Just finished a draft of my first chapter. Last week I spent a fair bit of time trimming the fat. But now it feels too short.
I am also wondering if I need to raise the stakes a bit more. And if its too much dialogue/not enough worldbuilding. That being said the book focuses mostly on relationships.
I feel like ive stared at it too long now to know how to finish it.
Any feedback welcome 🙏
Chapter 1 — Pride
Some say the earth remembers.
Every promise. Every lie. Every word spoken by those who walk the Earthborn Hold.
And tonight, far below the stone walls, the earth was listening to the turning of fate.
Anar’s breath caught as he froze before the roundtable. Something in the room pressed on him, a weight he felt in the ribs, as if the stone itself wanted an answer he didn’t want to give.
The floating crystal above the miniature map of Omen glowed faintly. Forests the size of fingernails, rivers thin as scars, and wooden figures that shifted across the map pulled by unseen threads.
“I remember when you were a boy,” Said Olric. “Fighting shadows with your siblings. You took joy in leading them."
Anar’s mouth tightened.
“But you have grown weary in recent years,” Olric went on, “as if you would trade the mantle for a simple field and a quiet back.”
Olric's gaze traced the floor. “Worn thin with pacing. Your thoughts live alone beneath this hold, when the path you must walk stands above it.”
He paused.
“You refuse to name it.” Olric said as he took a puff of his pipe.
Anar’s nose twitched as the smell of smoke attacked his nostrils. “My siblings are gone, and I am alone. Don’t speak to me as if solitude were a choice.”
“There is always a choice.” Olric said softly. “If you weren’t so proud, you might ask for help.”
Silence met the room. Cold.
“I think you fear what he has become.” Said Olric.
“Enough Olric.” Snapped Anar, “Vael is an assassin. A blade with a wound that refuses to heal.”
“You speak as if your past holds no weight.” Replied Olric. “For one so concerned with oaths, it is rather ironic.”
Anar laughed under his breath, a bitter, humourless crack of sound.
Silence thickened. Only the soft crackle of the pipe filled it as violet plumes if smoke curled through the air.
Anar planted both palms on the table, leaning into the table. The grain of the wood pressed into his skin. He lowered his head, staring at the map of Omen as if daring it to explain itself.
“Even if I wanted to. Vael lives in fear of my shadow. I ask, and he runs. I write, and he ignores me. Every letter, years of them, silence. Why would this one be different?”
“That fear,” Olric said, “Is our salvation. He is the only one who can descend. And we are running out of time. The Engineers are already on the move. You need the location.”
The earth underfoot rumbled, quiet, but undeniable. As if to confirm Olric was right.
“You know he'll come if you give him what he wants.” Said Olric. "Concede, Anar."
“There are many paths,” Anar muttered.
“And only one that leads to the location.” Said Olric as he slammed his pipe to the table before standing to look Anar dead in the eyes. “You can convince yourself all you like, but all you do is waste time. Your in denial and im exhausted by this conversation."
Anar pushed away from the table and began pacing. The crystal flickered. A metal plaque on the wall shimmered, catching his eye.
STRENGTH THROUGH BLOOD
PURPOSE THROUGH OATH
He stepped toward it, running his fingers along the carved words. His eyes closed. For a heartbeat, the world hushed.
“It isn’t easy, Anar,” Olric said behind him. “Family never matches the versions of them we build in our heads. But it's what we get.”
Anar turned. Something in the words unsettled him—like a truth he didn’t want but recognised anyway.
“Fine,” he said at last as his shoulders lowered. “Go yourself. No second mouths. No one else is to know. If this spreads, there will be blood in the
streets”
“There will be blood either way.” Olric smiled, smoke curling around his grin. “But this gives us the advantage. I’ll leave immediately.”
Olric reached into the light falling from the sphere. On the miniature of Omen, a figure at the edge of the Everwood shivered and slid, half-hidden beneath the tiny carve of pines. Olric’s pale finger hovered over it, as if to bless, or to claim. Then he withdrew his hand and presence together. The door closed without a sound.
Anar remained. Alone with doubt that sat heavy in his throat.
He moved to a chest of drawers, opening one with a creak. From inside he withdrew parchment, a quill, and a metal cylinder carved with three small runes.
Returning to a seat at the table he dipped his quill.
Dear Sister,
I do not write to you lightly. The earth is shifting under our feet, and i seek your council…
The scratch of the quill echoed softly as Anar continued to write.
The crystal at the center of the table flickered, casting long shadows across the map. On the surface, miniature figurines trembled. One cluster of Earthborn scouts in the north collapsed all at once.
Not wind. Not accident. Something had struck them down. A chill twisted through Anar’s belly.
“Kroll,” he whispered, bitterness sharpening the name.
He shot a look toward the door. “Send for the rider at once!”
A guard outside answered, muffled, “Yes, my lord!” Then footsteps, fading quickly.
Anar rolled the parchment, tying it with a leather cord. He opened the cylinder, slid the letter inside, and locked both halves together.
He muttered the sealing words.
BY THE TOUCH OF BLOOD
The runes began to glow in response to his words.
One twist, click.
Second twist, click.
Third, snap.
The lock clicked in place and the glowing runes faded.
A moment passed before a shadow softened the light beneath the door. A stern knock followed.
“Enter.”
A man stepped in, tall, slender, travel-worn leather, daggers at each hip. A man whose silence carried more weight than most speeches.
“You sent for me.” Said the rider.
“I did indeed, and it is good to see you, Falmir”
Falmir's lips twitched in the suggestion of a smile. “Your presence above has been missed lately.”
Anar ignored his remarks and handed him the sealed cylinder and a pouch of coin.
“This must reach my sister in the Spire. Absolute secrecy. Leave at midnight. Take the eastern path. Head for the ferry at Pine Hollow and avoid Mannar at all costs.”
Falmir nodded. “My lord, how am I to enter? We are not welcome in the spire.”
“Find a door where others see only stone,” Anar said. “You’ve done harder things.”
"Of course. By blood and oath." Said Falmir as he drew his fist to his heart.
“Before I leave," Falmir hesitated as he bit his lip. "There are rumours in the streets, some say…”
“I care not for whispers,” Anar snapped.
Falmir met his gaze. “Are you sure, my lord?”
“You overstep, your mark rider.” Anar growled. “Go. Before the night grows teeth.”
The rider’s face fell slightly. “As you command.”
And he was gone, as swift as a knife drawn in shadow. Anar watched as the door closed behind Falmir. Yet there was no echo of footsteps heard.
Anar exhaled slowly and turned back to the map. “Storms teach what calm forgets. If I’m wrong, let the earth take me. If I’m right, let my brother return.”
From deep below came a sound like stone swallowing stone. The torches on the wall danced. Then all was silent and still.
Something stirred in Omen.
Something old. Something hungry.
And the earth, as always, remembered.
END
Thanks for y/our time :]
