Rani Divine's Blog, page 22

The time has come

It’s March!
Know what that means? It means that the Mavguard Magazine submissions window is now open! And that means that I’m here to talk to you about it. Because I always do. You know me so well! ;-)
From now until the end of June, Mavguard is accepting submissions in art, poetry, and short stories. And I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, it’s open until June, so I have plenty of time to get something sent in.” Well, that’s where you’re wrong. June is right around the corner. Notice how fast January and February went by? That’s how fast these next few months will go, too.
Four months sounds like a lot of time, but it’s really not—and if you procrastinate through to June, you know very well that you’re not going to do it at all.
I know you. I was you, once. I was a procrastinator.
I’m not anymore. You don’t have to be, either.
So what sort of creative work do you do?
Are you a writer? A poet? An artist? Do you have anything that’s nearing completion?
I’ll let you in on a little secret:
Mavguard will actually accept unedited submissions early on in the submissions window, and you’re more than welcome to tweak things and send it back in before we start reading.
Actually, it’s something I recommend doing. If you let us know that you’re sending in an unedited manuscript and that you’d like us to remind you that you’ll need to send in a new file, we’re more than happy to do so!
All we want is for you to get published. We want to help you get there, get your work in a print and digital publication. And we’ll do whatever we can to help you get there.
So do it! Take us up on our offer. Send something in early. If you like, ask if one of our volunteers can read it early and give you some pointers on where to go with it (generally for poetry and short stories, of course, but we’re also happy to review art).
We’re here for you.
Always have been.
Head over to Mavguard’s site now to check out our guidelines and send in your work. And no, you won’t see this little secret shared anywhere on the site. That’s why it’s a secret. ;-)
[love]
{Rani D}

Tell Them

Did you realize we have less than a month to go before Mynidd: People of the Hills hits shelves?! I'm so excited, that I couldn't think of anything better to do than release another all-new excerpt from my latest novel.

Read on, friends, and don't forget to head over to RAD Writing and preorder your copy!

[love]

{Rani Divine}


Excerpt from Mynidd: People of the Hills by Rani Divine©Copyright RAD Writing, 2018
Fysri kept her eyes on the wall in front of her, even as the two humans stepped into the room. This time, the female had brought a helping hand—one of the men who always fought close to her in her battles. As far as her sense of smell could tell, the wound on the female’s leg had been dressed and stitched. She was no longer profusely bleeding. But this also meant that Fysri couldn’t use her pain against her. The two were no longer in mutual pain.  Her own body still ached from the day before. Every last hair had been burned from her arm, the majority of her scales seared together to the point that her skin could no longer breathe at all. Not to mention the chafing of the ropes, scraping into her skin until smooth white blood oozed from her skin. They were testing her, trying her, seeing how much she could take at a time. For that alone, she wished she could succumb into the jaws of death. Her body could not transform into the night, and everything in her being wished that she had been able to do so. It was only during night that her body would be able to regenerate, even in the slightest. She was not a healer, but a wanderer, and far from indestructible.  The male helped the female to keep from reinjuring herself, as they walked farther inside. There was no telling what ends they would go to, this time. Only a few hours before, Fysri’s pain had been greater than she’d thought possible. The Vartes had not wanted any of this. Pain had only been introduced to the world when humanity rebelled.  “Good day,” the female said as she limped closer to Fysri.  She hissed in response. The pain in her arm and joints had been reduced to a dull throb, but one she knew would be amplified within moments. Still her people had not come for her. Was it possible that even Hythdor was unaware she was still alive?  Her eyes remained fixed on the wall before her, even when the female stood in her way. Fysri stared straight ahead, unwilling to shift her gaze for fear of revealing her own pain.  “Maybe you’ll tell me your name today, hm?” the female asked.  The male dragged another chair into the room before he closed the door, leaving them all in only the light of a single lamp.  Fysri had never missed the green flames of the den so much in all her years. She’d never thought that she would be captured and taken to this place. She was one of the strongest warriors in Hythdor’s army, and she’d never suffered a loss like this before. She’d never left her victims alive, in all her time. In the whole army, she was one of few who’d been in the battle from the very beginning. Even the pennaeths hadn’t been able to keep themselves alive. Their plans were always too reckless. But while she’d followed them, Fysri had kept herself alive and well. This should never have happened.  “Tell them.”  The words echoed through her mind in a way she’d only heard once before. The Vartes’ voice could not be mistaken.  “Fysri,” she whispered through clenched teeth, unwilling to deny the voice of the creator.  “Fysri?” the female said, tilting her head to the side. “I’m going to assume that’s your name.” Her eyes shifted back to the man, who set the chair beside the table.  She glanced quickly to that table, to the bounty of weapons stored upon it. Fysri had never truly seen her weapons laid out in a form like that. They’d always been upon her person, hidden on her body and prepared for use. They were many, and she only wished that she could reach them. So much could be done, if only she could reach those knives. She could break her way out of here. Or she could go to meet the Vartes, on her own terms. Neither option seemed unappealing in her mind.  The words of the Vartes still breathed into her mind, the way they did inside the amphitheater of the witch den. They moved around her, repeating the same two words over and over, words that she began to hate the more she realized what they meant. Her task had been set, since long before. Hythdor knew well of it, for Fysri had told her, the very hour in which she’d had the vision. Things were about to change, and she could not deny it. They were the words of the Vartes, after all, and she was Dewin. She could not deny the creator, despite the fear that roused within her, that these people would slaughter hers when they heard what she had to say.  “Sit,” the male said.  Fysri lifted her eyes to look at the humans, doing her best not to move. Perhaps if they believed she was in too much pain, that doing anything more to her would only be a detriment, they would see no need to continue. She knew it was a lie, that her mind was only grasping at straws, but it was the only thing she could think. Her mind fought against the words of the creator. “Tell them.” The words repeated over and over, to the point that she’d memorized the way the Vartes spoke them. The earnestness in the voice of the creator was the only thing to set her mind in stone. The humans needed to be told. Nothing the Vartes commanded was without purpose.  The female sighed and walked to the chair, and the male helped her into it. “I’ll be asking the questions,” she said. “Maks will be my hands.” Her eyes stared into Fysri’s, as though she expected her to respond in kind. The man stepped behind her, into the only portion of the room Fysri had been entirely unable to see. Anything could’ve been back there.  When she made no move to respond, the woman looked to the back of the room and nodded.  Fysri gasped at the feel of a prick upon her arm, only to hiss in pain when one of her scales was ripped from her burned flesh. Maks repeated the process again and again, slowly, tearing burned skin from her arm until she cried out in pain, unable to stop herself.   “Tell me where your people are,” the female said, her eyes unmoving from Fysri’s. “Tell me where they are, and I won’t ask Maks to continue.”  A sharp hiss sounded behind her, one that she was all too familiar with. There were many poison snakes within the boundaries of Mynidd land, none of which were to be trifled with. They were of the kingdom of animals, those who obeyed their masters. For this one, humanity had become master. She could not trust the protection of Dewin.   “No,” she whispered under her breath, thinking only of the snake.  All she wanted to do was move, to get out of the way, to aid the poor creature the humans had taken into captivity, but her body would not respond. With every tiny motion, her cells screamed at her in agony. Still, the words of the Vartes echoed in her mind, begging for her to do what was right in the eyes of the creator. There had to have been a plan. She could think of no other answer.  “Do it,” the female said.  “The forest,” Fysri cried out. “They’re in the forest.”  The woman got to her feet and approached Fysri. “Of course they are,” she said condescendingly. “Where?”  Fysri shook her head, listening to the sounds of hissing behind her. From the sound, she’d narrowed it down to one of three snakes. She knew many of their brothers, from her time wandering the hills. She knew them as peaceful creatures, cherished by the Mynidd—as every other creature in the hills.   The female shifted her eyes behind Fysri and nodded.  Her entire body screamed when two small pinpricks stabbed into the open flesh on her shoulder. She opened her mouth and shouted in pain, her eyes shifting up to look into those of the female. “They’re eight of your miles from the bend in the river, in the valley of the witch,” she said, though she was no longer in control of her own mind. The Vartes had wished for her to speak, and she could not deny. If only she had done so sooner.  

Know what you're doing

It’s the finale! I know, Tuesday next is still in February, but I have something far more fun planned for that. Don’t you worry.
This month, we’ve been talking about all the basic tenants of story that you need to have figured out before you can really get to writing. We’ve created a world and constructed a setting, we’ve met our characters and decided why we’re writing this story, we’ve even determined what’s going on that’s making the story move forward, and the tension of it all.
So really, there’s only one thing left to do. Defining Your Story
I don’t mean outline. I don’t mean outline, at all. I hate outlines. I despise them. I used to write the paper before I wrote the outline, in college. Teachers never even noticed. I don’t need an outline—I need a story.
And that’s what I want you to need, too.
That’s your final tenant. You need to have a story to tell.
If you don’t have a story to tell, then why are you writing the story at all?
This is how my books usually start, truth be told. I have a story, and then I have a character. Then I’ll figure out the setting, and from there, I’ll determine the world. It doesn’t matter what order you figure everything out in, only that you take the time to figure it out. Don’t imagine that you already know everything there is to know. Even if this book is the sequel to the last one, I guarantee you that some things have changed. You need to know what those are, and you ought to have them in a file somewhere you can easily access them, because again, I guarantee you it’s going to come in handy.
So, what’s your story?
How does it relate to your characters?
What bearing does it make upon your setting, your world?
How did the tension develop within it?
How will your goals be met through this telling?
You need to know these things, if only so you know them. Your readers won’t even notice that you put in all this work, and that’s the way it should be. Your readers shouldn’t see you, they should see your story. Your story should stand on its own, without you to hold it there.
That’s what we all want. A story that transcends us. 
So make sure you take the time to figure out what your story is. You don't have to know the whole thing, but have an idea. Write down some possible plot points that have popped into your head. If you must outline, then outline, but if you're like me, just write down some ideas and let yourself explore the possibilities in your mind before experiencing the story for itself. 
That's how I write a good story. (editing is what makes it great)
Now you know what you need to get there.
[love]
{Rani D.}

Cut with a knife

This month, we’ve been talking about the basic tenants of creating your story, the things you need to do to make sure your story is the best it possibly can be, before you get too far in. So far, we’ve created our world and zeroed in on our setting, we’ve met our characters, and we’ve gotten at least a basic idea of what we want our story to achieve—so what’s next?
Defining Your Tension
Yeah, that sounds weird. I had a hard time coming up with a better title than that. Oh well.
What I mean here is that you need to know where your tension is coming from, and you probably ought to know it before the first chapter is through. A lot of the time, you actually need to know it by the time you’ve written your first sentence.
See, if you don’t know where the tension is coming from, if you don’t at least have an idea of what’s going on, then how is your reader supposed to be able to feel that tension? How are you going to know how deep to make that tension in your characters, how richly to convey the taught strings within the story? You don’t, unless you know where it’s coming from.
Basically, I want you to know what the negative elements are.
Writers tend to focus on the happy parts of things a little longer than we should, so I really want you to take some time and figure this out. Sit down and determine what’s really going on in your story.
Is the tension building because your main character is about to be kicked out of their apartment? Is someone chasing them? Or is there a war on, and they’re afraid for their friends and family fighting? Is there an alien parasite inside one of their bodies?
Whatever it is, you need to know. The reader needs to know within the first few paragraphs, so they’re not lost in the throes of exposition with no explanation of what’s really going on.
Remember, our ultimate goal is to plunge our readers deep into our stories. Tension is one of the better ways of doing that.
It’s the stress of it all that makes us want to know what’s really going on. Happy stories are only designed for children. Adults like to see things the way they really are, with stress and tension and anxiety.
Why? I couldn’t really tell you. 
[love]
{Rani D.}

What do you want?

All February long, I’m going over some of the basic tenants of writing and how to make sure you’ve mastered them before you really start your story. Previously, we’ve talked about world building, setting defining, and characterization. This time, we’re talking about something slightly more difficult to quantify.
Defining your goals
Basically, I want you to know why you’re writing this story, before you start writing it. And yes, I do in fact know that this can be a very difficult question to answer. For some of us, we’re just writing for the sake of writing. Others are writing to market (which, though it can get you a great deal of sales, I still say is a cop-out). What I want to challenge you with, however, is the fact that you really ought to have at least a basic reason of why you’re writing this story, a goal you wish to achieve, before you get very far in.
And don’t worry; some of us won’t find out how to define this until you’re a few chapters in. That’s totally okay, and completely normal. Sometimes we have to get a little bit into the story before we can make sense of this.
If you don’t know the point of your story, if you don’t know your goals before you get very far into the book, your readers will notice. There’s an element there, a depth of story, that won’t be there if you don’t know the answer.
But, what could your goals possibly be?
Maybe you want your readers to learn something. Maybe, you’re the one who wants to learn. Maybe your main character has something they desperately need to achieve, and you believe this story holds some moral for your readers. Perhaps you’re conveying a story of your family, or your friends, and you believe people ought to know it. Or maybe you’re writing this story for the sake of getting it out of your mind, to release it from your thoughts and let the world view it as you have for so long.
It doesn’t matter what your goals are. It really doesn’t. When an author has a goal in mind, when they have something like this that they wish to convey to their readers, those readers sense it. When we read the book, we see how deeply the writer is connected to the story—and it connects us to the story as well.
That’s what we want, as writers. We want our readers to be connected to our stories. We want them to feel our stories the same way we do.
Know your goals, know what you want to do with this story, and you’ll be one step closer to that.
[love]
{Rani D.}

Such a character!

First thing’s first. Did you guys see I’m advance reading Ted Dekker’s The 49th Mystic? I’m only a couple chapters in so far, but my goodness it’s already amazing! You’ll all definitely have to get a copy when it comes out in May. And that should give you plenty of time to read Mynidd beforehand. ;-)
Today, we return to our series on the tenants of writing—and today, we’re talking about one that you definitely have to at least start before you’ve begun writing your story.
Defining Your Characters
See, the characters are the big things that draw people into our stories, that make people want to continue reading our stories and attach themselves to the lore we create. Most readers will tell you that if your characters are flat, it’s far more difficult to read a story. For myself, I struggle to read any book where the characters are pointless and lifeless. If I can’t get attached to somebody, it’ll take me at least twice as long to read the book—if I even make it all the way through at all.
First thing’s first though.
You need to decide what kind of characters you’re writing. Is this a story about a plucky guy or a mouthy girl? Why? Your setting and world building should help to shape your decisions in this area, if you’re struggling with it.
The point is, this is where you need to start making some big decisions. Decide who your main character is. What do they look like? Where do they live? What do they do for a living? Why is this story focusing on them? What makes them unique or special? What do they want? What do they need? Why should your readers want to know about them?
These are things you need to know before you start writing your novel. If you don’t know your character, then it’ll be a struggle for you as you’re writing, to discover what the story is really about.
After all, it’s character that really drives story forward.
Now, as you all know, I’m a seat-of-your-pants kind of writer. I don’t outline. So I know how difficult it is to make yourself sit down and work out who your characters are before you write the story. I know that. But I’m not telling you that you need to know everything about them. I’m telling you that you need to know something, and you can figure the rest out along the way.
Like this:
Michelle Bonovan5’8”, long brown hair w/golden highlights, brown doe eyes, oval face, average buildWears tee shirts and jeans whenever she can, but has to wear a skirt to the officeLives in an apartment in downtown New York, barely makes the rentWorks as a paralegal for some firm in the cityWants to get out of the city and live a real life, but doesn't know what real life isNeeds money to make that happen, but all her money is going to rent and somewhere else she hasn’t told me yetAlways looking over her shoulder, like she’s afraid of something. Her friends think she’s just a little skittish
Now, I just made that up on the spot, but you can see the picture. I’ve gotten a basic idea of who Michelle is, and I’ve made note of a few things I don’t know about her yet. You can also go into details about her family, siblings, education, and general life if you think that’ll help you in starting your story (honestly, more often than not, it will).
The point is, make sure you’ve at least defined your primary character a little bit, before you really get into your novel.
You’ll thank me later.
[love]
{Rani Divine}

p.s. If you want to know more about how to make your characters like real people, check out this month's series in the RAD Blog! 

Setting with Style

This month, I’ve put together six tenants of story that you need to know, or at least have an idea of, before you start writing (or during the first few chapters, if you’re writing a novel). And now that we have our worlds in place (Click Here if you haven’t read Tuesday’s post!), it’s time to work on the next piece of our story puzzle.
Defining your setting
It’s different from your world, I promise. See, the world is the big picture, the ultimate backdrop to your story as a whole. The setting, however, is smaller than that. Setting is the immediate backdrop, the place where your story is being acted out at any given time. And your setting can actually be focused on several unique locations at a time, while your world is all of it, lumped together.
Think of it like this: You live on planet Earth, in the United States, but your story actually takes place in your home, at your workplace, and wherever you go to hang out with friends.
It’s the same way for your story. You have to have the world in place so you know the ultimate backdrop, so you know what’s going on outside this story and know the things that will influence your characters in their decision making, but you really need to nail your setting if you want your story to shine.
Here are a few things you need to know, to help develop your setting: 

Where do your characters live? Where do they work? How do they get there? What time do they work? Where do they go, when they’re not home or working? What places do they most enjoy? What city? What climate? What season? What year? (If your world isn't Earth, you'll want to expand this list to include details about cities, townships, landscape, topography, etc.) 

All of these will be informed by the world you created, yes, but they will be fully formed within the setting itself. This is where your story will actually take place, where we’ll see the things that really matter.
I will say, actually, that defining your setting is slightly more important than defining your world. Like I said last time, I have written entire series’ without having my worlds defined, but it’s easier if you do it beforehand. Whereas, if you don’t know your setting while you’re writing your story, how are your readers ever supposed to follow what’s going on?
We like to visualize what we’re reading; we like to be able to see it in our minds. If even you can’t do that, if you haven’t taken the time to clearly define your setting and everything in it, then your readers will be hopelessly lost.
That’s the last thing we want.
So, take some time to define your setting. Even if all you do is make sure to clearly define it within your first two chapters. Do it. Then copy/paste some of those details into another document so you can easily refer back to it when the time comes—because, as we all know, it will come, and it'll be easier on you if you don't have to read an entire chapter to find the one detail you're looking for. 
[love]
{Rani Divine}

World Builder

This month, I actually picked a theme! (I know, you should be proud of me). All February, we’ll be talking about the basic tenants of creating your story, most of which take place within the first chapter or two, or before you’ve even started getting words down on the page (depending on your style of writing).
We’ll start with what is perhaps the most important: Defining your world
Even if you’re writing a straight up fiction novel, set here on Earth, with no funny business about the world in general, you need to define your world. You need to know the era you’re set in, you need to know the politics of the world in general (especially the countries in which your story will be set), and you need to know what’s going on around the world, that might affect your characters or might sway the story in any way. You’ll also want to keep up on current events in your time frame, which will make it easier for your readers to attach themselves to the era in which your story was written (wars and tragedies are especially good for this, for some reason).
Here’s the thing:
If you don’t know your world before you get into writing your story, both your story and your characters end up suffering for it. You need to know as much about your world as possible, especially if your story is set in the future on Earth, or on another planet altogether.
For instance, if you’re story is set in the future on Earth, you’ll want to note what’s different. What level of technology have your people reached? Do you need to invent some new technology to make your story make sense? Where do normal people live? Where do rich people live? Where do poor people live? What’s the quality of life? Is overpopulation a thing? Have there been any political changes of note? Have any countries merged? Are there any wars on? What do people wear? How do they travel? What do they do for work? What’s the primary language? What's the new style of architecture?
If you don’t know the answers to these questions, your world isn’t fully born. You don’t have enough to go on, you don’t have enough information for your readers to latch onto, for them to fully make sense of what’s going on in your story.
See, the thing is, this is the world in which your story is taking place. This is the backdrop for the entire story. If we can’t see the backdrop, then what’s the point of it even being set here? Why is the story set here instead of present day, on Earth? Or if it is present day Earth, why isn't it set in WWII era? There has to be a reason, and that reason can frequently be found in the world itself.
So, here’s what you do:
When you’re starting a new story, a new work, a new novel, sit down and write the answers to these questions. Be as descriptive as possible. Use your imagination, but try to remain as plausible as possible. Do some research, if you have to. Play with it. Have fun with it. Be inventive.
Then, while you’re writing this story, you'll have these answers to refer back to. You can see whether your characters would actually go where they’re going, because you know now, whether there’s a war on. You know what time everybody gets off work and when rush hour is. You know the answers to basic questions that will mark your story and make the setting (which is different from the world, and which we'll talk about on Thursday) far more realistic for your readers.
You’ll thank me, when you’ve given it a try.
I didn’t do that, when I wrote my Earth-Space series, and now I’m having to go back and add in all the things I should’ve known before. Talk about a pain in the butt!
[love]
{Rani D.}
p.s. Why is it that in science fiction, we’re pretty sure every world but Earth only has one central government and one type of ecosystem (i.e. desert planets, ocean planets, etc.)? Why?! Make your worlds diverse!

Love is in the air

Valentine’s Day is coming up, and I thought that made for a good reason to talk about one of the biggest tenants of every story: love. It’s in literally every story written, even if you don’t think it is, even if readers don’t notice it’s there. But for a lot of us, love is what drives a story forward, it’s what keeps characters moving, what keeps them from falling into a pit of despair, and I think that makes for a very interesting topic, for today.
Why does everything revolve around love?
As you all well know, story imitates life. We’re trying to make our stories as close to real life as can be, even if our stories have nothing to do with real life at all. If the story doesn’t imitate life, then the reader has great difficulty following and understanding what the writer was trying to convey.
And, as we all know, love is a big part of life.
But here’s what you may not think of, in your everyday goings on:
Love is a part of every single thing you do, and influences nearly every decision you make.
Yeah, I know, that’s a really big statement, but it’s completely true. It’s scientifically proven that people who feel more loved by their parents, who don’t feel shunned and abused and unloved, are more likely to grow up into a more well-rounded and solid character. Those who feel unloved, those who are abused and hurt as children, have greater difficulty later in life because they feel they cannot trust anyone to love them, that they are unlovable. And this upbringing, this abundance or deprivation of love, will determine many things in a character's everyday life—whether they realize it or not.
You see, I’m not just talking about the happy side of love influencing us. It’s not all candy and roses out there, and neither is it for our writing. It’s also about the darker things, that people who have been told over and over again that they could not be loved, that there’s nothing about them that’s loveable.
That influences us more than we think.
See, we start to believe what we’re told, the more it’s told to us. It’s natural, from the start of our lives. So if Momma told you ain’t nobody gonna love you, then by the time you’re an adult, you probably agree. But if Momma told you people gonna be falling on their faces in love with you, that’s probably what you’ll expect when you’re an adult.
It’s the same for our characters. What happened to them when they were younger, the type of love they were shown, will influence the way they behave as adults—and the types of love they feel now, whether toward people or places or things, will impact the way they view the world as a whole.
We cannot afford to avoid love in our stories. To do so would be to deny a huge part of what life is, of the thing we’re trying to emulate through words on a page.
It doesn’t have to be all lovey-dovey. In fact, it shouldn’t be. But don’t forget to write about love. Don’t be so caught up in the things going on that you forget about the characters and what’s going through their minds. Don’t forget that we always think back to when we were little, to when so-and-so said such-a-thing that hurt our feelings and made us wonder every day whether it’s worth it to go on.
Because that’s how real people think, that’s how real people live, and we want our characters to be real, too.
[love]
{Rani Divine}

"Breathe"

Preorders for Mynidd open THURSDAY!! I’m stoked. Seriously, stoked. And, to celebrate, I’m letting you all read my favorite scene from the new novel, so you’ll be even more excited to go over and click that beautiful preorder button at the end of the week.
Check out the excerpt, below!
[love]
{Rani D.}

Mynidd: People of the Hills
(excerpt, ©Copyright RAD Writing, 2018)

I remember hearing someone call my name.  I couldn’t tell who it was, and I didn’t know that I actually wanted to go to them. I was surrounded by icy water, and I couldn’t breathe—but I often felt as though I couldn’t breathe while my body was out of my control. Maybe it was all in my mind, something my imagination decided to throw at me.  But then I was falling, and I knew what I felt was real.  My eyes opened, and I watched as I fell from the top of the cliffs down toward the lake below, unable to even cry out. Rocks rushed past my head, my legs, my outstretched arms, but still I couldn’t move. My body was still beyond my control, and I could do nothing to save myself. I couldn’t count the times I almost hit one of the rocks, and was somehow pushed out of the way. I wanted to hit one of them. I wanted to die in the air rather than drown in the lake below me. I didn’t want to feel water in my lungs and be unable to cough it out. I wanted my spine to break and my consciousness to fade, my entire mind to leave me before life was stolen from my body. More than anything, I wanted someone to catch me. I wanted Feo to be down there in the water, holding his arms out, ready to catch me. But I knew that it would never happen. Feo was gone; he couldn’t save me from this.  No one could.  As I reached the bottom of the falls, I tried to scream. I tried to let someone know where I was, to help someone find me and catch me, and bring me back to the surface.  I didn’t want to drown.  I’d heard stories of drowning, of people who’d almost drowned and been brought back to life. It was painful. It seared lungs and broke hearts. That was the last thing in the world that I wanted to experience. And yet, I found myself there, once again surrounded by water. This time it was warm. It flooded all around me, and I sank into its depths. There were other bodies down here. I knew that. I’d watched Karyn’s body sent down here, into the lake. Sasha had seen others—dozens of them. Every human who had died in the war and had not been brought back to our village was down here, rotting in the depths of this lake.  All I could do was join them.  Falling.  Falling.  Falling.  I felt as though I would never reach the bottom. I forced myself not to inhale, to hold my breath until I died. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to prevent myself from drowning. I could suffocate myself, couldn’t I? Surely I could make sure that I died of something other than drowning.  But Sasha would still say that I’d drowned. They’d all still believe that I’d fallen down here and drowned to death. So what did it really matter?  As I lay near the bottom of the lake, my control over my body came back to me. I could move my head, swing my arms, and kick my legs: but I didn’t know how to swim. None of it would propel me toward the surface, and it only made it harder for me to hold my breath. I wouldn’t last more than another few seconds. I’d been able to hold my breath for around two minutes while we were in battle, to keep my heart rate slower and my mind focused on the task at hand—but that was nothing like this. Finally, I couldn’t take it. I opened my mouth, and my instinct was to inhale. The liquid rushed into my lungs, searing through my body. I shook violently as I tried to purge the liquid from my system, but the more I tried the more water I swallowed and inhaled. My mind spun, and I madly kicked my legs and swung my arms in an effort to reach the surface.  “Breathe.” The word echoed all around me, through my very soul. I trembled in fear of it and looked around for the source. As far as I could see, in the dark depths of the water, I was the only one there. I felt the life starting to leave my veins, and I closed my eyes. I saw the face of the man I loved. Of course I loved him. I’d always known that, hadn’t I? I wanted to cry, shout his name, but I could not—and even if I had, I wouldn’t have known, surrounded by all that water.  Again, I inhaled the water: only this time, I exhaled it as well. It still seared through my body, causing my insides to quake and turn in pain—but I breathed it. I did it again and again, inhale, exhale, until I found myself surrounded by a great beam of light.  My eyes opened to find that I now lay horizontally, my arms spread wide and my back arched as though I was held within the grasp of a giant hand. The light flooded around me, and the word echoed once again,“Breathe.”  I did as it said, keeping my eyes fixed on the surface of the water above me. I shouldn’t have been alive. It should’ve killed me. People couldn’t breathe water. People drowned in water. I knew that for a fact. So this wasn’t possible.  “Aeronwen,” the voice said. I swallowed hard. I’d never heard anything like that voice before in my life.  At that moment, held there in the water, I cried. I felt tears pouring down the sides of my face, even there beneath the waves. I stared up into the light, and the sight of it brought me to the brink. It was beautiful and perfect, caring, compassionate. No matter what went on in this world, it was love. To everything. I knew that, as I looked up into that bright light. I don’t know how I knew it. I don’t even know what I saw. I never knew. But I saw love. That much, I understood.  Just as quickly as it had come, the light faded. My feet gravitated back down toward the ground, and when I landed my hand was enveloped within the grasp of another.  “Now you understand,” Hythdor said, her glowing blue eyes staring straight into mine.