brothers perked at attention. 

Tears began to flow again, streaking down Crystal’s cheeks. Weremane would lick tears away to confort others in their clan. Nephrite tried to his beast-like urges in check. He could feel his red wolf inside him, stalking forward to sniff the air. The sadness on her smelled like mud or freshwater clay. 

Another figure walked up towards the wolf in Nephrite’s inner sanctuary. The red wolf smelled like pine trees and forest. This other figure smelled like jungle! Nephrite’s brothers both smelled it on the air. This beast stalked; slow and precise. He moved like liquid metal. The wolf released a low warning growl towards the jaguar. The two beasts forever warred inside Nephrite. 

“Well…We don’t actually know that.” Chambersite walked into the woman’s peripheral. “Why don’t you tell us more so that we might be able to get a proper diagnosis.” He pulled her attention towards her. Any wrong move could send Nephrite’s inner beasts into a battle. 

Nephrite felt the warm vibration of power warp the air between himself and Dravite. His wolf responded to Dravite’s. Nephrite’s jaguar sniffed the air and smelled the overwhelming conifer-scent of wolf — and began to stalk back towards the darkness. Chambersite was still distracting Crystal. Dravite was a beta, which made him better controlled over his wolf than Nephrite. It also made it easier for him to quell Nephrite’s wolf. Really, quelling Nephrite’s wolf wasn’t the goal. Dravite just needed Nephrite’s jaguar to know it was outnumbered. Feline beasts could be particularly wreckless — especially when they are backed into a corner — but Nephrite’s jaguar was smarter than that. It was patient. 

Dravite was behind Nephrite, with his hand on his brother’s back in comfort. Nephrite hadn’t even remembered his youngest brother moving. He’d been too lost in his inner sanctuary. Knowing that they were in the clear, Chambersite announced, “It sounds like a heavywraith.”

Crystal’s hands covered her mouth in shock and fear, “It is a wraith!?”

Nephrite had snapped out of his calamity. He reached across the desk and put his hand on Crystal’s shoulder. It was an awkward reach. Chambersite noticed and sort-of cringed at his brother. Nephrite just needed touch right now. “We’re going to take a look.” Nephrite assured her. And then took his hand away awkwardly. 

“Heavywraith-ass is easy to kick!” Dravite assured her. 

It wasn’t working. Crystal cried more, “I hope it’s not a wraith. Oh please!”

“It’s what we are here for.” Nephrite stood up. “We will take care of it. Let me get some information from you and we will be in touch.”

After filling out the application, Crystal exited The Brotherhood office. “What was that!?” Dravite blurted. 

Nephrite sunk into his high-backed office chair. “I don’t know. I think it was her fear.”

“I could smell it too,” Chambersite said. “But you’ve never lost it like that!” 

“Pops has been gone for too long,” Dravite suggested. It was true that the presence of an alpha was important in keeping beasts within the clan in check. The brothers spent most of their time together, and none of them were alphas. Pops was their alpha. 

“We should visit him before going on this slay.” Chambersite said. 

The Lost Boys (Chapter 1) [rough draft]

 The Lost Boys 

One

HIS FATHER YANKED HIM FROM THE STERILE APARTMENT. All three of their dreamer pods were open. A small wisp of mist curling from each one — pure oxygen. They looked like three sterile eggs that were big enough for people to lay down inside. The nursemaids had done such a good job at keeping the apartment clean. The room reeked of cleaner. Had it been years since he’d been out of his dreamer pod? The pods were white, the walls were white, even the personalized hard-drive Atreyu’s father insisted on having, was stark white. 

Atreyu grasped for the white corridor, one of his fingernails snapping from his grip on the wall. “No!” He cried. The quiet hum of computers was left behind as Atreyu was shoved into the white hallway. It looked like the hall of a hospital in the Dreamscape.  

Atreyu’s father ripped his dreamgear helmet from his head and threw it against the wall, leaving a mark. His father never laid his “real” hands on him before. They didn’t spend enough time in Truth for physical contact. No Upperclassmen did. They spent all of their time in the Dreamscape — in their sterile pods. 

Atreyu’s father’s fist landed on his cheek. The pain felt similar to what a punch felt like in the Dreamscape, but the repulsion of human flesh actually touching human flesh made Atreyu hurl before he could consciously recognize the pain. He was on his hands and knees, blemishing the stark tiles with his bile. A red handprint was beginning to form on his cheek. 

“Shamasson!” Atreyu’s mother hissed. To Atreyu’s knowledge, his parents never touched either. Until that moment when Mishella grasped her husband’s wrist before he could pummel Atreyu again! Atreyu, just like his parents before him, were made in birthing pods, similar to dreaming pods, but they stood vertical. Atreyu was made from carefully selected material within his parents’ gene pools. His mother might have held him once or twice when he was released from the birthing pod, but then he would have been placed in a dreaming pod. Touch was not common practice. Shamasson, however, was too angry with rage to care about the anathema of touching. But there was a horrified hesitation that flashed over Mishella’s eyes when she realized she’d saved Atreyu from a second hit — through touch. “You’ll kill him!” Mishella cried. 

“He’s an abomination!” Shamasson thundered. Atreyu scrambled with all he had towards the elevator.

“Let go of me!” Atreyu screamed. Tears were welling in his eyes. The creature, an aye-aye, hissing from his shoulder. The creature was stuck between protecting his soulbond and adhering to his soulbond’s command to not hurt his father. Atreyu didn’t know what the lemur could do, but he’d examined the barbed quills on her tail. 

“Shamasson, he’ll die!” Atreyu’s mother cried. She grasped Shamasson’s other arm. Desperately trying to pull him back. There was a hesitation in Mishella’s strength, from connecting with Shamasson’s skin — Atreyu’s father easily shrugged her off. She fell off balance, landing hard. The Harts didn’t spend much time on their own feet. Their muscles forgot how to move with balance and swift reflexes. All symptoms of spending too much time logged in  

Shamasson was much thicker than Atreyu knew his avatar to be, and it wasn’t muscle. But, the man knew how to throw his weight around. Atreyu was thrown against the wall in the hallway. For a moment his father’s grip left his arm. Atreyu tried to escape. His scrawny body was the complete opposite of his father’s bulk — a perk of the genetics that his parents had chosen for him. The aye-aye stood her ground between Atreyu and his father. She hissed and cackled at the pudgy man, brandishing her tail threateningly. Atreyu could see that the quills, hidden in the fur of her tail, seemed to be lengthening.  

“Get back here boy!” Shamasson snapped. 

Atreyu’s soulbond sent images and influences through their minds. Atreyu noticed it was getting easier for him to understand what the creature wanted. The image of quills sticking out of Shamasson Hart’s face seared into Atreyu’s head. He shook his head. They just needed to get away. <No,> Atreyu thought. 

The hall drew to an end and Atreyu couldn’t get the window open fast enough. He hadn’t even thought about what he was actually going to do once he got the window open. They had to be fifty or more stories from the ground! They were Upperclassmen. Shamasson grabbed Atreyu, this time by the back of his neck. He thought his spine was going to snap. The aye-aye crawled across his loggingsuit like a tree and went to bite Atreyu’s father, but the man used a thick meaty arm to swipe the creature away. “You bonded that filth! Now you must live with the Wildermen. On the ground.” Atreyu could see the tiniest flicker of pain cross Shamasson’s eyes. His father closed his eyes tight as he said, “You are no son of mine.”

“No one can survive down there! The wraiths. Shamasson please!” Atreyu’s mother cried. 

Atreyu was out of breath. He’d never really moved his real body this much. He, like almost all Upperclassmen, spent almost all of their time in the Dreamscape. Their real muscles were only exercised via mechanical hookups, which thankfully Atreyu was able to buy himself. He didn’t want to spend his life in the Dreamscape. Which, judging by his situation, it didn’t appear as if he was going to have to much longer. 

Atreyu was thrown, hard, into the elevator. The suspended box shifted as Shamasson boarded. “We can call a geneticist. There has to be one that can cure this affliction. Shamasson, that’s our son!” Atreyu’s mother begged. Shamasson Hart simply slapped Mishella in the face. It snapped, reverberating in the tiny metal box. She stood in the corner silent, haunched over. Tears pouring from her eyes, staring at Atreyu. She was silently saying her goodbyes. She was not going to overpower Shamasson. There was real fear in her eyes.

Shamasson turned and pinned Atreyu to the wall and pressed the ground level button. Atreyu had never been to the ground level, though he’d dreamt of it. Thanks to his soulbond with the aye-aye, he was able to see her memories of the ground level. 

Closed inside the small space, the aye-aye, whom Atreyu instinctively knew was called Tax, began racing around the space, attempting to gouge out Shamasson’s eyes. Being locked in the small space made the lemur crazy. Even Atreyu’s bond to the creature, begging her not to hurt his father, was not enough to stop Tax. Shamasson caught the creature with a brick-sized fist. The aye-aye squealed and landed limply on the floor. Atreyu gasped in pain. He could feel what Tax felt once the pain was transferred through their bond. Shamasson’s attention momentarily diverted, Atreyu bent down and clutched the aye-aye in his arms. He meant to protect her. 

The elevator came to a stop at the ground floor. Shamasson pinned Atreyu at the wall again, this time by his throat. Atreyu could barely breathe. “Anything out there?”

“Shamasson…?” Atreyu’s mother was not eager to go out there. 

“Mishella, is there anything out there!?”

Atreyu was gasping for breath, but there was no use in struggling. He watched his mother slowly peek out the elevator. The doorway opened into the street. There was concrete on the ground in black, and it glittered in the sun from all of the other stones mixed in. Atreyu had never seen something real that was so beautiful. He didn’t know something so pretty could exist in Truth. He yearned for the explosion of color that he could see through the doorway. 

There was a building on the opposite side of the concrete pathway. This building was nothing like Atreyu’s. Where Atreyu’s building was all silver on the outside and white on the inside. The building across the path was made from bright red bricks. Tiny green plants exploded from cracks in the wall. Color oozed off of everything. Whoever told him that color was bleak in Truth was a liar. 

“There — there’s nothing there.” Mishella said. 

Shamasson wasted no time. He tossed Atreyu out into the street. He landed on the pavement, ripping a hole in the knee of his loggingsuit. The palms of his hands scraped bloody. “Nooooooooo!” Mishella wailed. Shamasson grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back into the elevator. Before the elevator door closed, Atreyu was impelled to breathe in. So he did. 

He always thought it most strange when he felt “controlled” by Tax via their link. He assumed he could do the same to her, though he hadn’t figured out how yet. But he appeased the creature and breathed in — with intent. He was suddenly aware of all the plant life around him. There were plants sitting on Underclass windowsills, there were weeds pressing through cracks in the pavement. Each plant that he breathed from, seemed to pause, motionless in time, waiting for him to do whatever it was that he was going to do with their power. Somehow, he knew that he was borrowing power from them. 

Tax encouraged him through their link. The aether he’d absorbed roiled in him like the churning of a windstorm. He had never done anything like this before. Was this the “superstition” of Wildermen that Uppers always talked about? His eyes were glowing white — and white-feathered wings sprout from his shoulder blades. He felt nothing but power.

Tax lent Atreyu an impression of the elevator door. Atreyu didn’t fully understand what she meant. She lent him a vision of someone exhaling. So Atreyu exhaled. His cheeks quickly expanded and a blast of spherical energy exploded from his throat and bust into the elevator door. He looked, wide-eyed, at the metal elevator door that was curled in on itself from the force. 

His eyes returned to normal. His wings dissipated into a cloud of feathers that quickly deteriorated into aether. 

Atreyu fell to his knees, weak, and sat there for a moment. The sky was blue and he didn’t know that the sun could be so bright in Truth. He could feel the bulge of a swollen black eye forming. He’d never received a black eye in Truth, though he’d felt the pain before. In the Dreamscape he would be able to pay for a repair to his avatar. Here, in Truth, he’d need to heal the old-fashioned way. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had to heal anything. 

His hands were flat against the ground, his knees digging into the concrete of the street where he lay. He practically had his cheek touching blacktop, when he realized that he was on the ground level. He’d made it! And then the creeping fear of wyrms and Wilderman forced him to his feet.

The ground was not a safe place. He needed to get off the street. Around him the skyscrapers of Upperclass and Underclass apartments rose into the clouds. <The sun is so bright!> The winding walkways and train tracks were a mess of chaos. Atreyu could never imagine getting anywhere by using the trams that shuttled Underclassmen around. In Dreamscape there were thousands of ways to get around, but fast travel was best — teleporting to places he’d been. Here, the poor Underclassmen had to walk or take the slow moving trams with hundreds of other people all stuffed into small spaces — touching. Most of them were nursemaids or factory workers that kept the Dreamscape running and Upperclassmen alive. 

Atreyu went to another close building and tried to gain entry, but his fingerprint didn’t hail the elevator. He tried another building with the same result. He was a sitting duck out here in the open. He noticed an ATM hanging like a nose on the side of a building. It looked just like an ATM in Dream. He walked up to the machine and placed his finger on the touchpad — and it too, denied him entry. His father had already updated the accesses. He didn’t have access to his family’s “likes”. He wasn’t even sure if likes could be used at currency in Truth.

Tears were welling in his eyes as he started to feel very alone. Tax attempted to send consoling encouragement through their bond, but Atreyu snapped the connection closed. He’d learned that he could do that, invite her in or lock her out. It mostly just took concentration. But when he did this, keeping her out — she felt so far, disconnected. And it caused him to feel even lonelier. 

Just then he heard the rumble of a car. He’d never heard a real car before. But he knew that if someone had a personal car — they had currency. The man was very pudgy with no visible neck and jowls that hung around his adam’s apple. With the window rolled down, the man tried to lean his face towards the opening, “You okay son?”

The Mirror Guard (Chapter 3) [rough draft]

 Three: One Day in the Stark

THE STARK SEEMED TWENTY DEGREES COLDER THAN THE CITY. The snow was deep, which made traveling slow and taxing. The gusts came in waves, but when they came they were frigid. The Stark was nothing but snow and ice. Nothing grew out here except for a few short trees that had adapted to the harsh environment. Depending on the drifts, the trees were there, and then they were gone. The Stark has many nicknames — the most intimidating is the “murder snow”.

At first they tracked their direction by keeping the walls and glass towers of Crystalis behind them. Then, the snowfall came so thick that nothing but whiteness was visible. Eke tried to use some tracking tricks that the boys used to tell each other, but it turned out they were mostly tips told in children’s stories and didn’t actually work. So — for a while they just walked, hoping they were following the right direction and a straight line. 

King, Mother Shimmyshanks’ artificial exoskeleton, seemed pompous in his explanations of the directions they needed to go to get to the bunker — but Eva couldn’t help but think that despite the exoskeleton being a newer model, that it didn’t seem like all of instruments were working properly. They took many breaks — mostly so King could “gather his bearings”. Eva thought for sure that a mdl:2000 would have faster processing speeds. Mother Shimmyshanks blamed it all on the rolling snowstorms.  

“Are you going to be okay out here with such an outdated exoskeleton?” Mother Shimmyshanks asked Eva. 

“Benjamin does fine,” Eva growled. She prayed silently that Benjamin didn’t say anything off color.  

“Eva I have to pee.” Jono said. 

“Ah, Jono, you need to keep your respirator in when the snow is like this.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to pee.”

“I’ll take him.” Eke stepped in and took Jono’s hand. “Let’s go over here little guy. Looks like there’s some trees.”

“I want the big one!” Jono pointed. 

“Okay, you show me which and I’ll pee on another one.”

<Boys,> Eva thought. 

“It’s a shame you didn’t have more going for you, you are really a pretty girl. I could see some potential there.” Mother Shimmyshanks continued her and Eva’s uncomfortable conversation. The old woman’s red eyes judged Eva up and down, slowly. “A la Jaguar eh?” She asked. 

“Yes,” Eva said proudly. 

“A family with a lot of history in Crystalis. Though, I think your ancestors were a little delusional in thinking they were the children of Rainiar the Goddess. It’s a shame they left you no fortune behind…”

“I do just fine!” Eva snapped. 

  “Oh I know,” Mother Shimmyshanks swallowed a chuckle. “Going from motel to motel is no life for a woman. People must think you’re some sort of harlot.”

Eva kept an eye on her brother. They were a few yards away, foggy from the blowing snow. Eke was close by, both posed as men do while pissing. 

“I’ll never understand,” Mother Shimmyshanks said quietly. Eva knew that the statement was meant to appear as if Mother Shimmyshanks was speaking to herself — but it was meant for Eva to hear. It was meant for Eva to react. 

“I won’t ever understand what he sees in me either.”

Mother Shimmyshanks appeared taken aback. Her eyes widened in fear. Her red irises seemed to blaze. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Your son loves me. He’s loved me since the second grade. And you hate it because you think I am beneath you.”

Mother Shimmyshanks cocked her head, taking it all in. Her horns were grown on either side of her head straight up, curling at the very tips, making her head look impossibly heavy when she cocked it to the side like that. “You’re not wrong.” She turned to face Eva for the first time. Her hair looked like spun rubies. “You don’t have feelings for him?”

“Never really have.”

“Thank the Goddess.” Mother Shimmyshanks sighed. 

The boys returned and Eva felt like it hadn’t been soon enough. Not even Benjamin was willing to save her from Mrs. Shimmyshanks’ scathing words…

Once Mother Shimmyshanks had felt satisfied, they continued deeper into the Stark. Deeper into the cold and starvation. Deeper in the murder snow. “The sun is starting to go down. We should probably prepare a camp.” Eva suggested. 

“Where are we going to sleep!?” Mother Shimmyshanks cried. 

Eva looked around obviously, “Here.”

“We can’t sleep here!” 

“Mom, we are days away from the bunker. There’s no way we can just walk the whole way.”

“Well I’m not sleeping on the ground.” Mother Shimmyshanks even crossed her arms in protest. 

“Suit yourself.” Eva said as she knelt over her survival pack and began yanking out the canvas tent that she’d had stuffed in there. 

“You expect me — Rupalapur Shimmyshanks — to sleep in a tent!?”

“Mother,” Eke pleaded. 

“Mother is right! I am a Mother of the Council! I will not sleep on this ground!” Mother Shimmyshanks began stomping in her heeled artificial exoskeleton deeper into the stark. 

The Stark was snow, endless snow. No one knew how far the Stark stretched. No one has ever made it back from an expedition. When she was young, Eva’s parents always brought her out into the Stark while they were studying some albatross or group of norwotters. Eva knew how to survive out here, better then most. Definitely better than any Crystalissian. “You better get her,” Eva said to Eke. “She’s not going to make it an hour out there by herself. I think that we haven’t been stalked by a predator because we are together.” And more to herself, Eva said, “Or perhaps it’s your mother’s yappy voice.”

The only people that lived out here were the Cavamen. This was Cavamen land, as Crystalis was theirs. Eva’s parents had befriended a tribe once. She wasn’t sure how much communication they’d kept over the years. She wondered where they were now. The Cavamen live in caves and could sneak up on almost anything out here, despite their dark skin and hair against all this white. They have mastered the Stark. Eva was most fearful of running into Cavamen, than any wolf or snow cat. 

“Eva?”

“I’m sorry,” Eva shook her head. She had been daydreaming while tying off the ropes that anchored the posts down. 

“I can’t believe that we are all going to sleep in there together.” Mother Shimmyshanks complained. 

“It is 90% safer to sleep inside a tent together than out in the open,” Benjamin informed.

Mother Shimmyshanks looked confused towards Eva. “Does your exoskeleton always talk out of turn?”

“It’s his best quality,” Eva smiled. <Especially if it pisses you off.> Eva thought.  

“To shards with you and your artificial!” Mother Shimmyshanks exclaimed. Benjamin snapped quiet. Eva couldn’t help but snicker. 

The tent was up and it was going to be close sleeping for all of them. The tent looked like it was good for two people. They would have to stuff three of them in at a time. At least the collected body heat would help to keep them alive.

Miraculously, Eke had a fire started. Eva had seen him strike the lighter he’d had in his pocket.  Eva watched as Eke struck the lighter when his mother wasn’t looking. There were only a few reasons that someone would have a lighter — and Eva was certain that Eke was just trying to be prepared.

“I’ll take first watch.” Eva announced. They’d moved as much snow as they could from around the fire so that they could sit on the ground. Mother Shimmyshanks wasn’t too keen on sitting on the ground, but there was nothing within sight to make a better seat from, so after realizing her feet ached after walking in heels all day, the witch finally swallowed her pride and sat on the ground with the rest of them. 

Eva, with Jono’s help, cooked canned goods over the fire. Eke ate like Jono, in big gulps as if they hadn’t eaten in days and weren’t sure where the next meal was coming from — which wasn’t far from the truth. Eva laughed at them, while Mother Shimmyshanks scoffed in disappointment. “Just because we are in the wild, doesn’t mean you need to act like animals. How do you plan to attract a woman to marry if you act like that?” She asked Jono. The boy’s face fell and he began chewing gloomily. “You should start acting right, now. Give yourself a better chance. You don’t get to pick a wife. You will need to attract a wife like every other man.”

“Someone will love him just fine. Besides, he’s too young to worry about such things.” Eva snapped. “Aren’t you tired yet, old woman?”

“Eva.” Eke gasped. Jono laughed. 

Mother Shimmyshanks huffed, clumsily climbing onto her heeled feet, “I think I will lay down. At least I can get some sleep before you barbarians join.” She glared at Eva, “Don’t ever forget who your Mothers are!”

Mother Shimmyshanks slipped her bulk through the small opening. King, her artificial, stood as still as stone on the outside of the tent, like a sentry. He powered off so his eyes lost their luster. There was a lot of shuffling around while Mother Shimmyshanks attempted to get some comfort in the tent, before finally, there was quiet, except for the crackle of the fire and the boys’ eating. 

“You eat how you want.” Eva reassured her little brother. 

Eventually, even the boys crawled into the tent. Eva checked on her brother a few minutes after she heard quiet. Their artificial exoskeletons all standing next to each other like inhuman spectres. They felt like humanoid trees. Eke had his arm wrapped around Eva’s brother. There was space between Eke — and his mother.