Please read through the first post of this thread whether or not you have read it before - our rules are changed and edited every session as we work on improving SWC! Yes it's long, but all of this information is important for you to know, because we share the forums with the rest of Scratch! If you have any questions afterwards, please ask me or another host on our profiles - that way it's easier for you to get a response without clogging up this thread <3

• Only literary words may be added - see the first section below for a full description of this!
  
• Leaders may ask for proof of writing if they believe the amount you're adding is unrealistic.
  
• You must give an explanation of what you were writing when you add words. Leaders will not add words without this.
  
• You may not add more than 10,000 words at once.
  
• Dailies and weeklies must be commented in the Main Cabin before they end, even if the description has not yet been updated.
  
• Proof for dailies and weeklies must be shown on Scratch. There will not be exceptions to this rule for having inappropriate writing.
  Proof of winning a word war isn't necessary - they're run on an honor system.
  
• Please do not escalate arguments! Simply stop responding and report any offensive comments.
  
• Make sure not to take cabin rivalries too far and remember that the point is to have fun!
  

• Roleplay - As a guideline, you should be somewhat in character and there should be description of actions in addition to dialogue
  
• Fictional writing
  
• Non-fictional writing
  
• Literary journal entries
  
• Writing in another language - if you’re unsure on how many words to add because the language counts writing in a different way (e.g. character counts in Chinese), Google Translate it to English and use that word count. We hope that this will be close to the number of words it would be in spoken language, but if you have a different suggestion, please let us know!
  
• Schoolwork - essays, assignments that include literary/analytical writing (such as worksheets requiring analysis of parts of a novel) but not note taking or non-literary writing such as writing out math problems
  
• Giving critique (but only the words you wrote! If you gave 1000 words of critique but 300 of those were quotes of the original writing, add 700 words)
  
• Stream of consciousness writing
  
• Vents/rambles
  
• Formal emails that are longer than a paragraph
  
• Explanatory SWC dailies that are longer than a paragraph
  
• Words from comics
  
• Parodies (so long as it’s mostly your original thought)
  

• Notetaking
  
• Texting, commenting, etc.
  
• Copying another person’s writing
  
• Translating
  
• Writing thing out from memory / copying things out (e.g. copying out a textbook, lyric spam)
  
• Code - even if using a text based programming language!
  

• If your leader thinks that the amount you’re writing is unrealistic, they may ask for proof or choose not to add it.
  
• You must outline what you were writing when you add words. Your leaders will not be allowed to add the words otherwise! (a sufficient outline could look like: “365 words were from an english worksheet, 1946 were from working on my novel, 568 from the daily, 2868 from working on an essay”. Be aware that a timespan for the writing is not a sufficient outline!)
  
• If you are uncomfortable sharing proof for writing, that’s okay! Exceptions to giving proof (even for large blocks of writing) can be provided on an individual basis and you will have better luck getting one if you cooperate and are willing to give partial proof and detailed explanations/descriptions on what you’ve written. Other solutions to this can include giving a leader/host proof in a discreet location (on scratch of course - this could be editing an old forum post or putting it in a comment inside an old project).

• Reserves are words that you don’t add right away.
  
• Only up to 10k words may be added at a time, regardless of whether or not you share the writing.
  
• An exception may be granted if you were unable to access Scratch for over a week. Please contact a host if this is the case!
  
• All words become reserves after camp is over in all timezones.

• Activities must be submitted before they end in UTC, even if the Main Cabin description has not been updated yet!
  
• Campers and leaders are expected to give all required proof for weeklies and dailies, and it must be submitted on time to earn points.
  
• Proof must be provided on Scratch, and all writing must be Scratch appropriate if you need to provide proof for it. Photos of writing count as proof, and may be shared using a Scratch-approved image host.
  

• If you have a question about a daily, ask in the main cabin! Hosts and/or leaders will make a judgment on this - if you’re a camper, please refrain from answering any questions that are subject to interpretation (clarifying rules and such is fine!), leave it to the leaders and hosts please <3
  
• Extensions for dailies are unavailable as there really isn’t any point in granting them given the low point value and short timeframe of dailies.
  

• If you are uncomfortable sharing proof for a weekly, you should contact the hosts or your leader as early as possible. Exceptions to giving proof can be provided on an individual basis and you will have better luck getting one if you let us know early (as opposed to simply refusing to give proof when trying to add your weekly). Other solutions to this can include giving a leader/host proof in a discreet location (on scratch of course - this could be editing an old forum post or putting it in a comment inside an old project).
  
• If you have queries about a weekly, try to wait until a host or member of the daily team can clarify.
  
• Extensions for weeklies can be granted on an individual basis. You should let the hosts know as early as possible and you can discuss it with us from there.

• If any links to leader discussions are leaked, please ignore the comments. If it can be classified as spam, you can report the comments, but please don’t mass report with multiple accounts as that can lead to alerts from the ST.
  
• If you get into a fight with anyone, it’s best to stop responding so it doesn’t escalate. You can ask your leader or a host for help. Of course, report any offensive material you see as part of such an argument (e.g. projects calling people to report a specific user or people speaking badly about others).
  
• Please take care to not take cabin rivalries too far! Using this tone indicators guide can be helpful in ensuring that no one’s feelings get hurt. If you do feel that someone has gone beyond friendly jokes, you can remind them that it’s just for fun, report the comments, or ask a leader/host for help, depending on what you feel fits the situation!
  

Dailies

1/03 (134 words)
Hi there! This isn’t going to be 1000 words because unfortunately I don’t have enough time, but I’ll do a little introduction first.

I’m Amethyst, co-leader for Fairy Tales! This is my first session leading and I am so, so pumped to be here. I’ve always loved SWC and peeking behind the magical curtain of how this works has been a truly amazing experience.

A few things about me: I have one dog called Koko; I want to become a writer when I grow up; I’m a teen; I love Sky COTL and Minecraft; My favourite subjects are Science, History and English; I’m a Christian Methodist; Animals are awesome; Fantasy, Fan-fiction and Adventure are my favourite stories to write

Aight, I’m going to deal with exams now - thank you for reading my brief intro!

2/03 (994 words)
Being quiet was how you survived at Taernsby Prison.
That’s what I figured out within the first day here. I didn’t belong here, locked up with murderers and arsonists and still others who committed unspeakable crimes. The danger I posed to the rest of civilized society – possessing the magic of the old.
The guards’ warnings rang in my ears: Tell anyone why you’re here, and we’ll show you why Taernsby is so notorious.
I wished I could be back with the Arklight Guild, a society where secret magic Wielders met up in the dark. They understood me, knew me, and loved me. But someone had sold the rest of us out for a pile of gold, and we were all shipped off to prisons and work camps alike.
But what the law of Ebrela couldn’t do to us was restrain our magic. They could hide us away, lock us into places we shouldn’t be, but they couldn’t take this away from us.
“Light,” I breathed into my hands, and tiny pin-pricks that shimmered with iridescence appeared. To my cell door, I said “Unlock”, and the gears clicked. That was one thing Taernsby underestimated – my rebellious nature.
I crept through the dark corridors, reveling in these snatches of freedom. It was just me, and my magic.
While I could sneak around my cell block unnoticed, going outside was a different matter. The perimeter of Taernsby was barricaded by a massive stone wall, watched over 24/7 by soldiers, and enchanted by a traitor Wielder to not be escapable by magic. It meant I couldn’t call on the wind to carry me over the wall, nor ask the animals to burrow under the barricade and create a tunnel.
I couldn’t touch the exit.
Frustration recoiled inside of me. I sighed and headed back to my cell.
One day.

✶ ✶ ✶

Meals were always the most dangerous part of the day. A room crammed with furious and caged murders could never go well. As usual, a few eagerly swaggered over to me, the newest member of Taernsby, and questioned me on what crime I committed. And I, as usual, remained stubbornly silent.
“Yer can’t talk, or what?” snarled one of the men into my ear. I flinched, but tried to remain still. Although visibly frustrated by my lack of response, the man continued to talk. “Or are yeh one of those innocents?”
I responded with a glare.
“Nah, I’m right, aren’t I? Yer only a teen girl, but yeh don’t want to admit it. By Hirus, yeh’ve probably been framed!”
I sucked in a breath, trying to keep my heartbeat still. Trying to distract myself, I stared at my bland food. I could just whisper a word and make this stupid man silent forever. But if the guards find out, I’ll be in so much trouble. I can’t even attack or kill with my magic, so I could never fight against the guards.
I had tried. I had murmured under my breath “strike that guard unconscious, make that prisoner attack that guard” but it never worked. My magic had a limit on how violent it would allow itself to be.
The man stared hungrily down at my food, then looked back to his own – which somehow looked even less appetizing than mine. “I’ll be havin’ that,” he barked.
“No.”
Even I was surprised that I spoke. Shocked silence rippled in the air, and I swallowed thickly. Then, the man got over it and laughed. A horrible, hoarse laugh.
Pain exploded through my arm, and with a thudding heart I realised the man had gripped my wrist. I squirmed and kicked, but it was no use. Desperately I glanced around for a guard, but they were preoccupied..
“Release,” I gasped out.
The man’s fingers slid off my wrist as though I was made of ice. I stared at my plastic knife, murmuring over and over again, “Attack, attack, attack.”
My inner magic wouldn’t let me. It was as though it was overflowing my hands, preventing them from causing damage. I repeated stubbornly, shoving away my inner magic.
“Attack, attack, att–”
The fork spun into life, darting towards the man. He jumped back with a yelp, and dozens of eyes landed on him and my knife.
HELP ME, HIRUS!
“Fall,” I whispered, and the knife clattered to the ground, lifeless.
What was I thinking? Part of me had expected it not to work, but I had tried so hard, willed it so much…
“By Ebrela, what did I just witness?”
The smooth, unaccented voice of a female shook me. The man stumbled back, and even he had fear in his eyes. I knew who owned the voice, and I wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear from view.
Charilden was the most feared prisoner, having killed countless people and a notorious temper. Tattoos snaked around her arm, and her eyes were dark and bottomless
But I had revealed what I was. There was no turning back.
“Attack,” I murmured to the knife.
It spun into the air, stabbing at Charilden–
“Break,” Charilden whispered. The knife snapped in half. Guards let out shouts of surprise, and they started to march through the crowds.
“Forget,” the prisoner commanded.
And miraculously, their eyes fell blank, and they walked back to their posts.
I took a heavy step back. My attack had failed, and now my fate was in the hands of the most dangerous prisoner in Taernsby–
“You. I like you. You’re the average amount of fearsome, with a bit of awkwardness.”
Fearsome? From someone as terrifying as Charilden? I kept my tongue still as I cringed inwardly.
“And,” she continued, her voice dropping so only I could hear. “If you are what I think you are, then you’ll be useful in my… escape plan.”
“Escape plan?”
“Yeah,” she replied, her voice brimming with excitement. “And we could use all the magic we could get.”

3/03
Fairy Tales: 116 words
‘Tis the land of dreams and magic
Spellbounding fauna and flora
A place like no other
Of spirit and adventure

Beneath star-speckled skies we sing,
A million childhoods under our wing
Caring to the characters of the old,
Teaching children to be kind and bold

Across a million fantasies you traverse,
Through any part of the universe
The memories made here are told,
As fairy tales repeated tenfold

Guarded by the Archetypes,
and cared for by the Wanderers
We proudly declare our allegiance,
To the stories of the poor and prestigious

‘Tis the land of dreams and magic,
Where all are welcome to frolic
Where the sunlight reaches all,
Mountain peaks strong and tall

Poetry: 109 words
Nestled deep and forgotten long ago
Lies a valley bustling with life;
Peace and nature lead it
Shielded from violence and strife;
There were others from long ago
They found us, tending our wilted branches;
Those are the ones who saved us
Stumbling upon us with impossible chances

Our proud survivor spirit is a gentle fire
One that burns without hurt;
Impossible to be put out, giving warmth to all
One that is peaceful yet alert;
Though the droughts will come, and attempt to douse us
We will forevermore prevail;
For our saviours will come back, and until then we will fight;
This we swear – we will never fail

Fantasy: 106 words
This to our brothers and sister we swear;
Through all of our joy and despair
We will never retreat from a valiant battle;
Never disperse like lost cattle

O, for the glorious kingdom;
Through our generational strength and wisdom
For our benevolent great Queen Este Cee;
We will fight through land and sea

We curse the cowardly monsters;
These days have never been darker
Yet we see the glory on the other side;
Our victory we will not confide

Ode to those lost in honourable fighting;
For you have contributed to igniting
The flame of resistance, against the beasts;
And one day the fighting shall cease

4/03 (636 words)
Jessica glanced at Ollie, her grip around her waist tightening. The pretty midnight-blue dress had been a gift from him, but he had refused to acknowledge her the entire time at the party. In fact, he looked angry – his lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed. Even when she playfully swished her skirt around him, he had barely given her a second look.
Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed her phone out of her purse. “Ollie, is everything OK?” She texted with fumbling fingers. The little vroom from his phone pinged loudly. His eyes glanced down for a heartbeat, but quickly looked away. Jessica’s heart thudded, and she accidentally tore a little bit of the precious fabric.
Oh no, poor Jessica, Ollie thought as he spotted her anxiety out of the corner of his eye. But he couldn’t respond to her – he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. Even though he wanted to, he had promised himself that he would focus on confronting his friends about their behaviour towards him.
Chatting with the most beautiful girl in the world would distract him, and he needed to talk to them now, as soon as they arrived at the party, where they couldn’t just run away like at school. He clenched his teeth. This is all Jake and Sam’s fault. I could have been chatting with Jessica, having the time of my life, but now I’ve got to ruin it all for those stupid brats.
Jessica cast a glance at him – yep, still defiantly avoiding her gaze – and released a furious sigh. As she twiddled her thumbs awkwardly, the door swung open, and those two boys sauntered in. What were their names – Jack and Sam? She chanced another look at Ollie and now he had come to life, striding over to them. Anger flared in her heart, whilst Sam looked over at her and mused at how she was staring at them. Must be my haircut, he thought smugly. It did cost way too bloody much, but I’m not complaining if it gets some attention.
Meanwhile, Jake beside him swallowed nervously. Oh great, Ollie is here. I feel so bad for him – Sam is an absolute jerk. But one that I don’t want to get on the bad side of. He tried to shoot a reassuring expression at Ollie, but was ignored.
Ollie took a deep breath, preparing himself, then let it out like a flood. “Alright, you lot. You’ve got to listen, for goodness’ sake. Jake, I see the way you act around Sam. He’s a brute, I know, but you’ve got to stop letting him walk all over you. And you,” his voice was a slicing dagger. “You back off, got it?”
Sam trembled, only for a second, before he regained his posture. “Oh, little Ollie has a backbone now?” He spat. “Still has his idiot brain, though. Jake’s with me.”
But Jake responded by stepping towards Ollie. His mind felt unclouded for the first time in ages. Sam was his only friend, if he could even call it that. And he had given up the only authentic friendship he had for that monster. Jessica watched on, feeling odd to see gentle Ollie in such a rage.
Sam’s breathing shuddered, and he took one step back, his hands closing around the door handle. “Agh, should’ve known you were a weakling,” he hissed at Jake as he slipped out of the house.
Ollie let out a breath of relief, shooting a grateful look at Jake. Then he pivoted and stared at Jessica, his eyes pleading as he struggled to get out the words: “Sorry– had to focus– really such a jerk– so, so sorry–” But Jessica waved away his apologies, the weight lifted off her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” she smiled as warmth grew on her face. “Really.”

5/03 (598 words)
Spoiler Warnings For: The Prison Healer, Anything Before Chapter 25
Kiva didn’t have enough time as she would’ve liked to celebrate Tipp’s recovery, since other events needed her attention. She slipped out of the infirmary a few hours before sunrise, giving Tipp a reassuring pinch on the shoulder as she went.
“Kiva?” a voice called.
She froze, her throat closing. It was still dark, and Gods forbid that it was Bones–
“It’s Naari,” the voice said, a little softer this time.
Kiva let out a breath of relief as Naari stepped onto her path. “Thank goodness,” she sighed.
Naari’s eyes were questioning, but she didn’t ask her where she was coming. It was odd – any of the other guards would’ve berated her for being out this early. She didn’t ask whether she could come, but followed her footsteps. Her comforting safety reassured any tension that remained in her shoulders.
“I’m going to the aquifer,” Kiva explained anyway as they took a turn. “I need to collect some more samples for the stomach disease and scout it out for…”
Naari finished what Kiva couldn’t. “The Water Trial.” Something flickered through her eyes, but whatever it was, she didn’t mention it.
She knew how to swim, although not very well. Plenty of prisoners were thugs, so they wouldn’t’ve been taught a recreational activity like swimming, so Kiva was banking on that to be their assumption.
As they arrived at the aquifer, it was apparent someone was already there, judging by the splashing sounds. Kiva’s expression twisted – why would anyone be there at such an early time? – when the noise stopped, and footsteps thundered towards them.
“Cresta,” Naari acknowledged.
Kiva froze. What was Cresta, of all people, doing here?
Cresta grunted and stepped past Naari, but when she spotted Kiva her eyes went wide with panic. Just for a heartbeat – then they went back to their furious normal, and she shoved past Kiva.
What?
Kiva slipped past Naari and ran into the cavern. But any thought of what Cresta might be doing slipped from her mind.
Scales. They flashed.
From under the water.
Her heart stopped.
Lethal jaws gaped open for a second, revealing wicked teeth, before they disappeared beneath the surface of the grey water. Then only ripples acknowledged the beast that had once been there. Kiva had seen the creature a couple of times when she was younger, and her father had always warned her not to go near them.
“Crocodiles,” her father had told her. “Not to be messed with, you understand?”
Kiva had nodded solemnly, vowing that she wouldn’t go near them.
“This is my Trial?” Kiva spat incredulously, pivoting to stare at Naari. “To swim– no, be eaten alive by crocodiles?”
Her weighted silence answered it all.
“I don’t have a chance,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“I was going to go tell you,” Naari said softly. “When I bumped into you. I just don’t think…”
There’s not much we can do.
Unless…
Perhaps the creatures could be tricked. But until she explored that further, she had to find out what Cresta had been doing.
At first, Kiva thought it was a trick of the light. But no, she wasn’t wrong.
A few black drops of liquid rested on top of the water, rapidly sizzling into the aquifer. A strong scent wafted over, and Kiva sucked in a startled breath. She recognised the smell.
Poison.
Cresta had been poisoning the prisoners’ drinking supply, the aquifer. That was why guards weren’t getting poisoned – they got the springwater from outside the prison.
It wasn’t a disease.
It was an attempted kill.
The question remained: Why?

6/03 (282 words)
! mentions of world war 2 events !
I crumple the piece of paper in my hand, swallowing thickly. After checking it about a dozen times, I am now confident I have the correct address – 27 Oakbillow Street. I rap on the door, once nervously, and twice a little stronger.
The silence that follows feels like it stretches a lifetime, and I anxiously check my paper. 27 Oakbillow Street, yes, it’s right. That’s what they promised me after I escaped from the concentration camp and fled across the border – where they said my family was waiting for me.
Then, there is noise, and footsteps stomp against a staircase like thunder. I clutch the side of my flower dress, feeling faint with relief. The door slams open, narrowly avoiding my nose, but I don’t care. I rush forwards, ready to embrace my long lost father–
But it’s not my father.
My outstretched hands drop away as an old lady leers at me.
“Whatchu want?”
Frantically I unscrunch the paper and attempt to smooth out the creases, but not very well. “27 Oakbillow Street?” I ask, my voice unnaturally high-pitched.
She stares at me with emotionless, grey eyes. “Mhm. What about it?”
“No, no, you don’t understand. Do you know Mr and Mrs Katz? They live here. With a younger daughter…”
The woman barks with laughter. “Oh, that family. Dunno. Those Germans came over and took ‘em somewhere. I moved in about a week ago, from the house across the street.”
“W-What?”
“They ain’t here,” she repeats slower, as though that’ll make me understand. “Now scram.”
She closes the door with a thud, and I stare at the wood disbelievingly. All hope at a reunion vanishes from my eyes.
They ain’t here.

7/03
Donezo <3

8/03 (219 words)
Alyssa, you’ve always been there for me, and I to you. I trust you so much, and I know you are a little shy about opening up, yet I know you’d never lie to me. We live on opposite sides of the world but I feel like I know you better than many of my friends, who live in the same area. You’ve gone through so many hardships but you never fail to be cheerful and loving. You’ve supported me emotionally countless times. I do my best to try to do the same to you, but there’s something about you that’s so unique.

It almost sickens me to imagine me not opening that channel on Skycord, at that precise moment, and you as well. Honestly, everyone in the Trials Family. The simple message from Red that reads: “Anyone want to do Trials with me? Just for fun, without any shortcuts.” I am so glad I didn’t think, oh I’m tired, I won’t. I am so glad that you decided to join. I am so glad we unlocked chat, that Michelle server-split into the same one as us. I am so glad I decided to make a separate constellation for you, and that we made a group chat.

All these impossible odds that somehow brought us together. A Sky family.

9/03
Cabin wars!

10/03
critique n.a

11/03 - 354 words
“Agh, what the frog is this meant to mean,” Kate asked as she threw her hands back aimlessly. Her shimmering golden curls glistened in the sunlight, her indigo eyes only adding to her beauty.
Erika smiled as she gestured towards the blue line dotting the Times New Roman font. “See this? It means you need a comma here, but I’d honestly just suggest slicing it in half. It’s a little too long.”
A generally agreeing mutter escaped Kate’s lips as she highlighted the words with her cursor and deleted them. “Alright, what should I do now?”
“Paint the setting – you’ve barely talked about it.”
It was a wonderful day to be outside – the sky as blue as an Australia summer. As hot as it too, with the sun beating mercilessly down on their backs. But they were Aussies, and they were well prepared as they
Well, Erika wasn’t fully Australian. She had lived in the hot land of Queensland for her entire life, but her mother was an immigrant from Japan. Never once was she ashamed of her half-White half-Asian heritage; in fact, she reveled in it. Her hair was not black like her mothers, but a dark brown that shone gold when caught in sunlight. Her pale skin was adorned with freckles. At one glance, it would be almost impossible to tell her heritage, but that didn’t put her off.
“Okay, I like that description,” Erika murmured, stopping Kate from typing more. She skimmed over the laptop screen, reading Kate’s description of a lake. “Now, let’s have the characters talk a little more. How are they feeling?”
“Excited, of course,” Kate laughed. “They’ve gotten to their grandpa’s lakehouse, and it’s way bigger than any of their houses!”
“Now, incorporate that into your story.”
Erika chatted with Kate as she typed the words in. She loved writing – she always pictured it as weaving scenery into a tapestry, but with words – and enjoyed helping her friends with their own stories. Of course, she was horrible at anything that required logic, and her friends would in return help her with Maths.
She shuddered. Oh, dreadful Maths!

12/03
bookstore!

13/03 (507 words)
Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun. She gasps as speckled glows from along her skin, blinding, and she stares up at the man. “What are you doing, my love?” she whispers, wanting to pull away, but cannot.
The man smirks. “You’ve got magic, Silo,” he murmurs.
Silo’s throat gasps, her love slipping before her eyes. “How did you know?”
“I could sense it, back when we first met.” His eyes glaze over for a heartbeat, the mere reflection of the shining light dancing in his dark eyes before they come back. “Yes, how naive you were. As though a prince could ever love you – the heir to the throne, Prince Imeno nonetheless!”
With a flash of panic Silo feels her magic ripple away from her, as though the beads of light are carrying away her birth-born magic. “How?” she repeats weakly.
“Takes one to know one,” Imeno grins. But it isn’t a kind grin, the gentle one that he often flashed at Silo during their dates. No, it was evil – carried with an under breath of anger. “I guess we’ve both been keeping secrets.”
“NO–”
Imeno’s claw-like grip suddenly releases and Silo is thrown through the air like a ragdoll. The warmth is seeping out of her body as the familiar tingle of magic fades and fades. As she slams into the ground, she shakes like a leaf, numb with cold. “Magic, please…” she whimpers, but the golden tendrils do not lace around her arms like they usually do.
Footsteps thunder on the stone floor. They are underneath the palace, and although she desperately wants to call for help, Imeno will just silence her with his magic… her knees wobble as she sobs into her arm.
Imeno raises his left hand, almost mockingly, and calls the magic to his fingertips. “See? I am skilled at the craft. This magic is eager to serve me – unlike you, you who pathetically hide away your power and curse its existence.”
Silo breathes heavily, more and more of her shimmering magic trailing into Imero’s palms. She knows that if she loses all of it, she will perish, and by the looks of things Imero is not planning to stop taking her magic. All the time they’ve spent together, all the memories they share – they were fake, just for Imero to do this act in this moment.
Well. Perhaps Silo isn’t getting out of here alive, but she will never allow her fiance to reap her magic.
With the last vestiges of her soul, her energy, her life, she thrusts out her hand. She musters all the magic she’s attempted to keep hidden and secret, away and unknown. She calls every little pinprick to her fingertips, and shoves it towards Imeno.
“COLLAPSE!” she commands the ceiling.
Her magic bursts out in rays, smashing against the roof. Cracks form above them, and Imeno’s eyes widen.
Silo’s life may be over, but at least she is going out with a fight.

14/03 (522 words)
! very very bad spoiler warnings for The Gilded Cage ending, which is part of the Prison Healer series !
Jaren’s eyes darted open. The cold stone walls were unfamiliar, and he let out a sigh of frustration. He was in the everworld now. The last thing he knew, he had been injured, stabbed by the Viper. Zuleeka, Kiva’s sister–
Kiva.
A hard, cold knot grew in his stomach.
Deverick Vallentis, meet Kiva Corentine.
Corentine.
The daughter of the very woman who wanted to destroy his family.
The sister of the one who had caused them so much anguish.
Zuleeka’s parting words rang in his ears. I guess she doesn’t care enough to say goodbye.
His eyes closed as the torturous memories replayed in his mind.
The touch of her embrace, her eyes glittering with the same expression he wore in the River Room. The music wafting through the high, slanted windows. The quietness and peace, just Jaren and Kiva, before she had left hastily.
And then, when he had heard footsteps thunder behind the River Room’s doors, his heart tightened, his pulse quickened, and he couldn’t help but feel–
But it wasn’t Kiva.
“Zuleeka, you made it,” Jaren had greeted, visibly disappointed.
The mysterious sister of Kiva curtsied, oddly stiffly. “You don’t sound very happy to see me.”
“No, I am. I know Kiva will be ecstatic to find out you’re here.” He forced a smile.
“Oh, she will.”
Jaren glanced up at the malice laced in her words, but he was too slow. Darkness clutched his vision as excruciating pain shot through his muscles. And all of a sudden he was thrusting out his hands, commanding fire to charge into Zuleeka, but it wouldn’t. His arms remained limply by his side.
“Gods, what is this meant to be?!” Jaren shouted.
“I’m here to regain my birthright.”
Zuleeka’s dark magic reached for him, but all of a sudden Naari was there, smoothly slicing her sword towards her. She moved oddly, not used to the garments that the party had demanded she wore, but she made quick work of snatching the few weapons she possessed and fighting to defend her charge.
Then Naari froze.
Her sword was raised above Zuleeka’s wrist, her force throwing the blade down onto her flesh. But she wasn’t moving, and neither was her weapon. Every muscle on her body was frozen, and she could only choke out two words to her prince.
“Jaren, r-run!”
But he couldn’t. As he sprinted towards Naari, withdrawing his own blade as he did so, Zuleeka flicked a finger at him. Coldness draped his body. He couldn’t move either – his body was frozen in time. So all he could do was watch as Zuleeka plucked the sword from Naari’s grasp and–
Footsteps clattered on the stone floor, and Jaren was immediately yanked from his horrible memories. Then, a familiar voice echoed through the cave – his cousin’s voice!
Terrible scenarios shot through his mind. No, why was Caldon here? Had that wicked woman snatched the life out of him as well? Had Kiva stabbed his back? He almost choked on his last words, tears dripping down his face as he panicked in the darkness.
“Oh my gods, you’re awake!”
Jaren’s eyes darted open.

15/03
silly child forgot to do this daily

16/03 (447 words)
Fingers danced across the phone screen – both excitement and resignation lacing the movement. No, that notification was from a spam email, no, she wasn’t interested in the McDonald’s voucher, no, she couldn’t care less about 50% off the Domino’s mini pizza.
Her eyes scanned the email list, but it was evident that she hadn’t gotten the email.
She should’ve been used to it by now – after all, she’d been on the waitlist for more than 650 days – but it was still a painful blow to her stomach whenever she realised she wasn’t officially getting a guide dog yet.
“COME UP FOR BREAKFAST, SIENNA!” a voice called.
Sienna turned off her phone, shouting: “YES MOM!” as she determinedly did not walk out of the door.
Sighing, Sienna logged into her @snuggles0426 Scratch account, where her mood jumped up a notch. The current daily was awesome, but her heart was for the words beneath the text.
Fairy Tales is in third!
Grinning from ear to ear, Sienna expressed her congratulations to her cabin. In her triumph she quickly checked her messages, noting Amethyst’s typical keyboard-spam chaos and Alana’s steady, good leader-like comments.
Good. No one’s on my tail yet.
Yes, people had caught on very quickly, which made Sienna on edge. After all, no one could know what their plan was, yet they somehow had deciphered the most mundane items. They’d made a research paper, gosh darn it!
“SIENNA, I’M SERIOUS!” her mom hollered. Sienna winced – she could’ve sworn that dust was falling through the cracks of the floorboard.
“ONE SECOND!”
“I AIN’T FALLING FOR THAT, COME UPSTAIRS FOR BREAKFAST!”
Sienna quickly snatched her glasses from her bedside table and sprinted up the stairs, trying to make it before her mom’s wrath fell upon her.
“YOUNG WOMAN, IF YOU’RE NOT UP HERE IN TEN SEC– oh, hello dear.”
Although shaken, Sienna issued a greeting and wolfed down her eggs, bacon and toast breakfast. She was so quick that her mom gave her a side-eye, in which she explained that she wanted to write something.
“This isn’t for that Scratch Write Lots Workshop thing, is it? You’ve been spending far too long on that.”
“No, mom,” Sienna said in a relatively innocent voice.
After doing the dishes, she thundered down her stairs again and leapt into the bed. Her fingers were orchestrating a percussion beat as they leapt from key to key, typing up her daily. Then she flicked through a worn guide book on service animals, but after finding no new information, she turned back to Scratch.
Alright, I’m bored, Sienna thought as she opened her laptop. Imma go create some chaos.
Then she switched her account to Tinkergoat.

17/03 (427 words)
this is dark for what i usually write, and why was this so hard for me to actually type? idk this took like an hour for some reason
The blackthorn tree was like a cruel shelter. Its fruit, hanging off of twisted branches, was there solely to taunt us – to mock us with its food that we so desperately needed. It looked innocent, being much more colourful and iridescent than the rest of this bleak place, but it was like a viper. If your hand wandered anywhere near it, the guards, who would be watching with slitted eyes, would finish your miserable life.
Perhaps they enjoyed it.
But today, instead of being a beacon for greed, the blackthorn tree was part of our plan against the soldiers. They served a god alright, but one who was not invincible. A dictator that cared for no one but himself, who used the influence of the regime, who punished those who opposed him without a second chance, who never forgave, who was too insecure to even stand a flicker of resistance from his own family.
The polar opposite of my God.
The words of my Bible, my weapon against the cruelty of this camp, the harshness of the mundane world. “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Concealed behind the loose, bleak bricks it waited. Its radiance encouraged me, giving me the strength I needed, it’s reminder that I wasn’t alone, that I could contribute.
I nodded at Jun with my first, genuine smile, knowing that this could very well be the end of our lives. But strangely, I was calm. No one was calm at the work camp. Death danced in every footstep, the guards ready to kill you for so much looking at something weirdly.
The blackthorn tree itself seemed almost tired. Perhaps it hated how the guards used it as a lure, and never rejoiced in its bountiful produce. All of a sudden, the tree didn’t seem so wicked after all.
“Fell me,” its branches seemed to whisper. “Use me to fuel the pyre of our enemies.”
It was my time to fight back.
Jun whipped out the match that had taken so much to earn, but we couldn’t rejoice in it. We had to move fast. The guards had already spotted us – their boots were snapping against the cold, impenetrable ground.
We set the blackthorn tree ablaze. Magnificent turquoise flames danced from its branches as the guards roared with horror. The fire leapt from rooftop to rooftop, ripping apart the defenses the work camp had.
Sweet rebellion.

18/03
na

19/03
na

20/03
Darkness swirled around Naari’s body.
It’s her fault.
He raised his hand, but his magic didn’t dance at his fingers.
It’s her fault.
The scar around his heart festered.
It’s her fault.
Jaren’s eyes flickered towards the sleeping guard, painful memories replaying in his mind. So much pain.
I fell in love with a lie.
His fingernails dug into his flesh, punishing his vulnerability, his weakness, his stupidity. Fury was the magical flame that had been destroyed in him.
Emerald-green eyes, black, swirling hair. The spark that danced in her expression. The love as she looked at him.
Then that fateful night above the River Room. The amulet that he had gifted to his beloved, which she had handed to the one who attempted to murder him. She had sponsored his death.
She’s a Corentine princess.
The Rebel Princess.
His sworn enemy.
He would never forgive her.

The sickly caramel scent of angeldust engulfed him. It took everything in his power not to tremble, lest he dropped Kiva – but the horrible, sweet smell laced his worst nightmares.
Her glazed eyes latched on Jaren. His heart gave a thump as a smile rippled across her face. “For you,” she slurred, slipping the ring onto Jaren’s finger.
“She made me c-choose between two things,” hiccuped Kiva. “Two fears, y’know. To get the ring?”
“Stop, Kiva,” Jaren said firmly. Inside, he was praying fervently. Please, don’t Kiva– things are hard enough as it is.
But of course, she didn’t. “I had to choose between you.” A giggle spilled out of her mouth. “She said I had to kiss you, buuuut I know you hate me. And you don’t deserve that, y’know? So I went for angeldust.”
“Why are you scared of angeldust?” Jaren asked, his heart giving another traitorous shudder. But it was too painful to explore the other thing she said – the raw, horrible truth.
With that Kiva paused. “Nooo, I made myself not tell you.”
Fire-coloured hair blazed in – it was Cresta, the fearsome prisoner from Zalindov. “That sister of hers–” Cresta began to growl.
“NO!” shrieked Kiva, a golden glow engulfing her.
“Kiva, stop!”
At the sound of Jaren’s commanding voice, Kiva’s anger – and her magic – subsided. Almost shyly, and petulant, Kiva whispered: “I hurt Jaren too much, Cresta. I can’t tell him…”
“I know all these details,” Cresta barked, rolling her eyes. “You wouldn’t stop whining about it in prison. I betrayed him, I didn’t mean to do it. It was killing you, along with that darn angeldust addiction of yours. I’m sick of it, honestly.”
What?
In his disbelief, he pivoted and glared at Cresta straight in her amber eyes. But his expression was pleading – don’t tell me it’s true.
“He’s too pure for me,” Kiva continued. “Too pure for any of us.” A hiccup later, she continued with a grin. “But I still love him, can you imagine, Cresta? Even though he hates me.”
Cresta squirmed uncomfortably.
But Jaren was still, and silent. He had a dreadful feeling that Kiva had forgotten he was there.
But his lips formed the words that he would never, ever speak to his sworn enemy.
I forgive you, Kiva.
And I love you too.

21/03
In this twisted world of human cruelty,
There are many things that cause dismay
Yet out of all things, why do we inflict
Our nature onto other living ways

Take animals, for instance,
Peacefully dwelling in the wild
Fighting for survival, not of corrupted hearts
Sweet, harmless, mild

Yet we use them for our worldly profit,
A glimmer of silver and gold
So we put money above morals,
Undeserved suffering tenfold

I don’t understand you puppy farmers,
Being able to stroll past
All the innocent mutts you stole,
Until they breathe their last

Never taken out for walks,
Never given time to enjoy
Never cherished or loved,
Never heard the words “good boy!”

No, for you puppy farmers,
All you can see is green money
Treating these beautiful animals as machines
Who’ve never explored somewhere sunny

And you, dear reader,
Imagine this was you.

Imagine that you could never leave you room,
No in fact, imagine your room was empty!
Imagine a place where you cannot escape the scorching sun,
Or seek relief from biting temperatures negative-twenty

Imagine a place where people cried out in agony,
For the profit of a cruel, inhumane monster
Imagine when you become sick, there is no hope
And when you beg for help, no one will answer

No, don’t you dare sit there in horror!
Take action, you and I know it’s possible,
Donate, spread awareness, do anything you can
And catch those who are responsible

22/03 (263 words)
“Mama?” A quiet voice murmured.
The woman spun around, shouldering closer to her daughter. “Yes, dear?”
Waves howled, throwing themselves against the wood of the boat. The gale was in a similar mood, shrieking its fury and the dingy little ship.
“I–I’m scared.”
Her heart shattered, but she kept her voice level as she replied: “I know, darling. But we’ll be safe in a little.”
“Just a little?”
The hope in the child’s voice cracked the woman’s heart even more. “Just a little.”
In reality, she had no idea. They had fled the shore-villages of Papua New Guinea, leaving behind their farm, their family and their home. The greedy boatsman had pried the cash from her shaking fingers and ushered her on this cramped, tiny ship. Crossing the Torres Strait took much longer than it appeared on the map.
Occasionally, they would pass by tiny islands. This was expected, as they were dotted through the ocean. But it still sank her heart as she desperately searched the islands for people, only to find that the palm trees were still and lifeless.
“Australia will be so good,” the woman said to her daughter, gripping her shoulder reassuringly. “Food for days! No crime! A beautiful home! Maybe even a dog.”
“A dog?” asked the child, her eyes rounded.
“Yes, a beautiful one that can protect us. We’ll walk it through the streets, and maybe drop by somewhere to have some food.” The woman stroked her daughter’s thick, knotted hair, straightening it gently. “And we’ll be safe.”
The ocean quietened, and the swish-swash of waves sighed.

23/03
CABIN WARS! WE DEFEATED THE EVIL GURTLE-BALROG… not sure about the details lol the lore was intense

24/03
Behind a quaint red door lies a curious complexion of rooms. Stoop through the circular frame and you will find yourself on a wooly mat inviting you home. A high window shines the morning light into the genkan, where you can take off your shoes and step into the hobbit hole, properly.
Venturing down a tunnel adorned with pretty paintings and fairy lights, the first room on your left will come into view. Inside lies a lit pastel-coloured bedroom. A quilted blanket lays on a comfortable-looking bed. Books, particularly fantasy, line the white-wood shelves. A constant stream of Taylor Swift music plays from a speaker. A laptop lays half-open on the blanket, open on a google document titled “Secret Light”.
If you reach under the bed, you will find a small button hidden beneath the frame. Pressing it will quietly open an area in the ceiling, and a ladder is flung out from it. Steadily and carefully climb it, and you will emerge in a smaller room. Cushions are scattered amongst a carpet, and many theology and spiritual books are on circular shelves. Quiet Christian worship music plays from a hidden speaker. Inspirational quotes from the Bible are painted on beautiful paintings and tapestry. This is the prayer room.
The kitchen has an induction stove, an oven, a sink, a fridge and a counter. Three stools are lined against the table – it is rare that more will be needed. No insects crawl in the area, so fruits are artistically ranged in a bowl. A plastic bag filled with more plastic bags is stuffed beneath the sink. Lamps hang from the dirt ceiling.
A small window is on the wall of another room, showing a picturesque scene. A green hill rolls from under the pane, and bright blue skies stretches for millenia. Pine forests are scattered amongst the plain, and in the distance are jagged, snowy mountains. Even in the hill, you can hear the free chattering of birds as they dart amongst the clouds. Inside the room itself is a bean bag, a table and chair, both facing towards the window and away from it. There is a shutter on the window, and the door is heavy, so if extreme quiet is needed in the writing room it is possible.
Go further and you will go into the gaming room. This is unlike any other room so far. Neon lights hang from the ceiling, and consoles are scattered on cushions, rugs and beanbags. There is a table facing away from a large TV with a keyboard, a wireless mouse and a PC. There is also a tablet in there, with the app of “Sky” open.

25/03 (606 words)
The needle danced in Adele’s hands, flashing through the fabric in a swift, gentle motion. The thread slipped between the crevices of the torn dress, mending it. Adele whispered her blemished hands over the mended cloth, smiling with satisfaction.
One of her favourite pastimes was digging through discarded clothes piles, often left around the street. It was getting too expensive to get regular clothes fixed, and keeping it around just wasted valuable space in the houses that were getting smaller and smaller, subdividing so that more people could be crammed in a safe city. But for Adele, she loved fixing old things.
Just like the pale blue dress in front of her. It was coarse to touch, but she could tell that once she scrubbed the dirt and filth off of the old fabric it would be smoother than silk. Oh, she could imagine her husband returning already from the war. His warm smile would dance in his mouth, like it always did. They would embrace, and he would tell her fondly about how much he loved her beauty.
While some of the upper-class women scoffed at Adele’s tactics of getting her clothes, her husband loved it. There was truly no man like him – always so cheerful, so kind, so receptive to Adele’s odd tactics. When she had written to him about her new strategy of getting clothes, he had sent a letter back praising her genius. After all, her little shop wasn’t getting any customers, and she needed to preserve every last mark in her arsenal for food.
The next morning, Adele excitedly slipped on the blue dress. It was a rare colour, and Adele could scarcely believe her luck in being able to grab it before the patrolling soldiers did. It wasn’t exactly illegal, but she couldn’t think the regime would be pleased to know she was cheating the system like that.
The sleeves puffed up in the same way rich dresses did, and Adele could scarcely contain her squeals of delight. Pocketing three of her mended pants, she hesitantly made her way down the gloomy street.
It was May of 1923, and the prices of bread was skyrocketing. Her lips pursed in disbelief as she recalled the numbers. At the beginning of the year, it had cost 250 marks for one loaf of bread. Now… Now, it cost 100,000 marks.
No, sorry. That was incorrect. It cost 100,000 million marks.
With the price of clothes rising as well, Adele prayed that three pieces of clothing would be enough to cover the price of a small loaf of bread.
She slipped into the tiny bakery with a jingle of bells. It was desolate, as always, and the baker’s wife gave a gruff greeting.
“Hello,” Adele replied nervously. “Can I interest you in some of my clothes?”
“Clothes don’t fill me up,” the woman replied curtly.
Adele sighed, and showed the pants. They were thick and wooly, sure to keep out the cold through the winter to come. “But they’ll stave off sickness next season.”
The woman raised her eyebrow, shuffled to the stove and pulled out a charred loaf of bread. Adele bit her lip, wondering whether it was worth it, but handed the clothes off anyway.
Holding the charred loaf as though it was her lifeline, Adele made her way carefully down the street. She kept her eye out for hungry strangers, knowing that the loaf was worth millions more than its weight in gold.
A flash of colour caught her eye.
Oh. Is that a red gown? Adele smiled. That’s lovely.
Then the first whizzes of the bombs rained down.

26/03
n/a

27/03
n/a

28/03 (517 words)
Now, after Snow White married the handsome prince, the dwarves were lonely. They missed Snow White’s presence and her beauty, so they decided to seek her out in her palace.
“Oh, princess!” one of the dwarves called out.
The palace guards were surprised to see Snow White’s famous friends there, and they quickly escorted the dwarves inside the palace. See, the dwarves were used to living in their humble cottage, so they were shocked to see the grandeur of the castle. They did not mean to, but they got so excited by the sight of a chandelier that they ran off, leaving the poor palace guards bewildered on where they had gone.
They walked through the corridors, peered into the mirrors, and sniffed the flowers. One even accidentally broke an expensive vase, but they hurried away before anyone caught them.
They wandered around the palace, until they started to get tired. One of the dwarves sat down with a yawn. “I wonder where Snow White is.”
See, the dwarves had been so distracted by the splendor of the palace that they had forgotten the reason they were there. Quickly, they sought out a servant. “Excuse me,” one politely asked. “Would you be so kind as to escort me to the princess?”
As before, the story of the dwarves had reached all corners of the kingdom, so the servant led them to Snow White and the prince’s room. What they had previously thought of as incredible and beautiful now looked humble in comparison to the decorations furnishing the area surrounding the royal couple’s room.
“Princess Snow White,” the servant announced. “The dwarves are here.”
Now, the princess was pleasantly surprised to find the dwarves outside. She embraced each of them gently, smiling. “My husband is away,” she said. “He has gone to visit the hospital, but he will be back shortly.”
Snow White showed them the balcony. Its windows were tall, and draped in curtains. There was also a couch. “It is very pretty during the sunset,” she explained. “Would you like to stay and watch?”
The dwarves nodded.
“My, what a home you have!” one of them exclaimed.
Snow White called for some servants and asked them to prepare a feast. Eventually, the prince returned, and they sat in the dining hall. It was draped in gold and maroon, and the food was plentiful and delicious. The dwarves feasted excitedly, eating anything from turkey legs to garlic bread to purple grapes. Now, the food on the table was the finest in the kingdom, and they soon became full.
Entertainers filed into the dining room. Some juggled flaming knives, others showed magic tricks with their cards, and still others commanded dogs to jump through hoops and perform special actions. The royal couple and the dwarves were fascinated.
Soon, night well and truly fell upon the kingdom. The dwarves, although saddened to leave, farewelled the kind royals.
“Thank you very much for this wonderful night,” they said.
Snow White and the prince waved for them from their balcony, telling them that they were welcome back any time they wished.

29/03
Rahni rushed through the ornate corridors, attempting to keep the bucket full of hay in her hands as steady as possible whilst moving smoothly through the palace halls. The princess– no, the queen now– and her boyfriend were waiting at the stables for her return, and she couldn’t bear to think what would happen if she didn’t return quick enough.
Well, they did seem nice enough – especially that commoner, Faren was his name – but the fact that the queen had betrayed her bloodline by secretly dating someone who didn’t even support her right to the throne prior meeting her, much less the fact that he was a peasant… Well, she had her doubts about their true goodness and allegiances.
You’re just the maid, Rahni scolded herself, catching her traitorous thoughts again. Your opinions on royal happenings don’t matter. The palace was buzzing with news about the “scandal”, some whispered, whilst others were enthralled about the queen’s choice in hand. Those were few, however, consisting only of the people closest and most personal to her.
Preoccupied in attempting to suppress her thoughts, she accidentally shouldered a man in a butler’s uniform passing by. She stifled a cry and barely caught the bucket before it went flying, murmured a quick apology and brushed past.
“My pri– queen!” Rahni gasped as she threw open the doors to the stable. “Apologies! I got caught up in the storm outside.”
“No need for apologies,” Queen Laia answered. “Faren has left us shortly – I asked him to send a special request for the cook, for Lothain’s welcome home party.”
“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Rahni replied, inwardly groaning at the idea of how much waitress-ing she’d have to do. Then she paused, hearing the horses pace and snort constantly. “Are the animals alright?”
“I suspect they are agitated about the storm,” the queen said.
I’m not sure they can hear it from here… Rahni thought, but again pushed away the thoughts. If the queen believed something, that should be all she needed to hear. But she couldn’t help but think that there was something odd. Why would a man in a butler uniform be anywhere near the stables? Why were the animals worried about a storm they shouldn’t be able to notice?
I’m sure it’s nothing. Rahni gave a curtsey to the queen, and departed, again preoccupied in thoughts she shouldn’t be having.

30/03
Angar slammed his fist down onto the wooden table. “And that’s how it happened!” he roared.
The tavern burst with laughter. Angar didn’t know why, the joke was purposefully not funny. They were probably just trying to get free drinks off of him. Hrrmph.
“I hate my customers,” he grumbled as he swung into the back of his inn. “Goodness, everything sucks today. I wonder why?”
He glanced pointedly outside, where the gods replied with a crackle of thunder. “Would be nice if you gave me a power, perchance?”
Just because you’re a secret prince doesn’t mean you’re getting anything you want, a voice murmured into his ear.
Angar flinched at the noise, and hissed back: “Well, why not? You’ve sent me down here for a hopeless mission that ain’t gonna work out. The least you could give me is the powers of heroes.”
Silence followed his words, and he sighed. Today wasn’t the day to be taunting the gods. Well, he shouldn’t do it any day, but he couldn’t help himself. “Fine,” he snapped. “Do what you want.”
Wait.
Angar pivoted. “What?”
I think I have an idea.
He snorted. “You lot always have ideas. Make humans! Make animals! Make mountains – ugh they’re too boring, so pretty and mysterious. Let’s make them explode sometimes!”
Angar! snapped the voice.
The secret prince of the gods rolled his eyes. “You’re making me tired, having to hang out at this lowly village. I want to walk in the gardens of paradise again! When I volunteered for this mission– oh, should I be using proper language? When I was forced into this mission, I was not signing up to be stuck with a bunch of good-for-nothings like this village has.”
Good for nothings?
“Yeah, these people don’t believe in the gods,” Angar chuckled. “And they’re going around complaining about their harvest not being good. Why, all you need is a fat cow!”
Angar, you know that’s not how it works?
“Oh, but it feels like it.” Angar gripped a bottle in his hand, so hard it nearly shattered. “I can’t wait to go back to paradise, provided you’re feeling up to bringing me back– or on that matter, you could just give me a neat gift. I’d be happy with that, too.”
He sighed. He could talk back all he wanted, back up in paradise. Not anymore, not after what had happened with him turning into a mortal and whatnot. They had promised to make him immortal after he had finished their instructions, and he had finished their instructions TWO YEARS AGO!
They visited him frequently, as though trying to jeer in his face about him believing them. Well, not quite. They said that the gift they were going to bestow upon him required the whole of heaven to come together and spin it together, whatever the gods that meant. But Angar didn’t believe him. He wanted just a power – maybe the ability to fly, or superstrength, or invisibility.”
“Gods, you’re going to finally be married to Edes before you give me it, aren’t you?”
Whichever god was talking to Angar plainly wasn’t who he expected it to be. After a heartbeat of silence, he added: “You are Otar, aren’t you?”
I’m… Edes.
“OH GOOD GODS, OTAR MADE ME SWEAR NOT TO TELL YOU!”
Otar wants to… marry me?
“No,” Angar said quickly. “Wait, Edes, don’t say–”
But the presence of the female god slipped, and Angar ran his hand down his face. “Oh gods, oh no, this can’t be good…”
Less than a minute later, the presence of something divine returned. “Edes, please–”
It’s not Edes, a furious voice boomed.
Wind whipped at him, but Angar held his ground. “Otar, you’re not going to hurt me, so stop trying to intimidate me.”
Otar sighed. No, I can’t hurt you. You’re protected by the ancient laws of paradise. But there’s no harm in, say, granting you your wish?
Angar froze. “Why would you give it to me?”
Now, now, there’s no need for suspicion. Just trying to be a benevolent god, that’s all.
“What do you think my wish is?”
Why, is it not to have some kind of supernatural power?
Angar nodded eagerly.
Then allow me to grant it to you.
His jaw silently slid open as he felt magic rush around him. Then, something changed – his flesh turned transparent – wait no, he couldn’t see it. He tried to say something, some kind of exclamation, but no sound could escape.
You’re right! You have invisibility!
Angar’s nonexistent mouth smiled.
Oh, one thing, it’s permanent. That’s okay, right?
The smile slid right off Angar’s nonexistent face.
That’s okay. It’s great, isn’t it, having a power? It must’ve been great to break an oath you made to me, about not telling Edes?
Angar’s defence rose to his nonexistent lips, but disappeared into nothing.
Have fun, prince of the gods.

31/03

Weeklies

Weekly 1 - Total, 2404 words
Guess which silly child misread the weekly and nearly did everything before realising you were meant to select 6… I might post the ones that I didn't include in this, but not rn XD

Crossover (330 words)
There once were two goddesses sharing identities. Both were considered by millions to be the most beautiful, and indeed they were – stunning in every form. Both goddesses of beauty. But which one, you may ask?
Neither was aware of this speculation around them. Each considered themselves the highest Goddess, and indeed, their beauty was so blinding it was hard to tell the difference.
But Odin, a God of Norse mythology, laughed at the debate. He spun the threads of fate so their paths may cross each other. And cross they did, one faithful midnight at a river.
Aphrodite peered into the water, the stars casting pearlescent speckles on her stunning face – this was a time before clouds. She could barely look at herself without being overcome with wonder, and indeed, as she looked up, she felt exactly that.
Hathor stared across the rippling stream. Each goddess possessed the same thoughts – it couldn’t be – that woman was as beautiful as she, if not more so. Captivated, they stared at each other for ages in disbelief. At last, Aphrodite broke the silence: “But how?”
Those two words shattered their neverending gaze. Hathor sucked in a startled breath, and whispered: “Who are you?”
“Aphrodite,” the Greek goddess of beauty replied.
“Hathor,” the Egyptian goddess of beauty added.
The name was recognisable to both of them – the other was their rival. They roared in anger and each cast mist over the river, trying to block the other’s otherworldly beauty before they were swept away in it.
But the mist rose, up into the skies, and covered the stars. Darkness fell on their faces, and they could no longer see each other, not as long as the light did not illuminate their faces. Odin, greatly disturbed by what he had started, cast a spell of forgetting on the two godesses, and wove the threads of fate so they would not see each other again.
But he did not remove the mist covering the stars, and allowed them to become clouds.

Retelling (386 words)
Warnings aplenty exist; but perhaps there is none so important as this.
Icarus was a young boy fascinated with the stars. He did not like being bound to plain earth, surrounded by frustrating Gods going about their divinely business. He cast his eyes on the stars, but did not know how to get there.
How he wished he had wings.
One day as he was travelling through the earth, a dragon approached him and offered him a ride. Exhausted and tired from the lengthy journey, Icarus accepted. The dragon flew him back to his home, and told him they would meet again. The dragon also told him to tell the other Gods to leave the dragons be, and allow them to go about their business.
Icarus agreed but as he arrived home, the promise quickly slipped from his mind, and he did not tell the other gods how he had gotten home.
After a century, the dragon grew angry – the gods had not stopped hunting his fellow dragons. He flew to Icarus’ home and, knowing his secret desires, offered him a ride through space.
Icarus remembered how the dragon had delivered him home safely, and agreed. He climbed on the dragons back and they flew through the atmosphere, and past the planets.
Eventually Icarus started to feel very, very warm. Even though the ride through space had been a little cool, they had now whizzed past Venus and Icarus wanted to go home. “Take me back, dragon,” he said.
The dragon did not stop, telling Icarus that they would just visit Mercury first. Icarus agreed, but as the dragon kept flying past Mercury, he started to get nervous and repeated his request. The dragon did not respond.
Then, the warmth grew unbearable, and the dragon’s wings started to burn up. Icarus let out a cry of alarm, but the dragon persisted and kept gliding towards the sun until he could no more. “Dragon!” Icarus cried, but the dragon’s heart was full of fury, and they flew into the sun. Then neither the dragon nor Icarus, existed.
Back on earth, Icarus’ father felt pain in his chest, and he knew his son had been lost to a dragon. He cried out in anguish, and driven by revenge, cursed all dragons to go extinct.
And they disappeared.

Original Characters in Historical Times (663 words)
“Atlas?”
“Yeah, Rhea?”
“What’s going on?”
“No idea. We should be in Orbit.”
“Or petrified.”
“Maybe this is Orbit?”
“Oh yeah? Where are the stars?”
“Good point.”
Atlas’ eyes flickered open. Lying next to him on the strange stone was Rhea. It was deeply, deeply strange – one moment he had been sitting on the edge with Sanctuary Islands as the first of the Fall engulfed him, and next he had been in this strange world.
Rhea cracked a faint smile. “We should probably get up.”
They walked towards the nearest area, speckled with light. He glanced at the sky, but there were no stars – it was just blanketed in darkness. Atlas could always see the stars at night in the realms.
“Atlas!” Rhea shouted suddenly, excitement brimming in her voice. “That looks like Arklight!” She glanced at Atlas, her eyes filled with hope. “They have so much Arklight!”
Atlas didn’t believe her, even though she had much better eyesight than he. “Arklight? What, does this world have Wielders, too?” They ran together towards the settlement.
As they stepped onto a strange black path, unearthly roar shook the otherwise peaceful night, and glowing eyes glared down at Rhea and Atlas. Instinctively he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back where they had entered from, and a beast shrieked past, its little black paws screeching against the ground. “What was that?!” shouted Atlas, his heart racing.
Then, all thought of the beast left Atlas’ mind as a light caught his eye. Not the glowing gaze of the beast, but something else.
Arklight.
All air escaped Atlas in a whoosh. The Arklight danced and flickered inside a strange glass box. He felt his Wielder instincts reach out and drummed his fingers against the glass cage that encased the Arklight. The mark on the side of his face glowed with pleasure.
“What is this place?” Atlas whirled around, excitement lacing his voice as he beamed at Rhea.
“Aye, whatchu mean,” a gruff voice asked.
A man was leaning against barred wooden doors. He wore a strange head garment, made out of an unusual, scratchy-looking material. He hung an odd cape around his back, which stopped shortly before his pants and went over his sleeves. Everything about his appearance was old – and dull. Atlas frowned. Even though he had come from the poverty-stricken boroughs of the Hidden Forest, they still possessed a colourful culture.
Atlas protectively stepped in front of Rhea, willing the Arklight to his fingertips. They erupted in a brilliant kaleidoscope of oranges and purples on his palm – they looked deadly, but were nothing more than a warm tingle…
The owner of the gruff voice shouted in alarm. “Ye can do that,” he hissed, “and yer gawking over a lamp?”
“A lamp?”
“Aye… the thing we put the flame in… so we can see stuff?”
Atlas narrowed his eyes. “Flame?” The word tasted odd in his mouth, but somehow it made sense.
“Yeah– what yer holding.” As he was speaking, the Arklight (flame?) in the lamp whipped out. Atlas gasped – what a waste of Arklight! The man groaned and leant over the lamp, made a clicking noise, then somehow ignited it again.
“What was that?” Atlas demanded.
The man raised a bushy eyebrow and whipped out the Arklight-instrument. “A match-and-box.”
Atlas paused, realising he was talking to perhaps one of the most powerful people in this world. “How did you get it?” he murmured. “Did you have to work for years to get it?” Then Atlas stopped again, and bile choked his throat. His voice dropped to an unsteady whisper. “Did you take the Light from a… Wielder?”
The man backed away, slipping his match-and-box inside his not-cape pocket. “Uh… I’d bet the shop over there is selling some.” His eyes glimmering with the reflection of the Arklight on Atlas’ hands, he pivoted and walked away briskly.
“These people are weird,” Atlas whispered to Rhea as they headed to the shop the man had pointed at.

What if: Change One Thing About a Historical Event (430 words)
Gavrilo Princip snuck through the cheering crowds, his heartbeat quickening. His fingers tightened around the firearm, as though he was seeking comfort within its polished leather. But all he could feel was cold, cold worry.
You’re doing this for your country, Gavrilo reminded himself as he gently pushed past a group of ladies. You are saving them. You are saving so much anguish, and you will cancel out all vengeance with this one act.
This will be the last act of violence for a world of peace.
Anxiety choked his throat, and he pressed his fingers so hard against the hidden weapon that pain bubbled where his flesh made contact. The sudden pain made him stumble, and he collided with an older gentleman. Pain blossomed in his shoulder, and he spotted a few flashing coins drop to the road below.
Little did he know that this man was an ex-navy, who had been kicked out for getting into a terrible fight with a fellow comrade. Even worse was he was short-tempered, being irritated by the loud, excited shrieking of everyone around him.
“Excuse me,” Gavrilo hastily murmured, and tried to keep walking, but the man seized him by the neckline of his shirt.
“Excuse me?” The veteran growled, shaking him. “So first these blumin’ youth go shrieking their heads off, and now you plummet into me and make me lose a bunch of coins? No, don’t you avoid my eyes, boy.”
“I’m sorry,” he stammered, shocked at the man’s fury. “Please, allow me to buy you a drink later–”
The veteran’s eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t you try to appease me!”
What do you want me to do? Gavrilo thought exasperatedly as he squirmed. The shrieking turned to a deafening roar and another stab of anxiety pierced his stomach. The royals were about to go past him, and this was one lifechanging opportunity he couldn’t afford to lose.
Gavrilo twisted suddenly, shoving his hand inside his pocket and pulling out the firearm. He pointed it straight at the veteran’s head and was about to pull–
But his grasp slackened as the veteran smashed the weapon onto the ground. It clattered to the ground. Gavrilo, trembling, tried to rush past the crowd, but they were like an impenetrable wall. Everyone pressed close to each other, trying to take a glance of the royal family.
“That was a mistake, boy,” the veteran hissed, as he picked the weapon off the ground and pointed it at Gavrilo.
That night, the veteran’s short temper prevented what would’ve been a total of 20 million deaths.

Mixing in a Little Magic: Place Yourself in a Fairy Tale (222 words)
I hide my anxiety as I tend to Maurice’s wounds. He has told me the entire story, and I can barely stop myself from quivering as I wipe the rest of the balm off.
“We’ve got to save her, don’t we?” I say as I’m finished.
“How?” Maurice throws his arms in the air, desperation and gloom lacing his voice. “Please tell me one, marvelous idea you have that’ll help Belle.”
I remain silent for a few heartbeats. “We could take the village in a riot–”
“Oh please, Erika. We’re a handful of old and young people, we’re barely fit, we can’t take on a full on palace!”
I find an excuse to pull myself to the back of the apothecary and sigh, pressing my temples. It’s odd for Maurice to be so jumpy, so negative. After all, you have to be hopeful and positive to start a bustling town in an odd place. But anyone would feel what Maurice is, even after a few days – when your only daughter is lost with a beast.
As I fish through the remedies to make a person worry less, I silently agree with Maurice. Our tiny town won’t be able to stand up to a flipping fortress, let alone an unnatural creature.
We just need to pray Belle, somehow, makes it out of there.

Oral Retelling: Show Characters Passing Down a Story (322 words)
It’s been a long ride, but they’re here now. Jean jackets and singlets aplenty, they haul their load through the Australian night and keep an eye out for critter-crawlers or bigger. Hundreds of kilometers south-west of Darwin lies a small, uninhabited pocket of desert that has only been visited by a handful of people.
A crackling bonfire lights the area as the trio stare up at the sky. Stars speckle it, as though God has scattered little jewels amongst a black canvas. There are so, so many stars – much more than they could’ve seen in relatively unpopulated Darwin. The kind that only the Australian background can provide.
“My grandma told me a story,” Hannah murmurs. “She told me that each one of the stars represents a family. She pointed at the one directly above us, and said that represented us.”
A smile billows across Jack’s face. “I wonder which one would be mine?”
“Look above you.”
The three automatically glance upwards. But there are so many – it’s impossible to know which one is the closest. “I can’t tell.”
“Which one is the brightest to you?”
A pause, and then Jack points. “That one.”
“That represents your family, my grandma would’ve said,” Hannah explains.
Erika nods. “As yeh know – my mother’s an immigrant from Japan, my dad’s been here for ages. She says that her great-something-great grandpa was super close with a shogun. Y’know,” she adds to their blank faces. “Like the king of Japan.”
Jack speaks last. “I know my ancestors were Irish. Migrated ‘ere in the famine, and they struck fortune ‘ere. Can see them in the records. We went to the public library and followed our family lineage–”
Something hisses, and they fall silent. Then suddenly:
“Crikey!” Hannah shrieks, scampering away from a tiny snake. It’s near her foot, but it quickly slithers towards the grass.
“Crikey, and you’re scared of that measly thing? Gosh, you call yourself an Australian?”

Weekly 2 - 1625 words
Part 1 (453 words)
Scarlet sat amongst the dragonlings, feeding them a little meat as she absent-mindedly stroked their scales. They were like jewels, adorned with purple and gold, and priceless.
“Scarlet, should you be here?” Mother asked, amused, as she sat down next to her daughter.
“The dragonlings sounded hungry,” Scarlet explained apologetically, showing her the chunks of meat she was feeding to the little ones. “And since they don’t have a mother to take care of them, I decided I would.”
Mother plucked a trefoil growing in the enclosed field of grass and tucked it lovingly in her golden curls. She was already wearing a crown of daisies that Mother had made for her earlier, but she accepted the pretty plant with glee. “Aww, sweetheart. They’re always going to be hungry, and you can’t stay here all the time.”
Her mother loved flowers. Outside of the encompassed pen lay sprawling, colourful flower beds, bursting with colour. They lived in a farm away from civilization, and had stumbled across the dragonlings in the woods, deserted by their dragon mother. So they had naturally taken them in.
Something crashed outside, severing Scarlet’s train of thoughts. She froze, trying to listen, but the sound didn’t happen again.
“Probably a bird,” Mother murmured cautiously, squeezing Scarlet’s shoulder reassuringly.
Then the soldiers burst in.
“Run, Scarlet!” screamed Mother, shoving her towards the door.
Without hesitating, they leapt over the fence containing the dragonlings. Mother sprang to her feet at an impossible speed and leapt in front of the dragonlings, fighting desperately. “You stay away from them!” she shrieked as she lashed out with her fists.
The dragonlings fought too, seeming to understand what was happening. They swung their tiny tails menacingly, emitting tiny bursts of flame. The soldiers were undeterred, their king’s orders repeating in their ears. They struck at Mother with their sword, red smearing the metal and turned their attention to the helpless dragonlings–
Scarlet gasped, her daisy crown falling into her lap in pieces. Tattered, they trailed down the side of her arms, but she wasn’t paying attention.
She knew who they were with painful clarity. The cruel ruler of their land, King Cilett, hated dragons. He had ordered them to be hunted down, and alongside with them, anyone who dared protect them.
Tears welled in her eyes as she dashed away from the massacre, smashing through the wooden door before the soldiers could get to her. She tripped on a flower bed of rhododendrons – oh, how she remembered Mother carefully tending to them – and sped onwards. Her heart ached for the dragonlings who had perished, for her mother who had died defending the magical creatures.
She ran with the trefoil Mother had tucked behind her ear.
Daisy (innocence) + Rhododendron (danger) + Trefoil (revenge)

Part 2 (350 words)
Aquarius watched from the heavens. The poor sailors were lost, again, to the vast expanses of unknown seas. She felt incredible pity as they worriedly stared to the horizon, lost in direction. Sagittarius, in his anger, had cast a massive storm over the Pacific Ocean, and the poor humans were in its direct path.
They didn’t know where to go. The wind had whipped their mostly inaccurate maps out of their hands and thrown it to the ocean. They desperately tried to harness the gale to guide them away from the worst part of the cyclone, but they were failing miserably. Without a sense of direction, they were heading straight towards it – the worst of the storm, and certain death.
Aquarius hesitated, knowing that she shouldn’t get involved with human affairs. But she had watched from a distance, and noticed how the humans were unusually kind. They didn’t deserve to die like this, so she collected four stars from the sky, the brightest ones.
Leo noticed that she was picking the stars, and came over to her. He questioned her on what she was doing, but she wouldn’t answer. Aquarius knew that if they found out, they would be furious. Then, Leo noticed something sparkling in Aquarius’ palm. In a panic, Aquarius hastily placed four stars in a diamond formation pointing south, and scattered the rest in a pile to form a large, glowing circle, so that their travels could be illuminated.
The sailors noticed the new stars immediately. The stars pointed south, and they followed it. They moved so quickly and with the reassurance that Aquairus had helped them, that they managed to withstand Sagittarius’ storm.
Meanwhile, Aquarius was heavily berated by the rest of the gods. Sagittarius, who was still furious from before, slammed his fist down onto the night sky. He scattered the stars away from the glowing circle, leaving a gap in it. But, after Sagittarius had left, Aquarius quietly put the stars back to their full circle shape.
Every time Sagittarius notices the circle has been formed again, he smashes another gap in it. But once every month, Aquarius quietly replaces the stars.
She called the shape “moon” and the diamond constellation “the Southern Cross”, which pointed to the great unknown lands of the south.

Part 3:
Link to project: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/983197979

Part 4 (769 words)
Amethyst pushes her hair to the side as she sleepily wakes, to the sight of Fern the goat’s nose booping her own. She yelps with surprise, and the goat mischievously totters out of the palace, no doubt to brag to his brothers about his success in frightening her.
It never gets old, does it? Amethyst thinks, amused, as she stands up from her sleeping bag.
She has no idea why she got her group to set up a camp in the Ballroom, but she supposed it might be more… relaxing that way. Seeing the fabric walls of their own tent protectively embracing them instead of the high, slanting walls that Beast’s palace has.
Suppressing every urge to whistle cheerfully, so she doesn’t wake up the rest of her group, Amethyst flips open a new page on her notebook. Ink spreads like wildfire on it, forming the words of the daily. After reading through it, Amethyst grins, and puts her pen on the paper.
A few minutes later, the first of her group wakes. Chloe yawns, stretching her arms wide as she peers over Amethyst’s shoulder. “Nice daily,” she comments as she fetches her own utensils.
The sun peeks through the high-slanted windows and the sleepiest of the cabin starts to wake. Amethyst leads them through the ornate doors, following the trail of Fern’s footprints imprinted in the soft dirt. Before long, they arrive in Gaston’s Tavern, where an eager Sienna and Alana await.
“Welcome,” Sienna greets them jubilantly as they step into the bustling place.
They order some eggs-on-toast and sweetened mangoes (Sienna slips the goats some of the mangoes). Gaston pales for a second at the massive scale of the order, but soon turns pleased at the massive pile of jewels Alana leaves on his table. Then he pauses, squinting at the people who have just entered his tavern.
“Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me,” Gaston announces in a hearty voice. “It’s the Archetypes!”
The murmurs from the rest of the inn cease abruptly.
“I am so, so honoured to have you in my humble inn. The work you do throughout the fairy tale realms… it’s legendary.” His eyes shimmer with hope, then he finally notices the Wanderers. “My, and they’ve brought along friends. Are yer here to save Beauty?”
Alana hesitates, and merely replies: “We’re here to make sure things go the way they should.”
Gaston seems satisfied by that answer, and hurries to the back of the room to prepare their hefty order.
“How’s Beast’s castle?” Sienna asks, her voice turning excitable as she begs for answers.
“We didn’t find much, if that’s what you’re asking,” Amethyst replies. “We found a clue that hints L-O-V-E, love, to be somewhat related to our next quest. Not sure what it means though.”
Gaston juggles the smoothies and toast to their table as the entirety of the cabin broods, thinking. Then Sienna chuckles. “We can talk about that later. For now, let’s just enjoy this little piece of quiet–”
The door slams open and Amethyst whirls around, her hand firmly on the dagger concealed in the folds of her cloak. But she relaxes as she realises who the person is. “Summer!” she screams ecstatically.
The leader of Poetry crumples into the log chair next to hers, grabbing Amethyst’s untouched mango smoothie and downing it in one shot. “Goodness, I’m exhausted!” she gasps.
“I would expect that,” Sienna amusedly notes. “I mean, you traveled a bunch to get here from the Forgotten Valley–”
Then the rest of the Poetry cabin charges into the tavern.
“No, no, way too many people, stay out!” shrieks Gaston, his eyes wide in alarm as another two-dozen people crowd his inn. He runs over, flapping his arms madly as he attempts to shoo the poor, tired campers outside, but you don’t get first place in SWC for being a pushover. They charge past him, milling around the Fairy Tales table, all the while Gaston gapes.
“Oh, there are two more cabins waiting outside,” Summer adds, throwing a careless hand towards the door.
Laughter spills out of Amethyst like honey, and before long the entire building rumbles with delightful chuckles. All except for Gaston, who crosses his arms forlornly and grumbles about the youth these days.
After tearing through her eggs-on-toast, Amethyst throws open the doors. She lets out an excited yelp as she spots everyone from Mythology and Historical Fiction – their sibling cabins.
“You– you made it!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Rae chuckles.
Moonlit nods, staring fascinatedly at the world around her. “After all, you are living in a darn fairy tale!”

Weekly 3 (3908 words)
Part 4 (2251 words), excerpt
“Fifty-two people, Faren. That’s how many civilians were killed in the attack last night.”
Laia’s voice was hushed as they lanced the palace corridors. The tapestries of the Bridgery family crest proudly wavered against the stone walls, a constant reminder of where they are. Where she would usually be comforted by its beautifully woven threads, she instead felt choked. Choked at what had happened because of it.
“My love,” Faren murmured, his sky-blue eyes catching hers. “Worrying will not do anything. Our side has the strategic advantage currently–” his strong arms waved at the fortress walls around them “–and there’s nothing the Hartlings can do to us. There’s a reason they call Perlington Palace the impenetrable stronghold!”
What Faren said held the truth. Perlington Palace nestled among the high, jagged mountains of Eprye, surrounded at all sides by precarious cliffs. Laia still had nightmares from when they had overtaken the stronghold; all the blood and sweat, the battle cries and howls of pain. It shouldn’t’ve been possible to drive the Hartling family out of the fortress, if not for the dragons.
The victory was at a cost, though.
Laia curled her fingers around her palm, clenching them so hard that the nails made crescent-shaped marks in her flesh. Tears pricked in her vision, before Faren gently drew her back to reality.
“I can see you’re upset,” he said gently. “But your mother and father would not wish for you to dwell in your sadness. They passed so you could be queen, Laia, and no other reason.”
Again, Faren reminded her of the truth. That was why she loved him so much. But being a queen at 16 was no easier no matter how much Faren comforted her. The fact that an entire army and half of the kingdom answered to her… it was overwhelming.
In comfortable silence, Laia allowed her feet to lead her to the stables. She should probably go check on her animals, anyway. When they arrived at the underground stables, she gave her horse an affectionate pat before turning her attention to the roughly hewn out corridor.
The one that led to the stables that hadn’t been used for thousands of years.
The one that was finally filled after their victory.
Luminescent moss glowed as she trailed her fingers against the cave walls. As she approached the underground den, her heart started to race with anticipation. It dissolved into apprehension as she strained to hear the familiar snort-roar of the dragons. Almost horrifyingly, it was silent.
“Faren?” Laia asked, but he only responded with a bemused shrug.
She broke into the run, flying past the last part of the ancient caves. The lamps flickered ominously, and she yelled out “Ennith? Where are you?”
But the guard, who was supposed to be guarding the den, did not reply.
Footsteps clattered after her – Faren was following her pace – but her panic was too fierce for her to think of much. Everything was a blur of red as she burst out of the corridor.
And everything was red.
Laia swayed dangerously, but all of a sudden Faren was there, his steady hands catching her before she toppled. The image tortured her – the red-smeared walls, the mad gashes, and the dragons.
And they–
They were just dragonlings.
Her lip trembled as the scene smashed through her closed-eyes darkness. The mother dragon sprawled beside her newly born children. She had found the dragon with its nest, alone and wild. It had taken weeks for them to gradually build a bond, where Laia had stayed with the dragon as her younglings hatched. After that, Laia had left her to help with the attack on Perlington Palace, where the dragon had followed her.
And she had fought for them, and with the power of the endangered reptile on their side, they won.
An agonized howl escaped her lips. She had promised the dragon a life of prosperity and peace, away from the dratted hunters.
But the promise was tattered at this sight.
“Breathe, Laia,” Faren murmured, his voice filled with sorrow.
Of course he would be. Faren had found Laia when she was sneaking away from her parent’s camp. He was just a civilian – caught between the Hartling and Bridgery war for the throne. But after he had insisted on knowing where Laia went, he had demanded to go with her to meet the dragon. And every time since she had gone to meet her dragon at midnight, Faren went with her.
He had grown on her, and by the time of the Battle of Perlington, they were in a secret relationship. If Mother or Father had known about Faren, they would’ve gone mad with anger. Laia daring to date a lower-class person, a guy who didn’t even have a prior side in the war?
But they had perished before they could know.
Just as her dragons had.
“Breathe,” Faren repeated. “You’re having a panic attack. Breathe.”
At his command, Laia instinctively managed to take in gulps of air. Faren stood there, motionless, allowing her tears to soak into his shirt as he took in the scene himself.
“I’ll call for help,” he said. “Is it okay if I go?”
No, Laia wanted to reply, but she knew that he needed a proper doctor to examine what happened. Since she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, she gave a shaky nod. He shot a handsome smile at her, before darting back up the corridor.
Laia forced herself to approach the dragon. She placed a shaking hand on her scaled neck, shivering at the lack of pulse. But it was exactly what she’d suspected. In turn, she placed her fingers on the dragonlings. Cold, cold, cold. Three times she made herself check, and three times her heart sank.
A flash of firelight reflected against metal caught her eye.
No…
Laia couldn’t afford to hope that whichever absolute monster had committed this atrocity would’ve been stupid enough to leave something as trivial as a weapon. But she was soon proved wrong, as she delicately lifted the mother dragon’s leathery wing…
To reveal a cleaver.
She sucked in a startled shriek as she stared at the kitchen tool, a faint scent of chicken wafting from it. No, it had to be the murder weapon – the red caking it was proof of that. But why would something so ineffective be used to attack such a powerful dragon? Who could single-handedly withstand one adult dragon and three dragonlings, all of which had successfully taken down the strongest fortress in the world?
Then she froze.
Who could’ve done it?
Who knew about the presence of the dragons?
After the Battle of Perlington, Laia had informed the rest of the kingdom that the dragon had flown away, to be wild and free. But quietly, she had snuck the beasts into the ancient Dragon Dens that the builders of Perlington Palace had made, back when dragons regularly prowled the land of Eprye.
But a select few – both those who she trusted, and those who had to know – had been notified about the presence of dragons under the mountain. Laia ran the list through her head, grimly putting the cleaver into one of the hay baskets so no one would be injured accidentally cutting themselves. There were 7 people, including Laia, out of the entire kingdom who knew about the dragons. Out of them all, she couldn’t see why any of them would do it, but who else could have committed the unspeakable crime?
As soon as Faren comes back, Laia thought grimly. I’ll call a meeting with everyone. We’ll get to the bottom of this, for the dragons.
Unable to contain the tears threatening to burst out, Laia wrapped her arms around her legs and sobbed. She lay next to the mother dragon for the minutes to come, praying for her afterlife.

✢ ✢ ✢

A day later, Laia regarded all in the room coldly. Her arm rested against the gold-trimmed throne. Next to her, encouragingly gripping her hand, was Faren. His throne mirrored hers, except it was laced with obsidian and sapphires. But the warm smile that usually graced his handsome features had disappeared.
Five people sat nervously around a rectangular table. The stark meeting room was buried far below the mountain Perlington Palace stood on, ensuring maximum privacy. A detailed map of Eprye adorned the otherwise bare stone walls. Two guards stood outside of the secret room, instructed to defend it with their life. The thick, wooden door should’ve obstructed all the noise coming from the meeting room, but Laia still lowered her voice as she spoke.
“So,” she began, her voice frigid. “One of us is lying.”
“My prin– queen,” the head chef hastily amended. “If I may speak.”
Laia’s gaze rested on the man, and she gave a curt nod.
“You said there were sword marks all across the walls?”
“Indeed.”
“Doesn’t t-that suggest it was someone mad?” He gave a nervous smile. “Who else would waste time trashing the place?”
“What’s more important,” Faren interjected. “Is how they had enough time to… to do this. Where were you, Ennith?”
The guard that should’ve been protecting the dragons had a tremble of sadness in her voice. Being one of the best warriors under Laia’s charge, it was the first failure Ennith had committed. “The dragons were acting strangely, Your Highness–”
Laia swallowed a sound of surprise at Ennith’s title towards her boyfriend; most palace staff didn’t approve of her choice in hand, as if she cared.
“–and I decided to go collect some medicine to calm them down.”
Faren frowned, leaning forwards. “Strangely? What do you mean by this?”
“Drowsy. Sad. And if they were awake enough, agitated.”
“And this wasn’t a point of concern for you?”
Ennith mirrored Faren’s expression. “I thought they were worried about the storm.”
That was fair. Dragons often hated storms.
Laia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Lothain, brother. What were you doing?”
“Surely you don’t suspect me,” Lothain replied with his signature chuckle. His features were extraordinarily similar to Laia’s – brown hair that shimmered gold in the sunlight, dark eyes and pale skin. Their nose and mouth were so similar that people had mistaken them for twins, even though Laia was two years older than him.
She bore her eyes on the prince, suggesting that she was in no mood for his games.
“As you know, I’ve been training at the most prestigious battle academies in Eprye to be the general of our army. I was in my carriage, just rolling through the gates of Perlington where I’m informed that the palace is on a lockdown.” He gave a bemused shrug. “You can ask my carriage driver, the guards that let me through the gates, heck, the horses.”
Although she had already known in her heart that Lothain would never do it, his testimony made the weight on her shoulders ease a little. She had already lost everyone else in her family, and she couldn’t bear to think of what would’ve happened if it turned out Lothain was lying.
“Back to trashing-the-den,” the head cook continued. “I would have reason to suspect, Your Majesty, someone who has a history of a temper.”
Lothain snickered into his palm. “I wonder who that could be?”
Slightly irritated by Lothain’s lack of seriousness, Laia caught the cook’s gaze. “Expand.”
He didn’t respond, only giving a sideways glance at the head of defence, who rolled her eyes.
Laia paused for a moment. The head of defence had been, well, demoted wasn’t the right word, but was withdrawn from battle as a general for her anger. She would often disobey the direct orders of her superiors, having a thirst for revenge. But her tone was surprising level as she barked back: “I was training with my new apprentice.”
She glanced at the twelve-year-old child, who gave a nod. “Yes, we were in the arena. We were training for the battle competition next week.” His accent was foreign, that of Craoze, their enemy nation. At first, she was taken aback by her clipped ‘c’s and ‘t’s before she remembered that the apprentice had been selected from a refugee camp after successfully single-handedly fighting off six gang members, in which the head of defence had stumbled in the midst of.
Smirking, the head of defence laid back in her chair. “Before you start pointing fingers, cook, explain yourself.”
“I was making fried chicken for the dragons,” the cook drawled. “After I did that, I made the cake Faren requested for Prince Lothain’s welcome-home party. Goldcrumble cake, your favourite.”
She nodded, knowing the cook spoke the truth since she had personally asked Faren to go and ask the head cook to whip up the cake in the morning. The cake that Mother had made on her own, instead of ordering the royal cooks to do it. The little golden raisins – raysins, as they were called – mixed perfectly with the fluffy, cream-coloured cake. To top it all off, gold crumbles were scattered across a vanilla icing. Goldencrumble cake was easily the best cake in the whole world, and it brought tears to her eyes remembering Mother bringing the pastry in on their birthdays.
“I did leave the pan for a little,” the head cook noted, and Laia’s heart gave a lurch. “The chicken ended up being a tiny bit overcooked.”
Laia sighed as her heart settled again, no closer to solving the mystery than before, and waved her hand to signal a dismissal.

Part 1 (499 words)
1. Exposition – Laia and her beloved boyfriend Faren walk through the castle. Laia is worried about Hartling family, the opposing family that is fighting for the throne. Faren is comforting her, reminding her of the security they have and the strategic advantages they possess. They walk into their top-secret room, where the dragons inside have been murdered. She investigates, and Faren leaves halfway through to summon everyone who knows. Laia trips on a loose floorboard and notices a cleaver hidden underneath.
2. Rising action – Laia holds a meeting with all the people she has told. There are a total of 6 people who she has told, not including Laia. The people are Faren, the head cook, the head of defence, and his apprentice, Laia’s brother Lothain, and the guard. Laia notes that the dragon and its dragonlings were all slitted across the throat. The apprentice is new, only having joined a few weeks ago. The head of defence used to be the highest general in battle but was demoted to a place as a strategist for defence after being too violent. The guard says that they were out fetching medicine for the dragonlings, noting that the dragons were acting weird and drowsy in the morning. Lothain has been training out of the palace often but comes back to visit Laia often. The head cook says that she was making the usual fried chicken for the dragonlings, left to let it fry in the pan to cook other things and came back. Nothing appeared to have changed with the chicken. Laia dismisses them and asks Faren for advice, who looks very worried.
3. Climax – Laia and Faren share a romantic moment in the palace gardens, in the middle of the night under a tree while she is worrying. Faren says something that doesn’t add up; something like: “It’s a shame that all the cleavers were washed before we could investigate them” Laia gasps and pulls away from Faren, her eyes widening. He shouldn’t’ve known about the cleavers. Faren realises what he said and sighs, and pulls a small dagger from his pocket He sighs, reveals his real identity as the prince of the Hartling family, saying that he wishes it didn’t have to end this way, and lunges at Laia Laia’s brother sees them and comes to the rescue, fighting off Faren with shocking skill
4. Falling action – The head of defence demands that Faren is punished. Laia can’t decide, so she leaves Faren in the dungeon and dwells in the bedroom they shared. She sees a painting of the pair together, and notices Faren’s dagger when she leaves – symbolises their relationship severed.
5. Resolution – Faren is murdered in the dungeon by the apprentice of the head of defence. They find her on her throne, weeping, and she is asked whether she wants to punish the apprentice. Laia simply sighs, waving her hands to send the guards to free the apprentice from the dungeon and says: “The Faren I knew is long gone.”

Part 2 (354 words)
- Red herring is that a cleaver was used, implying that the head of food did it. Perhaps the smell of chicken is on it. In fact, Faren had stolen the cleaver from the cook while they were cooking, to try to pin the blame on her.
- Red herring is there are wild sword marks all across the room, as though the person who had done it was mad – as Faren dryly notes. They look like they are shallow, not smashed into the wood, so it surely couldn’t’ve been too loud; otherwise people would come running. This suggests that it would’ve been someone who was insecure, or driven by revenge. The head of defence gets angry and is insecure, which might also point to this person.
- Guards report that the dragons were acting oddly, easily losing focus, before they were killed. There is not much information here, other than the fact that the dragons either knew that they were about to get killed, smelled something, or it was poison. However, the cleaver negates the fact this was poison. This is mostly here to throw off the reader, but it also comes from the fact that Faren drugged the dragons.
- Laia asked Faren to go and have a word with the head chef, since it was Lothain’s welcome-back party and she wanted a specific kind of cake, which was his favourite ever since he was child. This brings back painful memories of her mum baking this cake herself, even though she was a queen. Name the cake something. This memory distracts readers from the fact that Faren is leaving Laia and has no alibis.
- There is one new person there, the apprentice to the head of defence. She’s shown to be very nervous, and there’s not much known about her. The head of defence is very obviously fond of his apprentice, and treats her like his own daughter. She has the thick accent of another country, which provokes some suspicion from Laia.
- There is an unreliable narrator, which is obviously very biased. It is almost directly linked to Laia’s voice, although it is in third person.

Part 3 (792 words)
Amethyst - 519 words | Wild - 260 words
Wild: Hello. I understand you were a witness to the crime. We would like to ask you a few questions about the events that transpired. First, please state your full name for our records.
Amethyst: Hello… I'm Amber Kennedy, a 24 year old female. I've worked here for about 3 years as a maid.
Wild: Thank you. Could you confirm the date and time you witnessed the crime scene?
Amethyst: 2 days ago, during breakfast - I stumbled into the scene after I had to go get some more food.
Wild: And what room was it in?
Amethyst: It wasn't any particular room - Her Majesty requested that I got some food whilst she was in the stables, and by the time I was back, she was ded and so were the horses.
Wild: Did you see anyone on your way? And did you notice anything suspicious in the vicinity?
Amethyst: I noticed a man - wearing dark clothes, straw-blonde hair, walking away from the stables. I didn't catch his face, but he seemed to be in a hurry. There was also a brunette woman lingering in the area outside of the stables, but she didn't seem agitated like the man. Additionally, I noticed the animals in the stables were acting really weirdly. Like a mix of agitated and sleepy? It looked like they knew something was about to happen, but they were tired… Her Majesty didn't seem to know either. She noticed the animals acting oddly, but she thought it was the storm. You know, the massive one that hit?
Wild: Were either of those people someone you recognized? Do you know if they also worked there, or were they guests?
Amethyst: The brunette woman I've seen around before. Not 100% sure, but I could've sworn that she was one of the cooks. That would explain the apron she was wearing. I couldn't tell the man's face apart, but he was wearing a butler uniform? He certainly looked super posh. If you got all the butlers in the palace, you might want to keep an eye on the male blonde hair ones.
Noted. And the animals- you mentioned they were acting oddly; do you know anything more about that? Was it just the horses, or were there other animals present in the stables too, that were also exhibiting this behavior?
Amethyst: It wasn't just the horses. I heard some odd sounds from beyond the corridor, the one I'm not allowed to venture beyond. So I couldn't tell you much about that.
Could you describe these noises? Who does have access to that area?
Amethyst: Well let's see… Her Majesty strictly told us not to go anywhere near the corridor, and if we did, the guards would strike us before we got anywhere close. There's a guard called Ennith, she's never failed a mission, and I often see her going down the corridor. But she's also the queen's Highest Guard, so I think the queen authorised her to be there. I don't think anyone else, apart from the queen and her boyfriend, could go near the area. There have been a few suspicious people lingering around the corridor entrance. I've never seen the blonde there before, but there's often people just standing there, peering into the darkness. Maybe they were curious to know what was going on?
Wild: Have you encountered any of these suspicious people before? Have there been any rumors pertaining to the corridor that might be related to the crime? Have any of your co-workers mentioned anything unusual lately, as far as you can remember? To your knowledge, is there any possible reason someone might have for wanting to kill Her Majesty? Does anyone stand to gain something from her demise? You mentioned earlier that the horses had been killed too; were any missing? Were there any signs that the murderer might have made their escape on horseback and attempted to prevent anyone from pursuing them? Did the scene of the crime appear messy, as if there was a struggle, or was it a fast assassination?
Amethyst: I've noticed the blonde man around the palace a lot. He always seems to be constantly near Her Majesty. I mean, there are rumours that it has something to do with the way the queen and her boyfriend met. My co-workers haven't said anything. None at all, apart from the Hartling family at war, of course. No, all the horses were there. I think that this was an inside job, and the culprit is still in the palace. The scene was a little messy, as though the culprit was
trying to get out of there, quick, but also was a little clumsy with the sword. Like, there are sword slash marks all over the walls.

Weekly 4 - 2400 words
Make Outline (279 words)
Exposition: We are introduced to Ikaria, an orphan. Her parents were killed during the war, as they were conscripted by the government of Eden to fight. Ikaria is quickly walking through the gloomy streets, walking to a bar where she is set to meet with other rebels.
Rising Action: The bartender leads her to the back room where she sees everyone else. They discuss regular things – removing the propaganda posters, doing anti-Eden graffiti on walls, and the schedules of Eden guards and spotlights. Then another rebel bursts in, saying that one of them has betrayed them to the Eden authorities, and they need to run.
Climax: They run as fast as they can to the rebel headquarters, where they raise the warning, go to the stables and fly off on their mantas. As they are the heads of the rebels, they will be hunted immediately, and sure enough krills and Eden soldiers pursue them.
Falling Action: Ikaria gets away and heads for the Valley of Triumph, nemesis of Eden. The people monitoring immigrants are suspicious as she is full-Eden, in her looks, clothes and even the type of manta. Desperate, Ikaria asks them to send for one of the people she has contact with as a rebel, who lives in the Valley and is called Emeryn. They go to fetch him, and Emeryn meets with Ikaria. He recognises Ikaria immediately and she is freed and given new clothes. They then explore the rest of the Valley.
Conclusion: Ikaria and Emeryn explore the Valley on a boat carried by mantas. She appreciates the peace. The last sentences of the story include her noting the difference between the Valley and Eden.

Write Exposition (244 words)
The gale howled through the bleak streets of Abiford. Ikaria wrapped her black cloak around her, only the tip of her nose being exposed to the biting cold. She briefly longed for the times where Eden had not been so cold – before the War had begun.
Warm weather wasn’t the only thing that Ikaria had lost from the War.
A sputtering neon sign quickly snatched Ikaria’s thoughts, declaring that she had reached her location.
Crimson Bar.
Quietly, she slipped through the dark doors. If anyone sees me…
As she walked through the red-lighted bar, she hoped the (albeit terrible) music would be enough to cover the conversation she was about to have. She had almost reached the bartender, attending people in the middle of the room, when she was stopped with iron-grip hands.
“Slow down, miss,” barked the security guards. “Show your ID.”
Ikaria sighed, switching on the Memory Shard. The diamond-shaped device split open, projecting a wall of text. The guard scanned it, and when he could find no fault, gave a grunt and released her.
The part of her arm where she had been grabbed still stinging, Ikaria casually sauntered over to the bartender. “Angar?” she murmured.
“Don’t call me that name,” hissed the difficult man, glancing around to make sure no one had heard her speak. She doubted it – the music was so loud her ears were starting to literally throb.
“My bad. Radyn, was it? I’m here for my… business.”

Choose Ingredients

• New Character Introduction
  
• Flashback
  
• Foreshadowing
  
• New Conflict Arises
  
• Introducing A Symbol (manta symbolizes freedom)
  

Stew (1852 words)
The gale howled through the bleak streets of Abiford. Ikaria wrapped her black cloak around her, only the tip of her nose being exposed to the biting cold. She briefly longed for the times where Eden had not been so cold – before the War had begun.
Warm weather wasn’t the only thing that Ikaria had lost from the War.
A sputtering neon sign quickly snatched Ikaria’s thoughts, declaring that she had reached her location.
Crimson Bar.
Quietly, she slipped through the dark doors. If anyone sees me…
As she walked through the red-lighted bar, she hoped the (albeit terrible) music would be enough to cover the conversation she was about to have. She had almost reached the bartender, attending people in the middle of the room, when she was stopped with iron-grip hands.
“Slow down, miss,” barked the security guards. “Show your ID.”
Ikaria sighed, switching on the Memory Shard. The diamond-shaped device split open, projecting a wall of text. The guard scanned it, and when he could find no fault, gave a grunt and released her.
The part of her arm where she had been grabbed still stinging, Ikaria casually sauntered over to the bartender. “Angar?” she murmured.
“Don’t call me that name,” hissed the difficult man, glancing around to make sure no one had heard her speak. She doubted it – the music was so loud her ears were starting to literally throb. “No one else can know where I’ve come from.”
“My bad. Radyn, was it? I’m here for my… business.”
Angar raised his eyebrow, but led Ikaria through the slowly crowding bar. With no particular gentleness, he shoved Ikaria inside the back room, slammed a “staff only” sign on the door, and left without a farewell. Immediately the music quietened, and Ikaria sighed with relief.
A cough interrupted her.
“Oh, Elders, you guys are early,” Ikaria chuckled as she took a seat.
“Well, we have a lot to discuss,” Rowara replied curtly.
Remembering where she was, Ikaria quietened and straightened her back politely. “Now that… most of us are here,” Rowara announced. “We can start with our chat.”
A man – Jupus, Ikaria thought he was called – cleared his throat. “Not too much going on in my sector,” he said. “We have a few new recruits.”
Rowara frowned. “Tell me you haven’t said much to them–”
“Yes,” Jupus snapped. “I’m following protocol.” To the rest of them, he added: “I’m wearing my fox mask around them, and I haven’t allowed them to meet any other rebels, nor go to our headquarters. I’ll monitor them for now, but none of them show any sign of being a defect.”
Settling back in relief, Rowara gave an approving nod. “Anyone else?”
The general consensus was that nothing notable was happening. Almost concerning, really – typically, at least one sector had something strange to note.
The quiet was worrying.
Finally, it was Ikaria’s turn. “My borough is as uneventful as all of yours,” she said regretfully. “I took some of my rebels and we did some graffiti.” She rubbed her temples. “Speaking of which, I’ve been watching that area. The effects aren’t going as well as we hoped. A few Eden citizens pause and read the graffiti, but they’re too afraid of the soldiers catching them, so they quickly move on. I guess the best benefit of doing it is watching the Eden soldiers get furious, but even so…”
A smile graced Ikaria’s face as she recalled the events of the night before. Her loyal rebels had snuck out with her, under the cover of darkness, and written over a wall covered in Eden propaganda posters.
There is more than what Eden is telling you.
The other realms are free, warm and wonderful.
The War is not going well for Eden, because the might of Orbit is not on their side.
Oh, the last one was satisfying to write. Before the Eden King had taken over, Orbit had been the icon of the realm. Being the closest realm to the endless sky, they often had witnessed the Megabird soaring across the skies, along with their ascended ancestors flying alongside her. But since the war had begun, the Megabird had disappeared from the skies, as had the stars that were the spirits of their ancestors.
And so Eden had forgotten Orbit.
Rowana narrowed her eyes, snatching her from her memories. “Are you suggesting we abandon the graffiti strategy?”
Before Ikaria could reply with her proposal, the door was flung open yet again. Rowana sighed. “For heaven’s sake, Quintan, you need to be more punct–”
Whatever berating that was bubbling at Rowana’s throat quickly died away as they saw Quintan’s state. His hair was wild, and his face was bloodied, as though he had just been in a battle. In his other hand, he clutched a long spear.
“Compromised,” whispered Quintan.
The chaos that erupted was instantaneous, but Rowana quickly showcased why she had been selected as the leader of the rebels. Within a heartbeat, she commanded the room to be quiet, and addressed Quintan directly. “What happened?”
“Matheo was a traitor,” he said. “He led a battalion of Eden soldiers to our district’s headquarters and–” Quintan’s lip trembled. “I was lucky to get away.”
With barely a tremor in her voice, she replied: “Matheo? Your second-in-command?”
Quintan looked away as he nodded.
Rowana sighed. “I suppose he knows all of our identities.”
“Yes, and the locations of our headquarters.”
After hissed curses, Rowana called everyone to stand. “We have to run. Eden will be after us.”
“Where to?” someone called.
“Anywhere far away.” Her eyes slitted. “Maybe a realm fighting against Eden. Now, run!”
Ikaria could barely think from the panic rising in her chest. She locked eyes with Rowana, nodded in her gratitude, and fled from the bar. Her breath came in ragged, short bursts as she sprinted as hard as she could through the streets, heading for the secret stables.
“Larka! It’s me!” she shouted as she approached the small, underground room.
The stablehand recognised Ikaria’s voice immediately and threw open the door. “What’s wrong?!”
“Matheo betrayed us,” Ikaria said without hesitation. “The leaders of the rebels have to run. We have to go quickly, before…" The words were painful, but she forced herself to speak. “Before the Eden soldiers come knocking at our door.”
“What? What about the rest of the rebels?”
Ikaria locked eyes with Larka. “You must figure it out yourself. But there’s nothing we can do for now – Eden monitors everything, everywhere, all the time. I don’t think Matheo has his hands on the list of rebels, but he knows everyone at the top – which is why we need to go, Orbit *!”
Larka’s eyes widened, but she quickly slammed open the grate that led to the world outside. She untied a rope holding one of the mantas, and led it to Ikaria. “Rahu’s quick, and fast. Just… move quickly.”
“A few others might be coming,” Ikaria told her as she cautiously sat on the saddle strapped on the manta – Rahu. “Be ready.”
Larka swallowed, but nodded. “Good luck,” she told Ikaria.
“You too. Thank you,” Ikaria murmured.
The stablehand wasn’t exaggerating when she said the manta was fast. Although Ikaria kept her hands firmly on the reins of the Light creature, it seemed to be able to move and twist swiftly with just the lightest touch. She urged it up, up, up, winding around the skyscrapers that loomed over the city.
They burst across the very height of the city. Rahu’s wings pumped furiously as it gained a little more height, then spread out. A roar echoed through the city. Dread thundered in Ikaria’s heart, and she tried not to turn around – knowing she’d be frozen in fear if she did, but she couldn’t help herself. The red eye of a dark dragon bore down at her, its gaze reflected through the ray. Her flesh glowed red against the light, and she spotted an Eden soldier driving the dragon.
“Faster, faster,” she begged the manta. It angled into a dove, and the roar of the wind drowned out Ikaria’s startled shriek.
A frustration growl from the dark dragon heightened Ikaria’s fear, and she turned Rahu’s reins. Exclamations from the bystanders watching below mingled with the furious panting of the dragon.
“Come on…”
They slipped between skyscraper and skyscraper, diving through alleys and roads, desperately trying to shake the dark dragon and the Eden soldier behind them off. At last, Ikaria’s eyes snagged on a tiny, backroad, and she turned the manta towards it.
A cold command rang out from the Eden soldier, and Ikaria’s blood turned frigid. She recognised the words he spoke – an order to attack.
“Quickly,” she said through gritted teeth.
The krill shrieked as it sped towards them, lunging at Rahu and Ikaria. But as it did so, the manta slipped into the narrow road.
A breath of relief escaped Ikaria. They had escaped.

Eventually, they landed on the first, snowy lands of the Valley of Triumph. Ikaria gave Rahu a quick, grateful pat, taking in the mountains of ice with a sweeping glance. Mantas swooped through the rolling hills, the sun sparkling off the reflection of the snow. Despite the Valley being the realm of snow, the light of day warmed every inch of Ikaria’s flesh. She had to shade her eyes – brightness seemed to emit from everywhere.
And the border patrol guards came from nowhere.
“Lalicaz, is that–”
“Hush, let’s not startle her.”
Footsteps crunched against ice. Ikaria pivoted, coming face-to-face with two people dressed in armour.
“Ecedo, I–”
“Who are you?” Ikaria asked fiercely.
The armoured people flinched. “That accent… you’re from Eden, aren’t you?”
Gone was the warm demeanor of the guards. The one called Lalicaz snatched a spear from her belt. Her gaze scoured Ikaria, taking in all of her clothes, her looks, her hairstyle. “She has to be. Well, Eden person, we’re the border guards, and we’re asking you to–”
“Leave,” Ecedo barked.
“I’m a friend– I’m a Rebel,” Ikaria said hurriedly.
Ecedo raised one of his eyebrows. “Prove it.”
“Prove it– I, uh…” she had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Do you know a man called Emeryn?”
“Of course. He has contact with the Rebels in Eden– oh.”
“If you bring him here, he’ll know me,” Ikaria smiled confidently.
Ecedo and Lalicaz exchanged a long, unspoken glance. Then, Ecedo sighed. “I’ll go look for him.”
Ikaria was surprised at how little time it took for Ecedo to find Emeryn. But when he did, Emeryn’s eyes went wide. “Ikaria?”
“Emeryn?”
An excited laugh spilled out of Emeryn’s mouth, and they ran to each other. “You’re real! You’re not a recording!”
“Well, that would be awkward,” Ikaria chuckled.
They quickly excused themselves from the border guard. Hand in hand, Emeryn led Ikaria through the land. It quickly changed from nature to civilisation. Copper and bricks flashed from all the buildings. The tiles on the roofs were blue, but they were lined with gold. Emeryn and Ikaria chatted excitedly as they pranced through the snow-covered roads, and a smile graced Ikaria’s face.

Eevee's Writing Archive <3

Hello! I'm Eevee and welcome to my archive of writings for SWC March 2024. I'm leading Fantasy Knighthood with my two amazing cos, Stingray and Crim! Feel free to leave critiques on my profile

Table of Context
——————————♜——————————

Word goal: 32800/40,000
Checkpoint #1: 3/5 5,000
Checkpoint #2 3/9 10,000
Checkpoint #3 3/14 15,000
Checkpoint #4: 3/17 20,000
Checkpoint #5 3/21 25,000
Checkpoint #6 3/23 30,000
Checkpoint #7 3/? 35,000
Checkpoint #8 3/? 40,000

~Dailies~

March 1
March 2
March 3
March 4
March 6
March 7
March 8
March 9
March 11
March 12
March 13
March 14
March 15
March 16
March 17
March 18
March 19
March 20
March 21
March 22
March 23
March 24
March 25
March 26
March 27
March 28
March 29
March 30
March 31

~Weeklies~

Week 1
Week 2
Week 3
Week 4

~Word Wars~

War with Clev

~Critiquitaire~

Critique for Chuey
Critique for Tilly
Critique for Puppy
Critique for Vi

25 march — color daily

24 march — hobbit hole daily

22 march — pathetic fallacy daily

20 march — villain background daily

19 march — atmosphere and word daily

11 march to 17 march — swclassic weekly

17 march (completed 3.16) — hozier lyric daily

16 march — swc perspective daily

13 march — 13 daily

11 march — reflection daily

4 march - 10 march — legends weekly

8 march — gratitude daily

6 march — new genre daily

5 march — chapter continuation daily

4 march — dice daily, first person present tense

3 march — anthem daily

2 march — compliment daily

1 march — a failure at the one thousand word intro

dailies

weeklies

word wars

writing competition

other

1st daily - 1,025 words
4th daily - 344 words

weekly #1 - x words

word war with @-lxve-bug-

✉ about me
nickname ◦ sophie
pronouns ◦ she / her
cabin ◦ epistolary letter terminal

✉ stats
dailies done ◦ 5 / 31
weeklies done ◦ 0 / 4

✉ dailies
eight ◦ thank you, mom ◦ 229
eleven ◦ seawater ◦ 233
thirteen ◦ sun and moon ◦ 417

✉ weeklies​
one ◦ link ◦ word count
two ◦ link ◦ word count
three ◦ link ◦ word count
four ◦ link ◦ word count

✉ other
writing competition entry ◦ link ◦ word count
word war one ◦ link ◦ word count
word war two ◦ link ◦ word count
word war three ◦ link ◦ word count
critiquitaire ◦ https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7878109/ ◦ 715