I recently wrote this fragment, not quite as part of my lyrical novel, but just to..exist. please let ne know your opinions or feedback :)
EDIT: a couple mistakes here. Thanks for pointing it out! I had meant to write. "Southern Plain Rivers" also, my spelling of "locs" is wrong.
Hello! I posted this before but I made some edits, thanks to some really helpful critique I received :)
These pages are from the first fragment of my Mythic Fantasy.
I really want know how: -the dialogue feels to you as a reader -whether the descriptions feel emersive enough -if the pacing of these first few pages are engaging -character impressions and emotional engagement right off the bat!
EDIT: I’ve noticed a few comments regarding the naming conventions. To clarify: the names ( Varuna-Mahr, Amon-Raeth, Yamah-Kahn) are a deliberate stylistic choice. They are built using ancient etymological roots combined with unique suffixes to create a sense of 'mythic weight' within the specific context of my world, the Atlas-Vohr. These are not intended to be direct representations of historical or religious figures, but rather, conceptual descendants unique to this fiction. I've included a disclaimer in the manuscript to this effect.
[I posted this, then accidentally deleted it (ノдヽ)]
Hi! I'm looking for beta readers for my Mythological Fantasy novel!
Premise:
A fallen sun god, stripped of his power and exiled into mortality, is forced to survive the world he once ruled with indifference. As he struggles with hunger, weakness, and the consequences of what he used to be, he must decide if he is truly seeking a way back to his throne, or if the light he finds in the dust is more precious than the fire he left in the clouds.
I will appreciate feedback:
- On how the dialogue lands with you as a reader
- Whether the descriptions feel immersive or too heavy
- Pacing (especially whether scenes drag or move too quickly)
- Character impressions and emotional engagement
If you are interested, please DM me or comment under this post so I can send the doc link! ( ´∀｀ )
Excerpt
The hall unspooled into infinity, a cathedral where the horizon was a suggestion and the sky was the ceiling.
There were no stones to hold the weight of such a place. Instead, the walls were woven from living constellations and the shimmering debris of ancient stories, casting a light that did not glow so much as it breathed.
Massive pillars of gold stood like silent sentinels throughout the expanse and below, the floor was a sheet of translucent glass. A pure mirror that showed the truth of the gods who stood upon it. Each member of the Council occupied a chair carved from the marrow of their own element, gathered around a grand table, a continent of starlight.
Hastily, Lyrienne-Vah the lost river walked in. Her presence was a tightened cinch that pulled the air thin. Her mane was the color of crushed shells and dried kelp and her robes possessed the glow of a river under moonlight but her hem, her hem was lined with filthy silt. Amon-Reath's silt.
Beside her, Anila, the north wind was restless, her grimace reflecting the friction of the storms approaching. They would not be here if it was not for the one upsetting the balance with so much ease.
The lost river was the first to speak, standing face to face with Varuna-Mahr, the Cosmic Overseer. The Council waited for her, the silence demanding something to fill it.
"Look at my veins, Great Council" The evidence was everywhere. Reath was a disease. She raised her hand, high enough for the Council to see.
"The rivers of the Southern Plains are no longer blue; they are choked with the golden dust of his vanity."
She glanced around the room, chest rising and falling. Merely saying it scraped against wounds that have been forming for centuries. She continued.
"I have watched my lotuses blacken and my fish gasp in the mud. Why does Amon-Raeth seek to drown my waters?"
To her right, Anila spoke. Her voice was as sharp as a whistle. Her clawed hands hit her chest theatrically.
"He steals my breath! I carry the monsoon rains to the thirsty, but Raeth reaches up and turns my clouds to steam. He creates heat so intense it breaks the back of the wind." With venom she added
"We all know he is a thief of the Sun, but he has proven himself to be a thief of the sky aswell!"
Varuna-Mahr leaned from his deep-sea indigo throne; a heavy tide of cobalt spilled across his brow, drowning his features in a beautiful wreck of midnight blue. His hands partly open as though the simple gesture could calm the rage of the goddesses.
It was odd enough that they showed their faces today. The goddesses moved around the Atlas-Vohr without so much as a word. Varuna often had to ask them how they felt about matters of the Firmament before they voiced how they felt. The sisters were as gentle as their elements. However, today, their agitation lit the halls.
"Peace, sisters. The Desert has always had its borders. Is this truly an expansion, or simply a season of harsh sun?"
He navigated the strange atmosphere of their fury, his words soft against the weight of their celestial disdain. Clearly it was useless because Lyrienne-Vah's eyes immediately settled into a deep-set scowl.
"It is a massacre, Varuna! He has swallowed three cities in a month. He whispers to the caravans that he is 'protecting' them by giving them more land, but he is only giving them more graves."
She gestured to the endless horizon.
"He seeks to be the only god the mortals see when they look at the horizon."
Silence reclaimed the halls, heavier now. Decorated with whispers from Agni and Mithra who were also seated on the Council chair to the right and left of Varuna. The Rural Witness and the Weight of Truth.
Agni finally addresses the court but aimed his words at Varuna. "It is true. I have seen the hearths below. The families do not cook anymore; they have nothing to boil. They use my flames only to pray for an end to the heat."
Mithra twirled a curl of braided light in her hand. She had never had a liking for that god. The way he glided through the Atlas-Vohr like he owned both the Firmament and the Earth.
"Amon-Raeth was given the Wastes to keep the balance, not to consume it."
I would really appreciate if I could get feedback on if this opening felt immersive enough. Generally, the descriptions and the introduction of characters.
Complete- Mythological Fantasy Novel [37k], Of Gods, Suns and Mortal Miles
Hi! I just finished my Mythological Fantasy novel!
Premise
A fallen sun god, stripped of his power and exiled into mortality, is forced to survive the world he once ruled with indifference. As he struggles with hunger, weakness, and the consequences of what he used to be, he must decide if he is truly seeking a way back to his throne, or if the light he finds in the dust is more precious than the fire he left in the clouds.
I would appreciate if anyone could read and provide feedback on:
*-How the dialogue feels to you as a reader
*-Whether the descriptions feel emersive enough
*-pacing (especially whether scenes drag on too much or move on too quickly)
*-character impressions and emotional engagement right off the bat
If you'd like the full work, please DM me or comment! ( ´∀｀ )
Excerpt
The hall unspooled into infinity, a cathedral where the horizon was a suggestion and the sky was the ceiling.
There were no stones to hold the weight of such a place. Instead, the walls were woven from living constellations and the shimmering debris of ancient stories, casting a light that did not glow so much as it breathed.
Massive pillars of gold stood like silent sentinels throughout the expanse and below, the floor was a sheet of translucent glass. A pure mirror that showed the truth of the gods who stood upon it. Each member of the Council occupied a chair carved from the marrow of their own element, gathered around a grand table, a continent of starlight.
Hastily, Lyrienne-Vah the lost river walked in. Her presence was a tightened cinch that pulled the air thin. Her mane was the color of crushed shells and dried kelp and her robes possessed the glow of a river under moonlight but her hem, her hem was lined with filthy silt. Amon-Reath's silt.
Beside her, Anila, the north wind was restless, her grimace reflecting the friction of the storms approaching. They would not be here if it was not for the one upsetting the balance with so much ease.
The lost river was the first to speak, standing face to face with Varuna-Mahr, the Cosmic Overseer. The Council waited for her, the silence demanding something to fill it.
"Look at my veins, Great Council" The evidence was everywhere. Reath was a disease. She raised her hand, high enough for the Council to see.
"The rivers of the Southern Plains are no longer blue; they are choked with the golden dust of his vanity."
She glanced around the room, chest rising and falling. Merely saying it scraped against wounds that have been forming for centuries. She continued.
"I have watched my lotuses blacken and my fish gasp in the mud. Why does Amon-Raeth seek to drown my waters?"
To her right, Anila spoke. Her voice was as sharp as a whistle. Her clawed hands hit her chest theatrically.
"He steals my breath! I carry the monsoon rains to the thirsty, but Raeth reaches up and turns my clouds to steam. He creates heat so intense it breaks the back of the wind." With venom she added
"We all know he is a thief of the Sun, but he has proven himself to be a thief of the sky aswell!"
Varuna-Mahr leaned from his deep-sea indigo throne; a heavy tide of cobalt spilled across his brow, drowning his features in a beautiful wreck of midnight blue. His hands partly open as though the simple gesture could calm the rage of the goddesses.
It was odd enough that they showed their faces today. The goddesses moved around the Atlas-Vohr without so much as a word. Varuna often had to ask them how they felt about matters of the Firmament before they voiced how they felt. The sisters were as gentle as their elements. However, today, their agitation lit the halls.
"Peace, sisters. The Desert has always had its borders. Is this truly an expansion, or simply a season of harsh sun?"
He navigated the strange atmosphere of their fury, his words soft against the weight of their celestial disdain. Clearly it was useless because Lyrienne-Vah's eyes immediately settled into a deep-set scowl.
"It is a massacre, Varuna! He has swallowed three cities in a month. He whispers to the caravans that he is 'protecting' them by giving them more land, but he is only giving them more graves."
She gestured to the endless horizon.
"He seeks to be the only god the mortals see when they look at the horizon."
Silence reclaimed the halls, heavier now. Decorated with whispers from Agni and Mithra who were also seated on the Council chair to the right and left of Varuna. The Rural Witness and the Weight of Truth.
Agni finally addresses the court but aimed his words at Varuna. "It is true. I have seen the hearths below. The families do not cook anymore; they have nothing to boil. They use my flames only to pray for an end to the heat."
Mithra twirled a curl of braided light in her hand. She had never had a liking for that god. The way he glided through the Atlas-Vohr like he owned both the Firmament and the Earth.
"Amon-Raeth was given the Wastes to keep the balance, not to consume it."