Hey all, as many of you know, there’s some big changes around here and one of them is I won’t be keeping the stories going alone anymore. I have a new partner, Raidon Phoenix, who’s introducing herself today with a snippet from her original world. Enjoy!

Who here in the Story Aerie enjoys messing with story tropes? I’m Raidon T. Phoenix, and it’s one of my favorite things about writing and reading. Starting in December, I’ll be co-writing serials here with Jess. We’ve known each other for several years and have been helping each other with writing-related stuff the whole time.

Jess and I have done a bit of collab work before, and I’m thrilled and a little anxious at the opportunity to join them for a long-term collaboration. I’ve enjoyed having first looks at many of the story concepts that ended up in previous serials and am looking forward to being a larger part of this project of passion.

Light filtered in through the stained glass windows and fell in glinting streams on the floor. Rivian’s small footsteps echoed off the marble tiles of Sunwatch Vocal Academy. No sound escaped the rooms lining the hall. He checked the paper for the mark of his new instructor’s classroom.

There.

Two doors down he knocked softly. A stern, dour man stared down at him as he opened the door. His braid was shorter than Rivian’s. The caste difference wouldn’t help him against that hard green stare, though. “Well. In. Now.” The man moved aside so he could enter the classroom. A beautifully carved wooden chair and music stand stood to the side of the small desk. “I am Zhiirkal. I am your instructor now, which means if you wish to learn the art of voice, you will do as I say without complaint. Stand there.” He pointed to a mark on the floor next to the music stand.

Rivian moved to the mark and faced the stand. Already, he didn’t want to disappoint Instructor Zhiirkal. The instructor corrected his posture, and put him through several breathing exercises. He wasn’t allowed to sing a single note.
Would every lesson be like this?

When it ended, Rivian offered a respectful nod to his instructor and went outside. The afternoon sun warmed the heather in the fields, and a breeze carried the scent of garden flowers from further up the campus.

The beauty of the Academy struck awe, but inspired little in the way of comfort. Even the dormitories rose, intimidating, from the gardens surrounding them. It wasn’t home. He wanted to go home.