Friday Update #10

I should just accept it. Biweekly. But if I do that, will I then slip to monthly? Because realizing I forgot after the fact makes me more motivated to do it the next week!

Garden Update

I did manage to do some garden work in the evenings off and on. I cleaned up my tomato planters–trimmed off lower leaves and thinned them out, cleaned up the companion plants, and gave them a new layer of topsoil and fertilizer. I’ve been able to harvest leaves off the kale and chard multiple times. I also had my first zucchini, lots of sugar snap peas, and herbs! The vining plants (morning glory, moonflower, and spanish flag) that I planted at the bottom of the racks are climbing the racks just as I wanted, but no flowers yet. In the flower bed, the spanish flag and a couple sweetpeas that avoided being slugchow are growing and flowering! I think the soil here still needs more enrichment, but I’ll get there after a couple seasons of permaculture.

Inside, I’m expanding my plant collection too! I’ve got spider plants everywhere that I repotted a few months ago in coconut coir and have been watering with distilled water because they’re very sensitive to fluoride in tap water. I also must confess that I killed many succulents by caring for them much more than necessary. However, I’ve been doing my research! I also learned how easily you can propagate succulents, so I’m doing that too. This week I set out to try and find a venus flytrap, with little luck (but I’m picking one up today from a local gardener!). Instead, I came home with a new porthos (my mom accidentally killed my old one by leaving it outside overnight when we had a surprise snowstorm) and a zwartkop or black rose aeonium on clearance!

I started growing some more basil indoors to avoid aphids. I also cleaned up my little greenhouse–still need to get a new panel on top after Victor fell on it, but Ikea has been limiting services so I put it off. I have my avocados in there, brought in some of the thyme, started some more marjoram and catnip. The catnip hasn’t sprouted, so I think I’m going to toss that soil and plant some perilla instead.

The Dollmaster & Vagabonds

I made some great progress, but this week I’ve been dealing with some health stuff, so I haven’t been feeling well and struggling to focus. I’m about half-way through the revision of the chapter 5 material, added some new content to that chapter.

As for Vagabonds, I was eager to get back to work on it… and then all my edits from when I came back to it hadn’t saved. Normally I have autosave turned on, but it had been disabled somehow, my computer auto-updated, closed my docs, and then reopened it without recovering the edits. Nothing kills motivation like losing work you felt good about.

World Building & Other Writing

So I had some ideas about Danaij floating around and I started revising the original article and putting it into the wiki. This also led to me thinking about the Forsaken Land storyline I have planned, and ended up writing 10 pages and over 6k words on an erotic backstory piece for my character Adriel. So, um. There’s that. Maybe that’ll get some attention on Wattpad if I put it there.

Friday Update #9

I’m still doing biweekly, dammit! I should have updated last week too, because I made progress! These last two weeks have been rather good for work. I finally decided to give the Pomodoro method a try with an app on my phone. I should have done this sooner.

Garden Update

The Dollmaster

I finally completed the revision of chapter 4 after struggling with it for months, thanks the Pomodoro app I tried. I sent out an invitation to my beta readers/RPers to read. I’ve started revising chapter 5 using the same method. Chapters 4 and 5 bring Talen’s perspective on the day before his wedding. In chapter 4, we’re introduced to his inner turmoil before his sister’s arrival. Chapter 5 brings Adra’s arrival to the estate. Chapter 6 will jump to the next day, primarily introducing Thalia and Pharen.


With the success of FINALLY completing that Dollmaster chapter, I’ve decided to alternate working on TDM and Vagabonds throughout the week. After doing a deep-dive into Talen’s obsessive thoughts, I really needed to get myself out of his perspective for awhile, and since the next Dollmaster chapter continues his perspective, I have to break it up a bit. I revisited the Vagabonds manuscript for a re-read and some editing first (always good to doing some editing after an extended break).

Friday Update #8

Man, this seems to be turning into a biweekly thing. I will try to bring it back to weekly.

Garden Update

The Dollmaster

Still working on my revision, but I’m almost done with chapter 4. I did go back and edit the manuscript a bit. I want to lean into the more familiar terms like “elf” and such for readers’ sake. I might need to reevaluate my editing technique, but ugh, I don’t want to change it, just do it faster.

Happy Juneteenth! If you’re white, please find something meaningful to do to support your black neighbors. We are seeing a massive cultural shift toward justice, so if you’ve been protesting police brutality and systemic racism, don’t let up now. If you’ve been on the sidelines, step up and do something meaningful. Keep pushing, keep fighting for a better world. I have a hope that the society that will come out the other side of this period will be a better one for all of us.

Friday Update #7

I missed last week, but I’m back this week. And whew, what a week it has been in this world. I haven’t gotten much writing done, again. In part, it is the continuation of isolation. Both my focus and my partner’s focus on his work from home is wavering. The first month or so was great for a couple of introverts like us, but we’re feeling restless and need outside human contact. We’re brain-fogged, our minds are begging for a change of scenery and new stimuli. My son has also been trying a new medication and it has been severely impacting his mood while we determine an appropriate dosage. This is his last week of school and we’re trying to wrap up his coursework. Also, I’m getting really sick of sitting on the floor to work because Sung kicked me out of the office while he’s working from home (tbh, neither of us can focus on work while the other is in the room).

The other part of my lack of focus are world events, and American events. I have watched, horrified by the brutality being faced by protesters nationwide. Angered by agitators, often the police themselves, who are giving themselves excuses to escalate peaceful protests into riots. There have been protests against police brutality against black Americans for years. I was a child during the Rodney King riots, which happened a couple years after I left California. There have been protests and riots over extrajudicial executions and careless murders of black people over the last three decades. Some of these have led to small shifts in laws and regulations, but it hasn’t addressed the core of of the problem, which is cultural.

A friend of mine said something that made me think. She said, “white folks: don’t divorce yourself from whiteness because you’re not like other white folks.” It’s not uncommon to hear white liberals/progressives who are anti-racist say things like, “I hate sharing a race with other white people,” or “On behalf of white people, I’m sorry,” and other similar statements. You’re not a monster for feeling this way, but you also aren’t helping BIPOC (black, indigenous, and people of color) or yourself. I have felt this way in the past too, and I understand that people who say these things are trying to show their care. However, trying to excise yourself from your whiteness helps no one and by believing yourself removed from it, you are turning a blind eye to the lingering effects of white supremacy that influence your life.

I am white and I am infuriated by the actions and beliefs of those who share my heritage and complexion. But I can’t just deny my whiteness because it has shaped my life, though it was something I was never aware of until I educated myself.

My immediate family was very progressive and anti-racist. My grandparents have often spoken up against racism (and homophobia). My mother carried on this mindset into my upbringing. My father wasn’t much of an impact on my life, though my mother told me that his family was ashamed of their mixed heritage (my great-grandmother was supposedly half-black and half-Seminole, though my DNA test only showed a trace of African ancestry). My stepdad came from a racist upbringing–he told me several times how his parents told him not to touch black people because their color might “rub off on them”–but he rejected their ideas and believed in being anti-racist.

The fact that my immediate family was empathetic and anti-racist was not enough. The moment I stepped outside that bubble, whether it was school, extended family, TV, or just being in public, I was influenced by white supremacy. I still passively absorbed racism from my environment and my lack of awareness. I have committed acts of microaggressions and simply been ignorant because I was isolated in a primarily white society. It’s taken years to unlearn those things and there might yet be more things for me to unpack.

For approximately 15 years, I was in a relationship with a bi-racial man–half-black, half-white. We had a son together. While he is a person who caused me a lot of trauma and that I have many personal issues with, none of that is relevant for this topic. Through him, I observed a great deal of what it was like to be black in America. He told me how he was curb-stomped by skinheads when he was just 12 years old, walking through his neighborhood. How his white friend was pulled over while he was a passenger, the cop coming to the passenger side, looking directly at him and asking him for his ID. A number of other incidents where he was harshly reminded of his “othering” in society simply for his complexion. It left him with traumatic scars. He grew up with a white mother, a white step-father, and a biracial brother, surrounded by predominantly white friends. Racism influenced his entire life.

You hear white people frequently say, “I’m not racist, I have black friends/a black partner/a mixed child.” I had probably said this, or at least thought that my relationship with my ex meant that I was excused from racism. Looking back, after years of self-work, I see how that statement is absolutely false. I still was tainted by white supremacy. I didn’t fully grasp his experience as a black man in America until after we had separated and I engaged in that self-work.

My mother confessed that she had been reluctant to accept my ex at first because he was black, though she was disappointed in her knee-jerk response and took it as a learning opportunity to better herself. My stepdad would make racist jokes in a flippant manner and my ex would just laugh along. I saw a lot of that with him. Microaggressions were shrugged off. He’d laugh off racist jokes. He made himself palatable to white people because he just did not have the energy to fight back for every little slight leveled at him. I didn’t even see this until later. Having a black boyfriend/husband did not excuse me from racism, nor does his relationship to any other white person in his life excuse any of their racism.

White people, no matter how progressive we think we might be, have a responsibility to constantly evaluate our thoughts and behavior when it comes to race. White supremacy is insidious and toxic and deeply ingrained in our society. It lives in the roots and grows outwards. To deny the influence it has on one’s self, as a white person, is to ignore the sickness. To treat it, you must confront it, uproot it, and cut it out. We all have this sickness in us and we can’t ignore it. And this is not just for each individual, because the sickness won’t be cured until we destroy the source.

I see our society on the brink of an enormous shift. I am both terrified and hopeful. Terrified for the violence, suffering, and pain that comes with change. Hopeful because at the other end of this, I can see the potential for a better world. Hold fast, stay strong, and keep fighting the good fight.

The Dollmaster

Working on Chapter 4 slowly but surely.


I haven’t been working on this since I’m slogging through trying to focus on the other project, but Lianora has been on my mind a lot and I’m mulling over this interpretation of her character, as well as my earlier version of her.

Today is my birthday, but it also would have been Breonna Taylor’s 27th birthday. Breonna was murdered in her home by police who invaded her home on March 13th in Louisville KY. Without warning or announcement, police entered her home acting on a search warrant in the middle of the night. Believing that they were intruders, Breonna’s boyfriend shot in self-defense and defense of their property. The police opened fire inside the home and struck Breonna eight times. Instead of offering your well-wishes to me, I request that you do something for her family–either donating to her aunt’s fundraiser, joining a protest, or at the least, signing a petition to make certain that those responsible for her death are held to account.

Friday Update #6

My focus is gradually coming back. It’s a fickle beast, swayed not only my deficiency in certain neurotransmitters, but seemingly by the weather itself. Medications can only do so much, I suppose. No garden picture this week, but things are still gradually growing and we’ve had enough alternating sun and rain that everything is staying watered and getting good growing light.

The Dollmaster

I’m back to work on revising chapter 4! I made some good progress Monday. If only I could do that well EVERY day.


I’ve been stuck for awhile on figuring out how to do infoboxes in a wiki, but I’m starting to understand now. I wish I could outsource the work to someone else, but I’m afraid it’s only me. This week I’ve been doing some research and adding extensions for the wiki. Hopefully soon I’ll be able to use them and satisfy my organizational needs.

Friday Update #5

I got a little bit of work done, but my focus has been pretty bad this week. I didn’t sleep well last night and I’ve been stressed about my son as he becomes more and more teenager. Five more days until he’s officially a teen. We had a sunny weekend, followed by some good rain, so my plants are happy. So far I can really only harvest lettuce, but I can’t wait for tomatoes and strawberries and fresh herbs!


I wrapped up a scene about Lianora. It’s been so long since I wrote about her that I’m discovering her all over again. She may be interesting–I can see readers disliking her at first glance from an outside perspective, but from her own perspective, she certainly shows a lot of complexity and room for growth. Her tense relationship with Thalia came up and may play a role in her development, even if Thalia is nowhere around.

The Dollmaster

I got back to work on revising chapter four, exploring Talen’s upbringing and setting his stage. I didn’t get as much done as I wanted. Focus has been such a rarity this week.

Friday Update #3

Aaaand things crashed back down again. I think I discovered my limit to isolation (with family) is six weeks. After that, I start wanting to burst out of my skin for a change. At least that’s what happened. I just got hit with so much restlessness that nothing but a change in pace could fix. We couldn’t go anywhere, so I ended up just working out some of my frustrations gardening, and then talking to an old friend over the phone. It worked, for now, but I expect I’m going to be feeling the urge to flee again soon.


I finished out NaNo with just under 5k words, which is better than I’ve ever done, but not as much as I would have liked. I’ve been struggling to get my focus back this week after breaking. I’m also a little stuck on how to work in satisfactory introductions for our major characters, but I’m most of the way there.

The Dollmaster

With Camp NaNo done, I expect to return to working on the next scene in my chapter four revision, but I would also like to wrap up the current scene in Vagabonds first.

Here’s hoping that May is a little less bumpy for me than April.

Maybe the start of a weekly update

Maybe I can stick to something like this. We’ll see.

The last couple weeks were pretty good. I was productive, I made progress on the things I’ve been working on, it was fine. Life was good.

Then, Distance Learning arrived.

My son started his online lessons for school. The instructors themselves had individually organized their plans, but for us, it was a bit chaotic to start. In true 12 year old fashion, I got a lot of pushback and arguing. Though, by the end, I set it up for him to work with limited distractions and get used to the lay out. Maybe it’ll be ok. Holding his hand through his school work killed my time to work, so I really got nothing done Aserra-wise this week. Add in the tragedy of saying goodbye to a beloved pet and it was just a wash. But here’s the current projects:

The Dollmaster

So, I have updated with a scattering of chapters over the years, but I’m doing a final refinement of the story organization now. To clarify, this is the current progress…

  1. Prologue: Voris claims his first victim, Avaline, along with her friend Chera.
  2. Chapter 1: Naclia and Terin emerge from the Ardir and enter the village of Worrell at the border of Kosony.
  3. Chapter 2: Naclia and Terin have found themselves in a bar fight, but the merchant Laban steps in and takes them under his care.
  4. Chapter 3: The story switches to Naclia’s perspective as she reflects on a previous visit to the village and overhears some rumors before departing with Laban.
  5. Chapter 4: Currently in progress. We switch to Talen’s perspective at his family estate where he is preparing to meet his bride and dealing with old scars–physical and emotional.
  6. Chapter 5: Talen meets his bride for the first time, the day before the wedding. Forthcoming.
  7. Chapter 6: The day of the wedding begins. Pharen is introduced in the village and meets Thalia, who is to officiate the Drecloud-Kyrden wedding. Meanwhile, Talen is preparing for the ceremony. Forthcoming.

I am currently working on revising my original draft of Talen’s introduction, which may have been another number, but is now chapter four. I rewrote the role-plays for this segment entirely, but it’s also a bit to heavy on exposition and inner dialogue that I’m trying to whittle down to something easier to digest. The original draft also covered the entire day and a lot of information, so breaking it down into more manageable pieces is important too. Chapter 4 will introduce us to Talen in the present, his home and family, and end with his elder sister’s arrival and her giving him a stern lecture that snaps things into perspective for him.

The next chapter will cover Adra’s arrival and introduce her worries over Voris. After that, I hopefully won’t have to edit Pharen and Thalia’s introductory chapter because I did a big revision of that in a class. Some of my original chapters need to be split in half because they ended up way too long.


My second project is what I may spend the rest of the month primarily focused on after losing a week of working time. I started the month with about a page and decided to use it for Camp NaNiWriMo. “Vagabonds” is the beta working title for what began as the Voyage to Ertia RP. What I’ve decided to do is work on an episodic sort of series for Wattpad using this RPG’s first plot as a starting point for “Season 1.”

Wattpad is a good jumping off place to get my name out there and build a network, hopefully a fan base, in a writing community. As I want to publish The Dollmaster traditionally, I didn’t want to put that out there. My attention to detail on the Dollmaster manuscript is extremely precise, but this story will be less editing, more just getting the story out there.

The first installment of Vagabonds will jump off from our RP with Zharis, Rissya, Zaole, Gurt, Lianora, and Breagan helping a girl escape an arranged marriage in Samonight to be with an Ertian merchant’s daughter. Their ferry to Ertia will be attacked by a privateer hired by the girl’s father and betrothed, whom they must escape and fight off. It will probably also include a lot of character building to establish our main party.

The second arc will merge with the “Scourge of Thervordel” RP, where they solve that mystery, pick up one or two characters from there, then continue onto Ertia for the third arc. After that, I would like to explore Ertia with them and pursue personal plots–Zharis’ reunion with his sister, Rissya finding other Asath and uncovering her birthright, Lianora’s “quest,” etc. I don’t have an end point, but I want to explore the world, give these characters their resolutions, and just get ideas out. I may give the school RP the same treatment in the future too.


I was trying to keep this part to the weekends while I did more work during the weekday, but nothing got done last weekend. Anyway, I’ve been working on the wiki in the last couple months, putting up worldbuilding stuff I have, revising, updating, adding some more here and there. I was a little scattered, but I wanted to focus on updating the races next. The weekend before last I completed the Mariel revision. Before that, I did some work on the Nafod, and the Zaedyn article was revised a couple years ago, so I just copy and pasted and did a little editing on what I had there.

I’m making a few tweaks to certain aspects of the races from the original drafts we used during the RP–things to make the world a little more interesting and dynamic. Here’s some of the changes to races I’ve made in the last couple years while I was revising off and on.


The giant race has been altered from being just big and dumb. They were an early front-runner for the dominant human race on Thiskel. They established societies and had a rich culture, but the War of the Gods devastated them. Their lifespan is an increase by a factor of three, but this doesn’t just affect how long they live, it also affects their maturation rate. Unlike the elemental races that mature at the same rate as humans and then their aging process freezes, Iengi take three times as long as humans to reach maturity. They have been gradually dying out for thousands of years and live in scattered small populations that have failed to recover what they lost.


The Kiar were originally short lived, but I’ve made them the opposite of Iengi. They age faster than humans by a factor of three, meaning they live shorter lives and mature much faster. Their origin has also been moved to Ageond (the original continent) and I’ve made them the progenitors of the Kuzo. The ancestral Kiar were corrupted during the war of the gods to make the kuzo a fast-breeding, fast-maturing, and easily replenished army of footsoldiers for the followers of the dark gods. Kiar who survived the pogrom in Ageond escaped to Kalesten where they established new isolated colonies.


As mentioned above, the kuzo originated from Kiar corrupted by the dark gods and their followers. Their intelligence was decreased, but there may be occasional throwbacks, like Gurt. As they were essentially canon fodder, their handlers did not often care about them, so when survivors of the war retreated, kuzo were abandoned throughout the world and quickly went feral.


Increased the amount of time spent on land to five years, as one year is not enough time to significantly travel in a pre-industrial world.


I will be adding another (I know) Idayn off-shoot. I’m not entirely sure what I will call them, but they will be East Asian in appearance, as they are descended of Idayn and western Thiskel humans. The Idayn, being as uptight as they are, were unwilling to accept mix-blood children after the war, and with their long lifespans, these children would never fully integrate into human society. Instead, they took up residence in forests to the west of the Chasm where they have intermingled with Nafod and humans, eventually homogenizing into an Idaynian race with the phenotypical features of the humans of the region. I’m not certain if they will have any inherent magic, but I think they may have a magic system of their own devising.


The progenitor race of the Ochae’nafod, Dra’nafod, and Marfod did not have a fixed form of shape-shifting, but within a few generations after their creation, the Nafod split into the three current races, then further into distinct tribes bound to a single species in the case of Ochae’ and Dra’nafod. Crossing the different Nafod races will lead to a throw-back with more shape-shifting freedom, though descendants of this individual will be likely to return to a fix form of shape-shifting.


I haven’t done this entry yet, but I want to mark this idea out. Marfod will be predominantly an all-female race, but each individual is capable of transforming into a male for reproductive purposes (like some fish). I’m not sure how it will work (one time period of their lives? Triggered by some dynamic?).

So there’s the summary. I may end up doing some catch-up work on Vagabonds this weekend for NaNo. Fingers crossed!

Hymn 233

This is a short story written for a class, and set in Aserra. I did a number of short stories for Dollmaster characters in an effort to further cement their identities. This one is one of the most complete, and though originally written for Thalia’s backstory, it also ties her to three of her peers who are important characters; Lianora, Nshara, and Ialin.

Lianora stumbled along the back alleyways of Ingusto’s Holy Quarter, leading a handsome young man she barely knew by the hand. The great white moon, Nirya, waxed high in the clear night sky, accompanied by the smaller, blue-hued Marebi that was just rising over the mountains to the south and offering a faint blue cast to Nirya’s illumination. Torchlight was sparse along the service alleys, so Lianora had to rely solely on the moonlight to make her way.

The man trailing behind her was unfamiliar with the back alleys in this part of the city, but Lianora had become quite familiar with them in the months since being raised from initiate to acolyte. With the freedom granted by that progression through the training ranks, Lianora was allowed to leave the temple grounds, a privilege she took full advantage of and pushed the limits of the few rules that she and the other girls had been required to adhere to. The curfew was one of those rules, but that time had long since passed this evening. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to stay in the temple, she simply felt… itchy after being cooped up for the last two years as an initiate.

Another rule she was flouting tonight was the requirement to remain chaste from the time she was sworn in as an initiate until graduating to a priestess. While priestesses had the freedom to take lovers and even marry, initiates and acolytes were to focus on their education and remain apart from the distractions of the heart until they had mastery of it—or something like that. When had sex ever had anything to do with her heart?

The man she was bringing with her—what was his name? Rolas? Rolland? Rollen?—she couldn’t remember except that it had sounded like “roll,” to which she added, “in the hay,” and in her stupor, that was hilarious—was tall, square-jawed with a roguish scruff of a beard, with thick honey-brown hair and sharp blue eyes who recognized her robes and the holy icon of Erada nestled between her breasts and immediately brought her a drink as soon as she entered the tavern. He was handsome, though marginally older than her seventeen years. He was old enough to be married, at least, but she never asked and he probably wouldn’t have told her. She had no interest in marrying him, or any other man, herself. It was clear that a shared bed for the night was their mutual goal and after several ales, he confessed that he could think of nothing he wanted more than to have sex with one of the priestesses on the temple grounds. At first, Lianora had resisted, suggesting that they take it up to a room in the tavern, or his home, or anywhere else. Yet, after another ale down and a covert hand up her skirt, Lianora was convinced to give him the thrill he was seeking.

Lianora’s blurred vision made finding the rear entrances to the Temple of Love challenging amongst the other temples that neighbored it. The walls that hemmed in their campuses were all so similar, aside from the icons carved into the stone above the doors. She had almost made the mistake of trying to break him into the Courts of Acoassa, but quickly realized her mistake when she saw the scales above the doors in the moonlight. Giggling at her mistake, Lianora pulled her lover onward around the curving walls until they reached another pair of solid wood doors, this time marked with the crescent icon of Erada above them. Lianora spun to face him, nearly losing her balance in the process. In response, he wrapped an arm around her narrow waist and pulled her body close to his. Lianora laid her hand on his firm chest, partially bared by the unlaced opening of his tunic.

“Mmm…” she intoned, savoring the sensation of his warm skin and solid muscle beneath her palm. “Jusss wait here, I’ll lesshu in.”

“Can’t wait, my little Priestess of Love,” he purred him response and placed his fingers under her chin, trying to pull her face in, closer to his. Lianora leaned in, then playfully nipped at his lower lip just before they would have kissed. She pulled away, and with a drunken sashay, she made her away around the wall to the west door, leaving Roll-whatever-his-name-was to wait for her return.

* * *

Nshara leaned out of the doorframe of the small room that she shared with Lianora to look into the main room of the cottage. Her housemates sat at either end of the table in the center of the room where they studied and took their meals. All three of them had dressed for bed in the same plain, white nightgowns that the temple had provided them with, but Thalia and Ialin had chosen to distract themselves with their readings while Nshara had abandoned her studies in the fruitless pursuit of sleep.

“She hasn’t come back yet?” Nshara asked, in the vain hope that she had missed Lianora’s return.

Thalia raised her head, waves of her golden hair falling away from her serene, diamond-shaped face. The candle-light danced across her pretty features, creating shadows and highlights while obscuring the freckles across her cheeks that evidenced her rural upbringing. Even after the three months they had lived together, Nshara was often struck by how much Thalia resembled the sculptures and paintings of Erada that adorned the temple. Thalia’s original intention had been to serve the Goddesses of the Seasons, but she believed that her resemblance to Erada was a sign that the Temple of Love was where she belonged. Yet, as Nshara had observed Thalia’s discomfort with being a goddess’s doppelgänger, she wondered if perhaps it had just been an accident of birth, rather than any sort of divine intervention.

“No, nothing yet,” Thalia answered softly. Her gaze drifted to the candlesticks at the center of the table. To track the time, they marked the tallows in increments that were roughly an hour’s length. The candles were melted almost down to the base, now.

“We can’t wait up for her all night,” Ialin declared and flipped shut the tome she had been trying to read. The Marital Practices of the Women of Ertia, Nshara noted the title on the leather-bound cover. A personal study, she realized. Ialin must not have been able focus on the assigned texts, so she had returned to the book that truly intrigued her; a treatise on a culture where women marrying each other was common-place.

The frustration with Lianora’s absence was evident on Ialin’s rounded face. Her thick brows were knitted together, and her shapely lips pursed. She stared toward the door, as though Lianora would walk through it and right into whatever words were occupying Ialin’s thoughts.

In resignation, Thalia nodded and gently closed her own book, Hymns to Erada, KCY 100-350. “I’m sure she’ll be back in the morning,” Thalia said. She sighed heavily and turned her gaze to the front windows of their cottage. With the candle light, it was nearly impossible to see out, but she still seemed to be looking for a sign of Lianora.

“This has to stop,” Ialin added, shaking her head of short, black hair. “She’s taken it too far this time.” As soon as they moved into the cottage together, Lianora had taken full advantage of the privileges of acolytes. It had reached the point to where she was more often off the temple grounds than on them.

“She has never been out this late,” Thalia agreed. Lianora had pushed her excursions just to the point of breaking curfew, but now she was hours overdue.

Nshara had done her best to keep the knot of anxiety in her stomach from overwhelming her, but her housemates’ conversation had just brought the fear to the forefront of her mind again. What if Lianora had been kidnapped? Raped? Murdered? Ingusto was a far safer city than Gites, but Lianora had a bad habit of finding trouble. Nshara steadied herself by gripping the doorframe and took a deep breath to suppress the fear for her roommate’s life. Lianora wasn’t the easiest woman to live with, but Nshara couldn’t bear the thought of losing another person in her life.

Ialin seemed to pick up on the surge of anxiety from Nshara. She rose from her seat and bustled over to Nshara, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come now, let’s get some sleep,” she kindly murmured to Nshara, motherly, in her way. Behind her, Nshara was aware of Thalia rising as well. Two successive puffs from the other acolyte diminished the lighting of the room to the moonlight pouring in through the east windows.

Nshara couldn’t help but smile as she shuffled back to her bed with Ialin’s hand on her back. Though the plump Agenomian girl was shorter than the rest of them—and the same age—her presence felt larger and mature. Nshara allowed Ialin’s kindness to do its work of soothing her nerves as she settled back into her bed. “Don’t worry about Lia, she always comes back, just like a cat. You are safe here, with Thalia and me,” Ialin assured her.

Nshara drew her blanket over her body and allowed Ialin space to sit beside her. The other girl seemed to know what she needed to hear. Nshara had long since forgotten how to find peace in sleeping alone. Even if Lianora was a frustrating and thoughtless roommate, knowing that another person who would do her no harm was sleeping across the room from her brought Nshara comfort. Ialin rubbed Nshara’s shoulder and smoothed her hand over her kerchief-covered hair. With this comforting touch, Nshara breathed deep, trying to exhale her worries.

Ialin and Thalia sleep only a room away.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw Thalia’s willowy robed form leaning against the doorframe, silhouetted by the moonlight.

Only a thin wall separates us, nothing more. I am not alone.

Nshara exhaled one more breath and let her eyelids fall. Ialin remained beside her for a little longer, gently rubbing her shoulder and head. Thalia’s voice whispered a prayer of peace and Ialin began to hum along to the cadence. Soon, with the kindness of her sisters enveloping her, Nshara found sleep.

* * *

            Lianora staggered to the back entrance of the temple grounds alone. The west entrance had city guardsmen stationed there at all times, as the door was intended for those in the service of the temple and women seeking shelter, either after service hours in the main chapel, or for their safety. No men were allowed entrance without approval of the high priestess. The two men standing watch wore matching breastplates and helmets that obscured their identities in the darkness, but as she approached, one recognized her.

“Sister Lianora, not again,” groaned a familiar voice. “It’s damn near two in the morning this time!”

“Jusss lemme in, Oren,” Lianora replied, rubbing her head. She didn’t realize it had gotten to be so late.

Oren shook his helmeted head, the moonlight gleaming on the polished steel as he turned to unlock the door. “You can’t keep doing this if you want to be a priestess. It’s what you want right?”

Lianora’s anger was quick to rise. “Izsss not your problem,” she snapped, her head wobbling on her shoulders in an attempt to appear assertive.

Oren only sighed as she swayed through the door. There was nothing he could do, he was only a gatekeeper. As the door shut behind her and the lock clicked, a distant thought echoed through her mind, You’ve gone too far this time. Lianora sighed and turned her blurred vision to the temple grounds. She saw no glowing windows in either of the seven cottages that were scattered throughout the manicured gardens of the temple, and very few lights in the lay house across the campus to the west, or in the priestesses’ apartments in the east corner. The rear entrance of the main temple was illuminated with torches all night, but there were never guards within the walls. Who was foolish enough to bring in someone they would need to protect against?

Lianora turned back toward the rear-east corner where her guest awaited on the other side of the stable doors. Her trek along the back wall was a treacherous one—she staggered and stumbled over the pea gravel paths, nearly falling several times, until she was able to enter the stable’s frame and steady herself on the posts. Finally, she reached the service door and fumbled over the latches until she could open one just enough to admit Roll…whatever. As the door creaked open, the charming face of her lover broke into a mischievous grin. He slipped in and quietly pushed the door shut behind him, at which point Lianora threw herself into his arms, pressing him against the door momentarily.

“Hey, Rollar,” she slurred, then jerked her head to the left, toward a stack of loosely bundled hay bales and scattered hay intended for the horses and other livestock kept on the temple grounds. “Izss hay… eh?”

“It’s Rollan,” he corrected her, but he seemed to have no interest in her humor. His arms draped around the slender girl, but his eyes were searching for something beyond the stable windows and doors. “And let’s take it somewhere more private, eh? You got a room?”

Lianora’s narrow brows furrowed. Even in her current state, she knew that taking him back to her lodgings was a bad idea. The stables were more private than the grounds. Who would the horses and goats tell?

“No no no… there’s no privacy,” she said. She shook her head empathetically. “Thizis still the temple! C’mon Rollan,” Lianora plied, tugging at the lacing of his breeches.

He snatched Lianora’s slender wrists and held them close to his chest, pulling her in. “Look, fuckin’ in the barnyard of a temple isn’t my idea of a good time,” he said. “Where can we find a bed?”

“I’unno…” Lianora murmured. The sudden violence of his grip baffled her. Her gaze diverted to the ground, terrified of meeting his eyes now. Second thoughts were flitting through Lianora’s inebriated mind. Maybe this was a mistake. She had gone too far. 

Rollan released her wrists and he gently slipped his fingers under her chin to lift her face again. A grin touched his lips as he leaned in to hers. “I can be quiet… if you can,” he purred against her lips. “Find a place that isn’t full of animal filth.”

Warily, Lianora nodded, then gave him the sweetest, most naïve smile she could muster to cover up her concerns so that she could assure him; “I can find somewhere.”

* * *

Thalia’s mind remained burdened with concerns for her roommates, which was why she resisted sleep. She and Ialin had managed to soothe Nshara to sleep, knowing that the girl’s anxiety was a heavy burden. She had come from a troubled background that still haunted her, a past so traumatic that Thalia couldn’t comprehend how Nshara could move forward at all. Thalia, Ialin, and even Lianora had chosen religious devotion over traditional marriage, but Nshara chose it because it was the only option that was available to her. A continent away from her culture, a family murdered, and an adolescence filled with making sacrifices to survive, Nshara had no other means to live a fulfilling life here in Kalesten other than taking the fortuitous opportunity the Temple of Love had offered her. The more Thalia pondered Nshara’s troubles, the more irritated she became with Lianora’s wantonness. Did Lianora even care about the effect she had on Nshara?

Thalia’s line of thought had only forestalled her attempts to sleep. So, when the front door of the cottage began to creak open, she was still awake. Though momentarily startled, Thalia breathed a sigh of relief. Within the secure confines of the temple, the only person she expected to be entering their home was Lianora.

A snort came from the bed beside her. Ialin jerked awake. “Huh?” she grunted. “Is it Lia?” Ialin asked into the darkness.

“It must be,” Thalia replied.

“Finally.” Ialin collapsed back onto her pillow.

The sound of Lianora’s uneven footfalls followed the sound of the door shutting. There was no grace to her step. So, she was out drinking. Considering the other rules that Lianora had skirted and broke, being out past curfew for no other reason than slumming around the local taverns was the line for Thalia. In the morning, she would report this transgression, and she was sure that Ialin and Nshara would support her.

A voice murmured. A deep voice. A man’s voice: “Is this it?”

“Ya, thissis where I live,” Lianora’s voice responded, a few octaves louder than the other.

Thalia and Ialin shot up in bed and exchanged a glance through the darkened room. Thalia and Ialin sprung out of bed and ran for their bedroom door. Ialin, being closer to the door, flung it open into the main room of the cottage. There stood Lianora, her robes falling off her narrow shoulders, in the arms of a strange man. He was kissing her fiercely, his hand on the back of her head with a fistful of her dark curls.

“Lianora!” Thalia gasped incredulously.

“What in the Seven Infernal Chambers of Malbolge is going on?” Ialin spat.

Whether it was Lianora who pushed him away, or he that pushed her, the couple parted, but the man kept a grip on her head. “What is this? I thought this would be private!” he growled at Lianora.

Lianora said nothing, but her pale eyes darted between Thalia and Ialin, then to Nshara’s still-closed door, In the faint light, Thalia could see the terror on her housemate’s face—not of being caught, but of something more sinister.

“Damned little trickster,” he cursed, then his hand released her hair only to snake down around her arms, holding them behind her back. Metal glinted in his other hand and flashed in the moonlight as a knife found Lianora’s throat.

Thalia gasped sharply and threw her hands over her mouth while Ialin cried, “No, stop!” and reached toward Lianora.

Her captor held the blade to her neck, pressing into her soft skin. “I should have just left you in the stable,” he hissed in her ear, then looked up to regard the other two girls. His gaze darted to the closed door. “Is that all of you?”

“Yes, it’s all of us,” Ialin replied. If they could keep Nshara out of this, she could get help for them.

Unconvinced, he pressed the knife into Lianora’s neck just a little harder, eliciting a whimper from the girl. “Open the door.”

Reluctantly, Thalia side-stepped to Nshara and Lianora’s bedroom door, keeping her attention fixed on the intruder. Hopefully Nshara had hidden herself enough for him to be satisfied that it was only the three of them. Unfortunately, before she could turn the handle, Nshara herself opened the door, a candle-stick in hand for self-defense. Sweat gleaned across her dark brow, but her jaw was set and ready to fight.

“Drop it,” he demanded, pressing Lianora’s throat again. The candlestick hit the floor, but the fury did not fade from Nshara’s face. “Alright girls, if you want your friend’s blood to stay inside her pretty little throat, you’ll take me to where the lay women are kept.”

Without thinking, Thalia shot back, “We don’t ‘keep’ people.”

“I don’t care,” he replied, thoroughly unimpressed with Thalia’s semantics. “Just take me to the lay women.”

Thalia bit her tongue, fearing that her brazen defiance could cost Lianora her life.

Ialin placed herself between Thalia and the stranger. “Fine! Fine! Please, don’t hurt her!” Ialin pleaded. The man’s blade moved back perceptibly. “Is there someone that you’re looking for?” Ialin edged closer to Lianora and her captor slowly.

“No questions, just take me to them.”

“Well, sir, if I know who you’re looking for it would make it easier for everyone.”

That gave the man pause. “I’m looking for my wife, Rina. She’s pregnant. I just want her to come home,” he replied. He was obviously obscuring facts, though. Women were taken into the laity for protection, and considering how he had behaved thus far, his wife was behind the walls for good reason.

Ialin nodded, giving the impression of understanding his predicament. “I see. And what’s your name, sir?”


“Well, Rollan, let’s let Lianora go and we’ll go over to the lay housing,” Ialin replied with a smile. Lianora was drunk, but this man seemed sober. He had used her inebriation to gain access to the temple grounds to get to his wife, and perhaps to take further advantage of Lianora’s foolishness as well. For now, Ialin had ensured Lianora’s safety, even though she had brought him into the grounds in the first place.

“No, I keep her until I have my wife,” he declined.

Ialin sighed. She hadn’t expected him to make that concession. “Fine, Lianora and myself will accompany you to the lay house. We can get Rina and send you two home, is that acceptable?”

Rollan was debating Ialin’s offer. His eyes flitted from her, to Thalia, to Nshara, all the while keeping his knife at Lianora’s throat. Lianora’s breaths came heavy, trembling through her chest. Her other hand was gripping Rollan’s knife-arm, trying to pull it away, but she couldn’t wrestle against his strength. His forearm muscles were tense, veins popping out beneath the skin.

 He nodded in agreement. “But all three of you come with, or else—” He flicked his gaze down at Lianora. “Can’t have one of you running off to tell your superiors.”

Ialin nodded and exchanged a glance between her two sisters. Thalia’s dark blue eyes were steely and spoke of a silent agreement with Ialin’s plan. Nshara’s gaze projected confidence as well. Ialin had hoped that he was foolish enough to let Thalia and Nshara stay behind, but they could still end this before he hurt Lianora or his wife. Ialin was focused on placating Rollan, so she would have to rely on Thalia or Nshara to act. She could certainly count on them more than she could on Lianora.

* * *

            The three girls led Rollan and Lianora out of the cottage and into the gardens. Nshara cast a glance to the eastern horizon as they stepped outside, but there was no hint of dawn yet. As the temple grounds were considered safe, there was no one patrolling or watching inside the walls, unless another acolyte or priestess happened to be suffering from insomnia. Lianora’s survival was entirely in their hands. Nshara knew that Ialin was counting on herself and Thalia, but how would they communicate without him getting suspicious? Nshara turned her gaze to the tall, slender acolyte beside her. Thalia glanced down at her, as if to say, ‘I know, and I’m thinking.’

            Rollan insisted on walking behind them, holding Lianora at his side with the point of his knife pressing into the soft, olive-toned skin of her throat. Nshara cast a glance back at her. The normally arrogant acolyte was terrified. Tears were pouring out of her eyes and a trail of blood trickled down her neck to her collarbone. Nshara’s initial response to this sight was satisfaction, but she was ashamed to admit that to herself. Lianora had no small amount of responsibility for this violation, but there could yet be hope for her. Nshara knew that Lianora had come to the temple by choice, leaving behind a home village where her bastard birthright locked her out of a fulfilling future that she may have otherwise been entitled to. She had learned to use sex as a tool in a place where no one saw any other value in her. Nshara had to reluctantly accept that it was probably a hard habit to for Lianora to break. Nshara harnessed that sympathy to and convey confidence to her roommate through her gaze for the moment when their eyes locked.

Ialin was leading them along a winding garden path toward the two-level brick building that housed women and children who had come to the temple for protection. The place where Nshara had first found a bed and safety when she was brought to the temple.

“Hymn two-thirty-three,” Thalia breathed into the air beside Nshara. She glanced up at her, but Thalia’s gaze remained fixed on their destination.

If only I studied as well as she does… Nshara thought. What was Hymn 233? She wracked her brain, trying to skim through memories of the critical texts. She couldn’t risk asking for more clues. Oh Erada, please, help me.

As if heard by her goddess, or perhaps triggered by the words floating through her conscious mind, Nshara recalled the book that Thalia had been involved in earlier in the evening. Thalia had begun whispering under her breath, hiding behind a lank of blonde hair. A hymn recorded in KCY 233. A subdual spell.

“Oh Erada, please bring your peace and love upon troubled souls,” Nshara whispered. “Through me, let your power flow,
Lend me strength to silence fury and wrath,
To turn this threat from the warpath.”

As did Thalia, Nshara chanted this spell under her breath over and over, bidding their goddess to work through them.

Distantly, Nshara heard Ialin speaking, trying to cover up the quiet chanting by asking Rollan about his wife. Nshara continued to walk, her conscious awareness of her steps dropped away, and they became a mechanical process of her body. Meanwhile, her thoughts withdrew from the world around her and dove inward, welling up her strength in the core of her being. She knew Thalia was doing the same. She could feel that they were sharing this power, as though a tether had tied them together. Nshara could not hear Thalia’s voice, but she knew that they were chanting in unison.

“Wait…” Rollan’s voice filtered through her mind. He was onto them, but Nshara was ready.

The acolyte turned on him and cast her hand up in the air. Thalia mirrored her. “Turn this threat from the warpath!” they cried at once.

Both dropped their hands, directed at Rollan, and a brilliant light coalesced in an orb from just above his head, illuminating the garden for a brief moment as it washed over him. Nshara watched Rollan’s eyes roll back in his head. The knife slipped from his hand and thumped on the ground, soon followed by Rollan himself.

The intruder had crumpled awkwardly in the footpath and Lianora knelt on the ground beside him, panting and trembling. Again, the garden was dark, aside from the cold blue cast of Nirya and Marebi, and serenely silent. A chorus of crickets returned and Rollan snored gently. In seeing the result of their joined power, Thalia and Nshara looked at each other in wonder.