6 days.

6 more days, and then school is out, and I can write more. Lately, I've had, I kid you not, 16 different essays to do for a single project. My teacher is mean…

But I just wanted to give you guys an update so you weren't left hanging without a word. Not a whole lot happens in this chapter, though.

Reviews…

Kirei Ryuusei: In this kind of a world, there isn't much other choice, am I right? And you're correct, guilt and shame are only two of the multitude of feelings poor Magiya has going through her head right now.
And don't worry, it's not going to be over SOON, per se, but… it's past halfway. Let's leave it at that.

Coca-Cola Days: Thank you so much! It's good to see a new reviewer. ^^ Of course, it's wonderful to see the old ones too, but I'm glad to know new people are finding my story. Eh, you get it… right?
Right?
I'd tell you not to worry about Artix, but… well, that would ruin the story, now, wouldn't it? ;) Here's your update. Also, thank you for worrying about me. ^w^ Things are just a little crazy here, but hey, nothing new.

CommanderHawke667: Her parents? Uh… well. *ahem* I'm not going to say I didn't plan that far, because that would be a bad example, but… I didn't go into any kind of detail. All I know (they write the story, not me) is that her parents are now dead. They loved each other, it was a far off land, etc., etc., you get the point. ^^ There's really not much to say about her parents.

Anyway… story time!


I opened my eyes.

There was no jerk going along with the slight movement, nor was there any delay to it. It was nothing more than the opening of my eyes as though after a blink. But, considering that I didn't remember coming home and sleeping on my own bed, I had closed my eyes for longer than a few seconds. I was currently staring straight up at the ribbed ceiling of my bedroom, feeling… numb.

A faint snuffling sound from my right, the room side, drew my gaze a moment later, and I was greeted with the sight of a spiky mass of golden-orange fur sticking up by the edge of my mattress. I would have smiled, but… the ability to do so seemed to be a myth, much less within my grasp. Slowly, as though I were pulling against a thousand strings holding my arm to the bed, I lifted my right forearm, letting my slim hand drop limply onto Kai's massive head. A heartbeat later, my pet's emerald-colored eyes rose above the level of the mattress, gleaming and—perhaps I just imagined it—slightly anxious. I said nothing to him, letting my eyes do the talking. He had always seemed to understand my train of thought, whether I voiced it or not.

I know what I have to do now, I thought, blinking once, slowly. Kai rested his heavy head on the bedspread, only a foot from my face. He smelled like… cinnamon, almost, so I didn't mind when he huffed in my face. My lips didn't seem to remember how to smile anymore. I know what I have to do.

Do you? he seemed to ask me silently, doing nothing more than meeting my gaze. My Pridemaster had always had an intelligent light in his eyes, and it was even more pronounced up close. I lowered my eyes.

I heard the door open, and slowly looked up, not feeling very curious anymore. Yes, I was moping, yes, I was being overdramatic, but this was my way of coping with loss!

Loss… I lost someone close? I consider Kr—Artix close?

Yes, I do.

I did.

I stared blankly at Nythera where she stood in the doorway. She stared back, her eyes inscrutable in such a way so as to make it impossible for me to read her. For some reason, this didn't bother me anymore. With a quiet sigh, as though she were doing me a great favor, Nythera took the few steps over to my bed and sat near my feet, crossing her legs. She didn't say anything, and neither did I. We both knew why, though, without even needing to look at each other—there was nothing to say. There was nothing that had to be said immediately, even though the obvious drifted unexpressed between us.

All the people I would see that knew… they would all say it wasn't my fault. But… it was, and that was what I maintained. This was my motivation to get revenge. A dull, sad sort of anger burned like a slowly growing ember in the center of my body; a painful sting that kept growing as it found evidence to fuel it. Nythera knew this—and perhaps understood it, for she had been in a similar place once. She never told me exactly what happened, but I had never asked, because there was just no reason for me to know.

After a few minutes of silence, Nythera rose from the bed, wordlessly offering her hand. I still could not read her aqua blue eyes, but I didn't need to in order to understand what she was telling me.

It's time. Now go and kill that bitch.

I clasped my friend's hand, and we used leverage and balance to both gain our footing. My darker blue eyes met hers, and a slightly savage glint made its way into her gaze. It reflected in mine, and a faint smirk brushed across my lips. To an outside viewer, though, it might have appeared more the way a predator bared its teeth.

To me? Same difference.

But then again, I couldn't see myself, so I had to go by my imagination—or, rather, what was left of it. And right now, my imagination was going psychotic with half-formed plans and ideas about how to permanently screw Vayle up.

There were times (much like these, though I would happily forego the situation surrounding it if I had the option) where I absolutely loved my creativity and hyperdrive mind. Even though it used to keep me up too many nights at a time, right now, I was grateful for it. The options my mind laid before me as Nythera left were comfortably overwhelming.

Cripple?

No, too easy.

Maim?

Too kind…

Kill…?

Perfect.


Well, well, well… Methinks Magiya has a plan of action now. Question is, can she go through with it?

I swear I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can. It took me too long just to write this part…

Um, anyway. Writer's advice… Let's see… Ooh! Here's some.

Write in your own style. The world already has enough Stephen Kings, J K Rowlings, R L Steins, and J R R Tolkiens. Find your own way to write, and go with that! However, this does not (not by a long shot) mean that you shouldn't read their books, study their works, and so on. For instance, I got my start on my personal style by reading almost innumerable stories and fanfictions online, as well as Jeanine Frost's Night Huntress books; they start with Halfway to the Grave. It's got a good, solid writing style, but is casual and slips humor in here and there. Mine, it's similar, because that's what I used for reference, but mine typically includes fewer humorous points and slightly less dramatic events. That's how I discovered my own writing style; a wide vocabulary, lots of adjectives in a small space, and very few plot holes.

Now, I know it might be a little bit… er… arrogant, I guess, on my part to compare my work to these famous authors'. But my point remains the same; read as much material as you can get your hands on. This is how you learn.

As always, I hope you enjoyed this amazingly short chapter, and I'll see you next time. :3