From scratch. I'm a perfectionist, and the NaNo version just wasn't doing it for me. Now I have lots and lots of things worked out -- it'll need much editing after its finished, but I feel a lot better with this decision. The story is now more complex, with less holes.
Here's a vision sequence in the prologue:
(Thus far it =is= a little cheesi-fied.)
From the endless depths of the glowing pool a singular seed rose, hovering in the air. Those gathered gasped – the pure beauty and simple deadliness that now floated before them both amazed and frightened them. Here, this small oval seed, was the result of their sacrifices, their tears – it was hope, death, but their sorrow dwarfed its potential.
Something so minute could not possibly save their world. It was all for nought. They had failed.
Yet, even as they stood together, the seed took root, flowering before their eyes into a crimson rose. From the edge of their circle She stepped forward and plucked it with little ceremony from its invisible perch. She was silent for a time, her paper thin hands stroking the smoothness of one vibrant petal.
“It is poisoned.” She whispered, turning to the group in accusation. Their eyes quickly searched the faces of their comrades, all half hidden in the dark shadow of their cloaks. Who could have done such a thing?
Then: laughter, so dark that none could mistake the owner.
“You have failed,” the voice laughed from beyond the black reaches of his cloak. “There is no hope, not without the last Gift, and it will never be given.”
“If you do not save our world, then you will die, too!” cried Lilith, throwing back her hood and pointing one slender, bronzed finger at the Speaker.
“I can never die,” Thorin threw back his own hood and faced his enemies. His fingers reached out, calling the mist and fog to him. They would attempt to stop him, he knew, attempt to wrest free his gift, attempt to kill Amam – they would ruin everything given the slightest chance. He could not afford to give them that chance, but neither could he leave their court without first gloating in the face of their failure – his triumph.
But they did not scare him – there was only one here powerful enough to make him worry, yet he knew She would not raise her hand to him. The gift must be given freely, and She knew this.
“How could you lend in your own extinction?” asked Geo’nath, removing his own cloak, unashamed for once of the spiderweb of scars that marred his otherwise perfect complexion.
“I will live long after your stars have been extinguished,” Thorin sneered. “Amam is coming. Fleiea was not the last. Without my gift you will never win.”
“I would see the rivers run red with your blood!” cried Simeoneth, stepping out from the middle of the circle brandishing the Sword Of Shining Light.
As he strode forward, Thorin called the last foggy remnants of his shadows to him, covering the whole of his body he felt the darkness eat away at his being until finally, his cloak fell bodiless to the stone floor. As he fled away to his kingdom, he heard Simeoneth swear vengeance.
He smiled. Turning his head to the west he saw Amam, turning even now to the Stone Circle, where he would devour the souls of the Rose and mark the end of the Land.
-- S. Sovereign.. blah blah blah.
04:20 p.m. }} Thursday, January 23, 2003
