ValentineDavis21

Crowe opened his eyes. Golden rays of morning light spilled through the window, turning the rafters gold. He blinked, overwhelmed by a feeling of deja vu. The culprit for this sense of familiarity moved its tiny legs with practice skill, weaving a web meticulously into shape. He strained his ears, listening for the bells of Inferno. Petras would be in the bedroom in the hallway. Waiting for him. Needing him. Always needing him but never giving anything in return.

He is trapped in a loop until he passes the test, so you are not wrong. The loop has already happened once like Matthiesen said. This is further indicated when the Mother shows Crowe his dead body after Charoum attacks him in the vision and it looks like he's been strangled.

He couldn't say how long they'd been sitting beneath the tree, their bodies entangled. It was only when he heard the sound of voices and the pounding of the drums that he lifted his head. A woman ran past them, her blonde hair streaking behind her; it appeared silvery under the moonlight. She stopped as if sensing Crowe's attention. She turned to look at him, her eyes bright, her cheeks red. “Come, herald!” she sang. “Come dance with us under the stars! The era of the herald is here at las

I shouldn’t have lost my temper with Barghast. Not only does he have a right to be scared, but he’s right. But once more his words failed him. It was something that had been happening more and more lately. It was best to keep going. Best to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Because when you stop, the bloodhounds chasing your heel always catch up and they always make you bleed. Whether Commander Gyrell was a bloodhound, he could not say for sure. It was clear to see that she

What is she talking about? Why is she looking at me so intently? Is that meant to be an insult at my expense? Does she think I don’t have what it takes to do what needs to be done? Crowe jerked his eyes away from her searing scrutiny, stifling the thoughts with a steel fist. Who is she to judge me? Beyond the stories she’s heard, she knows nothing of me. It was time to turn his attention to the matter at hand. He leaned towards Rake, using his own intensity to gain the man’s

Crowe gaped at the ghosts of Jalif and Kara. His mind told him it was not possible that they could be standing there - a redundancy it seemed it would never entirely be able to let go of - but he’d seen enough of the world to know anything was possible. They were really standing there. And judging from the smile of utter bliss on her face, they were very real to Gyrell. Her arms around her daughter, her husband's around her to create a human chain bound by paternal love. Who are you to say what

Crowe must have nodded off because the next thing he knew Barghast was shaking him awake. He lifted his head, wincing. Lightning strikes of pain arched up his back. He stifled a grunt of displeasure. Barghast watched him, his eyes wide and excited. What is there to be excited about? the practitioner would have asked if it hadn't felt as if his throat were sealed shut. “Look, twin o’rre, there is a clearing up ahead! From here I can see a road! We’ve made it…we’ve found the

By the time they finished packing up camp the nervous buzz that had filled Crowe's mind had dissipated. In its place was a familiar kernel of determination hard as stone. Barghast's tale had given him the renewed vigor he needed to continue their journey. They moved at a stolid place lapsing into a silence that was both tense and familiar. Tense because they were listening for changes in the air…anything that could give them a clue to get out of the woods - if there's a way o

He was no longer in the village of Caldreath, but in Fort Teague. He looked up at Barghast. “What in Monad’s name?” The Okanavian took a cautious step towards the practitioner with a whine. “My beloved…what happened? You were screaming but I could not find the source of your pain. It’s not like when your soul leaves your body and injuries suddenly appear…There was nothing…” “I’ll tell you,” the sorcerer croaked, “but first get me in the Void out of here.

I should have made a note of this instead of a comment, but I wanted to add a little bit of info about what is going on with Hubris over the next several weeks or so. I have been in the process of moving in with my partner - a process that has been difficult and is like an effed up cycle in of its own - you know the type of situation where you're getting ahead and then the universe gives you the finger. Much like Crowe and Barghast that has been my life. Luckily it's for the sake of a better happier life. The next two chapters is a two parter. I meant to publish it all as one chapter but if I did that you would have another 12-14K chapter. I like to save those for when I am wrapping up an arc. So I have Chapter 49 and 50 ready to publish on the 30th and the 31st in the spirit of Halloween. I am in the process of working on Chapter 52. During the month of my November it is my plan not to post, but to get the words on paper and get some form of a backlog up. Part of that is the nature of the arc. I can safely tell you it will be longer than Arc 2 by quite a margin. It has a lot of intricacies and build up and character development that sets up the last half of the "Theocracy" storyline, so I hope the wait is worth it. In the meantime I am curious, what does everyone think of the slower pace with Arc 3? I figured after the nonstop chaos of Arc 2 it would be fun to return to the suspense and mystery of the 1st arc? As always your feedback and comments are helpful. You guys really keep me going!

On another night Crowe might have been impressed by the opulence of Benedict’s home. How clean everything was. The framed portraits of aristocrats gazing down at him in disapproval forever preserved in oils. The rich blue carpet beneath his feet. The paneled walls and air that smelled of the salt from the Gaulhill Sea. Instead of appreciating the decorations, the luxuries that a life in a house like this must present, he found himself reaching out with his mind, searching for what the regular ey

Benedict and Lucijan led Crowe and Barghast down a long corridor with white pillars. A blue carpet, the shade of the resistance, swept down the length of the hallway. Benedict had waved the guards away, but this did not mean the practitioner and the Okanavian were not being watched. Quite the opposite in fact. There were guards stationed everywhere: in every corner and on every balcony. There were no statues of deities - not of Monad or Elysia or Hamon or their servants. There were statues

If you need something to scratch the Hubris itch I recommend The Theocracy, which I plan on revamping at some point. I am still working on Hubris but will only be posting once a week as I have been working on moving and the chapters are getting longer to write because of the length. Similar mythology, different characters with Theocracy.

This is an old one and not my best work. This is basically Underworld fanfic. I really wanted to write about a bad ass eunuch and was inspired by Hedwig and the Angry Inch a bit. One day I would like to revisit this character.

When they awoke, stiff but well rested, Crowe had hoped they would find that the refugees had done the smart thing and moved on ahead of them. You already lost your daughter once. Do not squander the second chance you have been given. Not for me. Naturally Monad's kindness only went so far. The refugees were still there and seemed to have recovered from their crisis. And they were trundling up the coast having formed a sort of train. Gone was the shroud of terror that enclosed them the night bef