Janel Brubaker's Blog

Hello everyone!

It has been a while since I’ve posted, but before 2024 comes to a complete close, I wanted to drop in and give you all an update on where I am with my writing projects, and what you can expect going forward into 2025.

Firstly, I am still working on the revision of A Shift of Crimson. I am now on draft four and the revisions, as extensive as they are, are coming along nicely. After this extensive overhaul, I think the manuscript will be in a much better place for me to finish the smaller revisions, and move on to line-by-line edits. I still don’t have a release date, and I’m hesitant to provide one, seeing as I’ve already had to postpone the previous two release dates. I don’t want to postpone again, so I will just say that my goal is to have A Shift of Crimson published by the end of summer 2025. That is the goal.

I am also still working on my second novella of bonus content, but that is more slow going. I have fallen behind on pretty much all of marketing, and that includes posts here as well as my newsletter. So, going into 2025, my goal is to get myself onto a more consistent marketing schedule. That means more intentional posts to social media (Facebook, Instagram, Threads, Bluesy, and TikTok and/or Lemon8, if TT gets banned), as well as at least one newsletter every month with updates and bonus content, and a more direct and focused approach to advertisements on Amazon and Facebook.

I don’t know when I will have the time to work on the sequel to The Duke of Ithaca, so for now, that series is being put lower on my list of priorities. I don’t want to rush these books and release content that isn’t well done. My readers deserve so much better than that, so even if it takes a whole other year to get the sequel to The Duke of Ithaca written and published, then that’s what I’ll do. My guess is that when A Shift of Crimson is done and I’m in the pre-orders phase, I will pivot to try and get at least a rough draft of the next Olympic Fates book written. It would be awesome if I could release both sequels next year, but I don’t want to burn myself out.

I’m also starting another masters program in January. I’ll be pursuing a Masters of Science in Professional Writing from NYU, and I cannot even tell you how excited I am for this program! It will be taking up some of my free time, but I am determined to make this work. As a substitute teacher, I’ll be taking summer off, so I will have a lot more time to work on any writing projects that need my attention, while also getting through my second semester of this new program.

So, as we go into 2025, that’s what you can expect to see from me! I’m so sorry that I have been so absent, but I am dedicated to getting myself back on track in all areas of my indie author career.

The weather is starting to shift, and that means we’re nearing the end of summer and heading into the beginning of autumn!

This is my favorite time of year. The leaves change colors, the weather gets cooler, crisper, and the everything comes alive with magic. It might be basic to say, but autumn is and always has been my favorite season. Yesterday I even went and got a manicure, and now my nails are orange.

It’s been an interesting few months. I’m in a new relationship with an absolutely amazing man whom I love tremendously. I’m genuinely happy and thriving in life for the first time in a long time. I’m preparing for some big next steps in my education and career. And I’m writing a lot of poetry lately. However, I have been struggling to complete my sequel novel, A Shift of Crimson. I’ve been working on the fourth draft and while I am making progress, it’s somewhat slow progress, and I’m not entirely sure what it is I actually need for the manuscript to get where it needs to be for publication in December. I know I’ll get it done (I still have the rest of September and all of October and November to really hunker down and get these revisions/edits done), but I am feeling somewhat stuck.

This is part of the writing process, though. Sometimes books just flow out of us, and that was really my experience with A Kiss of Glass. And sometimes, we really have to just sit down and make the time to get the writing done. Revisions and editing, especially, are difficult because it’s not just about getting the words on paper, it’s about making them into something beautiful, something engaging. And while this novel definitely has some truly incredible moments, I also feel like there are certain sections that are going to need a lot more work than others, and those are the sections that worry me the most. Not because I can’t give them what they need, but because sometimes it’s just overwhelming. And I think I tend to believe that if my writing isn’t perfect, then I’m failing as an author. I really need to learn to let that impossible standard go.

I have completed the prequel novella, A Hold of Spectres, though, and it will be released next month, so that has me really excited. And while I haven’t yet found a home for my collection of sonnets, I am continuing to send it out to different publishers. Hopefully it will find a home soon. I also need to keep in mind that I’m attempting to write this novel while working full time and preparing for another graduate program. So I can cut myself some slack. I can — and will — complete this manuscript on time for my deadline.

I hope you’re all doing well!
I’m sending much love and light to you!

I’m entering a new phase in my life.

There’s a lot going on in so many different aspects of my daily existence, and I can sense that it means there’s a shift coming. Big or small, there are things getting set in motion that will lead me in a new direction, and I am excited for it.

One of these shifts is in education: I am returning for yet another masters degree, only this one is explicitly meant to help me branch into the field that I want to be my career. Because, as much as I want to be a full time author (and I am still working very hard to reach that goal), that may never happen, and even if it does, it will probably be many years away, if not decades. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look for something new that I can step into to pay the bills while I work on that ultimate goal.

I’ve been looking at different online graduate degrees since I left my ex-partner, and at first I thought I wanted to go into marketing. But the degree options for that field were either an M.B.A. with a focus in Marketing, or some kind of Communications and Digital Media degree. Which, I’ll be honest, sounds cool, but doesn’t actually prepare you for any specific field. And, especially in the field of marketing, it’s less about your degree, and more about your experience. I have intermediate experience with marketing, and the skills I still need to be good at it, I can learn on my own without spending tens of thousands of dollars on a degree.

Last week, though, a thought came to me and it made me start looking up a completely different kind of degree. And after some research, I found the program I know for a fact I want to attend. It’s an online program in Technical Writing.

I already have tremendous experience within the writing field, and with two masters degrees competed, I also have experience with academic and research writing; all of which are great foundations to the field of technical writing. And the great thing about technical writing is that it’s a skill that can be applied to myriad industries: healthcare, technology, science, the environment, etc. The job of a technical writer also comes with amazing growth potential and advancement opportunities, not to mention an above average salary. Technical writers can go on to get jobs for Google and Microsoft and Apple, and a host of other enormous companies.

I was surprised this idea hadn’t occurred to me before, but now that it has, it feels like the perfect fit. I’ve been working on my application, and my hope is to start in January. The program focuses heavily on helping students develop an impressive digital portfolio, while also instilling the principles and knowledge needed to perform the job efficiently. The program I found is a one year program, so I could have this degree completed in as little as 12 months. It’s extremely exciting.

Of course another shift in my life right now is in the new romantic relationship I’ve been pursuing. This man and I have been seeing each other since the middle of July, and it’s been going extremely well! We’re taking it slow — something I’ve never done in a relationship before — and the results are proving that it was the right choice. Because as much I like him and would love to be committed (and ya’ll, it’s a level of attraction and chemistry and respect and affection I haven’t felt for someone in a very long time…maybe ever? It’s THAT good), rushing into things has never served me well. If I want this to turn into a relationship that lasts, then I need to treat this differently than all of my other relationships.

And while many people would say that I shouldn’t let a relationship influence my life so much, I also have to acknowledge that I am (almost) 36 years old, and I want my life partner. I want love and romance and that kind of connection where you know you’re safe and seen and valued. And it’s not that I don’t give those things to myself, because I do; I’ve healed a lot since my divorce, and my self-esteem has grown significantly. But I can still be a strong, healthy, vibrant woman who is passionate about writing and literature, and also want to be married again. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. I know what I want from life, and marriage with the life partner of my dreams is one of those things.

That doesn’t mean the relationship I’m in now is becoming my entire life. I’ve known people who didn’t have an identity outside of their relationships for one reason or another, and not only are they the most toxic people I know, their relationships are miserable, no matter how hard they try to pretend otherwise. And as someone who has struggled with codependency, it’s not a pattern I want to keep repeating. So, we’re going slow. We’re enjoying our time together. We’re learning about each other. And goddamn, it’s wonderful to be with someone who loves physical affection!

I’m also still in therapy, still healing from past wounds and trauma, and still learning to manage my depression and anxiety. Because this process isn’t one that will ever be “finished.” It’s uncomfortable; it’s painful, and it’s aggravating at times, but I can see the difference it makes. I am completely different from the woman I was when I left my ex-husband. It’s noticeable. And that means I am on the right path.

I’m also still writing; sometimes, I have to adjust my deadlines, but I am still putting pen to paper and getting words written. I’ve written a lot of poetry lately — might actually have the beginnings of a new poetry manuscript in the early stages of development — and I’ve been revising my other two fiction manuscripts, both of which are still slotted to be released this year. And while there’s been some setbacks and adjustments, I’m a better writer for it. Making those tough calls can be hard, but I’d rather put out a quality manuscript and write more slowly than rush and publish something that isn’t anywhere near as good as it could be.

Change can be scary, but even then, it can also be good. And healthy. There’s been a lot of changes going on in my life lately, but they’re all pointing me in some new and beautiful directions. Hopefully, these paths will lead to a new experience with education, a new and loving romantic relationship, and more books published.

Love and light to you all.

A Hold of Spectres
Part 4
Chapter 1

Rhaean found herself staring down a long corridor. It was dimly lit by torches with small flames lining stone walls. It reminded her of Fire’s Hearth, and indeed, she thought she was in Fire’s Hearth, but it was not the fortress she knew at all. The darkness was all consuming, the result of an eerie twilight of gray and blue that had fallen over the fortress outside. The walls were dark, charred, as if burnt by a great fire; windows had been cracked, pieces of stained glass scattered across the stone floor like forgotten gemstones. It was utterly quiet, as though the silence had existed for so long, it had become a part of the fortress itself. No one stirred. 

Rhaean was afraid. She knew that whatever she was facing, it was a sign of something horrible; something violent that had happened here. She also knew she needed to walk down the corridor before her; something was waiting at the end. Something she needed to see. She didn’t want to move; in fact, she didn’t want to be here at all, and indeed, she didn’t even know how she had come to be here, but she wanted to leave. Still, she stepped out and placed one foot in front of the other. Slowly at first, but she was moving down the hall. It was so quiet, she could hear the sound of her feet on the stones echo against the walls. She could hear the drops of rain pouring outside, remnants of the storm dripping through the cracks in the roof.

She didn’t know how long it took her to reach the end of the corridor. It seemed like ages, her bare feet padding on the cold, wet stones. But when she did finally reach the end, she saw a door. A plain, wooden door with an iron handle. She needed to go through the door, something in the back of her mind told her. She didn’t want to do this. Why couldn’t she go back to where she had been before? What was this place, really? But it did not matter how many questions she had or how many times she begged and pleaded to be sent back, she remained where she was. 

Rhaean reached out her hand and grabbed hold of the handle. She pushed open the door. She walked through the threshold out into the wilderness beyond Fire’s Hearth. At first, she saw only darkness and heard only silence. Like the fortress, the world outside of Fire’s Hearth was consumed by nothing. She didn’t know what was happening, but it unnerved her. A chill crawled slowly down her spine, her heart raced, and her breathing wouldn’t steady. This was wrong, so very, very wrong, and she was stuck here. Powerless to do anything but listen and watch and wait. 

Then in the distance, a whisper. It sounded like wind, but as it built, she realized someone was saying her name, calling to her from the air or from the clouds she couldn’t see or from the earth itself, she didn’t know. She reached out into the darkness and a moment later, a cold hand grabbed hers hard. Rhaean gasped and tried to pull away, but the other hand was too strong. The whisper grew loud and raspy and continued to call her name, over and over. 

“Rhaean,” it said, and she could not distinguish its gender, “Rhaean. Rhaean. Rhaean.”

She braced herself by putting her other hand on the door frame she still stood under and tried to pull free, but to no avail. The whisper began to change and she recognized the voice. She gasped, her eyes wide with fear and concern and the faint glimmer of hope.

“Scarlet?” she asked, quietly at first. When no one answered, she shouted, “Scarlet!” But her voice was muffled and fell flat before her. It did not carry any farther than her own mouth.

In the darkness, a gray light began to shine. It started small and then grew out from where her hand joined with the other until she could see around her. The hand that held hers was pale, almost blue and translucent, as though frozen. The gray light continued to expand and the more it did, the harder Rhaean tried to free herself. She continued shouting for Scarlet, hopeful that perhaps there was a bright lining to all of this, that perhaps she was being led to where her friend now was. She cried out over and over, but her voice remained muffled,. as though she was screaming underwater. The light grew until Rhaean could see everything before her. She was in the woods outside of Fire’s Hearth. She was held by a fearsome creature with bluish skin, a large mouth with long, pointed teeth, no eyes or nose, and wisps of silver hair. Rhaean was too surprised and afraid to do anything but stare.

“Welcome, Rhaean,” it said.

The gray light then began to spread up Rhaean’s arm. She tried to pull away again and again, but it didn’t matter. She was not strong enough to wrench free from whatever it was that held her here.

“What?” she shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Let me go! Let me go!”

The creature only laughed. Rhaean felt the light moving underneath her skin, crawling, its legs against her muscles, her bones. She didn’t know what this was, what it meant. She didn’t know what was happening. Only that she wanted to be back with Scarlet. Where was Scarlet? What happened to her voice?

“Where is Scarlet?” Rhaean demanded, though she didn’t feel anywhere near as confident as she attempted to sound.

“Rhaean?” came the echo of that familiar voice in the distance. She was farther away than she was before.

“Scarlet!” she shouted. “I’m here! Please, Scarlet! Follow my voice!”

The creature continued to laugh as the gray light consumed all of Rhaean’s body, lighting up her skin from underneath it. Her veins were like silhouettes against the light, but they, too, had changed. Where the gray light had lit up everything underneath her skin, a new light had begun to spread through her blood. It was bright red and hot, so very hot. She tried to pull away from the creature again, but still couldn’t manage it. 

“Let me go, please!” she exclaimed. “Scarlet!” she cried out.

“Until next time,” said the creature before letting go of her hand. 

Rhaean stumbled backwards into the deserted fortress, a scream lodged in her throat. And then all at once, it was gone. She was back in Fire’s Hearth – the current Fire’s Hearth, without charred walls or cracked roofs. Tears filled her eyes and she collapsed into a heap onto the floor. Only then did she realize that she was in Scarlet’s room. A fresh wave of tears fell from her eyes and onto her cheeks. Had she sleepwalked? The room wasn’t completely dark; some light had begun to shine above the horizon, filling the room was a cold light. She didn’t know how else she would have come here; she didn’t remember leaving her room. 

“Scarlet,” she muttered between sharp breaths, “I miss you so.”

“Your mother was the one who sent her away,” whispered Oraneth. “She didn’t have to, but she did.”

Rhaean was too exhausted to do anything but listen. 

“None of the other Mothers agreed with her,” said Nostron, “and yet she sent the girl away regardless.”

“What?” Rhaean said, her voice no louder than a whisper. “You can’t possibly know that!”

“Oh but we do,” replied Oraneth. “We saw it.”

Rhaean shook her head, refusing to believe it, refusing to hear of such a thing. “All decisions regarding recruits and training must be unanimous,” she said. “My mother would never dream of breaking the code like that. Especially not for such an excellent recruit!”

The two spirits giggled heartily. “Are you certain of that?” asked Nostron. “Really, truly certain?”

“Your mother has broken the rules many times before when it suited her impulses,” said Oraneth. 

Rhaean shook her head again, still unable to accept what she was being told. Yes, her mother was often rebellious and controlling. Yes, she bent the rules – or broke them entirely – when it suited her purpose. But none of those things meant that she would so blatantly disrespect The Order or its boundaries. All choices regarding recruits and their training had to be unanimous. If she had gone against this, she would have been taken before the Elders and reprimanded. 

“She wouldn’t have,” Rhaean said again, the last of her refusal to believe fading away. “She didn’t have any reason to do so.”

“Didn’t she?” asked Oraneth.

That was when realization hit her. The reason had nothing at all to do with Scarlet’s abilities in training. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had even been the most talented recruit in all of The Order’s history. Scarlet had been friends with Rhaean; her closest companion and trusted ally. Kyndra could never let that stand. Not when she had the ability to change it. 

Rhaean felt her chest swell with rage. She had really done it – ignored the rules and processes of The Order, and sent Scarlet away for no other reason than to ensure that her daughter was completely friendless and alone. She couldn’t believe it, and yet she did believe it. Fully. With every beat of her broken heart, she knew it was true. It didn’t change much; she was still lonely, she was still failing, and her mother was still disappointed in and embarrassed by her. And yet, this revelation changed everything. 

Rhaean stood to her feet and wiped the tears from her cheeks. There was nothing she could do about any of it, and yet she felt the urge to do something. She didn’t know what, but she would wait. She would think. And when the time was right, she would let loose her rage and show her mother how grave a mistake she had made. 

A Hold of Spectres
Part 3
Chapter 3

“In extreme circumstances, your body will try to overpower your mind,” said Mother Andromeda as she paced back and forth in front of the three recruits. “It does not matter the circumstances you are facing – extreme weather, unexpected complications on an assignment, or even guilt over what you must do in a given moment – your job is extreme self-control.”

Kyndra was drenched in sweat. They were inside Fire’s Hearth in the great hall that was most often used for practicing the arcane. Wards protected the room, and the rest of the keep, from any magical outbursts that might occur as recruits learned to control their magical abilities. This meant the room was especially charged for advanced stages of spellwork. Even indoors, Mother Andromeda had enacted a spell that made the room excruciatingly hot. Ygritte, Sirnith, and Rhaean were all tasked with casting spells to protect them against the elements. And while the other two were also struggling, they were, at least, making some progress.

Rhaean had made none. She was dripping with sweat, drenched from head to foot. It had been over an hour and still she had been unable to cast any spell at all, let alone one relevant to the lesson at hand. She tried not to look at her mother, tried to ignore the glares she felt any time Mother Andromeda passed by her, but it was no use. The woman’s eyes were like beacons shining shame on Rhaean’s efforts. 

“You must be so utterly in control of your mind and body, that the elements do not reach you, hunger does not reach you, thirst and desperation do not reach you. You must learn to guard yourself against your most basic urges and will your body and mind into submission.”

“Do you mean we can slow down the rate of the weather’s impact on our bodies?” asked Sirnith. “Using magic?”

“I am saying you can eliminate the impact entirely,” answered Mother Andromeda. “If you are disciplined enough, you can convince your mind and your body that you are not cold, that there is no such thing as freezing to death, and your mind and body will listen.”

“Could we not simply cast a warming spell? Or a cooling spell?” asked Ygritte.

“What do you think you’re learning to do now?” Mother Andromeda asked. The girls hesitated. “This is the warming spell, the cooling spell, the hunger spell. At least, these are the ones you will use. There are other, weaker forms of the same kind of magic, but they work only temporarily, leaving you just as vulnerable as you were before you cast them. This is how to ensure that you will never be that vulnerable again.”

Rhaean wanted to laugh, but she kept her reactions to herself. The ways her mother pushed and prodded, the ways she made everyone else around her feel small, was terrifying, and yet Rhaean could only laugh in response. Did she really think they could become so in tune with their bodies that they could avoid freezing to death? Or starving to death? Rhaean did not believe it. She couldn’t tell if Ygritte and Sirnith believed it, but the two were trying much harder than she was to cast the spell successfully.. 

“Aren’t there consequences when using magic to undo nature?” Rhaean heard herself ask. She didn’t know from where the question had come, but she was surprised at how little fear she felt, despite the terror her mother was about to rain upon her. 

But Mother Andromeda was quiet. Her eyes stared at Rhaean, but not with hatred or disappointment. Rhaean dared not hope it was pride, and so she wondered if, perhaps, it might be intrigue. 

“What do you mean by that?” she asked. 

“The rules of nature, as you taught us when we were first in training, are to be respected at all times, since we are part of its fabric,” Rhaean said, standing still with her arms at her side. “We must always do what we can to avoid breaking such rules. I believe it was you, in fact, who said we must never compromise on that unless absolutely necessary. Freezing to death, starving to death, or any other natural thing that this lesson is supposed to teach us to control, are all consequences of nature. Is it not dangerous to use this spell, then? And if so, what would be the consequences of so blatantly disrespecting the laws of nature for the sake of our own survival?”

All eyes were on her and Rhaean felt she would melt under their stares. She still didn’t know what she was doing, or why, but the words had been spoken, and she could not take them back. Mother Andromeda still did not look angry, but her intrigue had faded to suspicion. She walked over to Rhaean and stood before her.
“What is magic’s role in the earth?” she asked.

“It is the basis on which all life exists,” Rhaean said. 

“Which means?”

“The earth itself, and all living things within and upon it, are imbued with magic, even if they do not all possess magical abilities themselves.”

“Exactly. Magic is nature. Any magic performed is nature. Therefore, using magic is, in and of itself, a natural occurrence. Using one natural occurrence to deter the effects of another is not breaking the laws of nature anymore than using a blanket when you’re cold.”

Rhaean frowned. “Then what does qualify as breaking the laws of nature?”

Mother Andromeda made no answer at first. She began to pace again, her gaze cast down to the stone floor. “You all have read the story of Halafim?” she asked, looking over at them. The three girls nodded. “What was it he tried to do?”

“He tried to turn himself into a dragon, Mother,” said Sirnith. 

Mother Andromeda nodded. “And how did he do that?”

“By drinking the blood of dragons, or creatures he thought were related to dragons,” replied Ygritte.

“And what was the result?”

“He really had drunk the blood of dragons, and in far greater quantities than he knew,” Rhaean said. “And instead of turning him into a dragon, the magic from the blood destroyed him from the inside out.”

Mother Andromeda nodded. “That is the first known occurrence of a zenith. It is what happens when too much magic flows through someone who doesn’t know how to control it.” She stopped pacing and stared at them all. “When it comes to magic, three different kinds of people are born: those with inherent magical abilities, those with the ability to access the magic around them, and those without any magical abilities at all. The latter two cannot zenith because they either cannot access magic at all, or they can only access so much at once already.” She let out a slow breath. “Halafim was a druid, born with inherent magical abilities. But he wanted to be more magical than he was supposed to be, and in pursuing that power, destroyed himself. That was a sign of disrespect to the laws of nature, and it cost him everything.”

The girls were all quiet. Rhaean noticed that the extreme heat had begun to fade, and as the room cooled, she began to shiver. 

“Yes, Rhaean, there are consequences to breaking the laws of nature, and there are many ways to break those laws. All of them end in catastrophe. You must be careful, even when you are all here, practicing your abilities. It may seem like an extremely difficult thing, breaking a law of nature, but it is not so difficult at all. And often catastrophe strikes even before you have realized your errors.”

They nodded and said, “Yes, Mother,” in unison. 

Mother Andromeda dismissed them all, instructed them to bathe, drink at least two flaggons of water, and then ready for dinner. Rhaean left the hall immediately, unsure of what to think of her mother’s lesson. It was horrifying to think about, and yet also strangely fascinating. When they had first been told never to break the laws of nature, she had assumed the warning was metaphorical. Finding out now that it was literal, that a single person was capable of breaking the very fabric of nature, filled her with a tingling heat she couldn’t describe. 

“She could be lying,” said Nostron next to her as she made her way down the hall towards her bedchamber. 

“She probably is lying,” Oraneth said.

Rhaean said nothing. As much as she disliked her mother, she could think of no reason why she would lie about something like that.

“Because she wants to keep that kind of power for herself,” Oraneth whispered. 

Rhaean furrowed her eyebrows. Her mother did enjoy power, as evidenced by how seriously she took her role as a Mother of The Order. But was she capable of something like that? Did she even have the ability? Rhaean didn’t know if her mother’s magic was inherent or not, and considering her own daughter didn’t seem to have any magic whatsoever, Rhaean thought it likely that her mother’s was not inherent. That meant she couldn’t zenith.

“But she said there’s more than one way to break the laws,” said Nostron as Rhaean entered her room and shut the door behind her. “You heard it.”

“Maybe she uses one of them?” asked Oraneth. 

Rhaean still said nothing. She didn’t know what to think, and more importantly, she didn’t know how to prove or disprove what the two spirits were saying to her. And really, she was mostly just happy that they were only talking to her, instead of pulling her hair or tripping her in the hallways or keeping her books away from her. Compared to that, the incessant chatter was a relief, indeed. 

Yet, there was something in what they said that made Rhaean wonder if, perhaps, they were right. Her mother was a secretive woman; she was a rigid woman, and she demanded excellence from everyone. What if one of the reasons she demanded such perfection was due to the fact that she had broken a law of nature and given herself more power? What if it was consuming her? Making her already rigid self more ruthless?

The idea sent a chill crawling down Rhaean’s back.

So much has happened in my life since the last time I gave an update, it’s hard to know where to begin. Sometimes I wonder if life fills with dips and hills and switchbacks just to keep us on our toes.

Let’s start with the biggest change: I ended a four year relationship about three weeks ago.

My ex-partner was and is a good person, but that doesn’t mean the relationship was healthy for either of us. Without going into too many details, we wanted very different things from life, and, unfortunately, he was unwilling to do what was necessary to help me keep the relationship alive. His priorities were misaligned from mine. I wanted intimacy, marriage, and time with him; he wanted video games. I’m not a perfect partner by any means, but I am fiercely loyal and dedicated when it comes to the people I love. I don’t jump ship easily, even when I should. I waited years for things to change, but they only got worse, and there’s only so much neglect you can go through before your heart completely shatters. It didn’t help that I loved him much more than he loved me, even by his own admission.

So, I broke up with him less than a week after our fourth anniversary (which he absolutely failed epically at celebrating with me), and over the last few weeks, I’ve been moving my things out of his condo. It’s hard, leaving someplace where you’ve built a life with someone, a place where you hoped you’d continue to build your lives together. But joined lives cannot be built only by one person, and that’s where our disconnect was. And I wasn’t about to stay in a relationship where I had to beg for scraps of my partner’s attention any longer. I wasn’t going to repeat my marriage.

And to be clear, my ex-partner wasn’t verbally abusive like my ex-husband, or degrading, or manipulative, or dangerous, but he was neglectful in some really big ways, and he had no interest in actually changing those behaviors. Even in the conversations we’ve had since the breakup, he’s admitted that yeah, he fucked up majorly. I don’t think he’s willing to admit the full extent of how he badly he fucked up, but he does at least acknowledge that he didn’t try nearly as hard as he pretends he did. And while I don’t think that he ever intended to be neglectful, I do think that it was really his unwillingness to grow and change that made him so disconnected from the relationship.

Since the breakup, I’ve been seeing someone new. We’ve only gone on a couple of dates so everything is still in the early stages of development, but I genuinely like this person a hell of a lot. He and I have a strong emotional and physical connection, and that’s something I want to keep nurturing. I’ve been miserable the vast majority of my adult life; abused, neglected, mistreated, degraded and demeaned, undervalued, promised things that no one has ever followed through on, taken for granted, and I’m not willing to let that cycle continue. I deserve better than that. I’m worth more than that. I have so much love to offer, and I don’t withhold it just because things get rough. So I’m hoping this new connection will continue to grow into something special, because I really, really like this guy.

Now, onto the writing portion. I am busy and stressed out from moving out of the condo, and I haven’t had any time to do any writing other than poetry for the last month. Unfortunately, this means I’m going to have to postpone one of the books I was planning to publish this year. The second book in my Olympic Fates Saga is getting pushed back until next year. I’m still releasing A Hold of Spectres (it’s coming out in October instead of August), and I’m still releasing A Shift of Crimson in December. So, I will be publishing two of the three books I expected to release before the end of the year.

Last weekend, I had my first author event of the summer, and it was incredibly successful! I was set up in Downtown Oregon City for one of their annual business festivals, and I sold all but 2 books I brought with me (and made over $300!). But even beyond the sales success, multiple people saw my book A Kiss of Glass and rushed over to my table saying, “I’ve seen your book on Kindle! It’s actually next to read on my to-read list!” And ya’ll, I cannot even begin to describe that feeling! Knowing that my work is getting out there and that people are recognizing my author name and the covers of my books, is simply unreal. I am beyond grateful and excited for this! It’s just a sign that persistence, a willingness to learn, and belief in your own work really does pay off.

Those are my biggest updates right now. Once we get closer to the release of A Hold of Spectres, I’ll be posting here about the release date. I am, of course, releasing some of the chapters on here before the book is published so that you can see the earlier drafts of the book. Once the book is completed, but before it’s published, I’m going to send it out to all of my newsletter subscribers for FREE! You’ll get your own ebook copy before anyone else! So if you haven’t subscribed to my newsletter, please do!

Have a great first day of August!
Love and light to you!

A Hold of Spectres
Part 3
Chapter 2

Another few weeks passed, and the voices came and went, sometimes bothering her relentlessly every single day, and sometimes leaving her alone for days at a time. It was aggravating; just when she felt as though she was free of them, they would return, and usually with a new voice joining the others. There had been as many as six voices, but mostly she was haunted by a specific two: the woman’s voice she called Oraneth, and the man’s she called Nostron. These weren’t their real names, but they helped her keep track of them. She had decided if she couldn’t control them or get rid of them, she would learn as much about them as she could; when they were most active, how often they showed up together and as individuals, and most importantly, the things she did that seemed to antagonize them. 

It took a bit of time, but she realized that they never moved her furniture or tugged at her hair unless they felt provoked. This was an interesting development because it seemed to imply that they were impacted by her choices and her words. Simply put, if she hurt their feelings, they lashed out. Rhaean hadn’t yet determined how she had hurt their feelings, and so there had been several sleepless nights. She had tried apologizing to them for whatever she had done to upset them, but this only made them laugh and continue scraping her chair across the floor, or picking up her books and tossing them to the other side of the room. 

It wasn’t that she wanted to be friendly with them. On the contrary, she wanted them out of her room and away from her for good. But she did want to know if there was any way she could convince them to leave her alone, if, perhaps, she tried to befriend them, maybe she could discover whatever it was they wanted, and give it to them. She had no idea if it would work, but it was better than suffering in silence. 

“Still reading the same book?” said Nostron from just above her head. 

“Yes,” Rhaean said, careful to keep any annoyance out of her voice. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s been assigned to us,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the page. 

“But it looks dull,” he said, flipping some of the pages. Rhaean could see the pages turn, but the hand that turned them was invisible. “And you’ve been reading for hours.”

“Yes,” said Oraneth, “hours and hours.”

Rhaean did not respond. There was no telling what their reactions would be when they were in moods like this. Boredom most often led them to annoy her heavily in an attempt to entertain themselves, and usually it didn’t matter if she ignored them or lashed out, they would turn hostile at some point. Rhaean had not yet figured out how to pacify them. 

“Is there something you’d like to do?” she asked, looking up from her book. “Since you’re bored?”

They both squealed and giggled in an almost child-like way. 

“Us? Do things?” asked Oraneth.

“We can’t, silly,” said Nostron.

“How would we do anything at all?” asked Oraneth again.

“Alright,” Rhaean said, holding up her hands, “then what is it you want?”

They were both quiet for a moment. 

“Are you mad?” asked Nostron.

“No,” Rhaean said, hoping they couldn’t also sense her emotions. Because while she was not made, she was very much annoyed and wished to be left alone. “I am just hoping to complete this assignment before tomorrow’s lecture, and I thought if we addressed whatever it is the two of you want, then perhaps we could agree that you would then leave me alone to study?”

Silence filled the room, but Rhaean could tell she was not alone. After a few moments, cold breath hit the side of her neck and lower jawline. 

“You don’t want to know what we want,” said Nostron.

“You cannot not handle what we want,” said Oraneth. 

Fear crawled down Rhaean’s spine. Their voices had turned low and raspy, almost as though they were gasping for breath at the last moments of life. It made her feel as though she were being thrust back in time to their deathbeds, forced to watch and listen as they wheezed and resisted the sway of death as it came for them. She could almost even see them in her mind, and it didn’t matter how tightly she closed her eyes, the images remained. 

When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t in her room. She was standing outside, her bare feet buried in the cold snow. Which couldn’t be right, because it was summer in Utara. Not winter, and even as high up in the mountains as they were, it wasn’t cold enough to snow. Not this much. She looked around confusedly, unsure of what was happening. She hadn’t left her room, had she? 

“Hello?” she shouted, her voice muted by the heavily falling snow around her. 

“Rhaean?”

Rhaean froze and gasped, her eyes wide. “Scarlet?” Only the sound of falling snow filled her ears. “Scarlet! Where are you? I’m here!”

“Rhaean!” It was Scarlet’s voice again, but farther away and frantic. “Please, help me!”

She was running now, paying no mind to how numb her feet felt. Scarlet was calling for help, and she would not abandon her. She tried calling out her name for some indication of where to go, but her voice fell flat as it left her mouth. 

“Scarlet!” she shouted. 

Then, she heard the giggles of Oraneth and Nostron. 

“Where is she?” Rhaean demanded. 

“Where’s who?” Nostron asked, giggling all the while as his voice floated around her.

“Scarlet!” she demanded. “Where is Scarlet? What have you done with her?”

“We didn’t do anything,” said Oraneth. “But we saw what happened.”

Her heart was racing now. It couldn’t be true. Scarlet was safe; her mother had promised she would be. She had sworn it. 

“I don’t believe you!” she said, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “My mother promised she was safe!”

They both howled with laughter, their voices echoing around her, despite the snow. 

“Your mother lied!” exclaimed Oraneth. “She always lies!”

Rhaean was sobbing uncontrollably. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel; she knew only the profound sadness and grief of even the possibility that something horrible had happened to her dearest friend, the only friend she’d ever had. She couldn’t bear the thought that her mother might have been responsible for any harm that had befallen Scarlet, assuming it had. She didn’t know whether or not to believe these two spirits, or to believe her mother, the woman who made her loathing or Rhaea as apparent as the rushing wind around her now. 

In the next moment, the snow was gone and Rhaean was back in Fire’s Hearth, only she wasn’t in her room. She was in the foyer, on the ground, laying on her side. She was dizzy and felt she would be sick. 

“Rhaean?” a voice said above her, gently. 

She opened her eyes and found Ygritte cradling her head in her lap. Rhaean furrowed her eyebrows. “What happened?”

Ygritte sighed heavily, clearly relieved. “Thank the gods. I thought I was going to have to tell your mother that you were dead.”

“What?” Rhaean asked. “Dead? I don’t understand,” she said, sitting up slowly. 

“You walked into the foyer at the same time I did, only you weren’t awake,” Ygritte said. “Your eyes kept fluttering, but never fully opened. And when you collapsed, I caught you, but you were so limp. You weren’t breathing and I thought…” The girl shuddered. “I am glad you are alright.”

Rhaean stared at her, unsure of how to process what she had just been told. She had been sleepwalking? But she hadn’t been asleep – what she had seen and heard in the snow, she had not been asleep, that she knew for certain. She didn’t know what else to call it though, and so she said nothing of it to Ygritte. She simply smiled softly. 

“Thank you for making sure I was alright. I must have been sleep walking,” she said, standing on her feet. “Please don’t tell my mother about this. I don’t need another lecture.”

Ygritte smiled and nodded. “You have my word. Can I walk you back to your room?”

“No,” Rhaean said, a little too quickly. “I’m fine. I just need to lie down.”

She could tell that Ygritte was hesitant to let her go, but she did not argue. She stayed where she was as Rhaean made her way back to her room. She shut her door and locked it behind her, before falling onto her bed, exhausted. 

“We said you couldn’t handle it,” Oraneth whispered in her ear.

A Hold of Spectres
Part 3
Chapter 1

It had been one week since the voice returned, and Rhaean had been unable to do anything about it. She tried the spell again, and when it didn’t work, she tried another. And then another. But nothing seemed to be strong enough to dispel the spirit. Nothing she could perform, at any rate. There weren’t many such spells that non-magical people could use to access magic for a specific purpose, and those that did exist usually had little to do with spirits. She had already tried the three spells available to her, and to no avail. 

“Did you know Mother Grus sneaks out once a month?” the voice asked as Rhaean sat in her room, trying to study. “No one knows where she goes or what she does, but she leaves once every single month, without fail.” The voice giggled. “It is interesting, isn’t it?”

Rhaean couldn’t deny that it was, indeed, interesting. She would never had guessed than any of the Mothers of recruits tried to sneak away from either Fortress, and yet now that she knew one of them did, she wondered that more of them did not. If even the Mothers didn’t want to be here, then why were any of them? It confounded her. Had her mother ever snuck away? Did she, too, perhaps wish to leave this place? If so, why had she acted so angry and disappointed at Rhaean for suggesting they leave? 

“Maybe she’s too afraid of who she will be without The Order?” asked the voice from just behind her. 

Rhaean furrowed her eyebrows. “She would be my mother,” she said, her heart panging at the idea that her mother would feel incomplete without The Order; that she wouldn’t ever be enough to make her mother content. 

The voice chuckled. “She’s your mother now. Does she seem happy about it?”

“You don’t know of what you speak,” Rhaean hissed.

“I know more than you,” the voice said, “because I see more than you.”

“Shut up!” Tears stung Rhaean’s eyes. 

“She only cares about one thing. And it’s not you.”

Rhaean slammed her book closed and rushed into the hallway. The voice usually only spoke to her when she was alone in her room, or in the library when no one else was. She hated that her room, the one place she had ever really found solace at Fire’s Hearth, was now one of the primary places she hated being the most. But she couldn’t change it. Not without revealing to everyone that she was hearing voices, and she wasn’t about to do that. Not without proof that others heard it, too.

She didn’t know where to go, so she stood in the hallway, breathing heavily for a few moments. 

“Rhaean?”

She looked up and saw Ygritte standing a few feet away. Her brows were furrowed downward into a look of worry. “Are you alright?”

Rhaean tried to fake a smile, but it was more of a grimace than anything. “Of course I am. Just…frustrated by some of the reading,” she said, desperately trying to think of an explanation for why she was in the hallway, breathing so heavily. “I decided to take a break for a moment and get some fresh air.”

Ygritte studied her for a moment and then offered a soft smile. “Well, I shan’t keep you from it.”

She turned to walk away, but Rhaean stopped her. “Wait!”

Ygritte turned back around.

“Where…where are you going?” Rhaean asked.

“I was going to meditate in the garden,” Ygritte said. “It helps me sleep up here.”

Rhaean’s heart leaped in her chest. “You’re having trouble sleeping?”

Ygritte nodded. “Everything is too quiet up here. Not that Passing’s End was loud, but at night we could actually hear the sounds of the forest. But here, everything is so isolated, it’s as though nothing else is alive but us.” She shuddered. “Meditation helps to quiet the anxiety I feel before bed.”

Rhaean could have cursed. She had thought, perhaps, Ygritte was hearing voices too, but it seemed she had been mistaken. Still, she didn’t want to be alone again. Not yet, so she asked if she could join Ygritte in her meditation. She said yes, and the two of them made their way down the hall towards the foyer. They had just about reached the double doors when a voice boomed from behind them, “Ygritte! Rhaean!”

Both girls spun around quickly. It was Mother Andromeda.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

“Out to the garden to meditate before bed, Mother,” said Ygritte. 

Rhaean’s heart beat wildly. She hoped and prayed that this would not be one of the moments when her mother kept her from being close to anyone. She wanted to be with Ygritte, even if just for a few moments, to forget about the voice that haunted her. She needed this. She stared at her mother with pleading eyes, but deep down she knew it was futile. 

“And Rhaean? You were going to meditate, too?” she asked, raising her eyebrows doubtingly. 

Rhaean nodded. “Yes, mother. I was.”

Mother Andromeda narrowed her eyes. “It is nearly curfew,” she said, her voice cold and her tone biting. “Ygritte, you should know by now the dangers to your success here if you are seen consorting with someone who has yet to pass a single test since she’s been here.” She was speaking to Ygritte, but her eyes were on Rhaean. 

“We were only trying to meditate –” Ygritte started, clearly trying to defend both herself and Rhaean, and for that, Rhaean could have kissed her. But Mother Andromeda interrupted.

“I care not for your intentions. If you want to succeed here, you should be more careful regarding whom you spend time with. I should hate to send you back to Passing’s End with a note for the other Mothers to help you pack your things.”

Rhaean felt anger surge into her chest. In mere moments, Ygritte left the foyer and returned to her room without another word. Mother Andromeda stared at Rhaean, her gaze intense, daring her daughter to defy her. And though she knew she would regret it later, Rhaen could not hold back her anger.

“Do you truly hate me so much?” she asked.

Mother Andromeda’s expression did not change. Her breathing was steady, and yet Rhaean could see the vitriol in her eyes. 

“Perhaps it would be best if I leave The Order for good, then? That way you no longer have to suffer the embarrassment of having me as your daughter.”

“You are not leaving this place,” she said, her voice soft but hard. “I will not allow it.”

Rhaean chuckled bitterly. “Then you wish to torture me? Keep me here, knowing that I cannot do what it is you require, just so you can degrade and demean me? As though that will suddenly give me the magic I do not possess.”

“I am not allowing you to leave because I know you have the potential to do everything I’ve asked of you. The issue is you do not want to do it.”

“You’re right,” Rhaean said. “I don’t. Because I can’t.” She stared back at her mother, her eyes unwavering. “I do not need to be a Sister of The Order to find purpose. I am content to be ordinary. I want to be ordinary, to live a meaningless life, to die without recognition. I want the peacefulness that offers, the mundanity. This life works for you, but it does not for me.”

“I will keep you here as long as it takes to see results,” Mother Andromeda said. “Even if you do not graduate with this cohort, you can try again with the next.”

Rhaean felt her heart shatter. “Then you really don’t feel any love for me at all?”

Mother Andromeda said nothing. Rhaean let the tears fill her eyes. She nodded and turned away to walk back to her room.

A Hold of Spectres
Part 2
Chapter 3

The voice had, indeed, disappeared after that, much to Rhaean’s relief. Everyone knew Passing’s End and Fire’s Hearth were haunted. How many people had died in the rooms of the isolated fortresses? How many women had succumbed to childbirth? How many children had fallen ill and met their fates? Both fortresses had existed for centuries. So many lives had come into and left the world inside of those very walls. 

She couldn’t help but wonder why none of the spirits at Passing’s End had ever reached out to her. While the magical hold on each of the fortresses was unique in their own way, Rhaean found it odd that, in all her years living at Passing’s End, she had never once seen a ghost or heard a voice. And yet, after only a couple of years at Fire’s Hearth, suddenly she had attracted the notice of a trickster spirit. Of all the places she could have been oppressed by voices of the dead, she would have thought it more likely to have such an experience at Passing’s End. But she had not. 

It was strange, too, that none of the other girls seemed to have had any similar experiences. She didn’t know this for sure, of course, and she dared not ask them about it openly. She was already shunned enough as it was due to her mother’s overbearing nature; she did not now need to add hearing the voices of oppressive spirits to the list of marks against her. But she did pay close attention to each of the others to see if she could find any indicators that they might also hear the voices of spirits. She looked for fatigue and exhaustion and other signs of little sleep; she looked for paranoia and skittish behaviors; she looked for a lack of focus and attention during their training, but she saw nothing to indicate that anyone else was suffering under the same force she had. Had she truly banished the spirit from Fire’s Hearth altogether?

She wondered if magic had anything to do with it. Rhaean, Ygritte, and Sirnyth had been brought to Fire’s Hearth, a fortress imbued with spells and incantations that would protect them as they each learned to harness the magic within. Only they had been here for two years and Rhaean still showed no signs of magical ability. She could see her mother’s disappointment, her trepidation, and even her anger at various times. Kyndra was a woman who valued appearances as well as actual ability. It wasn’t enough for Rhaean to have magical abilities if she couldn’t access them, and since she was the only magically affluent Mother within The Order, it mattered a great deal that her daughter still bore no signs of arcane skills. It made Rhaean feel as though she wasn’t good enough, never could be good enough, and that was why her mother loved The Order more than her. It was why she put the needs of The Order above the needs of her own flesh and blood. 

It had been weeks since she had cast the spell, and in that time, nothing else suspicious had occurred. Rhaean sat at a table in the library, a textbook open, her mind relaxed and focused on the chapter. She was reading about a war that had taken place centuries before, one that had been fought over the line of succession in the early years of a united Utara. Before Utara was united, each of its regions had been ruled by their own royal house. But, as other countries united their regions and came under the rule of one primary royal house, the scattered Utaran kings saw the imminent threat of foreign interference. They could not fight such large countries with their individual armies. It was decided they needed to unite and become one country with one ruler.

Each of them wanted to be that ruler, though, and no one could decide on the proper way to choose which house would ascend the new throne. At first, each of the individual kings maintained their own right to the throne, but some of the smaller houses quickly saw the futility in that, and so began backing some of the larger houses. This only made the situation worse because, as one house’s claim grew, so did the others. They had been close to all out war among themselves, which was precisely what uniting the kingdoms was supposed to avoid, and they could not find a solution. Many soldiers had already been slaughtered, and it was only when all out war seemed imminent that the kings decided to take a more practical approach. Within a fortnight, the first king of the united Utara was crowned. He was called King Norland. He had been of the Iron House. The solution had come through Norland’s suggestion that, while there would be one primary ruler, all of the other kings would keep the rule of their own regions. They would not be kings, but they would not have to give up all of their power, either. 

The history fascinated Rhaean. Only, even as she read the words on the page before her, she found herself unable to think of anything but the sheer amount of bloodshed that had taken place to ensure the king’s ascension. There had not been all out war, but there had been many skirmishes and battles; thousands of soldiers had died before anyone thought to resolve the matter a different way. How anyone could see that much death and suffering and think something as fleeting as a throne was worth it, she could never understand.

“That’s because you’re weak,” a voice whispered in her ear.

A chill went down her spine and she froze. It had been a trick of the mind, she told herself. Nothing more than the solitude once again playing with her. It wasn’t the voice. It couldn’t be. She had banished it.

“Did you really think that I was gone?” the voice asked, laughing as it circled her.

Rhaean’s heart raced. It had been months since the voice had last come to her and she had, like a fool, believed that its taunting and teasing was over. She had grown comfortable in its absence. And yet here it was again, alive in her mind. It laughed, as though reading her thoughts, and continued to mutter things in her ears.

“If you understood the freedom that comes with power,” the voice said, “you would understand why those kings were willing to sacrifice their men. You would also understand tthe very great potential that resides in you.”

“You sound like my mother,” she mumbled, closing the textbook and standing to leave the library.

“Or maybe your mother sounds like me?” it said, giggling intensely. 

Rhaean stepped away from the table and made towards the library doors, but they slammed shut in her face and locked. She tried to keep herself calm, but she knew that it didn’t matter anyway. The ghost or spirit or whatever it was that haunted her could sense her fear, her uncertainty. She could steel herself and play the confident one, the unafraid, and yet the spirit would know it was a farce. 

“Leave me alone,” she said, her voice low.

“What will you do if I don’t?” the voice asked.

Rhaean had no answer. What could she do? Whomever the voice had been in its previous life, it was now tied to this place. It couldn’t leave. Everyone else could. Rhaean closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She couldn’t let it get to her. She couldn’t let it manipulate her, ruffle her feathers. She had to remain steadfast in her strength and her knowledge that it was just a ghost. However angry it was, however much it bothered her, that was all it could do. 

The voice shrieked with laughter. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” it asked. “Oh sweet thing, you really are naive!”

“The Mothers have wards and protection spells throughout the palace,” Rhaean responded, raising her voice to sound confident. 

“Their magic doesn’t work on us,” the voice said again, and Rhaean felt herself grow cold at the thought of multiple spirits preying on her mind. “But ours will work on you,” it whispered, so close to her ear, Rhaean thought she felt breath on her skin.

Her hands began to tingle. She looked down at them and from within, they seemed to glow a kind of golden light, like the slowly dying embers of a fire clinging desperately to kindling. Rhaean shook her hands, but the light remained. She rubbed her eyes and blinked furiously, hoping it was just a trick, but the light remained. Her breathing quickened as the tingling moved up her arms and with it, so too did the light move, as though pushed through her body by her heavily beating heart. 

“What did you do?” she shrieked.

The voice only laughed wickedly.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She rushed out of the library and ran down the hall to her bed chamber. When she got there, she shut the door behind her and locked it. She was breathing heavily. She looked down at her hands and watched as the golden light faded. It took a moment, but the light did, indeed, fade to nothing. The tingling in her arms and hands faded, too, and Rhaean let out a sigh of relief. Whatever had happened in the library, it was over. Whatever the tingling and light had meant, they were both gone. She could rest easy. 

Rhaean went to her bed and threw herself upon it, tears spilling from her eyes. What the voice had said was true: she was weak. She had no magic, no means of proving herself to her fellow recruits, no way of earning her mother’s love back. And did she even want that? Her mother hardly noticed her own daughter any more. She either didn’t see how miserable Rhaean was or she did not care, and neither explanation of her mother’s distance did anything to make Rhaean feel better. She was lonelier than she had ever been. She had no friends. No allies. 

“You have me,” the voice whispered.

Tingling returned to her fingers and with it, the golden light. All Rhaean could do was cry. 

A Hold of Spectres
Part 2
Chapter 2

Rhaean sat alone at breakfast the next morning, her head throbbing with an impending headache. She had found several texts relevant to her concerns, and had spent the entirety of the rest of the morning reading by candlelight. She had gone straight from the library to the dining hall to break her fast, and now, as she sat and spooned her porridge and milk into her mouth, she felt the exhaustion creeping over her. 

She wished she could say her search had been a success, but she could not. She had, initially, searched for information surrounding what different types of spirits existed, and the differences between them. Of that, she found a great deal. It turned out, there were seven different types of spirits, all of them similar, and all of them also completely unique. The most well known were ghosts, spirits of the dead tied to the specific locations of their death; these were harmless beings who rarely revealed themselves to the living, and when they did so, was usually an attempt to be seen, recognized, and remembered. The next most common was similar to ghosts, only they were known simply as spirits, and were not tied to any specific location; these usually were seen as the surviving personalities of those who had died, and were known to be mischievous, tricksters, trouble makers, but also harmless. 

The next Rhaean read about were called specters, not quite ghost or spirit as they usually did not represent the soul of someone who had passed into the next life, but rather represented the manifestation of some other kind of unnatural entity; these were known to be malevolent more often than not, and once they had chosen a target, it was hard to extricate their hold. Then there were beings known as wraiths, embodiments of souls who had recently died; these were rare and considered neither benevolent or malevolent, although Rhaean had seen references to both in the texts she’d gathered. Like the wraiths, there were also creatures called wights, reanimated corpses of the dead; and while these were physical manifestations, they were considered spirits by most because, like ghosts, they were connected to the places they died. Rhaean didn’t understand how that worked, and the texts held little information for further clarification. 

The last two types of spirits were extremely opposite from each other. One was nature spirits, atmospheric manifestations of the natural world, usually given guardianship over a specific section of forest or body of water or type of flower. These were considered very common, though rarely ever seen. The other was called furies, malevolent beings created entirely of magic and welded to the soul of a living person. These existed only when a person who possessed magic accessed too much magic at once, its body consumed from the inside by the arcane in what was called the zenith; this event was almost always fatal, but in extremely rare circumstances, instead of destroying the person’s mind, body, and soul, the magic only destroyed their physical form, leaving behind their essence and irrevocably connecting it with that magic. 

Rhaean continued to eat her porridge, her mind full of thoughts and questions. She wanted to learn more about all of these types of spirits, but the thing she was most interested in now were the general spirits, the tricksters and troublemakers of the otherworld. These were likely what had awoken her the night before, and she wanted them gone. They had not harmed her, and likely would not, but they could tease and annoy her as much as they liked, and that she would not abide. She had taken the books about spirits back to her room before breakfast (and was relieved to see that the chair had been placed back by her desk, and everything seemed normal), and decided that she would continue to read them later, once she had completed her training. She did not yet know how to dispel a trickster spirit, but she felt confident that one of the books would provide the answers. 

Her training went on like normal, no one else paying her much heed. She did her best at every task, and per usual, was able to conjure no magic at all, despite her mother’s insistence that she try harder. 

“You are too distracted!” she exclaimed, pacing back and forth in front of Rhaen while the other two girls worked on their magic spells. “If you would just concentrate and apply yourself fully, you would break through this blockage!”

Rhaean was on her knees, staring at a candle on the floor in front of her. She knew it wasn’t a lack of focus or application; she simply couldn’t do it. She had explained this to Mother Andromeda so many times, the words rang like a haunted memory in her mind. It mattered not how obvious it was to her and to everyone else, Mother Andromeda – her real mother – wouldn’t listen. 

“I do not understand it,” the woman said, her voice tight with anger, “you are intelligent. You are a quick study. You understand what it is you must do, and yet you don’t do it!”

Rhaean kept her gaze lowered to the candle, still trying, still hoping that today she might give her mother what she so desperately wanted. 

“Stand up,” she ordered.

Rhaean did as she was instructed. 

“What must I do to motivate you?” she said, staring into Rhaean’s face. “What is it that you need to finally break free of this…apathy?”

Rhaean’s heart panged. She wasn’t apathetic, and it hurt to know that was how her own mother saw her efforts. She did not know what to say, so she remained quiet, her eyes staring blankly at a button on her mother’s robes. 

“I asked you a question,” Kyndra said through grit teeth.

Rhaean’s heart began to race. “It is not apathy, Mother,” she said, her voice quiet, but steady. “It is simply that I cannot do what it is you’re asking of me.”

Kyndra’s eyes stared at her, wide and full of anger. “You know that I don’t accept that excuse!”

“It is not an excuse!” Rhaean heard herself saying. “It is the truth, whether you accept it as such or not.” Kyndra opened her mouth to speak, but Rhaean cut her off, unable to hold back the worlds in her throat. “No amount of punishment or wishing or motivation is going to change what is already written. I cannot perform these magical tasks because I am not magical. It is as simple as that. And if you would simply let go of this impossible goal of yours, and let me train with the others back at Passing’s End, I might have a chance to graduate on time.”

Rhaean didn’t know where the courage to speak those words had come from, but she was glad she had spoken them. Even with the rage swirling in her mother’s eyes. She knew Kyndra wouldn’t listen, but at least she had said what had been burning in her chest for years. 

“Get out,” Kyndra said, her voice low.

Rhaean did not wait to be told a second time. She immediately left the training hall and made her way back to her dorm, where she grabbed her books, sat on her bed, and looked for how to dispel a trickster spirit. Almost immediately, a voice filled her ears, laughing, mocking, teasing; she forced herself to ignore it, unwilling to leave the room and read elsewhere. She was already watched with so much scrutiny, she didn’t want anyone to see her reading about spirits. 

“You’ll miss me!” the spirit said, its voice moving circling around her. “I know you will.”

Rhaean skimmed the pages, hoping to find a passage that would help her, her eyes never lifting from the page. The spirit continued to circle her, laughing and calling to her, sometimes pretending to be angry, and sometimes pretending to be sad. Rhaean ignored them all. She continued to read, and the spirit continued to try and distract her, until at last, Rhaean found what she was looking for. She read eagerly, her eyes taking in each word so that she clearly understood what was required. When she felt she understood it, she rushed to grab the items she needed, and then immediately went about enacting the spell. She was relieved to find that the person enacting the spell didn’t need to possess magic for it to work. Some spells, it seemed, were more like religious rituals; while magic was, indeed, involved, the person was not the access point for that magic. The spell was. Like a prayer or a hymn, anyone could perform it.

She grabbed three candles that had never been used before, and set them on the floor in a triangle. She tied three individual pieces of twine around one candle, and then tied the other end of the twine around another; this she did three times, making sure the candles were all connected, and that the twine was placed near the top of the candles. Then, she set an hourglass in the middle of the triangle, and turned it to start the sand cascading. Immediately after, she lit all three candles, officially initiating the spell. 

The only thing left to do was wait until the right time to complete the final act. As she had been setting up the spell, the voice had laughed heartily and mocked her, calling her childish and weak. But Rhaean didn’t care. This was how she would be free of such a mischievous entity. As the sand fell from the top of the hourglass to the bottom, she allowed herself to smile softly in the dim light of the three candles. The fire melted the wax and, after some time, caught on the twine wrapped around each. 

“No!” the voice said, suddenly sounding afraid. “No, stop it! Blow it out!”

Rhaean kept her eyes on the hourglass. She had to time this carefully if it was going to work. Once each piece of twine was burnt enough to fall away from the candles, she was to stop the hourglass and blow out all three candles simultaneously. This would sever the spirit’s connection to her, the fortress, and its connection to the realm of the living. The spirit must have sensed what was coming because it did everything it could to sabotage the remainder of the spell. But, much to Rhaean’s relief, she completed the spell perfectly. The voice stopped. Everything in her room was quiet, with only thin wisps of smoke rising into the air. Rhaean smiled and let out a slow breath.

She had done it. The spirit was gone, or at least, the connection between them had been severed. As far as she understood it, the connection could not be remade after such a spell. If the spirit was still around, it couldn’t bother her, and for that, Rhaean was grateful.