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FAIR WARNING!! THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BOOK 1!! >> >> >> >> Seed of Grebefal The winds were different. Kyirtana Armonia Grebe was sure of it now. He’d been checking the winds for days in the same way, as he did every morning; standing barefoot, clad in only his pants, on the top of the tower, arms outstretched, his hands spread wide. The rushing air pressed against his bare skin, and filtered through his fingers and hair. But his face was still warm, today, even warmer than it had been for the last few days. It shouldn’t be getting warmer; it was already midsummer, and the weather should be getting colder now. Grebefal’s powerful mana-laden winds were cool and pure, and had never stopped circling this tower. They had been like this since before he had even been born. Why were they so odd today? He paused in his mental exercises and frowned, looking around him at the weathered stones and high outer wall of the tower. Today was his sixteenth birthday, which should be a good thing, great even; today he was officially the heir of the Grebefal Duchy, and an adult. And yet, he felt strangely uneasy. The winds were slower, sluggish today, and carried with them an odd new scent—dust, not cool and earthy like the meadow beyond the castle wall, but harsh and hot, and rough with a slight bitterness. Kyir scowled. It's all wrong, he thought. Maybe he would ask his father to do a scan and see, later. There was definitely something odd going on, and whatever it was, Kyir knew his father, Harlan, would find out what it was. Lord Harlan Grebe was the best Air mage in the world, Kyir was certain; no one else could scan as far, or as accurately, or manipulate the winds as completely as he—not even Kyir’s mother, who was a mage too. But she had other talents, after all. She didn’t control the air, but nobody knew the earth as well as she did. Between the two of them, Grebefal had the best possible governors, and Kyir was proud that they were his parents. Still, it would be nice if they were a bit less busy and could give him the time to ask, before the festival…this might be really important. Kyir turned to the trapdoor in the floor and reached for the handle to pull it up, but just then it popped open with a soft thump, and a narrow, dark face peered out. It was Muse; his mother’s maid, a shapeshifter and transport expert. “Kyir? Your Mom needs you for something. I’m to bring you to her.” Kyir groaned. “Aw, couldn’t I just walk? I don’t like transporting. It makes my stomach turn.” Muse shook her head, her long, straight hair swishing around her slanted eyes. “She needs you right now, buddy. In the outer fields to the west. It’s important. Oh, and the guests will be arriving for your celebration soon, so you’ll need to dress too. You know it takes too long to walk everywhere; you should be glad you have me to get you around, you know.” Kyir nodded, resigned. “Yeah yeah…let’s just get this over with.” He pulled on his outdoor tunic, buckled his belt around it, & slid on his boots quickly. Then he reached out his hand to Muse, who hopped nimbly up through the trapdoor, balancing easily on the smooth stones. She grasped his hand in hers, cool and pale. “Ready?” He steeled himself and closed his eyes, to prevent the dizziness from making his stomach turn. “Sure, ok.” For a moment, the winds howled wildly in his ears; then they were gone, replaced by dull sunshine. The smooth wind-worn stones beneath his feet were now rough, tumbled earth. Kyir owned his eyes; they were in the west fields, outside the city walls. He blinked and stared; the ground was hard, dry, and cracked; the clods of earth felt as sharp as cracked stone, and between the clods, something glittered and sparkled up at them, shining in the sunlight. He knelt down and stared, then pinched a little of it in his fingers, lifting it and letting it trickle down back to the ground. Glass sand. What was glass sand doing here?! “Kyir! Over here!” Kyir grinned at the voice, recognizing it instantly. Pasan, his best friend from the village—there she was, waving her long, bare brown arms at him frantically, motioning him over. Beside her stood his mother, who looked grave. Muse followed him as he jogged unsteadily over, stumbling on the large clots of dry, tilled earth. “Pasan? Mom? What’s going on?” Harmony, Kyir’s mother, pointed down at the glittering sand. “Silica sand. Definitely from Ellux—It’s the only place where this type of sand originates on Vacoelus. It’s been blown here somehow, and it’s bad sign. The winds have changed direction.” Pasan was staring at his mother mutely, with her characteristic dumb, awestruck look. Kyir frowned. He wished Pasan wouldn’t idolize her quite SO much—it was embarrassing. He focused instead on the ground, where the glittering sand lay in little pools between the earthen clods. “I saw. What does it mean? I mean…besides the winds changed, like you said. We never had sand here before. Can’t we just get rid of it?” Harmony shook her head. “It’s a mark of the changing the land. Even if we got every grain of sand out of the fields, the wind would simply blow more into the area. It means the borders of the Ellux desert are extending towards us. And even with your father’s powers, we can’t stop an entire desert filled with sand.” Kyir frowned at the glittering dapples on the ground. “So what do we do then? Move the fields further east? After planting everything?! The farming association will throw a fit!” Pasan nodded. “Yeah, especially the Twins. They’ll have a cow if we tell them they have to abandon the Western fields and cut a whole new sector to the east, Lady Harmony.” Harmony smiled diplomatically at Pasan. “Well...can convince them. Still, I hope we won't need to.” Kyir snorted. “And give up on eating fruit or bread for the entire winter season, too, and eat only eggs and salt pork for the snow months, probably. Gross! And unhealthy." He looked more carefully at the clods; there were tiny shoots of grain poking up here and there, but it already looked dry and brittle. "Mom, isn’t there any way to salvage the crop? At least until next planting?” Harmony shook her head. “I'm not sure. We could try building a windblock, to stop the sand from accumulating further; and it would take double or triple the waterings to keep it from drying out, with the additional sand in the ground, but your father could probably manage a few more...maybe. He's been very busy lately. I’m sure you’ve sensed it too, Kyir; The winds aren’t circling the tower anymore. They’re blowing from the west, now, with an odd energy I haven’t sensed before. It's taken a toll on his reserves to keep things running as normal.” Kyir sighed. Why did this have to happen now? On his birthday? Why couldn’t it have happened in, say, three or four days from now, when everything was back to business? This was supposed to be a special day, a day for him to enjoy turning sixteen—and becoming officially a man of Grebefal, an adult according to the laws of the town. Today he would have his first debut as heir, and greet the guests at the head of the festival as the host. Today his father had promised to gift him his memoir, a book of his grandfather’s inventions that Kyir had been longing to read for years. He wanted time to enjoy this—the festival, the legendary book, his day, without worrying about the town, for once. His parents always had to worry about something; the fields, monsters raiding from the northern forests, the merchants and farmers fighting in the association, upkeep of the mana sigils and maintenance of the mineshaft inventions, judging day for citizen's complaints…and he had to worry about lessons, too--riding and sword training, archery and ancient languages, diplomacy and marketing, and everything else. Today was supposed to have been HIS. No lessons, no problems. Or, it had been. He hunched his shoulders a little in agreement. “Yeah. We should ask Dad. He should know.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. This was important, after all. More important than a party. But he couldn’t help feeling a little sad. Pasan nudged him with a thin brown elbow. She seemed to recognize his feelings. “Heeey, it’s ok, Kyir! Sorry this had to happen on your birthday! But your Dad says we don’t master the winds, remember? They answer only to themselves. We just ask them for favors, sometimes.” Harmony nodded at her. “In a way, I suppose. It is poor timing, but we do need to make a plan for these fields, before the sun destroys the crops here. It’s urgent that we save them, since the town depends on the grain planted here. We’ll still celebrate your birthday, Kyir. We might need to move it to sundown, though, instead of noon.” Kyir smiled wryly at their attempts to comfort him. “It’s fine, Mom…this is more important. I’ll be fine. I was going ask Dad about the winds anyway; I noticed it was really odd, this morning.” Muse trailed along behind the three as they walked up the path towards the town gate. She shifted into bird form and fluttered here and there, dropping toxic red bird-berries from trees and chasing away the pigeons that were circling, looking for crumbs. Kyir unconsciously dropped a few steps behind his mother, letting her take the lead as they entered. She smiled and greeted the guards by name, giving polite greetings before hurrying on through. Then she turned to Kyir and Pasan who were walking in lock-step behind her. “Kyir—your father was going to the market today, so we’ll find him there, I expect. Muse?” The Muse-the-bird fluttered down to perch on her hand. “Yes?” “Find my intrepid husband, would you?” Muse cocked her bird-head cheekily. “Of course. Now...Which one was that again?” Kyir and Pasan both struggled to hide their laughter as Harmony swatted the bird into the air. “Cheeky. Just go find Harlan, already!” Muse rose high above the market, then swooped back down. “By the exotics merchants’ stand, on the far north of the square. Looks like he’s moving on towards the baked goods and fresh foods inspections, in a minute.” Harmony nodded and eyed Kyir and Pasan, who was still giggling. “Why don’t you two meet me by the fresh fruit stand, beside the farmer’s association hall? I’ll go with Muse to catch Harlan and bring him there, in the association offices. It’ll be a quieter place for a private conversation.” Kyir nodded and grinned at Pasan. “C’mon, Pas. Let’s go get a pie, and let my mother catch her intrepid husband on her own.” His mother’s face turned red; Pasan looked like she’d burst from suppressed laughter as he grabbed her hand and pulled her away. Kyir didn’t bother suppressing it; his laughter rang out over the market as they weaved in and out of the stalls, headed towards the association building. In a few minutes they’d crossed the square and were nearing the baked goods stalls, where fresh breads, pastries and hand-pies were staked on tables. Kyir waved at the baker, Uther; he was Pasan’s step-brother, a large, strong, square framed man with skin the color of a fresh baked brownie, and a wide, friendly smile. Pasan scooped up a couple of hand-pies and they headed into the farmer’s section. She passed him one—apple-berry, his favorite. “On the house for you today! Happy birthday!” called Uther after them. Pasan paused in the street for a moment, inhaling her pie, which was a meat pie; then she called back. “Thanks for breakfast, bro! They’re good today. Tell Riette I said Hi, ok? See you both at the festival later?” Uther motioned to the tables. “Probably be late. But we’ll be there! Wouldn’t miss it!” Kyir stuffed his face, his mouth full of buttery pie crust and delicious, tangy apple-berry pie filling. He wiped his face and checked his shirt for crumbs, and they turned into the doors of the large, stocky brick building that housed the Farmer’s association, Merchant’s guild, and Miner’s association. Inside the main doors, a long hall split off into an upper and lower level; Miners had the basement, Merchants the ground floor, and Farmers had the second floor offices. They paused at the landing of the second floor; it was quiet here, in spite of the noisy market going on outside. A faint scent of ink and papers, and the soft rustles and clicks of people working on documents, copywriting, making out orders. This was all new in the last five years; Father had funded the building of this association building and basically forced them to share a building together, to bring a halt to the constant disagreements between the three main Grebefal guilds. The guild leaders had separate offices, a room of their own each. The rest was taken up by the under-secretaries, document runners, and file rooms in each floor, with a sitting-room for important guests and a single large hall on the main floor, for all-association meetings. Kyir and Pasan headed into the sitting room to wait. It was plain, but comfortable; two low brown leather couches decorated with furs, a side table and a large bookshelf. Grebefal had outgrown the palace courtrooms; so many new people had come to stay that they’d had to build a new sector of the town, to the east. There had been fights, at first. The other town residents had disagreed with the new, and arguments had broken out over land and jobs. But Father had found a way to compromise with them, and somehow made it look easy—he made everything look easy, Kyir thought. Which was incredible, considering that he was blind, and used Air powers to move...his father was the strongest person he knew, and never backed down from any challenge, even if it meant finding ways of doing things he couldn’t physically do on his own...

Still loving that background!! And yes, I'm hoping to post snippets and scraps of new book here (hopefully without spoiling the 1st book TOO much) and add some cool new characters as well. Like Whittle, who definitely features somewhere while they're in the deep desert... she strikes me as one who might need a story of her own, too. She's pretty cool, in a totally-a-Dune-reference way. First book show is (so far) planned in September, definitely in person, when I'll hopefully have some copies to sell at my local book club fair...willl update later on time/place since I don't have alllllll the details yet. I don't have funds for renting tables at bigger shows Sighed copies absolutely available, orrr you can always buy one online (those will be cheaper) and have me sign it there. And if you wear a crowned squirrel or lizard somewhere on your clothes, I might just recognize you, too. 🤣

Other metals of note. Titiansteel a bit of a misnomer as it is actually an alloy of titanium and tungsten. Nonmagnetic very durable and corrosion resistant. Not typically enchanted which is not really all that surprising as it is made almost exclusively by Morlocks who tend to be technological and psyonic rather than magical. Myrthriem is an alloy of Mithril and Darksteel. Only a few hundred of these weapons are known to exist. As they were made for the singular purpose of driving out the Demosidhe. A Demon Fae hybrid that came into being during the Great Fae Migration of the Forgotten Age. The Forgotten Age is forgotten on purpose and for good reason. For the Demosidhe can enter the dreams of those who know about them and can then use those dreams as a way to enter our world. I will say no more about them here least you become an unwitting doorway for their return. If you are determined to learn about them, there are spells and other protections to secure your mind and dreams against them. Make sure those are in place before continuing your studies of this subject.

Feromantic iron is very magnetic. Such blades tend to become magnetic during forging. As to the effects of magnetic fields on enchantments. No one has really looked into it. There are no reports of enchanted blades made from other metals showing any magnetic properties. The exact effects of magnetic fields on enchantments would depend greatly on the type of enchantment and the purpose of the object and the reason for magnetising it. Brasium is non magnetic. In fact its non magnetic nature is a reason for its use in place of iron or steel in some cases. Brasium weapons are not typically enchanted but there are no reports on it being any harder to enchant than other metals. Darksteel takes powerful magic to enchant but once enchanted it will stay that way unless even more powerful magic is used specifically to disenchant it. There are no reports of anyone trying to magnetise darksteel but most likely it would take a powerful magnetic field to do so but once accomplished it would be practically impossible to demagnetise it.

Is feromantic iron magnetic? Are any of these metals magnetic? If yes, once enchanted, does a magnet have any effect on the enchantment?

This a quick overview of metals unique to the Shardscape. Or mostly unique; as some of them, Brasium for example, do have real world equivalents. And given that I just mentioned it I'll start off with Brasium. Brasium is an alloy of brass and bronze; which is to say copper, tin, and zinc; with chrome and nickel occasionally added for extra strength and croesion resistance. Brasium is commonly found in places where such resistance is especially needed; and in places where iron is less available. Next we have feromantic iron. This form of iron is mined in the Underworld along the banks of the Styx and is therefore much more able to retain certain enchantments. Which is the primary reason for bothering with the stuff, as it is otherwise no better than iron minded from anywhere else. However the ability to incorporate magical properties makes Feromantic iron highly valued for the creation of Darksteel. Which is formed by adding a relatively small amount of finely powered dark fire crystal. The resulting material is not only able to store highly powerful magical energies it is also nearly indestructible. There are a few other items I will be adding to this list later. When I can find my notes on them.

Snypiuer hands Harmony a pointy stick and sings the Ramones "Beat on the Brat". When you find it at B&N, the books' cover looks SURPRISINGLY like the Pens' present background - weird, huh? One question: Will we be getting previews of your second book!? Any plans for book signings? If yes, in-person or virtual? If no, will/are signed copies available/obtainable? Does Snypiuer understand the concept of "ONE" question? If yes . . . does he . . . REALLY!?🤔

OKAAAY!! Keyboard was having a seizure, was starting to seriously consider Sny's computer solution (cussing and pointy sticks) You can find book 1 in paperback or hardback, on Barnes & Noble . com under my name (author search). Oh....and my name is Helena Marfell 😅 Knowing that would probably help, too, huh.

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Where would I find the Awakening series? - Am excite! -

Hi my friends I'm finally finished with book 1 and now I'm working on book 2....of the Awakening series! This one will center mainly on her son Kyir, I think, and I'd love any ideas on how to flesh out my world, give the dialogue more, uh, realism? and stuff. Thanks again for being such awesome folks and hanging around. Side note for funsies; Kyir's name is loosely based on my own daughter's name, and I use the name Harmony basically everywhere online as my own personal "profile name". Wish I looked like her though! 😂🤣

Strip down and do the hula? I'd bet good money I could get at least a laugh...and laughter is a GREAT icebreaker.

Greet them politely, and ask again about the use of a phone.

You are driving late at night. It is pitch black. Solid cloud cover. No rain. No moon. No stars. You somehow find yourself on a small backroad that you've never been on. Your car suddenly dies. You are plunged into complete darkness except for a faint light you can barely perceive through your passenger door window. You look at your phone, no service. At that moment, chain lightning flashes across the sky, clearly illuminating everything around you for several seconds, allowing you to notice that there is literally nothing as far as you can see in every direction except for a small, rundown 2 story house that you have, somehow, broken down right in front of. When the lightning stops and all is once again black, you realize the faint light comes from the window in the top story of the house. You use the light on your phone to make your way to the house. It is dead quiet. The front door ajar. You enter. You call out, "Hello!? My car broke down, can I use your phone to call for a tow truck!?" No answer. Your phone light starts to dim. You quickly look for a light switch along the wall. You find it and flick on the lights. A harsh light bathes the interior and there, in the center of the room, glaring at you with the most unsettling leers you never could've even imagined are: Willem Dafoe, Christopher Walken and Steve Buscemi. They look unwashed, each wearing tattered wife-beaters, dungarees and worn, faded shoes. Their leers turn to sly grins. It becomes crystal clear. They've been waiting. For you . . . specifically. What do you do?

Ew, Windows 11?! Relatable ick there. 10 did NOT need revised or upgraded into a totally unusable form.. I agree. Still, probably best not to abuse with a stick, to be on the safe side! 😂

Snypiuers' laptop was returned a while back. It came back with an attitude - Snypiuer was running Windows 10 and did NOT want to upgrade to 11 (which he STATED in the paperwork), but it was upgraded and now, Snypiuer can't find the original product key to reinstall 10. So Snypiuer was FORCED to apply his pointiest poking stick in order to reeducate said laptop and remind it as to its' PROPER place. On a side note, and TOTALLY unrelated to ANY actions Snypiuer may or may not have taken, Snypiuer will be attending therapy for "Aggression Management". O.K., TECHNICALLY, it's "court ordered", but completely unnecessary and merely a misunderstanding on the part of a CERTAIN individual *stares at niece*, who overreacted and notified LPS (Laptop Protective Services). Niece: You were ABUSING it with that stick you found outside, while yelling at it and saying words that I, as a CHILD, should NOT be hearing! Snypiuer: IT GOT A NEW SSD, BATTERY AND KEYBOARD AND SUDDENLY IT THINKS IT'S BETTER THEN . . . Niece: *Cutting Snypiuer off* HEY! What did the therapist say!? Snypiuer stares at niece. Takes a deep breath. Counts to 10. Slowly releases breath. Anyways, Snypiuer also had a backlog of emails he had to go through (we've already gone over WHY Snypiuer HAS to go through EVERY email, so we will not reiterate that here) and has FINALLY gone through them all. Now, Snypiuer just has to overcome his natural laziness, propensity to procrastinate and tendency to . . .

Hmmm....to make it work, you'd almost have to write the other half as well--the monumental doings and excitement they're passing by would need to be told, too... Otherwise we'd be in the same position as the characters, but as readers. It would be boring and confusing, instead of humorous or ironic?

Hmm.... 15 minutes to live? I think I'd write a long letter to everyone I know, drink a bottle of vodka, and listen to my favorite music. If I knew there was no other way out. I might challenge Death to a cook-off with my life as the stakes, as long as I can choose my own recipe... And then choose to cook 100% home made mac and cheese, using homemade noodles and home aged sharp cheddar cheese... Or agree to come with him after 1 harvest on my parent's farm... They're growing Walnut trees, for wood....

Relatable 🤣 Also my kids all think I'm pretty weird, too. But I guess that's normal? Favorite writing-related self motivational speech lately: "Writing is like taking a 💩. If you try to force it, or go too fast, it flies everywhere, messes everything up and leaves you feeling all wrong." ...facts. I find that's true about most things... but especially writing. My written constipation last YEARS sometimes. Y'all know 🤣

I think it's like instant ramen--you can eat it with liquid or without, cooked or uncooked, so it's more of a 'soup ingredient' than soup itself. If you add the liquid then it becomes soup in process, until it is eaten--then it is definitely soup. In the case of said cereal with fruit, I'd say it's 'milk and fruit soup with a sweet bready topping' ? Also, pro-choice implies pro soup, while pro soup doesn't imply pro choice...so if given the option I'd say pro choice. As much as I appreciate soup, I'd like to have other foods also.

Snypiuer finds his laptop barely alive. Snypiuer pokes laptop with a stick. Snypiuer does a "Make laptop strong" dance. Snypiuer pokes laptop with another, pointy-er stick. Snypiuer yells at laptop. Snypiuer threatens laptop. Snypiuer attempts to gaslight laptop by insisting it's the laptops' fault Snypiuer is angry with it. Snypiuer apologizes, says he'll change, he'll treat the laptop better. Snypiuer pokes laptop with an even pointy-er stick. Snypiuer berates laptop. Snypiuer's niece walks in. Niece: ""What's the problem!? Snypiuer: *As he yells at laptop and viciously pokes it with his pointy laptop poker* "BAD! BAD LAPTOP!!" Niece: "Didn't you get the extended warranty?" Snypiuer: *Stops berating and poking laptop and stares at niece* "Ummm" Snypiuer checks. Snypiuer explains to laptop that if it hadn't of made Snypiuer so angry, Snypiuer wouldn't have been so harsh with it but, even though it's the laptops' fault and since Snypiuer is such a good person, it should appreciate that Snypiuer will send it in for repairs. Niece: "You're weird." *Gently pats laptop* "Good laptop, don't listen to the meany." Snypiuer will check-in when possible! No idea how long will be without laptop.

Roll for initiative?!🧙‍♂️

Attack from behind as he leaves.

*Knock-Knock* You: Who's there? Death.💀 You: Ummm . . . Death?!😱 Yeah, you got 15 minutes. Sooo, tell you what; Imma go smoke some cigs, have a beer, and I'll see you in *checks his watch*, 15 . . . 'kay then *walks away*. WHAT DO YOU DO?☠️