No offense taken. Dialogue is my weakness. I will try your advice and take another look at this.
Novel Treatments / The Birth of Hubris (Analysis)
One
I am sitting at the foot of my mother’s tiny bed when I open my eyes. I’m back inside of our cottage again, watching her fade away. I already know what thought is coming next.
This is all my fault. I should have gone with her.
I feel her hand on mine and I look up.
“This isn’t your fault.” She coughs out the words. As she smiles at me her hand moves over to the small bedside table.
“No…mother. Please.” My shoulders shake as she slides the necklace over her head. The Novostone shines brilliant crimson and as it connects with her flesh, the power of generations radiate through her blood. She will transfer her power to it, and then to me, but I don’t want it. Receipt is only upon finality of death.
“There is something I need to tell you, babe. You have a different destiny to fulfill; a great weight that I know you’ll resist. There is more in store for you than just being a messenger.” The shadows of death fall across her ebony skin and a glisten of blood curls its way down the curve of her chin as she coughs. I can only watch and bite back frustrated tears. No, wait. I have a voice, my power has begun to awaken, I can help her.
“I’m going to bring you back mommy. You can’t go yet, it isn’t time.”
Her breathing deepens and she lies still. “You cannot bring me back Nyx.” Her voice is sharp and I wince. “That is final.” Her features soften into a smile. “You haven’t the control to do something like that yet. You’ve got the power, that is true, but power isn’t everything babe. Hubris is deadly.”
“What about daddy? Can’t he save you?”
“No, Nyx. Your father knows better than to interfere with this.” Her hand lifts as if to touch my face, but instead it hovers for a moment and then falls to the bed. My hand reaches out to touch it and stops short when I see her gaze fixed on the ceiling. I get up-flinching at the weight of my grief-and take the necklace, placing it around my own neck. The Novostone is still warm with her power. I drop to my knees, face inches from my mother’s corpse, and I scream.
I wake up to my adoptive mother Akanthea hovering over me and whispering my name in a frightened tone. It’s that tone that forces me to consciousness.
“What is it Akanthea?” I rub the sleep from my eyes and try to get a good look at her. We both have dark hair, hers cut just above the shoulders while mine goes past my ankles. Her eyes are a dark chocolate brown and mine are a light violet. Hers are also swollen as if she’s been crying and her hair looks uncombed. Her thin body looks skeletal in the threadbare t-shirt and sweats she wears. We’re the same height, too, 5 foot even, though I weigh 15 pounds more. Somehow that makes her look even more emaciated to me.
“Nyx, it’s Niko…hurry.” Her voice trembles and it is more than enough to get me moving. Niko was born with an inoperable brain tumor and they thought they had no choice but to let him die. I decided to change that. I feel her terror run through me like ice in my veins. I reach out psychically to harness it. Negative emotions are good for my magic, kind of like plant food. It’s what I’m wired for. If it involves darkness, death, or destruction I’m your girl! The Novostone helps me to tap the lighter side of my power or to amplify the dark. It works sort of like a magical tuning fork.
I jump out of bed and usher her out of the bedroom and through the door. “Yes, you’re right.” Thoughts of my mother threaten to quickly dissolve my nerves. I couldn’t save her. Will I be able to save my baby brother? I can’t even think about that. All I can do is prepare. Prepare and perform. Simple.
“These things must be done correctly or not at all. Give me an hour and I will be ready.” Ready to throw up on my shoes. I take a deep swallow and focus. I let Akanthea’s fear mingle with mine. I feel the frigid swirl make its way through my stomach, into my chest and then absorb into the Novostone.
Akanthea puts up surprisingly little resistance and leaves without a word. I can do this. I know I can do this. I grab the book of rites and look over the spell a few more times, making sure that I have it memorized. The spell itself is a short one, only three words, but these spells are more than just words. I have to get the runes around the circle in exactly the right place on the astral plane. At the same time I have to infuse the circle with just the right amount of death to distract the Keepers. Too much or too little and, well, I really have no idea. The book doesn’t say. So failing is apparently not an option here.
Once I’ve gathered enough energy to fit into my Novostone I head east for the barn. The barn is by far the largest building on the 7-acre property. The house is large by most standards, expansive like an old plantation house with high vaulted ceilings and shining hardwood floors. The barn is four stories high and painted scarlet. Akanthea said she chose the color because I often practice my magic there. She thought the red would absorb some of the “sparkle” she called it, from my Novostone.
Inside, the barn seems even larger. There are no horses in here, just hay. More hay than you can sneeze at. Three of the four walls are stacked high with it. The fourth holds pitchforks in a wide array of sizes. I’m still not really sure why. I suppose my lack of interest in things domestic is the reason for my ignorance.
When I arrive I move the rest of the family outside and a good distance away from the barn. The Stantinopoul family has twelve children, including me, and on warm summer nights like these, the boys sleep in the top story of the barn. Its fine when I’m just fooling around, but not when serious work is afoot. Once they are all far enough away I go back inside. They’ve left Niko alone in here, bundled in black cheesecloth, during his last moments of life. He’s wrapped completely, nothing but his blue eyes peeking from a tiny slit in the cloth. I drop my head and mouth a prayer to the gods to oversee this child during the rites.
I already have a circle here, I carved it into the wood floor, it makes life much easier that way. I pull the white chalk from my pocket and focus my third eye on the astral plane. When the browns and reds of the barn become muted grey, I know I am seeing the spirit version of the real world. I draw the runes on the outside of the circle, refocus my vision, and place the listless infant in the center, my hands trembling. I am nervous as hell about doing something that I’ve already failed at once.
This is simple. All I have to do is say three short words and chase a soul around at lightning speed inside of a five-foot circle. I have to play a game of keep away with the guardians of death. Yeah, this is totally simple.
Shaking the negativity away, I get down on my knees and take off my gloves. I place my hands flat against the floor, to activate the transmutation circle, and I close my eyes. This is the cool part about being one-third primordial earth goddess. I promise I’ll explain the math later.
I shut off my mind to the outside world and listen to the stillness. When I find the sound, I hum along with the beat of Niko’s slowing heart. I can do nothing now but wait for his soul to try and leave, try being the operative word. If all goes well, he won’t be going anywhere. If I fail…well, like I said, the truth is I don’t know what will happen. I’m hoping he’ll just stay quiet and dead and the Keepers will send his soul to wherever it belongs without a wrinkle. Yeah, I know, great plan, hence the not screwing up part.
When his breathing stops I grip the Novostone, mind at the ready, and the moment Niko’s soul is loose; the room becomes dense with shadows. The Keepers are now seeking their due. Most people can’t really see the Keepers, but they can feel them. They are made up of nothing but shadows and air. You know that absence that people feel in the room when someone dies? That’s them.
I focus everything I have into my Novostone and my senses reel. The barn is now a vision of swirling tans and reds as I fight to keep conscious. I feel the warmth of my blood trickle over my lip, from my nose, and I grit my teeth. They’re tough, but I will be tougher. They are not going to best me.
“Orbis.” A wave of magic whips through me like a knife, and the circle is cast, the barriers glow a deep crimson. The barn becomes clearer, my vision sharpens, and I narrow my focus, scanning for Niko’s soul. I sneak a glance at the runes and they are all holding firm. I chant the first part of the triple spell to connect him to the circle.
“Adiungo.” I feel the snap of static rip through me that tells me it’s held.
“Expiscor.” A dark pair of wraith-like appendages snake from the Novostone. These are my Soul Keepers. As a Death Oracle and a direct descendant of the primordial goddess of night, Nyx, I am a guardian too; so I have my own set of Keepers to bind souls to life instead of death as Nyx is mother of the entire Greek Pantheon but that’s something you’ll have to ask her about. I’ve only got her name and a trickle of her power, not her memories.
All of the air in the room stills as I feel them search for the soul. So far, so good. Spooky, but good. I have to rescue his soul from the other Keepers. Steal it, really. There is no bargaining with them. If I don’t get it first, I fail. I feel my mind connect to the Keepers searching hands. There’s no way to explain it other than it just happens. One moment I see red, and the next everything looks like I’m inside of a first-person video game. It’s sort of like tunnel-vision. I ride the trails of smoke through the thickening fog. The Keepers are closer than I thought. I have to move. I whip my Keepers toward Niko and head them off, my body reacting before my brain. I thread my awareness into the circle as I say the last word.
“Iniungo!” There is a loud crackle, like lightning, and a blinding flash of crimson. When I can see again I scramble to Niko, in the center of the circle. It feels like I did something all right, I’m just not really sure what it is and when it comes to magic that is never a good thing.
My heart thuds in my chest as I unwrap the swaddling cloth. My hands shake, fumbling with the folds, and I accidentally poke him with a finger. He cries! My gods he cries! I scoop him up in my arms, whispering to him as I finish loosening his blankets. Why is he wrapped in so much cloth? Has he gotten that small recently? Peeling back the last layer a feeling of impeding doom hits me like a ton of bricks and suddenly I really don’t want to look at Niko. I have a feeling that something is seriously wrong here, and as a being of death I know wrong when I sense it.
Niko doesn’t really feel like Niko anymore. Where most babies are soft, he is downright doughy. Not only that, my arm feels sort of warm and sticky and I don’t think he needs a diaper.
What the hell have I just done? Okay, one step at a time. I cast the circle, I connected him to it, I chased…no, I didn’t. I skipped that step. Shit. I skipped a step during a binding. I cut a magical corner and I didn’t pay extra for it. What the hell had I been thinking? I pace the wood floors of the barn, Niko in the crook of my arm and still not unwrapped. Is there a way to fix this? Is there even anything to fix? I shake my head. There has to be something left to fix. I heard him cry. I run to stand in the center of the circle; it is the only safe place in case I need to pull some magic from my ass, and I pull back the last of the black dyed cheesecloth.
When my eyes and my brain connect, my mouth gasps in horror. What was once my beautiful, chubby, and very pasty, baby brother Niko is now a rubbery black mass of exposed nerves and writhing misplaced organs. His curly blonde hair is now a sewage brown and the spot on his forehead, where the tumor is, has grown to the size of a softball and turned a yellowish hue. As if that weren’t enough he is now screaming in agony. My brain locks and I’m so shocked that I drop him into a pile of hay and just hover over him, staring at what must have been his stomach poking through his tar-like skin. The organs are migrating; nothing is solid enough to hold them in place. I’ve never actually seen one of these horrors up close. The one I caught a glimpse of wasn’t even human, it was a goat. I do know one thing, if I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing, Niko is now an abomination. I’ve certainly gained him his body, but in taking too much, I’ve also corrupted his soul.
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KindredSpirit reviewed Version 1 -
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I think this is very well written. It has good flow and a nice pace, used active verbs and concise sentences. I like how you set up that Nyx may not quite be ready for this type of responsibility. It built suspense that all might not go well with her spell to cure Niko, and when it doesn’t work we feel her anguish over it. You did a nice job of letting us understand what Nyx was feeling all along. At first I wasn’t sure if she was part of a tribe or cult, actually I’m still a bit confused. I like Nyx and want to know more of what she looks like; I know she’s 5’ and has violet eyes. Might help to tell us her age. I feel she’s a teenager or in her 20s because of her language, ’... pull magic from my ass… ,’ ha! That was funny! I looked up hubris and got ‘overbearing pride, arrogance.’ I’m not sure how that relates to Nyx because I don’t think she’s arrogant at all. She wanted to do well and is probably suffering for something that went so horribly wrong. Aside from those small things I really enjoyed your story.
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LunaVW reviewed Version 1 -
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this was pretty intense i can just imagine it inside while i was reading it. i could feel the opull and it was good.
tisha reviewed Version 1 -
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I would say that overall you have really well thought out ideas and you paint a very vivid picture of what is in your head. I can’t really seem to peg what time period the human characters are in though. I thought they were in modern times but children sleeping in the barn is really a throw back. I can say that people who like this type of a novel would probably really like it and want to keep reading it. Other than needing a better setting for the human aspect I don’t really see anything wrong with this book. You did really good editing and you have a clarity of thought in your alternate realities.
Johnguitars reviewed Version 1 -
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Considering the heroine knows risk of this spell I suggest including a sentence both exploring and dismissing alternative courses of action.
The phrase, “The Novostone…. like a magical tuning fork.” is attractive but a tuning fork gives you a fixed reference point so is it really an appropriate metaphor?
Your final passage illustrates the sin and consequence of pride very well.
Water_Singer reviewed Version 1 -
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I like where you’ve gone with this and I like what I’ve seen of the story so far.
One big thing that hit me was that you spoke directly to the reader twice, which is off-putting in a first-person novel (unless told as a story in the story).
Also, the sentence “As a Death Oracle and a direct descendant of the primordial goddess of night, Nyx, I am a guardian too; so I have my own set of Keepers to bind souls to life instead of death as Nyx is mother of the entire Greek Pantheon but that’s something you’ll have to ask her about.” is very long-winded and not terribly helpful to your story. I’d suggest breaking it up into two sentences or changing it to “As a Death Oracle and a direct descendant of the primordial goddess of night, Nyx, I am a guardian too so I have my own set of Keepers to bind souls to life instead of death.”
Overall, well written.
JamesWoe reviewed Version 1 -
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Not being that familiar with fantasy/sci fi, i was lost in some places like in the section
“I focus everything I have into my Novostone and my senses reel….. to .
What the hell have I just done? Okay, one step at a time. ”
the description of the “battle” was a bit out there, the words like “Iniungo” made me laugh. Are your words supposed to be humorous? Witchcraft and wisecracks…doughy baby…seems funny.
I have no idea what agents look for, so my rating of seven on those categories probably shouldnt count much.
definitely pursue.
Dapoet1968 reviewed Version 1 -
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“I feel her terror run through me like ice in my veins” this is a wonderful use of descritive words!
“I draw the runes on the outside of the circle, refocus my vision, and place the listless infant in the center, my hands trembling” Here again you are just a master at descrition.
While this work is publishable I would add more drama and be a bit more wordy.
You do have the talent of one who may become a great author with some more shaping up in terms of letting loose and breaking down that stiffness in your writing. I do find your theme to be interesting, the plot,the characters and with a little more ump you could have a very publishable manuscript here.
In order to attract a publisher or an agent you need to come up with something more creative look into what has and has not been introduced to the mainstream market and grow from that point. it will just happen. I would not jump into having this work published just yet. What I would do is revise it and let it simmer and come back to it and revise it some more and then when and if you are one hundred percent happy with the content,theme,plot, characters and otherwise then at that point seek out finding an agent. I’d start buy purchasing a writer’s market and check out who is interested in what!
Good luck.
SinnerASaint reviewed Version 1 -
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First, I would like to say that this piece was well-written and I apologize if I unintentionaly offend you by this critique. Your writing style was sound. The structure was solid and the characters dynamic, but I found my problem within the dialogue. The conversations between characters seems unrealistic and forced. I find this a prevelant problem among many writers. Some of your lines seemed corny and fake as if you were just trying to fill space. To fix this problem I would observe conversations between your peers and take notes from them. The only other problem that I acknowledged was that the storyline seemed a bit predictable. When you over-elaborated quite often in the dialogue, the content of the story seemed to force forshadowing. Simplicity is the key, and I would suggest you and every other writer utilize it.
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