Under the Dusk

[Crystal Tears]

I return to Fanfic! This was inspired Asilynne’s RPG ‘Light Illuminate’ (which is, in turn, based off the series 'Wheel of Time'), so you may see some characters similar to those in the RPG, yet it’s changed from my original idea of a fanfic to… this (whole new world~ As corny as it sounds). Admittedly, I don’t really know what this is, but I decided to share it anyhow. I like it, though I will say now I’m making up a lot of it as I write.

Hopefully I can keep it all straight. XD

I'm also keenly aware that this will be in no way perfect. I haven't actually written anything in a little while that has basically been my own (whether it was inspired by a fledgling fanfic idea or not)... So, if there's some horrendous mistake I missed, I apologize. ^_^;

Anyways, for your reading enjoyment!

*thunder booms overhead, a crack of lightning smashes down to reveal golden font on the screen, before it quickly tarnishes and turns to dust*

Under the Dusk

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“Time is no child; neither naïve nor ignorant of the sins of the past. If the lesson cannot be learnt by peace then it shall be taught through war.”
- The Fox Prophet

The northern reaches of the land were never noted to be like a desert, yet the sandy plains of the Hillends were starkly similar to the tundra of Dunas. Both had a distinct lack of anything interesting, and landmarks were nothing short of an odd stone or maybe, if you were lucky, a barren or half dead tree on the horizon. Both were also able to produce mirages, while the sands tricked the mind into seeing water, the blizzards of Dunas created fake shadows of shelter.

That’s why the north was home to the most miserable, difficult to kill of people, and creatures twisted by the veins of mana flowing a few feet under the surface of the ice and rock.


A roar of anger broke through the howling winds and then a starving wolf was turned to ash and smoke. It had been following her for days, along with its pack. Yet as each one attacked, each one died in an equally futile manner. The harsh wind of the most recent blizzard was being tainted by dark soot.

Navu wasn’t immune though, blood trailed from her tore forearm and left ankle. Her clothes were in tatters; windswept, coated in ice and barely holding together.

A flame witch, caught in a Dunas blizzard, being torn asunder by winter wolves.

“Git off!” She shrieked, kicking one of the beasts away, her blazing glare focused on one of the creatures barreling in from the right. It’s silver and black fur began to burn away, revealing charring, boiling flesh before that too gave way to bones that fell to the ground in a blackened state. “Stupid sons of whores!”

Two more attacked, and though she leapt out of the way of one, she slammed into the other. Both she and the beast went head over ass, rolling down a hill the storm had shrouded from them until now. Hard ice, packed snow and rock smashed into their bodies as they fell, the hill turning far steeper until it became quite clear it was cliff.

“Baaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllls!”

The ice cracked from the impact of her and the beastly foe, but didn’t waver beyond that.

A stillness of a stalemate fell between them. Navu was the first to move; she dared to twitch her fingers and then, finding all were still attached, rolled over. Her back cracked, her ribs practically groaned and her left arm did nothing but scream in agony.

She sat up, eyeing the wolf nervously. A witch could only cast magic with their hands and eyes, if one hand was injured, her spells would be weakened.

It was dead, or it seemed ‘particularly unlively’ at best.

‘Good ‘nuff.’ She thought drily, hobbling to her feet.

She had been lost before, but now, after falling off a cliff that had a sense of humour akin to a demon, she had no hope of finding any sort of path.

“Bloody Scries.” She snarled, hobbling towards the carcass of the wolf. Meat was meat; it might as well be used. “Oh there’s a path North-finder! Dun worry ‘bout gettin’ lost…” She glared up at the whited-out sky. “Does it look like there’s a bloody path here?! When I get back to Khal I’ll burn all your balls off!”

Nothing gave her a reply, the wind kept at her, biting at her face and fingers.

Navu’s brown eyes stared down at the ground as she pressed on her arm, wincing as pain racked through it. She could mend it; it wasn’t the first time her arm had been maimed by a fall, creature, man, or evil-thing-that-wanted-to-kill-her.

It was just…

She bit her lip.

This was going to be unpleasant.

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Under the Dusk and it's characters © Crystal Tears
^_^

[Asilynne]

Moooorrrreeeeeeeeee~~~~ I like it so far but compared to what I've been getting in MSN from you it seems a tad....empty. I love it as an opening scene/teaser, it makes you feel the cold and the desperation of the girl, but its like having one potato chip, you just can't do it. I need more, I want to know why she's there and how she came to be like she is, which I demand...ahem, assume is coming soon ;D

[ChobiChibi]

I kinda like that I haven't beta'd this, because then I get the surprise of reading new things Even though I was blates supposed to beta this I'm sorry don't hurt me I love you <3

See, I really want to know who Navu is XD I'm guessing your plans have changed since we last talked about it, or this is some kind of introduction into other things... But this interests me, a lot. You certainly painted the scene well and have got my attention MOAAAAAAAR.

[Shadow Wolf]

Well, the girls have said pretty much everything.

So nice work CT, I'm expecting the next installment.

[Crystal Tears]

Under the Dusk
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“The city of Cith was built into the Undra Silverback Mountains, home of the fabled griffons. The griffons died out when black festered on the peak of Nahagi, the tallest of mountains.”
- The Fox Prophet

Gregoir Irons was something of a legend to the Guardians of Cith. For thirty years he had worn the tri-cross sigil of the ancient mountain city, and he showed no signs of retiring anytime soon. He had been close with Lady Vanessa of Tyr, the former Queen of Naviti; but a decade ago she had passed from illness, leaving her daughter, Vanessa the Second, to rule.

He had far less love for the latter, and after she had him basically laughed out of court, what little respect he had for the throne and its current occupant had turned to a boiling sludge of disdain. Vanessa had, briefly, when she was a little girl, expressed interest in learning the ways of the old, which included what the guardians stood for.

Now she would rather have a harem around her; men and women simply there for her pleasure. Gregoir did not scorn the ways of Tyr. Their culture did focus around sex and multiple partners, but tyrans had always been gifted in the ways of politics and money. Adding to that, the harem they normally chose; were advisors, battle masters, healers and various other sorts of people that would benefit them more than just in the bedroom.

Vanessa II had little knowledge of politics beyond ‘off with their heads’, and ‘tax them more’, her gift with money was to somehow near bankrupt the treasury in her first year, and to get it all back, she reinstated forced labour and slavery. Something that had brought in a good deal of money, and endeared her to the seedier parts of the country, but thousands of unfortunate souls now found themselves mining mana streams in Dunas and tyrus crystals on the outskirts of Alastaas.

But this latest insult was something that should’ve never have happened.

The north tower of the fortress Ceathon, castle of Cith, was a seeress. A girl gifted with the ability to peer into the future, whether by choice or chance. She had seen the rise of the Danyrus, a man capable of leading the scries of Khal out of the darkness that had struck their land more than twenty years ago, she knew about the attempt on the then princess’s life, before her coronation, and thus Vanessa II had lived. Gregoir had gone to the tower that morning after the seeress had summoned him, and she had spoken of something that shook him to the core.

The Island of Storms was appropriately named, it was an island to the south-west and had an ever raging; concentrated hurricane swirling around it. A blanket of black clouds, pouring rain and sheer force winds protected the place from intruders. Gregoir had never met a soul who had actually been there, but he had heard the rumours passed on.

The island was barely a speck of land worth noting, most was white sand, though it had an awkward tip of a deep sea mountain rising out of it. Stairs were said to be carved into the rock and lead to a tiny plateau barely large enough to hold a person. On the plateau was a statue of a woman, a witch or mage who had fallen prey to her own spell and turned to rock.

Travellers said she caused the storm, for the stone was only preserving her and she hadn’t yet died of madness.

For all the rumours, the island had been the center of the blighted mana and magic that once controlled half of Naviti. The seeress had whispered to him, in a weak tone that the frozen veins of black mana were beginning to warm, that the heart of the island was beginning to beat.

Gregoir had then carefully prepared to tell Vanessa of the evil. He had fashioned his best armor, a beautiful light bronze suit with pewter inlay and a black cape that the Queen herself had requested him to wear. His helm resembled the famed griffons of Cith, a mythical creature that was said to protect the city from otherworldly harm. Two pairs of finely crafted wings came from the helm, the very tips of the feathers faint, gleaming silver.

Then he had warned the Queen.

Vanessa II had laughed, saying that the seeress was old and going mad. Gregoir was thankful his helmet hid his expression. Pure rage and disbelief probably would’ve had him killed.

Pressing the matter didn’t help. She had accused him of being old, as old as the seeress, and that he shouldn’t believe every slight whim of impending doom to sweep across the city.

“Sir?” One of the knights spoke to him as he burst through the barracks’ door, the heavy wood threatening to tear themselves off the hinges as the Knight-Commander pushed his way towards his desk. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” He swung around, hand on the hilt of his sword, seething. “Do I look alright? That runt of an heir had me laughed out of court!” Gregoir took a deep breathe, trying to calm himself down. The guardian before him was Tyvon Neverwinter, second son of the reigning lord of Alastaas. His skin was tan, like many from the south, with dark eyes and thick brown hair. “.. I’m sorry Tyvon, I just… She has no respect for us, the seeress, or bloody well anything in this city.”

Tyvon smirked, nearing one of the large windows he gestured to the landscape.

Rising out of the silver-hued mountains was the obsidian fortress that the Queen lived in.

Ceathon was once remarked to be a dark stain on the mountains, that the peaceful city of Cith would never need such a thing. It was supported by massive, magically imbued pillars that twisted out of the cliffs. It was colossal, able to be seen for miles in all directions. Heavily fortified walls kept the inner sanctum of nobles and royals safe, while the rest of the fortress was built literally into the mountain. The treasury was an old cave found years ago, and turned out to be a convenient spot to dump outrageous sums of gold.

“She likes her house.” Tyvon smiled, watching as Gregoir scoffed and turned back to his office. His desk was covered in parchments and one, massive book of registered guardians and their accomplishments.

Neverwinter swore the Knight-Commander took up half the pages.

“She called the seeress old.” Irons grumbled, removing his helm. “Shows that she knows.”

“Well, the last one was old.” The younger man shrugged. “Of course, she died a good couple of years ago. This one is rather young, isn’t she?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve…” Tyvon sighed, leaning against the doorway. “Young age to start seeing horrible truths and demons, in my opinion.”

“Apparently, the ability manifests itself younger than that. Her first vision when she was four.”

“Of what?”

Gregoir looked at the young lieutenant. “Not sunshine and rainbows, I assure you.” He paused as he sat down in his chair, he eyed the man. “I have a new assignment for you.”

Immediately the soldier straightened up, looking far more professional. “Sir?”

“The seeress is in danger.” The Knight-Commander spoke. “Don’t ask me how I know, and no, she didn’t tell me. Seers can’t predict their own futures. But I want you to take her out of Cith.”

“Take her?” Tyvon was confused. “Where?”

“To the ruins of Par Eva, there’s a settlement on its edge called ‘Navala’. It’s far enough from here that no one should find ‘er.”

“How exactly am I going to get her?” Neverwinter frowned. “March through the front door?”

Gregoir chuckled. “You’re a guardian of Cith; no one would question your motives not even those bloody templars.”

“I… True.” He scowled. “On that note though, yes I’m indeed, a guardian, the seeing stone records all my movements.”

“Leave the stone to me.” The Knight-Commander rested his chin on his gauntlets, hands clasped together. “It will take days for Vanessa to realize the seeress is gone, if she even does. That will give me plenty of time to find the danger.”

Tyvon nodded. “That’s all then?”

“Yes.” His commander nodded. “Fetch your bow from the armory and prepare. You leave tonight.”

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Under the Dusk and it's characters © Crystal Tears

[Shadow Wolf]

OK, I have to apologize, for I wanted to write this sooner.

Well, I have to say that I liked this chapter as an introduction, since it goes to state clearly that there's a danger approaching. This has left me with anxiety and curiosity as to what exactly will happen.

I feel that Gregoir makes a nice protagonist in this story. A man with experience, knowledge, and a fair sense of honor... Gregoir has already carved a good impression on my mind. I have to say that I already identify myself with him.

Vanessa the Second, on the other hand, struck me as a naive and egocentric queen. This might prove to be her downfall if a disaster is impending.

Finally, I loved the descriptions of the places. especially the description of the Island of Storms. Giving it a dark and eerie background and knowing that a source of evil will rise from it made me think that this place will be of importance in the story.

If I have to point out something, it will be a few grammar mistakes (for example: "The north tower of the fortress Ceathon, castle of Cith, was a seeress". I thought that it would be better to write: ...castle of Cith, was the home of The Seeress... and instead of a dot, two dots will have been a bit better, since it's a description of her what comes next...) But I prefer not to talk further of this, because I make a lot of mistakes too.

Overall, nice introduction and very nice description of characters and places. I'll be eagerly expecting the next chapter.

[Asilynne]

I love this, you have no idea how awesome it is, and how it fits with the World of the Wheel of Time, even though you have made it your own thats actually even better to fit it, its a perfect new Age with lingering hints of the old one. I'm not sure how much of that was intentional or not, but either way, its awesome <3

I also like the glimpse into the court life, and the teases of info keep me wanting more. As always, big fan of the Fox Prophet here <3 Keep them coming!!!

[Crystal Tears]

Under the Dusk
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“It’s a natural occurrence for the human mind to seek solace in strange things. One of the strangest is a glowing glacier in the uncharted wastes beyond Dunas. It’s maddening to thinkers of all backgrounds, and yet soothing to the simple folk.
Tell me, who is worse off? Those who have been blinded by faith or those who are blind to it?”
- The Fox Prophet

Greve was so far north that it sat outside the lands of Naviti. It bordered on the uncharted wastes, Dunas being the last spread of land ever marked down on a map. Greve was nestled into the side of a massive glacier, its ice giving off an ethereal glow from the mana trapped within it. The ice acted like glass, reflecting the images of whatever it caught, and if you looked at it close enough, you could see those you cared for, living and dead by your side.

It was a haunting, yet comforting symbol of the far north. It was the only reason Greve existed. Scholars, philosophers, priests and alchemists came for all around Naviti for even the chance to stare at the magical ice.


For something that glowed, it was strangely hard to find.


Navu had wandered for hours, despite fixing her arm, the pain made it near unbearable to move it. Even if she could’ve fixed her arm properly, her magic could do nothing against the surrounding cold, and the longer she was exposed to it, the harder it began to cast any spell that could even in the slightest way help her.

She had consumed some of the wolf to give her strength, but nothing past sheer determination could aid her now. She was in the snowbound streets of Greve, nothing more but muddled down parts of packed snow, stained with manure, blood, and dirt. Everyone was huddled inside the warm huts, and the inn that she struggled to see in the blinding white seemed to be a thousand miles away.

“Gods curse the north.” Navu murmured; her legs felt as though ice had formed in her joints and clung to her skin.

The only thing guiding her was the faint blue glow of the glacier. She trudged, forcing her limbs to carry her forward and fight the biting cold.

“The little bird is so far from home.”

Navu turned, shielding her eyes from a blast of snow. A shadowy form stood just on the edge of her vision, blanketed by the blizzard’s might. She scowled, turning fully to face the speaker.

“Who the ‘ell are you?” Navu growled, fingers twitching. Faint warmth spread to their tips.

Whatever the shadow replied, she couldn’t hear. The wind blew harder and suddenly the warmth was gone. The witch’s eyes began to roll back in her skull as her muscles seized and then quit. On her knees she fell, and as her vision blurred and darkened, two orange eyes burned in her mind.

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Under the Dusk and it's characters © Crystal Tears

[Asilynne]

Omgggggg I think I know whoooo~~~

Once again, I'm feeling the cold. You have a great ability to impart what the character is feeling to the reader. I also as ever love the Fox Prophet <3 I feel like your teasing me with this story! I want more but I'm always left hanging, not really a bad thing just want more lol

[Crystal Tears]

Under the Dusk
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“When the alchemist and philosopher Malyl built the clocks of Cith, he intended all the faces to tell a sort of time. The pewter counter was meant to tell days, and the gold was meant for months.

However, when Malyl’s sister died hours before the clocks were meant to be revealed; the pewter counter dialed one.

When Malyl’s son was born mere minutes after his sister’s death; the gold counter changed to one.”

- The Fox Prophet

Tyvon stared down at the floor. Cith streets were a tangled mix of stones of varying shades, almost like grey veins guiding people throughout the city. They all spawned from the point where he stood, a glass floor a couple inches thick, over top giant ticking clock with exposed gears. The clock had five faces, the largest told the hour; the two directly left and right of it, told the minutes and the seconds. Each of the faces had an iridescent gleam to it, while their hands were a shining bronze.

The other two faces were a bit more extraordinary. The one on the ‘bottom’ per say, which was farthest from the Ceathon Fortress lift, was pewter; with a gold counter in the center it. The counter itself, had six sliding cylinders which could display different numbers. The one closest to the lift entrance, was the direct opposite. Solid gold, with pewter dials.

The gold clock displayed the number of newborns born in the city each week.

The pewter showed how many deaths there were.

If the gold clock had one more then the pewter, in the next hour the pewter would be even with its twin.

As magically brilliant as the contraption was, something about keeping track of such figures made Tyvon uneasy, and thus he moved on.


Ceathon Fortress had a rather brilliant design. Built into the mountain itself was the ‘lifts’, giant platforms that were raised and lowered by giant gears and prisoners turning them. There were eight lifts in all, four of them were on the lower half; going from here to the checkpoint. The other four went from the checkpoint to the fortress itself. At the very top, in the belly of the fortress is where one would arrive. However, if anyone ever attacked the fortress, they would be forced to use the lifts, and guards in Ceathon itself, would simply severe the ropes.

Ceathon was almost its own country, mages had created farmland in the Ceathon ‘courtyard’ outskirts long ago.With enough food and water stockpiled, it could last for months and hold out against the enemy.

Despite its strategically brilliance, Neverwinter hated going to it.

He had an odd fear of tight spaces, something one of the philosophers in Alastaas had called a ‘phobia’.

In his opinion, they could call it whatever they wanted; the lifts from Cith to Ceathon, and a lot of the fortress itself, were a bloody nightmare.

“Visitin’ the Queen?” The lift operator looked at him. He was greasy and grimy, obviously not nearly as privileged as those that were allowed entrance to the fortress. His clothes were probably stolen; looking half like something a noble would wear, except for the dirt stains and tears in the cloth. “I hear she don’t like you guardians much.”

Tyvon wasn’t the one to indulge in such tales, but that had caught his attention. People like the lift operator often were overlooked and ignored, allowing them to have some interesting information. He pivoted on his heel, holding his helm under his arm; he approached the man and smiled at him.

“You think so?”

“Dun’ do much thinkin’ sir, but that queen sure yells loud.” He looked up the shaft, a lift was coming down. “My nephew works up in the fortress as a corsair’s apprentice. He told me ‘bout an hour ago, he overheard the queen cursin’ some bloke named Gregoir.”

“Oh?” Tyvon’s curiosity began to grow. “What did she say?”

“Said he was old an’ useless, somethin’ ‘bout how he puts too much faith in superstition.” The man paused as the lift groaned to a stop. He moved past Neverwinter, and began to pull open the cage door. “Superstition saved me from Par Eva, ya know. Lived there ‘bout twenty years back.” Another pause, but now the operator looked sad, his eyes widening as he remembered. “Wind was bitter, food tasted burnt… I left, took my daughter an’ my nephew. Wife, eh…” The sadness deepened. “She didn’t come.”

The guardian put a hand on the man’s shoulder, summoning him out of memory. “I’m sorry.”

The lift operator shrugged off the arm. “Tis fine, it’s the old bat’s own fault. Just eh,” he looked down at the mud-covered floor as he issued Tyvon inside the lift. “Ya know those feelin’s, where yer gut tells ya somethin’ just ain’t right. Don’t ignore them boy, never ignore them.”

Neverwinter nodded, and gave him a weary smile. “You’re name sir?”

“Just call me Trudge,” He waved him off. “Member, hands an’ feet in at all times.”

Tyvon nodded, his weary smile turning to worry. The lift lurched, the grinding of cogs and gears making the man gaze up.

Darkness, that’s all that the tunnel offered him.



“Guardian.”

Gregoir stared at the figure before him.

A woman clad in armor that was vaguely supposed to compliment her shape addressed him. The entire suit was black, with a matching cloak shrouding the entirety of her face. Both the robe and the breast plate however, bore the mark of Ceathon: a golden tri-cross with a triangle in the center. Her hands rested on two blades, both were elegantly crafted scimitars, with bejewelled pommels.

“Templar.” He returned the greeting, though it was far more akin to acknowledging a life-long adversary then an ally.

She was younger than him, or at least she sounded as such. He couldn’t see any part of her flesh; all were shrouded underneath the dark armour. Not that it mattered; the templar order was an organization of Ceathon loyal Shi’zha. Humans that had been altered by dragon long ago to have their memories passed on to their daughters.

Besides the Drak in Muir, the Shi’zha were the only other culture to have women warriors and soldiers.

“Shouldn’t you be off guarding Cith?” She questioned, though her condescending tone meant she was just toying with the idea of actually listening.

Templars were not good at listening. If the Queen hated the guardians, then the templar order did as well.

“I came here to view the seeing stone.” Gregoir frowned. “I didn’t realize that it was illegal.”

“It’s not.” She answered with her voice light and playful. “I am not barring your path Knight-Commander, if you wish to see the stone, and then do so.”

The seeing stone was located directly under the clocks; very few people actually knew it existed, and even fewer knew that it was so close to the general public. Gregoir hesitated a moment longer, moving to the archway and towards his goal, before a sleek, steel blade was put out in front of him.

“However, I know what you intend to do, Gregoir.” The templar spoke, bringing the blade up so it touched his cheek. Applying a small amount of pressure, she turned his head to face her again. “And that’s quite illegal..”

“I don’t-“

“Don’t lie to me.” Anger made the blade’s tip cut into his cheek and draw a tiny amount of blood. “I know you sent Tyvon to Ceathon, and I know that it’s not just some coincidence you want to view the stone at the same moment.” Her tone became light again. “Don’t act so surprised Gregoir, the templar are charged to protect Ceathon; that means watching everyone; including you.”

“What do you want from me?” His hand was gripping his blade, all templars were bastards, and he had long sought to duel one.

“The truth.” She chuckled. “Honestly, if I wasn’t the tad bit curious, you would be kneeling before Vanessa already; begging for mercy.”

Gregoir let out a short bark of laughter. “I doubt that… You want the truth, show me your face; templar.”

Blade still at his cheek, she removed her hood. Gregoir’s expression didn’t change and he was far too stubborn to admit she was by far, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had long hair the colour of mahogany, with almond shaped eyes and auburn irises. He was right as well; the templar was far younger than he was.

She had probably already planned at least five different ways to kill him. If her deadly glare told him anything, is that she was a true Shi’zha. Raised in the Darklen- a place devoted to battle and warlords: men who were strong and fast enough to kill the matriarchs who had the wisdom of ancients.

“Frightened Gregoir?” She questioned.

“I thought all the true Shi’zha stayed in the shadow lands.” He noted, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you a templar?”

“I got sick of slaughtering dark men and abominations.” She countered, and he assumed there was some truth to it. “Now the truth.”

“The seeress is in danger.” The Knight-Commander answered, in a hurried tone. “The Queen, no matter how much she may frown on the girl’s abilities; will never let her leave. She’ll die in Ceathon.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have no proof, if that’s what you’re asking for.” He knew the woman would know of the seeress’s limits. “I sent Tyvon to fetch the girl and run.”

“Then you came here to alter the stone’s memories…” She filled in the last part of the plan. “How do you know she won’t die outside the fortress? The girl has lived here for five years; her visions offer her no insight into the world outside Cith besides pain and suffering.” The Templar frowned.

“My lieutenant will keep her safe.”

“You put a lot of faith in him.” Her blade began to drop, and both warriors relaxed. “The templars will not let him leave with her.”

“The templars do not ordinarily question a guardian’s orders. He’ll be fine.”

She smirked, and sheathed her blade. “Change the stone if you wish, I need to go.” Her face became shrouded in shadow as she put up her hood. As she left, he called to her.

“Where are you going?”

“To make sure your lieutenant doesn’t fail his task.”

The Knight-Commander opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped. The templars didn’t have the authority to question a guardian’s tasks, let alone impede on it. But the woman had seemed rather confident in the idea that they would, in fact, attempt to stop Tyvon with deadly force. That could only imply that Vanessa had changed something.

’Daggoth help me, what has that queen done now?’

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Under the Dusk and it's characters © Crystal Tears
^_^

[Shadow Wolf]

Hmm, pretty amusing chapters we have here.

Navu seems to be a character will will probably go against many odds, from what I'm seeing here. This makes her an interesting character to read; and weh combined with a straight-to-the-point chapter, it leaves people craving for more (at least, in my case). So nice chapter overall. I'm still wondering what happened to her, though.

Now, onto the next chapter...

To be honest, the clock kinda creeps me out. It's weird enough to know which people are born and which people die in a year. But to see it everyday... it gives a sense of eeriness. With this in mind, I admire Tyvon for his ability to just ignore it and move on. But if there's something that definitely caught my attention, was his use of logic to pull out important information. You also did a nice job in portraying the story of Trudge: which could also serve as an example of the lives of many people in Cith. The struggle of a family man is a topic which can easily bring the empathy on any reader. Well done!

Finally, the Templar's character and design amused me. It gave her an impression of power and respect, which carved an impression of a strong woman in my mind. Of course, Gregoir is amazing too, since he was ready to face her at any time, making him a fearless warrior. It could've been interesting to see a battle between those two, but since more important issues are at hand, her decision was quite a surprising one. I already mentioned to you, but is not bad to say it again: you possess a good ability when is about designing and describing female anti-heroes. A good use of this makes any story interesting, both to male and female readers.

Finally, you pulled a nice cliffhanger there. What did Vanessa do, and what exactly did the Templar mean when she said that she had to make sure that Tyvon didn't fail his task?

In my opinion: Great chapters! Keep up the good work!