Chains of Nect: Obsidian's Obsession - Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This is rough draft material. Don't be surprised if you fall into plot holes, trip over inconsistencies, and get hit in the head with direction changes. I've done my best to read through several times before posting, though, to make sure most spelling and grammar errors are corrected. Any constructive comments are welcome for when I revise this novel. Thank you for reading!

All current and previous chapters for Chains of Nect: Obsidian's Obsession can also be found on Wattpad. And for an easy to access list of all chapters that have been posted to Born to Write, please visit the Table of Contents.

A new chapter is planned to be posted to Wattpad every Friday, and that chapter will then be posted on Born to Write on the Wednesday after.

Chapter 3

* * * * *

Chains of Nect: Obsidian's Obsession

Chapter 4

Damian examined his hand, the one Obsidian had held.

It was finally morning, and he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. A mix of regret and puzzlement kept him awake all night. He should have been forthright with the Council, told them of how Obsidian acted, like an eager child who had broken into the candy store. He could always backpedal, go to them now and confess, or claim he didn't notice anything until he dropped her off at her room last night.

He rubbed his hand, but that didn't take the tingling away. It was as if he had gotten too close to a gate, brushed it accidentally. Now that he thought about it, his lie of omission about Obsidian wasn't his first.

Damian had touched a portal once, and not by accident. He'd been too curious, his parents' and mentor's eyes off of him for a short time. Eager fingers had traced the patterns in one of the gates that preferred to hide itself, one that grew out of hill that disguised it well. And he'd never told anyone.

If the Council had known of his thwarting of the first rule, he never would have become a Guardian. It was the only time he'd ever broken a rule, until now, and he had convinced himself long ago that it didn't count since he had only been nine. Too young to know better.

But Damian had known better. It had been drilled into him since he could understand words.

Here he was again, convincing himself that learning the truth about Obsidian wasn't quite breaking the rules, that it didn't count. And again, he felt the same thrill he had experienced when touching the gate when she grabbed his hand.

It wasn't psychological, though. No. It was magic. It had to be.

The numb, tingly sensation had lingered long after he had touched the portal, and now the same had happened with Obsidian. How had no one ever noticed?

Stupid question. Everyone reacted to the portals, to the magic, differently. He'd always been more attuned to them, more sensitive to their vibrations. Perhaps that was the case with her--her magic was so subtle that not just anyone could sense it.

No one of Nect, though, had ever been known to have their own magic. Some claimed the people who created the portals in the first place had their own magic, but those were only guesses, the ancient histories having been buried, mostly by the Guardians.

Yet Obsidian existed, and she clearly had something different about her. Damian knew it.

He forced himself out of bed, rubbing his hand again on his hip, still unable to shake the prickles cascading through it. It was his responsibility to uncover the truth now, even if he did dread seeing her again, being in the same room with her. She reminded him of his guilt.

But as much as Damian didn't want to face her, he felt drawn, just like he was to the portals scattered in the courtyard.

❦

Obsidian had fallen asleep before the other two dedicants returned to the room last night. After she had hid her prize, of course--she had managed to rig something so the container stuck to the bottom of the dresser in the back. It was a good thing she had brought some glue with her, as well as the turpentine for when she really needed to remove the book. Not until she knew how to read it.

When she woke in the morning, one of the other dedicants ignored her completely, going about her business quickly and fleeing the room without a word, or a smile. No big surprise there.

But once the uptight blonde left, the other dedicant scooted over to Obsidian, who was looking at the robe and thinking how hot she'd be wearing such a thing all day. The things she'd do to be able to read that script.

"Don't mind Enid. She snubs everyone. Thinks she's too good to associate with dedicants and that no one but her has what it takes to become a Guardian. I'm Ama, by the way."

Sid shrugged the plain white robe over her head and froze when she finally caught sight of Ama's face, framed by bobbed auburn hair. She was smiling. True, it was a composed smile, but a smile nonetheless. Thank goodness. Not all of the people here subscribed to the complete lack of emotion she had feared. "Obsidian, but I prefer Sid."

"Welcome to the House of Portals, Sid." Her eyes sparkled in the dim light filtering into the window.

"Thank you." Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad here if there were more friendly people like Ama around. Sid pulled at the neck of her robe.

Ama waved her hand. "I know these things can be a bit suffocating, but you'll eventually get used to it. Here." She rooted around in her top drawer and pulled out some hair pins, then spun her finger to make Sid turn around. In no time, her black hair was neatly piled on the top of her head. "That should help a bit. It's why I keep my hair short." She grabbed Sid's shoulders and turned her back around. "You look lovely. I must be off now--my mentor keeps a strict timetable. I'll be seeing you." She dashed out of the room.

The door didn't close all the way. Damian nudged it open, his straight-faced outline filling the doorway. "Time for breakfast."

Sid wished she had someone like Ama as her mentor, instead of this unemotional automaton. "I'm ready."

They wound their way down to the cafeteria, and Sid experienced the quietest meal in her entire life. She'd think with so many people, there'd be a lot of conversation, but there were only low whispers.

Another dedicant served them, and Damian told her she'd have a job of her own soon enough, but not until her initial studies were complete. And then he said nothing else the entire meal. She wondered if she cracked him open she'd find a bunch of gears underneath his skin, like her mother's clock on the mantle.

Perhaps she had hoped too much when he agreed she'd make a good Guardian. He was just a dimwit. What else could she expect from someone who was raised by Guardians?

After breakfast, Damian led her to the courtyard doors. If she had to face the Council again, she might have to find a way to quickly open a gate and disappear into it. She didn't want to endure Liss's scrutiny, not this soon.

But when they stepped out into the courtyard, all fears of Liss's gaze crumbled in Sid's mind.

The gates had moved.

At first, she thought it might be a trick of the eye, but the Council building was clearly much further away than it had been yesterday. She couldn't be sure if the courtyard had simply expanded, or if the portals had also shifted to different spots. Perhaps they played a game of leapfrog in the middle of the night while those in the House of Portals slept.

"How?" The word escaped before she could rein herself in. Liss had said she could ask Damian questions, though. This was definitely one she'd like answered.

"Sadly, I can't answer how or why."

Figured.

"However, I have my speculations. It could be due to the concentration of portals, the magic playing off of each other. So much magic in one place could destabilize things." Damian stepped up to the nearest gate, close but not touching. "I do know that the courtyard shifts every night, about two hours before dawn. There are also eighteen different permutations. Exactly."

Well, then. Guess he wasn't a dimwit. "You counted?"

"When your entire world is contained to a few buildings and this courtyard, you find things to entertain you. And the shifting is fascinating. So I studied it." He looked back at Sid, and she thought she saw some emotion seeping into his face. Not quite a smile, but not as serious as his normal expression. A little bit of pride, perhaps. "And walking around the gates when the stars are out is an experience all its own."

A statement like that wouldn't come from a machine. "You'll have to show me some time."

Damian nodded. "For now, we'll head to the main library, near the west end. Time to begin your studies." And back to serious.

It gave Sid new hope, though. There was an actual human being in there somewhere, and she might be able to coax it out. She was here to discover how to read her book, to learn how to open her gate, but there was no harm in adding another goal to that list.

She'd crack Damian's shell.

* * * * *

Chapter 5

Chains of Nect - Posting Change

Hi, all! OK, I know, you want the next chapter of Chains of Nect. But I've decided to change when I post the chapters on my blog. First, posting twice per week is getting to be hard, since I need more time to write! Second, by the looks of it, I think Wednesdays would be a better posting day as far as reaching people who may like to read Chains of Nect.

The chapters to Wattpad will still be posted every Friday. However, that same chapter won't be posted here until Wednesday. I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience. I may still have some weeks where I have two posts in a week, since I do have some other content aside from the chapters planned, but that will likely be either Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays (depending on what I'm posting).

As an apology, I'll leave a cute picture of a kitten below. Adorable, no? Can you tell I have kitties on the brain? Not having any cats in this house is making me a tad crazy (more so than I already am). Perhaps soon I'll have pictures of my own kittens to post. A girl can dream!

Chris von Halle - The Steps I Take Before I Start Writing a Novel

Today Chris von Halle, author of The Fourth Generation, has a guest post for us. If you'd like to learn more about the author, please scroll to the bottom of the article.

If you're interested in writing a guest post for Born To Write, please contact me via the contact form with a proposed topic.

* * * * *

The Steps I Take Before I Start Writing a Novel by Chris von Halle

All writers have different steps for this, and, like everyone else, so do I. Over the years I've learned there's no right or wrong way to approach the act of writing. Actually, that's not true. All the ways other than the way I do it are wrong. Just kidding. But recently I've gotten to thinking about all the steps I personally take before I actually start writing a story. Why? I think it's because I've been at this game for quite a few years now, and it's interesting to see how I’ve evolved. Plus, it can be good for a writer to take a step back and analyze their writing process, not just to see "how far they've come," but also to see if there are any ways they can improve on it. Sometimes you'll be surprised by what you find.

Before I continue, I must say that, at heart, I consider myself a pantser. For those non-writerly folk, "pantser" essentially means that you "pants your way through a story"; i.e., you have the basic idea for a story and you immediately plop yourself in front of your computer and start plugging away on it without any clear sense of where you're going with it until you actually go there. When it comes to approaching the act of writing, pantsing is one extreme, and it's totally plausible (remember the "there's no right or wrong way to write" thing). The other extreme is outlining, in which the writer rigorously outlines every single aspect of the characters, plot, etc. before they even officially type "Chapter 1".

I learned pretty quickly (okay, a lot more slowly than I wish I had) that being an extreme pantser means TOOOOOONS of revising. Because you just throw anything that comes to mind on the page, that means that ultimately there's going to be a lot of removing stuff that doesn't belong in the story, as well as a lot of adding elements that do belong. And after having to chop out entire sections of my novels, sometimes even as much as half of one, and then rewriting the whole *curse word* thing, I realized it was much better (at least for me personally) to brainstorm a lot more before I jump in and start the actual act of writing.

In the past, conceiving an awesome premise would be the catalyst for me to start writing the story. Immediately. And, obviously, a great premise is what a great story needs. But nowadays, once I have that premise idea, instead of jumping to the nearest computer to start writing (my mom, typically found in her home office at her computer desk, is particularly thankful I no longer do this; just kidding), I take a step back and brainstorm, like I said before. Often for weeks or even months.

Since I'm a science fiction and fantasy author, my premises usually involve a really cool or unique world or setting, so I start off by heavily brainstorming that setting: how it works, who is in charge of it, what jobs people have in it, what types of clothing people wear in it, etc. I have a document that has a bunch of world building questions and I try to answer as many of them as I can.

Usually when I'm in the throes of answering those questions, the idea for a protagonist to occupy that world pops (or sometimes more slowly forms) into my head. This is always a direct result of my brainstorming--it suddenly becomes apparent what person or type of person would have the most difficult experience or, to a degree, suffer the most in this world (sadly, stories are all about suffering; depressing when you think about it that way, huh? Either that or extremely cathartic hehehe).

That's when I'll pop over to my character sketch sheet, in which I have a bunch of questions to ask myself about the main character, and I then get to work on really hammering out who this person is. Before I know it, the combination of the world and character lead to plot ideas and the birth of other characters. So then I give the other characters their own character sketch sheets and start to work on the plot.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa, Chris!!! I thought you said you were a PANTSER at heart. This sounds like an awful LOT of prep work for a self-proclaimed pantser. And you're right. There's definitely a fair amount of work going on here. But this is about where I stop with the prep work. Well, I first conceive a very bare-bones plot. As in, I only know the inciting event and a couple potential (note: potential) major plot points throughout the story. But that's it. And none of them, of course, are written in stone. (To be fair, nothing is ever written in stone in writing, anyway).

But what's nice about all this prep work I've done for my story is that I now have a very strong sense of the major aspects of the book--the characters, the world, and the premise/plot. This way, even though I don't know all the specifics of what's going to happen in the story, I still have a nice roadmap to lead me along with the freedom to "pants" the details or other aspects of it as I go. This satisfies my pantsing nature while making sure I don't, later, have to do an insane amount of overhauling/revising. (Note that I say "an insane amount," because, let's face it, a very-close-to-insane-amount of revising is necessary in writing novels no matter what; um, it's kind of like a major part of it.) This makes the pantser in me a very happy pantser, indeed. And part of that happiness is attributed to the fact that sometimes I look back at my process and think, "Hmmm…how can I make this whole writing a novel thing more productive and less aggravating for me personally?"

And there you have it. That's how I do it. How about you? What's your current approach to writing, and has it changed at all since you first set out to write? Remember that there are no wrong answers to those questions other than the ones I just thoroughly detailed above. Just kidding.

* * * * *

About the Author

Chris von Halle has had many different lives in many different worlds--the near and distant future Earth, other planets, and even other dimensions--and his books recreate his childhood memories of such outlandish locations. In this world and life, he lives in Ridgewood, New Jersey, and enjoys such extraordinary activities as playing videogames, tennis, and basketball, and writing the occasional comic strip.

You can find Chris's book, The Fourth Generation, on Amazon, Smashwords, and Kobo.

Website: http://www.chrisvonhalle.com/

Blog: http://chrisvonhalle.blogspot.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ChrisvonHalle