[SPOILERS] Book 3 Chapter WIP (Patreon)

Big ol' spoilers for Caerule, and mild spoilers for the beginning of book 3! However, for those of you still with me, I like how this chapter doodle turned out, so I thought I'd share!

If you don't know, been having a bit of trouble with book 3. I'm focusing mainly on doing some pieces with Jade, since she's always talked to me the most honestly. I am hoping that, while I work with her, she'll let me know what's wrong with my draft so far! 

Without further ado, here's the chapter doodle!

[SPOILERS FOLLOW] 

Jade sat upon a root cresting from the soft, chilled dirt. The moss oozed water, staining the unfamiliar pants she wore with a viridian hue as she stared out past the safety of the camp, towards the crystal-lit darkness beyond. Chatter, cries of rescued farm beasts, the wailing of children--all of it, for a brief, welcome moment, faded away as she took in the chilled forest air, and cherished a moment of being above it all. She rested her arm across her left knee, phantom itches running down along the hand she no longer owned. Bugs chittered, birds sang in the trees. The snake, wrapped around her neck, lifted her head towards the tunes dancing in the branches above, watching the shadows before burying herself into Jade’s sweatshirt collar.

The Green woke an hour ago in a small lean-to held up by the edge of the root she presently rested atop, covered by a canvas bag and printed with markings indicating it as an import of seeds from Daoth. She couldn’t make out the date when she roused, but it seemed Ferges wasn’t as closed-off as she was previously led to believe. She spent a few minutes laying there, before the sounds of the crowds got her heart racing and she needed something to do. Climbing with one arm proved irritating, but doable when the sections of bark offered such large handholds. The issue came when the wounds in her shoulders splintered open. It seems Dagmey’s claws did a number to them, and warm crimson drizzled down her shoulders. They ached now as she remained with her back towards the camp, but aching wounds almost made the moment more familiar to her. As if she sat within the depth of Sobek, on watch, pressing mostly-clean cloth against the wounds in her body. Often, medi-gel needed to be conserved due to its scarcity on the field of war, and Jade frequently volunteered not to have it used on her. She thought herself brave and honorable for doing such a thing. She thought, perhaps, it would then one day reflect well on her.

She doubted anyone cared now.

With a weary sigh, she peered out towards the twisting body of the woods. Roots broke ground, arched upwards into the sky before curving back down, creating elaborate bridges and tunnels. Moss and ivy hung from them, soaking in the drizzle of water spilled from mini falls that originated somewhere higher in the trees. Mushrooms bloomed with wide caps, ferns spread their wide leaves. Crystals dotted the landscape, illuminating the critters that sought shelter beside boulders or atop the curving blades of six-foot grass. This place, where shadows of a deeper pitch than the darkness that clung just outside the crystals’ glow shifted and moved with startling speed, this place of great beauty and peacefulness that beckoned someone who did not know better to enter into its fold--it served as a temporary home to all those who survived the attack on the city above. A beautiful, deadly refuge from the chaos of flames. And now, it served as the place where Jade would need to think. Where she would need to decide if she would choose to simply survive, or if she would once more take up the sword and fight.

A cool breeze spun around the tree trunks, spilled over small hills in the landscape, twirled with strands of Jade’s crimson mane. It brought with it the scent of pan-fried tea leaves, the refreshing aroma of grass after a rain, the taste of chestnuts and maple to her lips. But most of all, it brought ice to the tears collecting on Jade’s cheeks.

A world as beautiful as this should not suffer the violence of war. No civilization deserved it--no peoples deserved to be stripped of their homes, of their lives, of their loves. And yet, because of her, it came. It came, following her demonic tail, chasing her planet after planet, leaving ashes in its wake. Perhaps that was the demon’s curse--not to be the cause of a war, but to be followed by it, hunted like an animal, like prey. And as prey, she kept running, trying to flee a monster that would not stop until it consumed her flesh, or was put down.

Jade took a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm. Aris no longer existed. The friend she knew died when Thaddeous kidnapped Jade. The woman who lit Ferges aflame could not be the person Jade once shared midnight conversations with. She could not be the woman Jade fought alongside, the woman she shielded from harm. The woman behind so many of the schemes that made a difference in the war. The woman who calmed Jade down when the night terrors became too severe.

That Aris is gone. She’s dead. If I get the chance, I have to stop her. I can’t… I can’t hesitate.

A sigh slumped her shoulders. She rested her hand in the moss, relished in the feeling of something soft against her hands. The callouses from constant fighting just now began to fade, and Jade hoped that one day, she could let them fade completely. She wished for a time where her hands could be soft. She wished that the hardest labor she put in on any given morning was due to her tending her own home. A nice home. Maybe one on Daoth, out on the fields, like where she grew up. She looked upwards, towards the crystals that burst out from the bark on trees. Crimson and cerulean colors sparkled the entire way up, until ebony overtook them.

Of course, Jade knew that the chance of a soldier like her--let alone one with demonic heritage--being able to retire was up there with seeing Vix himself come down and end the war. She would die on the battlefield. She would die while fighting for her life. Such was her fate. Such was the fate of every Green who ever lived.

A horrible weight sat upon her ribs as she got to her feet. She picked Chloe up off the root beside her and linked the helmet to her hip before climbing off her lookout and back down to the main camp, which resided a few dozen feet below. Her boots crunched against a bundle of dead leaves as she landed beside the small lean-to that she woke up in an hour before. She dusted herself off, stuck her hand in her pocket, and walked down the pathway that wove through the encampment.

The refugee camp served as both a gathering place for civilians, and a location for preparing a counter-attack. Sticks with crystals tied to their tips punctured the ground along the walkways, lighting the way in the eternal darkness of Ferges’ surface. Small shacks and bundles of blankets all served as resting places, food stalls, medical stations, weaponsmiths, and armorsmiths. A few people built fires to cook foraged food atop, others slept off their injuries. Most people took no heed of her.

Except for the Blues.

A few of them watched her as she walked past. A few muttered words under their breath and turned away with scowls on their faces. Jade never found herself good at reading other people, but this reaction did not need any explaining. They blamed her for this. They blamed her because her eyes weaponized the color green.

Jade reached over to scratch the empty air and frowned when she remembered. She stuck her hand in her pocket once more and continued through the camp. A few foragers with baskets bursting with various vegetables, fruits, nuts, and roots approached a chef who lingered by a large stew pot. A few guards with crystal-tipped spears and leather chest pieces laden with hexagonal gems sewed into them strolled past, both victers, both noticing her and staring for a few seconds too long. Jade’s hair stood up on the back of her neck, but she kept walking, and the guards did not follow.

“Jade?” Chloe asked.

“Hm?”

“Where are we going?”

Jade paused and looked around. “I’m… just walking. Is that okay?”

“That’s okay,” Chloe said. Jade kept going. They wandered in silence for a little longer.

“Are you thinking about Aris?” Chloe inquired.

“Sort of,” Jade replied. “I’m thinking about it all, I guess. My arm keeps itching.”

“I saw you scratch at the air.”

“Embarrassing.”

“I made sure to record it so I can replay it each time you think you’re cool.”

Jade offered a faint smile. “I am cool,” she said half-heartedly. She blinked when she heard a familiar song. Is that… a worship hymn?

“I have no recorded evidence of this,” Chloe chimed.

“Very funny. Do you hear that?”

Chloe fell silent for a moment. “Jade.”

“It sounds like a song I know.”

“It sounds like religion. The religion that hates you, Jade.”

“I think it’s coming from over here,” Jade murmured, heading off the path and moving through people gathered around small camps. She walked beneath an exposed root and pushed past the drooping ivy covering it. On the other side, as if entering a sacred grove, a few kodarians, snippers, and humans stood together, singing towards a large, moss-covered rock, which likely served as the podium.

“Jade,” Chloe chastised.

“Shh.”

The group stood a few dozen feet away, their backs to her. The Green sat down by the entrance to the small grove and put Chloe on her lap. The snake around Jade’s neck chirped uncertainly, her voice shaky and confused.

“Even she hates it,” Chloe hissed.

“Chloe, please.”

Chloe settled into a stewing silence. Jade listened to the voices join up in praise for their god, Vix.

Their god? I… I mean our god. Don’t I?

The lyrics spun through the air, familiar. Comforting in their familiarity. It felt for a moment that Jade sat at home, within those church walls. Aris slept at the apartment, or went to an upper level for a date. Aris would be there when Jade got back. She would tease Jade for attending a service before the two planned the activities for the day, figured out what they could afford to eat, and went about life together. For a moment, the lyrics brought Jade back to a world she no longer had.

One where she constantly hid, constantly feared being found out and murdered for what she was. One where the only friend she had in the entire galaxy kept her secret, before that secret spilled out and turned that friend against her.

Jade frowned and looked down at her hand, resting atop Chloe’s helmet. Life seemed easier then, when all she worried about was every person she ever met deciding to stick her with a dagger if they saw a glimpse of her eyes, wasn’t it? Easier when she fought and bled and watched her companions die on a field of war, when the very people she fought for, she fought alongside, would take her head and believe her a demon. It seemed easier when it had been all she ever knew. This life outside it, this life trying to escape its grasp? It terrified her. It terrified every living part of her.

The parishioners continued to sing.

We are the children of Vix.

We are his holy children.

Made for our roles, our service.

Made for our duty, our jobs.

Together we forge order.

Together we create peace.

We are the children of Vix.

We are his holy children.

Golds who build it all,

And Browns we must protect.

Blues that wield the fangs,

And Hazels who abandon all.

We are the children of Vix.

We are his holy children.

Above the violent Reds,

Who seek the end of order.

Above the wicked Green,

Who thirsts for blood of friends.

We are the children of Vix.

Jade’s heart ached. She remembered singing along--the song often came up in each church she attended. She remembered the bitter taste in her mouth as they praised the roles given to them, she remembered the ash and iron that coated her tongue as she condemned her very existence. She remembered how hard the seats in the pew felt as she sat and listened to a sermon that reminded everyone that their roles were ordained. That their paths were set. That if they ever encountered a Green, to report the monster immediately so that the church might set about removing it.

She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily as the song came to a close. Those in attendance sat down on the soft, grassy dirt. When a man cleared his throat, Jade looked up.

Near the large rock in front of them all, a kodarian stood, dressed in the robes of a priest. Sheer, gold fabric layered atop the man’s black clothing underneath which stretched to his wrists and ankles. A veil hooded his eyes, but at the right angle, Jade could see the glimpse of brown. His horns, covered in dangling golden jewels, sparkled in the dim light of Ferges’ surface. A crimson crystal broke out from the trees nearby, casting an eerie glow.

“Hello, my children,” the man hummed.

“Hello, our father,” the listeners responded.

“It has been several days of violence and pain. I pray all of you are doing what you can to help those around you who are suffering. I know there are many Blues here--I hope you will all be joining the fight to take back our home above.” He folded his hands and peered over the group. Jade looked down before his eyes passed over her. While brown and hazel might be hard to distinguish from further away, many other eye colors could be noticed at a glance. Her green gaze would certainly give her away.

Granted, with the twisting anxiety in her gut, it seemed possible her eyes already changed to something less dangerous.

“It is at this time, I believe it is important to remember the old story from the Book of Hirrow. I know many of you have lost your belongings, so I will read from the story myself.” Another kodarian from the front row held up their holy book, and the priest took it, flipped through the pages, and addressed the crowd: “Chapter Fourteen, as it is written: ‘The Demon rose then, commanded by its unholy master. Blood fell from its hands and soaked the world in ichor. As bade by its Master, it took the hearts of those loved, and consumed them atop bones. Not even the faithful and holy could escape the reaching grasp as it ate all. I took up my blade and split its belly, and from its insides came all it devoured: the head of an ox; the land of our home; and the golden eyes of Vix. But even as I slaughtered, another sprouted from its corpse, forever continuing the cycle of pillaging and murder.’” The priest looked up. Jade messed with her hair, pulling it in front of her face a little to obscure his view of her. Her heart thundered in her ears.

“Here,” the priest began, “Hirrow tells the story of the first Green to ever curse our galaxy. He uses a lot of metaphoric language, but we can tell what he meant from the contents of this Green’s stomach. The head of an ox is described as a wide faced creature with horns. This animal also symbolized prosperity in ancient human culture, and as the author Hirrow was human, it stands to reason that he was using an image of kodarians to represent all life and prosperity--human and otherwise--being devoured by this beast. We then have the land of our home. All dirt that I’ve seen is brown, representing our civilians, the people we must protect. And lastly--we have the golden eyes of Vix himself in the belly of this beast. It’s clear that Hirrow is warning that, should the Green get its way, it will kill Vix himself, and all that he has created. Hirrow tells us the price of a Green’s life: should we allow these demons to live, we will bring bloodshed down upon us.”

“Jade,” Chloe hissed, her words coded and voice quiet.

Jade ignored her. The Followers of Vix frequently proclaimed their desire for her to be dead on the street. This wasn’t abnormal.

“We have seen this the last few days, have we not? Violence and bloodshed overtook our home shortly after a Green was allowed into our city limits. Chief Tarron allowed this to happen--he granted the Green protection, even treated its injuries when it came to the surface with the rest of us. My honored siblings, please be wary of this creature. Do not befriend it, do not speak to it. I fear that it will consume us, just as it consumed our homes.” A few murmurs spread through the congregation before the gold-draped kodarian spoke again. “And do not hate it,” he said. “I know it might be easy to hate it for what it was created to do--and yes, perhaps this beast relishes in destruction--but it was made for this. Just as Blues were made to be weapons, and Golds to be leaders. We are made for our roles, and we all do what we can to survive and thrive in these roles. It is only doing what it is told. In some ways, that makes it a perfect example of what we should all be--loyal and obedient to the one who made us all.” He spread his hands. “Obedience is how we show our love. We cannot let a Green outshine us in this way, my siblings.” His sermon shifted then, from one of condemnation of Greens, to a condemnation of Blues who have given up their weapons. A call to be better servants. A call to be more holy. Jade sat there and listened for a while, eyes downcast, thumb brushing along the top of the crimson skull paint on Chloe’s helm. Of course, the priest insisted that this was the joy of Vix to have such ordained rolls in which to live their lives. This was good. It was good to live your life in a box of what you can and cannot achieve. It was good to remain stifled.

Jade grimaced and rubbed her eyes. First came a deep sorrow from the pain of disbelief. Then anger. Why did she believe this? Why did she follow these teachings? Seeing it now, outside of it, after all she experienced--how could she ever have given her soul away to these words, have ever once believed the hate they spewed and pretended it was simply Vix’s decree, his word, his love that made life such as hers the way it was? She gritted her teeth. She gripped her chest.

“...and it is because he has loved you so that he has laid out your life before you,” the priest claimed. “It is because he desires your companionship that he has gifted you with a part from his body, so that you may always remember where you came from.”

Jade stood up. She held Chole tightly in her hand. The snake around her throat cooed, peering up at Jade’s face. The Green took a deep breath, and lifted her gaze. She and the priest locked eyes. He saw her. She saw him. She attached Chloe to her hip, turned, and slipped out of the grove.

The church she once loved bore a rotten core, one she ignored for far too long. And the friend she once loved died the day Thaddeous stole Jade from her home. Nothing of importance lingered in her past.

She had to move on.