I’m taking part in Camp NaNoWriMo in April, and have decided to split my endeavors between writing The Box of Secrets (the current Patreon fiction) and The Charms of Life and Death (book 1 of The Ruon Chronicles).

At the moment I’m busy plotting away at The Box of Secrets, as it has morphed from a three-part novella (think Grove of Graves) into a novel (and it will be impossible to pants it). Yes, I said it, a novel. And it will be posted in parts on Patreon every month.

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I’ll admit it, for a moment I felt a bit like a superhero when I saw the link between The Box of Secrets and Charms of Life and Death. Result? Epicness.

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See, in my mind they would have been two completely different stories that just take place in the same world. Then I realised something – I’m not just going on one epic adventure thanks to The Ruon Chronicles, I think I might just be going on a few…

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New WIP: The Box of Secrets

The Box of Secrets takes place before Grove of Graves and starts just after The Oath and contains characters that I am glad to say that I and mah writin’ buddy have already fallen in love with, like Trevian. There is even an OTP…

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The planning, though, will take up the rest of March (probably) and then the intense writing will take place in April. Some of the planning will also be shown here and (mostly) on Patreon.

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Here’s a short extract of part one of Grove of Graves:

Day came much too soon to Trevian’s liking. The whole night he had been awake, staring at his bundle of packed belongings from where he lay on his simple bed, longing to escape from this house and join his friends in the fight against Lord Ghyrahl of Reiaghy. After all, he was the one who had decided to attack Heimfeie in the first place. But now the day was already dawning and there was no more time for Trevian to leave without his mother or the Seeker to notice him.

Ah, yes, Aaron, the Seeker of Knowledge who showed up at their doorstep yesterday and told him of an oath his mother had made – that he would also become a Seeker of Knowledge at the age of eighteen. An oath she had never spoken of before. That was another reason he found himself unable to leave; he had heard his mother crying throughout the night. Not wailing, just the muffled crying of someone whose heart was shattered, but who did not want anyone to know about it.

Dawn light filtered through the shutter that closed over the window of his room. Pale streaks lit the small space where he and his brother slept. His little brother whom he also had heard crying once through the night. Trevian tried to take in every last detail – the grain of wood of the two chests that stood pushed against one wall, the crack that had appeared the previous time it had rained and his mother had asked him countless times to fix. His heart twisted into a painful knot. His eyes turned to where his brother slept, dark blonde hair peeking out above the faded patchwork blanket. He ran his fingers over his own blanket, feeling every bump of the stitches. He still remembered how long it took his mother to make these, the proud look on her face when she gave them to her sons as gifts on the new year night celebrations some five years ago. It was the year their father had died and the year she poured all of her sorrow into making his clothes into warm blankets for her sons. His brother had only been five years old.

“Trevian?” a small, muffled voice sounded from beneath the blanket and Trevian saw that his brother was watching him. “Do you really have to go today?” The young blue eyes were red-rimmed, evidence of the night’s crying.

“Mother made an oath, Jerjan. Oaths may not be broken, you know that.”

“It is not fair,” he said, sitting up, his hands balled into fists. “It is not!”

“No, it is not. But it must be done,” Trevian sighed. Oaths may not be broken. Especially oaths made to Agrai, the Creator.

 

 

 

 

 

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