Almost Ready For Launch

If you follow me on Twitter, then you already know that Part 1 of the Love and Theft arc is done and ready to be posted. I decided to start on the anniversary of when I first posted the short story: 27 June. It’s crazy to think that it’s been a year since writing that, but here I am getting ready to launch the rewritten? Expanded? story. I’m incredibly excited to be sharing this with all of you.

I’d write more, but I’m anxious to continue work on the story and finish the side adventure. And maybe sleep some.

Remember! 27 June! That’s next week!


Behind the Scenes

watchedge26 by timepunchingWhile things are quiet, I thought I would do some work behind the scenes. I am going to start typing and posting the first arc of Variations. If you haven’t seen it yet, there’s a new page for the story.

I’m hoping to get the first part typed up on the anniversary of when I posted the short story on 27 June. Keep your fingers crossed!


I haven’t forgotten!

immoral by timepunchingI’m still working on Variations and I’m almost done with a brief side story about a brief period of time between the first and second arcs. The outline for the third arc is done and I’ve written the opening scene. I don’t want to get too far into it, though.

I want to finish the little side adventure first, then move into the third arc. I’m almost done with the side adventure. There’s a tiny bit of research to do along with the writing, then I’ll be done.

I am toying with the idea of typing up what I do have written and posting each section as I continue to write. I don’t think I’ll create a separate site for it, but keep the story contained here on CA. Thoughts on that?

My interest in the story isn’t waning, but I know a few of you are impatiently waiting for the expansion I’ve written. I’m eager to share, but I don’t want to ruin the surprise, because Variations has taken on a life of its own. So much so, that I want to draw again.

Anyway, I thought I would drop in real quick during some down time. There never seems to be time to sit and work on one project at a time. It’s always a million at once.

This is Where You Get to Make it Right

Prompt: N/A

Characters: The Prince, The Protector

Notes: This may be my next project. I’m writing this down before I forget and I plan to revisit this once I’m done with “Variations on a Theme of You.” Unedited


They tried again.

“Are you sure it will work?”

The man paused. Did he lie to her, reassure her that it would work? Nothing worked so far. Whatever evil he was supposed to find and defeat hid well. “I don’t know,” he admitted, leaving the small clue – a piece of paper from the red bound book – in her room.

“What if it’s not there when the loop resets?” she asked. “What will you do?”

“Convince you. Again.” The prince shrugged. “I can’t do this alone. I know that. Requesting to lead the trade negotiations and you being assigned as my protector changed things enough that I don’t know what will happen next.”

“Then I hope it works.”

And again.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. How did it end in so much chaos? He came to the same conclusion again and again: his wild Fae magic. He needed to find a way to control it, but for all he knew the magic was the reason why time kept resetting.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, clutching her close.

Her breathing was labored, blood seeping through her clothing. His magic did this. His one friend…

He waited for time to reset.

And again.

“You idiot.” Her voice lacked the biting edge that it normally did as she tried to stop the bleeding. She ignored her own wounds. She would survive. Probably. The prince’s were numerous and worse.

“It must be him,” he whispered, then wheezed as he struggled to breathe. “You have to write it down.”

“Who?” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that the book was lost. All she could hope for was to maybe remember.

“The Seren.” The prince craned his neck to find the person in question. “He doesn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Why we’re here.”

He wasn’t making sense any more. She hoped the end would be swift, and given the weapons leveled at them, she was confident it would be.

And again.

“What is that thing?”

“Ancient technology,” the prince replied glibly, fingers flying over the terminal keys.

“No shit.” The protector came up beside him to watch.

“It’s an old terminal station that sends out a signal into space,” the prince explained.

“Space?” she echoed.

The prince paused. He’s relived the same year so many times that he forgot that there were some things lost to his people. They forgot that at one time they traveled the stars and the doorways they used to travel form realm to realm were magic and science. “To the stars above, and to other realms,” he clarified, resuming his work.

“Why send it to the aether? Would it even matter?” She walked away, disappointed, frustrated, and hopeless. From what the prince told her, this wasn’t their first attempt at leaving messages for themselves when time reset. It was, however, their first attempt using technology that there was no guarantee of working.

“I’m sending it,” he said calmly, “to a space station. I’m turning it on; and once it is, I’ll send a message.” He glanced over his shoulder. That caught her attention.

She walked back over to the terminal station. “Why would leaving ourselves a message work this time?”

The prince verified the coordinates on the screen, comparing them to the manual he found. Satisfied, he pinged the station to wake it up. “Because the station may be far enough away to not be caught in the time loop. By the time the message returns…”

It wasn’t a guarantee. For all he knew, the message might get eaten up by whatever force was creating the time loop. Or it might make it through. Then again, it could be caught in an endless loop with them, always being sent out but never coming back in time for them to end this hell they were trapped in.

“We might be able to solve this,” she finished.

The prince hesitated the barest moment. “That is the hope.” By some miracle, the derelict space station was still operational. He typed up the message and hit the transmit button, quickly writing a note in the red journal to check the station in the next loop.

“And that’s it?”

“This time.”

“We risked being arrested for trespassing to send a message?”


She sighed. “This better work.”

The prince hoped it did, too.

Variations on a Theme of You – Excerpt

My apologies for the delay. Here’s an excerpt from “Variations on a Theme of You.”

Cinnia [SIHNNiyAH]
Caolàn [KWAYlon]
Aodhàn [ayTHAWN]


“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

The boy looked for the source of the voice amidst the twirling, leaping bodies and bright colours in the fairy ring. There was a figure standing outside of the ring. She looked like one of the warriors he’d seen once on a tapestry. Her armour was outdated, but well cared for. He couldn’t quite see her, but he saw blonde hair and dark eyes, glimpsing brown leather, chain mail, and a blue skirt.

He tried to reply, but the dancers became more frenetic, the tempo increasing. A hand reached out toward him.

“I can pull you out,” she said. “If you want to be free, take my hand.”

The boy almost reached out to her. Thoughts of home, what was left of it, filled his mind. There was nothing for him there. Drab grays and a harsh life compared to lurid colours and bright laughter of the Fair Folk. He wanted to stay.

The soldier watched as the boy vanished with the morning light, whisked away by the Fae. She turned away, shrugging. What was one boy taken by the Faeries? He would become one of them, or a favoured mortal of one of them. His Fate was no longer her concern.

She knew the Fae and their ways, and thought it best not to interfere. Maybe she’d see the boy again. Most likely wouldn’t.

Days became weeks, which became months. She forgot all about the boy dancing in the fairy ring. She made friends with a few of the Fae, but only when their worlds overlapped.It was on one of these occassions that she made the acquiantence of one Cinnia, sister of Caolàn, who was to become a Prince after his mother.

Cinnia seemed an ageless thing. Fae she was, yet not. She knew too much, saw too much. Her gaze was fathomless, and drew you in. She was otherworldly in a way the Fae were not. The Fair Folk often said they were older than the earth yet younger than the dawn. If that were true, Vaeramae would wager that Cinnia was as old as the ancient waters, which were older than the first dawn. But she was the daughter of the current queen, making her young. Time was tricky thing when the Fair Folk were involved.

But there was a wildness about her not seen in her breathren. Her constant companion Aodhàn unsettled everyone, and Vaeramae was sure that he wasn’t quite Fae. It was the mystery that they presented that caught her attention, and maybe that was why they were something resembling friends with her. Whatever the case, it prompted an invitation to a party. Vaeramae was sure that it was to have someone to talke with while surrounded by the glamour of the Fae.

She almost turned it down, remembering stories of time escaping the attendees; days, even centuries passing before returning to the mortal realm. What was time to her? It didn’t mean the same thing to her as it did mortals. What did it matter if she lost a year? She accepted the invitation in the end.

Unsure of what to wear, Vaeramae wore her best dress and jewelry, small beads and trinkets in her hair. She arrived at the apointed hour at a crack in a cliff. Aodhàn was the one to greet her.

He nodded approvingly at her choice of dress. “Don’t stray form the path,” he warned.

She was careful to step where he stepped as they passed through a narrow passage in the rock awall. They descended into the earth. At least, she thought they did. Or maybe it was out. Either way, they emerged in what she could only describe as a glade, but the trees created the walls of a room and their branches the ceiling. The area was lit with a warm light that reminded her of lamps, and the moon and stars were glimpsed throught the trees.

The tables were filled with food and drink she had never seen before, and the guests were just as otherworldly. Whisps and elements flitted amongst more corporeal beings, shades and colours she had never seen before.

“Don’t stare,” Aodhàn murmured.

Admonished, Vaeramae jerked her gaze away. “I thought I knew and have seen all manner of man and beast, but I am wrong.”

“You likely have,” Aodhàn told her, “but the Fae are far different.”

“Is it true they were the first to walk the earth?”

Aodhàn snorted. “No.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Dragons were first.”

For a moment, and only a moment, Vaeramae swore Aodhàn’s eyes changed. It happened so fast she wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or not. There was a pause in her step, wondering – not for the first time – who or what Aodhàn was. He was far from human, and he ceratinly wasn’t a soul she could one day collect.

As if sensing her growing question, Aodhàn looked over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, simply looked at her.

The question died on her lips.

Satisfied, Aodhàn said, “Thank you.”

That was how it was between them. If she didn’t ask questions, he didn’t lie to her. She took it as a sign that on some level he liked her well enough to not want to lie to her.