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@this-is-not-an-alien

Ahh the Victorian pirate one?

That’s the one! (Still trying not to get distracted by it XD)

The slow descent into evil is always soo interesting in novels (like not irl!!!)! It feels more fascinating that Anakin to Darth Vader (although that might be because I wasn’t crazy into the Star Wars trilogy, although that spinoff Star Wars Rebels is awesome! And I should probably rewatch the Clone Wars animated series.)

IKR! I think the thing that always gets me about Chantara is that she isn’t all evil. She has capacity for good, and even an inclination toward it, as evidenced by the fact that she would sacrifice herself for her friends without thinking about it twice, and she actually got furious when Thorunn harmed the pawn without reason, and she just completely panicked because she lost control and harmed someone.

But she’s in a really bad situation and refuses to admit it or fight against it, even though I think she realizes it’s wrong. I don’t know, she’s odd and so very interesting. I don’t think she has a very strong sense of right and wrong like some of my other characters do. She cares more about how it will impact her and others than whether it is morally right or wrong.

In short, I’m spending way too much time on a character that only gets a couple of chapters of screentime XD

So where were we…ah yes, murder

Yep! Murder and mental breakdowns, here we go!!

Hmm, Connel, for someone who recently haughtily said that ‘now wasn’t the time for fighting,’ you sure are fighting a lot XD Honestly, I almost kinda feel sorry for him. XD

Chantara

I might have fainted. Perhaps it was better. It was so dark, it was hard to tell the difference between waking and dreaming.

I shifted, I’d been curled up against the door, trying to keep it shut against any intruders. Though, if anyone really wanted to come in, my slight weight wouldn’t stop them.

Everything hurt so badly, and I was still exhausted. Unconsciousness and sleep were not the same.

I slowly sat up. My arm was throbbing, but it was more manageable now. I could stand this. I could stand a lot of things.

Now what?

Strategizing wasn’t my strong suit. It was a last resort, more than anything else. My assignments were usually in the form of ‘Find this person at this place, stick a knife in their back and get out of there.’

Occasionally, there were more complicated assignments, where my goal was only to give a warning. It usually took the form of making sure the target saw and recognized me, while keeping myself hidden from others.

Those were fiddly but mildly satisfying. I almost enjoyed it when the target saw me in their peripheral vision for the first time. Many people didn’t know of our existence, but those who did knew what it meant.

My original plan had been to sneak up behind my enemies in the castle and eliminate them one by one, but that was now impossible.

There was a ruckus outside the door. I pressed my back against it, my breath catching. It sounded like Meira and Connel. The sound of bodies crashing against the ground broke through the door. I covered my ears, trying to steady my breathing.

Steady.

Breathe.

I couldn’t do this again. I blocked out the sound. It wasn’t real. None of this was real.

I pressed my hand against the door behind me. The hard wood dripped between my fingers, shuddering on the brink of reality.

I wouldn’t get hurt if nothing was real. It was a little easier to think.

I needed to think of some other way to win. I needed to win, but I couldn’t remember why.

Nadia twisted her thick, black hair around her wrist, her dark eyes crinkling as if amused. Lachlin tripped over his words for the hundredth time, struggling to string three together without starting over.

Kongar sang, his voice echoing off the stone walls, bounding back and forth, the notes knotting around each other, weaving into patterns so colorful the walls shivered with joy.

Was that why I was doing this? Did my friends have anything to do with this?

My knife was next to me. I picked it up. Dry flakes of blood clung to it. It wasn’t real.

I wiped it on my tunic, then ran my nails along the ridges in the blade, making sure I got all the dried blood out. I couldn’t ruin my knives, of course.

I sheathed my knife where it belonged. My knees were quivering, but that didn’t really matter. I stretched, slowly, testing my arm. Any movement was painful, but it was a dim, distant pain, as though it didn’t really belong to me.

I was all alone, but that didn’t really matter either. My muscles were stiff, but that would pass. It always did.

I could bear it. I could go on. I always did.

I got to my feet and carefully paced the length of the room. It was only a few steps across. I was better now, my steps were steady.

I would figure out what to do, and I would win this. I had to.