When I was around the age of, say, 8 to 11, I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to hear my dad watching TV down the hall from my room. He always waited until I went to sleep to watch movies like Alien, Dark City and Event Horizon. You know, the grownup shit too scary for little kids. I'd look through the cracked door into a dark room to glimpse things that gave me a sense of wonder, fear and mystery like nothing else. It became a habit, when he was away or the TV was unattended at 3 in the morning, for me to sneak into that room and put forbidden VHS tapes into the player. Soon I had seen every movie in the closet. But it wasn't enough. I needed more of that storytelling that made it seem like magic was hidden somewhere just outside my grasp, hidden in a dark cold place that would open to me if I could just peer into it more deeply. So I read books. I grew up searching for that one thing that ticked all the boxes.
I delved into science fiction. Into fantasy. Then I found scifi-fantasy. Dune, Starwars, Destiny, maybe even the Matrix falls into that category. They were so close to what I wanted. But still, something was missing. It was like I was reaching, stretching but failing to scratch an itch. The lore behind Destiny came close. It was the first time I'd seen scifi-fantasy with hints of horror, but it held itself back and became confused with what it was or was trying to say. I needed something coherent. Direct. Sharp. And ultimately darker or more brutal than what is currently out there. That's why I started writing. Like many authors, the reason I write is to read what I've always wanted. To experience that universe where things are just as bizarre, terrifying and magical as they seemed when I was a little kid watching movies with my nose pressed up against a doorjamb. When doing the world-building, I kept those things in mind. Where it led me was a place that's ancient, deadly and alien. Where the only source of light comes from synthetic stars formed by an information-hoarding Cult. In a short while, I will be introducing one of the most powerful forces in that universe: Lensing. More philosophical than magical, it is a power that allows the user to manipulate reality by forcing their will upon it. The risk? Well. I can say that Lensers don't meet with the prettiest ends. Reality, as it turns out, loathes being tampered with. Until next time!
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Another quick update for y'all. I'm currently sitting at 150k words. A little over a third of the way done with draft 1. I have a feeling that draft 1 will end up being around 450-500k words, but that will easily trim down to 350-400. Working with a group of writers has been an immense help. The quality of the work has improved markedly. There has been a lot of interest in the parable that comes at the beginning of the book. The intent is for it to be read before and after the book. It's by no means necessary to read prior to the narrative, but it is an added layer of flavor to the universe. Enjoy and see you soon!
(The Analects of Khotgr-Os, Metanoia 4.21-28) Seeing that the people still did not understand, the Khavyrym gave them the parable of T’Suul and D’Zuul. The God Maw spoke, saying: “When the first banners were struck, all but one Luminary Sovereign were Yv Zalga. T’Suul, who was a great and virtuous man, held fast to the tenets despite being not long for the Shine. In his old age, he could not father children. Overcome with sadness, T’Suul lived alone in his estate until the Khavyrym, having seen his sorrow, bore him an Yv Zalga son whom he named after his father D’Zuul. T’Suul was pleased and afforded his son all of the things that might bring him joy. But D’Zuul was an evil and corrupt man. He abused his father’s power to consume Shygor and Yv Zalga alike. When T’Suul learned of this he banished his son from the Shine. D’Zuul wandered into the shadows beyond Ondyr Syur and consumed all he came across. Feeling the sting of loneliness, T’Suul sent messages after his son to beg him to return, but D’Zuul cut out their tongues and sent them back. Over time D’Zuul noticed that the sky shrunk down as the land rose up. Eventually he had to crouch just to move forward until one day he came upon an old, hunched-over man holding a music box from which the Shine itself seemed to spring forth. ‘I knew you would come,’ the familiar, withered face said to him. ‘Enter, and escape the Shine.’ Seeing that he had nowhere else to go and that the old man was but skin and bone, D’Zuul allowed him to live and entered the box he held. Inside, he found the Shine. Not as he knew it, but not unlike it either. In that Shine, beyond the Tower, he found a man named D’Zuul who bore striking resemblance to himself. The two men struggled until D’Zuul overpowered and consumed his doppelgänger. Hearing the sound of music, D’Zuul followed it as the sky and ground pressed together. Soon he came upon a similar old man, holding the same music box he had entered before. ‘I knew you would come,’ the old one said to him. Once again, D’Zuul entered the box and found yet another Shine, D’Zuul and old man holding a music box. Time after time, D’Zuul repeated the events until he was in a place so foreign that he began to age like a common Shygor. Having spent his youth in evil, D’Zuul changed his ways and became an honest man. Before long he was a Luminary Sovereign in an alien land. But to his dismay he could not father a son. Then, as if by answered prayer, the Khavyrym birthed him a son whom he named T’Suul after his father. But T’Suul was a wicked son, and used D’Zuul’s influence to consume Shygor and Yv Zalga alike. Outraged, D’Zuul banished his son from the Shine. Only after T’Suul had gone beyond Ondyr Syur did D’Zuul remember how his own father had treated him. Filled with regret, he sent messengers after his son, but they returned with their tongues cut out. Going forth to reconcile with his son, D’Zuul rushed beyond the Tower to where he knew T’Suul would finally arrive. When he found the old man and asked about his son, the man replied, ‘He has already gone to a place you cannot follow in your old age.’ Blind with madness, D’Zuul killed the old man and took the music box. Holding it in his hands, he laid down to die and offered his soul to the Khavyrym in penance for the actions he had taken in life. Disappointed at hearing his cry, the Khavyrym granted D’Zuul an everlasting life that could only be taken by his own hands. In this manner, D’Zuul realized the truth of the Shine.” |
AuthorHailing from Seattle, Magnus Blackwood is a metalhead, amateur strongman, cape/cloak advocate and microbiologist who's been writing sci-fi since 2013. His stories focus on weaving horror and occult elements into futuristic hellscapes with a magical twist. Archives
December 2022
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