Roadmap:

Be kind to yourself and your writing...

Small insert to Chapter One: (I want small inserts from random points during Kenna's past)

(Small Insert before Chapter One) "Someone screamed in the distance. It was dark, and the rushing water drowned out the faint sounds of destruction from the burning town above. Your vision was blurred. The woman holding you turned sideways, crouching further into the brush that hid you both.

A twig snapped nearby. She jolted upright, clutching you tighter as she took off running again.

This time, she broke from the shadows, surging through the river’s current and dragging herself up the far bank. She wasn’t hiding anymore. She was fleeing — for her life… and yours.

Behind her, the sound of multiple figures splashing through the river grew louder, their voices cutting through the dark as they shouted her location. But they wouldn’t catch her.

Not where she was going.

The woman’s heartbeat thudded against your ear as she held you close. You made no sound — not a cry, not a breath — and your small, terrified eyes could see only the suffocating shadows as the two of you fled, deeper and deeper into nothingness." 0.1.1

Chapter One: 1.1.1

The wind whispered through the trees as Kenna walked the narrow path home, the late afternoon sun scattering gold across the leaves. Everything smelled like autumn — dry moss, crisp bark, the last wildflowers clinging to the edges of the trail. She paused to breathe it in, her satchel bumping lightly against her hip, still warm from the bread she'd picked up in town. The last few days of summer were quickly fleeting by, and the tiny town of Westic would be hit by ice storms and buried in snow soon enough.

She stepped out into a small clearing and turned her face towards the fading sun, her eyes squinting as the rays bathed her in a warm glow.

She didn’t notice the silence at first.

Birdsong had faded. No distant dog bark. Just the creak of branches around her, and the soft crunch of her boots on fallen leaves.

Then, she smelled smoke. Lots of it.

Kenna broke into a run. She knew that amount of smoke was too great to be from her chimney alone.

What awaited her, however, was something to devastating to imagine.

The house quickly came into view like a wound torn from the earth. The front door hung off its hinges. The windows were blackened. Something, or someone, had forced their way in.

She didn’t hesitate.

The kitchen floor was slick under her boots. The air, thick with iron and ash.

In the center of the room stood a figure dressed in dark clothing, a violet cloak was slung across its shoulders. From what Kenna could see, its face was long and masculine, and it was smiling.

Her mother lay crumpled on the floor beside her father. Both rested in a thick pool of crimson blood.

Neither were moving.

The stranger turned to face her.

“Ah,” it said, voice dark and malevolent. “You’re early.”

It slumped down in one of the kitchen chairs that were still semi-usable and lowered the cloak to reveal its face. A man sat before Kenna. He had long, black hair and a large scar trailing along the left side of his neck and face. It appeared to be from a burn.

"Please, sit," said the man. "He looked up to survey her face and gestured to another chair. "We have some things to discuss."

Kenna didn't say anything. Her eyes were still locked on the bodies of her deceased parents.

The world felt slow.

She knew the man was talking to her, but she paid him no attention. Instead, she slipped her hand carefully into her satchel and felt for something. Her heart panged as her fingers felt the warm roughness of the bread that was never going to be shared. She sifted until her hand closed around something cold to the touch.

Something metal.

With one swift motion, her hand flew out of her bag clutching a large hunting knife. Her hand twisted as she released the weapon straight towards the strange man's chest. It flew with deadly accuracy.

Right as it was about to hit its target, the knife stopped. The man had thrown up his right hand and stopped it inches before the blade's serrated edge. Kenna's eyes widened in shock and surprise, then narrowed - to a point.

"You missed," he said. The corners of his mouth turned upward in a sadistic smile. He reached his left hand out a grabbed the floating knife.

He pointed it. At her.

"A Stonevoice," she said. "How about you give me my knife back, and I'll try again." She deepened her stance in preparation for an attack. Kenna knew it would probably be futile to try to fight this man. He had unlocked his Myrability, and she had not.

"I'm not here to fight," the man said. He lowered the knife, moved the folds of his cloak back, and stuck it inside a sheath hanging on his waistbelt. "Not you anyway."

"Then what is it that you want?" Kenna asked. Her eyes started to fill with tears. It seemed the shock of the situation was finally sinking in deep enough to make it hurt.

Before the man could answer her question, something cracked and crackled around the two of them. The house was still burning, and the fire was picking up its pace.

"Let's continue outside," said the man. With an exasperated sigh and a swift backwards flick of his cloak, he had moved forward and grabbed Kenna by the hair. He kicked what was left of the scorched front door down and drug the screeching girl outside into the smokeless air.

"I'm here to give you an opportunity," the man said as he released her. "There will be a man coming by later in the night to give you the rest of the details, but I can tell you this." He raised his hood and turned his back on Kenna. "If you refuse his requests, your sister dies."

Kenna's mind started panicking. She hadn't seen her sister, but based on what the man said, she was still alive.

Just being used as insurance.

Once the man sensed his statement had its desired effect, he walked away into the woods, where the shadows had started to creep in and choke out the remaining sunlight.