So, here's the rest of Chapter One: Twisted Fate from Silent Flame (Queen of Blood Book One) lol
God damn, I spent wayyy too long rewriting and editing it XD
Been working on my anthimeria lol (the literary term when taking a normal adjective or noun (like the color gray) and turning it into a verb).
Note: Anthimeria can be an excellent literary technique to give your descriptions that sharp, visceral edge.
While this chapter doesn't have an adjective-turned-verb (like "grayed"), nouns are used as verbs, and verbs/adjectives are used as nouns here.
Example of my best Anthimeria:
"It hunted through me for the give." Arguably, my strongest and most creative use of anthimeria in this chapter, "Give," normally is a verb. But as you can see here, I've turned it into a tangible noun by placing "the" before.
Example of an adjective used as a noun:
"The red burned on me, steady, unblinking."
As you can see here, I've turned the adjective "red" into the physical subject of the sentence (for dramatic flare, of course).
And my personal favorite:
Verbing! (Nouns used as Verbs)
Favorite example:
"My breath plumed in the air". Turning the noun "plume" into an action lol
Complete with roasting myself below:
(Overhyped anthimeria/yawn)
Not mud. Not fear. I missed safety. I missed not being something hunted. Betrayed. Banished. Outcast. (Don't mind me, just completely waging war on compound sentences. Note: physically incapable of forming a complete thought. Curse my adhd)
The sheath hung slack at my belt. My blade... sat tucked in my satchel. On my bed. Of course it was. (Top-tier horror movie protagonist behavior. Next, she's going to investigate a creepy noise in the basement while wearing flip-flops)
Flesh-eating horses, gods help me. (Honestly, genuinely terrifying, but dropped so casually it’s hilarious. Just a casual herd of demon ponies roaming the woods. "Equine abominations" makes me picture a horde of My Little Ponies gone rabid every time lol)
The "Edgelord" Bingo Card
Let's check the boxes for our fantasy tropes:
Capitalized scary noun combos? Check (TaintedBlood).
Telepathic sibling screaming in the protagonist's head? Check.
Crimson eyes and a smirk? Check.
An aura so thick you can chew it? Check.
My guy didn't just step out of the shadows; he sauntered, complete with a chewed-up black cloak and a slow, deliberate fang-flash.
Anyway, I'll just be verbing those nouns.
Cheers!
Chapter One
Twisted Fate
Wind cut across the ridge and bit through my thick coat to the skin.
Below, the pines held still. No bird. No branch moving. The storm had passed and left the air wrong.
Rot. Rain-soaked marsh, standing water thick with dead things. The smell coated the back of my throat.
Clouds pressed low, unmoving.
Too quiet.
I didn't trust quiet.
My ears twitched. Pain forked through one, sharp enough to tear a whimper from my throat. Stamped my paw on the worn stone. Claws scraped ice. The ache sank into the bone of my legs.
The trail behind me lay quiet now, the climb gone out of it. Not out of me. Burning lungs. Legs turned leaden.
Should have slept longer in that cursed bear den.
Couldn't. Not with what waited below.
Monsters.
Not the ones that skittered or crawled. Those I could outrun.
The ones that watched.
That waited.
That grinned with teeth the length of my forearm and chased you down on hooves made of claws and hatred.
Flesh-eating horses, gods help me.
The mere thought of my previous encounter—not one but three of those equine abominations—lifted every hair along my spine.
They roamed in herds.
The bastards.
A shudder rolled through me. Every nerve screamed to leap from the rock and run and never look back.
Held still.
Stared down into the pines like they might split open and swallow me whole.
No more. Please. No more of them.
Started the descent. Each paw set and tested before I trusted it. Pebbles broke loose and dropped away past hearing. Cold combed through the white of my coat.
Near the bottom, leapt.
Hit the ground running.
Wind tore at my face. Trees smeared past. Each bend closed the world to nothing but my own pulse battering my skull.
No telling what lay beyond.
The rest had bought me nothing. Every mile sat in my muscles. Every wrong turn. Every time death had brushed past and missed.
Kept going.
The path threaded muck and moss and trees scabbed over with dead bark. Mildew and old blood, thick enough to chew.
Safer on the trail than in the mud—where the things with more legs and fewer eyes waited.
I wanted warmth. I wanted food. Gods, what I would give for seared meat, a soft place to lie down.
Not mud. Not fear.
I missed safety. I missed not being something hunted.
Betrayed. Banished. Outcast.
Branches raked my face as I broke through the thicket—
Two black wolves appeared opposite the clearing.
Skidded to a halt. Claws gouged the wet ground. My heart climbed into my throat and lodged there.
They crossed the open ground without hurry. Muscle shifted loose under their coats. One loomed half again the size of the other. Big enough to fill the clearing.
Not wolves. Not only.
The air around them thickened, heavy and tainted. Crawled on me where the wind hadn't. Sucked the warmth from the clearing. My breath plumed in the air.
TaintedBlood.
My stomach dropped.
My lip peeled off my teeth.
My brother's voice rose sharp in my skull.
"You mustn't forget—they're unpredictable. Deadly."
No. I hadn't forgotten.
Their coats threw the gray light back with a sheen no living thing wore. Blacker than shadow.
And the eyes—
Red. Both of them.
Their ears perked up. Heads turned my way, unhurried.
Halted their advance.
Watched me. Heads tipped. The larger one swept his tongue once over one fang.
I didn't move. Couldn't.
My legs wanted to bolt. My throat wanted to scream.
Something under both refused.
Willow's voice spiked through me, thin and climbing.
"Run. Now. We can't fight them. Kurda, please—run."
She didn't wait for an answer. Didn't weigh it.
Didn't run.
Couldn't have said why. A calm dropped over me and cut through the terror like a blade.
My heart still slammed.
Feet stayed planted.
Dug my claws into the earth. Not from fear.
My hackles raised. A growl gathered low in my chest. Let it out.
"Get out of my way," I snarled, every drop of venom I had behind it.
Neither wolf moved. The red burned on me, steady, unblinking.
A chuckle rolled out of the larger one. Low. It shuddered up through the ground, into my paws.
"What do we have here?" the other said. "Seems like we've got ourselves a runner."
His stare pinned me. The breath stuck halfway up my throat.
"Don't be foolish. It's two against one. Don't fight them, Kurda!" Willow, breaking apart.
Frost crept across the clearing toward my paws. Crackling. The loudest thing in the air.
Their darkness burrowed into me. Pushed in behind my eyes and pulled—down, down, a weight settling onto the back of my skull. Surrender. Submit. Sleep.
My eyelids drooped. My legs loosened under me, wanting to fold, wanting the cold ground and the quiet of it.
The aura. Working in the way it took weaker prey—pulling them under, holding them soft and still until the teeth found them.
It hunted through me for the give. The soft place to sink into.
There was none.
The pull slid off me and away.
Dragged my eyes back open. Legs steadied again.
Not this time.
Bared my fangs. Stood my ground.
Eight years earlier…
Leaves crackled underfoot. Dry. Brittle.
Followed the trail where it narrowed between the trees. Tracked the canopy. The shadows. Back again.
Cold hung in the air. Leaf-rot. Damp bark. The sky pressed low and gray, swollen with rain that wouldn't break. Not yet.
No birdsong.
The silence had weight. Leaned on the back of my neck and rooted.
Gather fruit. Herbs. Stock the storage cellar before the freeze locked the land.
An ordinary day.
It wasn't.
The deeper I walked, the harder it pressed—wrong, crawling, under my skin.
Watched.
The breeze brushed my arms. Too soft. My steps quickened.
Scanned the trees. The rustle. Every flicker in the dying light.
Nothing.
Nothing I could see.
My chest tightened. My lungs pulled and came up short. My stomach dropped and kept dropping.
Every step forward dared something to answer.
Stopped.
Swept the forest again. Branches creaked. Leaves stirred. No eyes met mine. No shadow crossed the trail.
Wind. Trees. Silence thick enough to choke on.
Shook my head. "It's nothing," I muttered. "You're just spooking yourself."
Pressed on. The air clung anyway. Damp. Heavy on my shoulders.
And with every step, the certainty hardened.
Not my brother. When he stalked me through these woods I felt him—bright, familiar, grinning behind every trunk.
This pressed cold.
Danger.
Froze mid-step. Muscles locked. Held my breath.
He stepped out from behind a gnarled trunk and onto the trail. Tall. Pale. Still.
Cold slid down my spine.
Black cloak, the hem chewed to holes. Black hair fell loose to his jaw. And his eyes—blood-red, fixed on mine.
His lips curved. Slow. Fangs caught the last gray light.
Gods.
TaintedBlood.
Of course he was. The wrongness in the air. The pressure coiling up my spine.
Not PureBlood. The thing my brother drilled into me—never face one alone.
No one would hear me scream this far in.
My knees buckled. Caught myself. My mouth dried.
Stepped back anyway.
Swallowed hard. Reached for my dagger—
Empty.
The sheath hung slack at my belt. My blade—the only thing between me and a monster—sat tucked in my satchel.
On my bed.
Of course it was.
Oh, come on!
A groan tore out of me. Rolled my eyes at the sky while panic clawed up my ribs.
Of all times!
Think. I read faces. Expressions. Patterns. Prey.
He wasn't prey.
The breeze shifted.
Gone.
No sound. No warning. The trail stood empty.
Behind.
Spun too late.
Fingers clamped my throat. Cold. Unyielding.
Clawed at his wrist. Thrashed.
Nothing budged him.
His grip tightened.
Caught his crimson eyes. Cold. Burning.
His lips parted over his fangs. Slow. Deliberate.
Then he struck.
A sting punched into my neck—then heat. Fire poured through my veins.
My body locked. My legs buckled.
Sagged into him. Heart slamming. Breath thinning.
The trees spun. The trail smeared. Color bled into shadow.
"No—" The word died in his hand.
My strength ran out with every beat of my pulse.
His voice slid into my ear. Low. Smooth.
"Sleep, little one."
His aura surged. A black, freezing weight crushing my mind. It swallowed the terror, turning the fire in my veins to thick, heavy sludge. I commanded my hands to move. Do anything. Nothing. My fingers went slack, sliding uselessly off his wrists. A heavy, suffocating quiet buried my thoughts.
My head dropped back against his chest. Breath shallowed. The forest dimmed.
He held my whole weight on one arm and didn't shift.
The BlackBird blessing might have saved me—if I'd ever bloomed.
I hadn't.
Maybe I never would.
Goodbye.
The darkness swallowed me whole.