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   Before making it to the clearing, they were stopped by a girl who seemed barely old enough to walk. Bue wondered where her parents were—but the carnage next to the child answered any questions he could have had.
     The child’s reaction wasn’t hysterical; in fact, it could barely be registered; all she did was stare at the patch of red, which was beginning to bloom in size.
  “Saints,” the archer let out, his hand rubbing onto his forehead. Imara approached before anyone else, apparently having noticed the markings on the young girl’s bloodied hands.
  “We have to get going,” Teorin said, nervously glancing at the swirling mass behind them. Yet, based on the look Bue and Imara exchanged, he knew there was no leaving the child.
   Imara heaved as she tossed the small, frozen frame onto her back. “Then let’s get going,” she said, clasping the girl’s legs to her side.

Before making it to the clearing, they were stopped by a girl who seemed barely old enough to walk. Bue wondered where her parents were—but the carnage next to the child answered any questions he could have had. The child’s reaction wasn’t hysterical; in fact, it could barely be registered; all she did was stare at the patch of red, which was beginning to bloom in size. “Saints,” the archer let out, his hand rubbing onto his forehead. Imara approached before anyone else, apparently having noticed the markings on the young girl’s bloodied hands. “We have to get going,” Teorin said, nervously glancing at the swirling mass behind them. Yet, based on the look Bue and Imara exchanged, he knew there was no leaving the child. Imara heaved as she tossed the small, frozen frame onto her back. “Then let’s get going,” she said, clasping the girl’s legs to her side.

My #WIPSnips offering for "walk"

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #Threadwalker

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This is DEFINITELY Calista going feral in the walls of the Palladium as Erebus continues to ruin her life. Imagine watching your father ruin the country in real time. Poor girl 😭

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #Threadwalker #WIP

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You really can't trust anyone in Crucid

My #WIPSnips submission for "shirt"!

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #SFF #Fantasy #Threadwalker

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“Sava would never,” Imara said. “I’ve done plenty of crimes like this and she never has. Besides, she would have ratted me out the second she saw me if that was the case.”
“Oh,” Teorin cut back. “You’re regularly stealing high royal’s souls?”
Imara didn’t necessarily have an answer for that.
“Still,” she said. “Sava respects the code.”
“I agree,” Bue said, his voice taking on an unfamiliar lilt. “Sava is a good, good girl. She’d never do that.”
If I can’t trust her, who can I?  
“Imara,” Sava asked. “Can you come in here? I need help fastening the back of this shirt.”
She looked at Bue and Teorin. “I’ll be back.”
Imara looked at the door—sturdy, oak—and grabbed onto the handle. As she passed the threshold and felt the the barrier secure, a fist slammed into her face.
As soon as Imara recovered, she saw what Teorin had predicted—Sava in full assassin’s attire and daggered fist waiting for her.
“Traitor,” Imara seethed.
“Extractor,” Sava spat back.
A crash came from the room behind them. “Bue?!” Teorin’s muffled voice cried out, followed by Kaya’s. Imara been set up like a child.
Her hand grasped the attacker’s hand as it descended upon her. The only bounty you are collecting is in Hell, she thought.

“Sava would never,” Imara said. “I’ve done plenty of crimes like this and she never has. Besides, she would have ratted me out the second she saw me if that was the case.” “Oh,” Teorin cut back. “You’re regularly stealing high royal’s souls?” Imara didn’t necessarily have an answer for that. “Still,” she said. “Sava respects the code.” “I agree,” Bue said, his voice taking on an unfamiliar lilt. “Sava is a good, good girl. She’d never do that.” If I can’t trust her, who can I? “Imara,” Sava asked. “Can you come in here? I need help fastening the back of this shirt.” She looked at Bue and Teorin. “I’ll be back.” Imara looked at the door—sturdy, oak—and grabbed onto the handle. As she passed the threshold and felt the the barrier secure, a fist slammed into her face. As soon as Imara recovered, she saw what Teorin had predicted—Sava in full assassin’s attire and daggered fist waiting for her. “Traitor,” Imara seethed. “Extractor,” Sava spat back. A crash came from the room behind them. “Bue?!” Teorin’s muffled voice cried out, followed by Kaya’s. Imara been set up like a child. Her hand grasped the attacker’s hand as it descended upon her. The only bounty you are collecting is in Hell, she thought.

Imara really can't seem to catch a break...

My #WIPSnips submission for "shirt"

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky #Threadwalker #SFF

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SEEKING BETA READERS FOR THREADWALKER
AN EPIC FANTASY FOR
THE FURIOUS

SEEKING BETA READERS FOR THREADWALKER AN EPIC FANTASY FOR THE FURIOUS

IN CRUCID...
In Crucid, grief is a weakness-and magic is a blade with no hilt.
A velvet-wrapped empire turns both weapons into a game no one can win.
Imara is a soul-stealer, and perhaps something more, her kind whispered about in myth, reviled in practice.
Calista is the princess no one chose. Her brother may one day wear the Crown, but she'll always bear its burden.
Bue is surviving in a world, determined to convince him it wants everything dead. He's even more determined to prove it wrong.
Unrest is rising. The lines between faith, power, and control are fading. And the three of them are forged in a fire no one asked for.
When a new magical plane opens, granting Imara an even greater, more terrifying strength, it leaves everyone unsure of what side they are playing on.
Some revolutions start with a bang.
This one ripples in the silence.

IN CRUCID... In Crucid, grief is a weakness-and magic is a blade with no hilt. A velvet-wrapped empire turns both weapons into a game no one can win. Imara is a soul-stealer, and perhaps something more, her kind whispered about in myth, reviled in practice. Calista is the princess no one chose. Her brother may one day wear the Crown, but she'll always bear its burden. Bue is surviving in a world, determined to convince him it wants everything dead. He's even more determined to prove it wrong. Unrest is rising. The lines between faith, power, and control are fading. And the three of them are forged in a fire no one asked for. When a new magical plane opens, granting Imara an even greater, more terrifying strength, it leaves everyone unsure of what side they are playing on. Some revolutions start with a bang. This one ripples in the silence.

THREADWALKER IS...
A 100,000-word dark political fantasy novel that launches a sweeping trilogy. For fans of the brutality of The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang, the messaging of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, and the interior storytelling of Neon Genesis Evangelion, this novel weaves political shattering, ancestral magic, and moral fury into a brutal tapestry. As a soulstealer bound by laws she didn't write and doctrine she didn't choose,
Imara must decide whether to dismantle the system that exploits her—or become its deadliest weapon.
Nearing completion, sample chapters and a teaser soundtrack will be available for interested beta
readers in the coming weeks.

THREADWALKER IS... A 100,000-word dark political fantasy novel that launches a sweeping trilogy. For fans of the brutality of The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang, the messaging of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, and the interior storytelling of Neon Genesis Evangelion, this novel weaves political shattering, ancestral magic, and moral fury into a brutal tapestry. As a soulstealer bound by laws she didn't write and doctrine she didn't choose, Imara must decide whether to dismantle the system that exploits her—or become its deadliest weapon. Nearing completion, sample chapters and a teaser soundtrack will be available for interested beta readers in the coming weeks.

IF INTERESTED...
Please contact
chintonwrites@gmail.com with a valid email address to receive PDF
files as well as a low-commitment structured questionnaire centering around character development, worldbuilding, and plot pacing. I am seeking information on how themes of moral fury, political tension, and power are resonating with readers.

IF INTERESTED... Please contact chintonwrites@gmail.com with a valid email address to receive PDF files as well as a low-commitment structured questionnaire centering around character development, worldbuilding, and plot pacing. I am seeking information on how themes of moral fury, political tension, and power are resonating with readers.

Seeking feedback for #Threadwalker! Hope to hear from you guys soon :)

#amquerying #SFF #writesky #writingcommunity #publishing

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Sometimes, we lose track of our true impact. My #WIPSnips submission for "nowhere"

#Threadwalker #SFF #DarkFantasy #LGBTQWriters #WritingCommunity #WriteSky

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Just wanted to post, in case anyone happened to be curious, and say that #Threadwalker is still in development. I have a rather unfortunate injury that’s eating up at lot of my mental bandwidth but I plan on having at least a few excerpts up in the next few days. Thanks for understanding 😌

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"If Erebus could do that to one of them, he'd do it to all of them."

No clever caption. This is a fantasy scene I wrote in 2024 but it feels uncomfortably close to home now. Maybe some stories aren't for comfort.

#WIPSnips #SFFWriters #WriteSky #THREADWALKER #ImaraTW #History #QueerWriters

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When a mind-reader and a soulstealer enter a wine cellar, very few things can happen. Even fewer are of those positive.

They got lucky.

#WIPSnips #FantasyWIP #DarkFantasy #GrimdarkFantasy #EnemiesToAllies #FantasyWriters #WritingCommunity
#THREADWALKER

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IMARA
"Fuck with my mind again and I'll knock your teeth in," she said, cutting though his playfulness like a hot blade. No part of her sovereignty being violated came off as cheeky.
"Understood," he said, his voice gaining gravity. Then, there was a tense, lingering pause. "You don't hold any sort of prejudice, do you?" In the coolness of the cellar, she could feel what it was like to stand next to someone else who might get judged before they walk into the room.
"I fear what you can do," Imara said as she slid a bottle of aged wine into her gloved hands.
"Rich coming from you," he said, looking at his own. Imara couldn't help but slightly gasp at the blunt statement.
The brunette looked up. "No disrespect," he said. "I'm just not going to let you judge me for melting minds while you yank souls."
She swallowed hard, driving brown her eyes into him. "You have a point," she said, feeling the philosophical walls closing in on her.
Jurists and Gora had never gotten along; perhaps, it was because their praxis shared too much of the same heartbeat. Neither group had been able to certify the other wasn't trying to kill them.
"So, I say we make an agreement that I won't mess with your mind and you make sure to not render my soul," he said with an air of lightness.
"You're probably right," she said, loosening her shoulders. "They'll never understand upstairs."
"Not a shot in hell," Jere said as they ascended the stairs. Coming to the top, Imara felt soothed by the tentative alliance. As long as it held.
CHANDLER HINTON

IMARA "Fuck with my mind again and I'll knock your teeth in," she said, cutting though his playfulness like a hot blade. No part of her sovereignty being violated came off as cheeky. "Understood," he said, his voice gaining gravity. Then, there was a tense, lingering pause. "You don't hold any sort of prejudice, do you?" In the coolness of the cellar, she could feel what it was like to stand next to someone else who might get judged before they walk into the room. "I fear what you can do," Imara said as she slid a bottle of aged wine into her gloved hands. "Rich coming from you," he said, looking at his own. Imara couldn't help but slightly gasp at the blunt statement. The brunette looked up. "No disrespect," he said. "I'm just not going to let you judge me for melting minds while you yank souls." She swallowed hard, driving brown her eyes into him. "You have a point," she said, feeling the philosophical walls closing in on her. Jurists and Gora had never gotten along; perhaps, it was because their praxis shared too much of the same heartbeat. Neither group had been able to certify the other wasn't trying to kill them. "So, I say we make an agreement that I won't mess with your mind and you make sure to not render my soul," he said with an air of lightness. "You're probably right," she said, loosening her shoulders. "They'll never understand upstairs." "Not a shot in hell," Jere said as they ascended the stairs. Coming to the top, Imara felt soothed by the tentative alliance. As long as it held. CHANDLER HINTON

Here is my contribution to #WIPSnips for “certify”. Been MIA doing some deep edits—glad to be back at it. Enjoy!

#THREADWALKER

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Preview
THREADWALKER: An Original Soundtrack YouTube video by c hinton

Things have been quiet in Blood’s Landing—until now.

Enjoy the sounds Imara & the crew have been battling through. Or don’t. The Crown can’t bring itself to care either way.

#THREADWALKER #WritingCommunity #playlist #SFF #FemaleLedFantasy #queerwriters #music

music.youtube.com/playlist?lis...

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Bue isn't used to softness.
But he notices when it shows up.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #FoundFamily #DarkFantasy #QueerWIP #BoysWithFeelings #THREADWALKER

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"We killed 50 people who were asking for it. You don't carry a sword when you think you're safe."

Imara doesn't need you to like her—she needs you to understand the stakes.

#WIPSnips #THREADWALKER #SFFWriters #QueerFantasy #FoundFamily #Trauma

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Hi #ComJunity!

This one's easy—Imara answers it herself in the first 10 pages. Turns out, the answer is no one 💪

🗣️What's your favorite kind of opening: slowburn or powder keg?

#THREADWALKER #QueerFantasyWIP #WriteSky #FemaleLedFantasy #WritingCommunity #CharacterDrivenFantasy

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“Calista chuckled. ‘Such fanfare isn’t necessary,’ she said, ‘I’m not sure if I even pass for royal these days”

#FantasyWIP #WritingCommunity #THREADWALKER

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Bue (our bi king) would treat Calista like the royalty she is but alas the logistics are more than hazy and I think Jere and Teorin would be less than pleased 🤭🤫

#ComJunity #QueerFantasyWIP #THREADWALKER

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Calista just scoffed, marching away. “I fear Mitzy might be more equipped to run this kingdom than you.”
“Our horse?” Cyrus cried out, spawning a bright smile on her face as she turned the corner. Yes, idiot, our horse, she thought.

#THREADWALKER #Calista #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #CourtDrama

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THREADWALKER | BUE 🏹
"Burn in hell," Bue said. And he meant it.

What happens when a son stops asking for love and demands control instead?

#WIPSnips #THREADWALKER #AmWritingFantasy #ComingofAge #LetBoysBeComplicated #POVScene
🗣️ Is power ever clean?

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“Again,” Bue’s father demanded. The boy’s chest rose and fell as he glared at the five arrows driven into the bullseye of the target. The sun beat down on them, causing salty sweat to drip past is brow.

“How many more times are you going to make me do this?” Bue complained, his voice cracking with dying youth. He thrust the bow in front of him, “Let’s see you do one.”

The older man glowered at him and then smacked the weapon from his hands, the string thrumming against one of the fountains which sat near the Tenebris. “So you think you’re a man?” his father asked with a simmering contempt that almost boiled Bue alive. “Prove it.”

The teenager recoiled as his father fell back into a fighting stance. Every day had been a metaphorical fight with him since Tyus lost his leg—and now it had transmuted into the physical plane.

“Fine!” Bue yelled, launching into a flurry of hand movements and punches. It wasn’t a fair start, but was any of this fair?

After a few blows, a solid fist crashed into his jaw, causing the entire world to go hazy. They fell to the ground, sticks and dirt surrounding them in the tumble. Another blow, more haze.

No, he thought. 

Summoning strength from somewhere he couldn’t pinpoint, he launched his weighty father to his side.

“Burn in hell!” he screamed, reversing the roles by scrambling on top of him. The inferno with him evaporated the last echoes of his boyhood into violent steam. At that moment, he admitted to himself that he felt powerful. Perhaps even unstoppable.

“Bue!” a voice called out. Teq was soon upon him, grabbing at his arms which were still pumping with vengeance. “Stop! What are you doing?!”

“Get off me!” he said, pushing Teq’s grasping hands away. Looking at his father, he saw a bloodied, mangled mess.

He’d done enough.

“Again,” Bue’s father demanded. The boy’s chest rose and fell as he glared at the five arrows driven into the bullseye of the target. The sun beat down on them, causing salty sweat to drip past is brow. “How many more times are you going to make me do this?” Bue complained, his voice cracking with dying youth. He thrust the bow in front of him, “Let’s see you do one.” The older man glowered at him and then smacked the weapon from his hands, the string thrumming against one of the fountains which sat near the Tenebris. “So you think you’re a man?” his father asked with a simmering contempt that almost boiled Bue alive. “Prove it.” The teenager recoiled as his father fell back into a fighting stance. Every day had been a metaphorical fight with him since Tyus lost his leg—and now it had transmuted into the physical plane. “Fine!” Bue yelled, launching into a flurry of hand movements and punches. It wasn’t a fair start, but was any of this fair? After a few blows, a solid fist crashed into his jaw, causing the entire world to go hazy. They fell to the ground, sticks and dirt surrounding them in the tumble. Another blow, more haze. No, he thought. Summoning strength from somewhere he couldn’t pinpoint, he launched his weighty father to his side. “Burn in hell!” he screamed, reversing the roles by scrambling on top of him. The inferno with him evaporated the last echoes of his boyhood into violent steam. At that moment, he admitted to himself that he felt powerful. Perhaps even unstoppable. “Bue!” a voice called out. Teq was soon upon him, grabbing at his arms which were still pumping with vengeance. “Stop! What are you doing?!” “Get off me!” he said, pushing Teq’s grasping hands away. Looking at his father, he saw a bloodied, mangled mess. He’d done enough.

#WIPSnips for "glare"

I won't lie, this one is pretty bleak.

#THREADWALKER #FantasyWIP #SFF #WritingCommunity

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“What brings you down?” he murmured, his tone the complete opposite of last night. “Come to torch down here too?”

Calista felt an ache in her chest as the brunette glared at her. “What are you talking about?” she said, taking a step back and bumping into the barrel behind her.

“You don’t know?” he scoffed. “Do they really shelter you that much that you don’t know your father killed hundreds of people last night?”

The accusation spawned a painful burn behind her eyes. “He did what?” she said. For the first time, she stopped to ponder what other sanctuaries her father had destroyed for the sanctity of the Crown.

And what happened to their inhabitants? 

“The Tenebris,” he said, “the one place where the peons could come together and survive—I suppose you people finally hit your quota on empathy.”

A certain frustration brewed in her that only came with being written into a story that wasn’t hers. “I didn’t have any part in whatever happened there,” she said. “You aren’t even letting me form an opinion about it.”

“Do you really get to have an opinion when your silks are weaved from other people’s suffering?” Jere asked, his tone softening, but still keeping an overall cutting demeanor.

“Should I just die?” Calista cried out. “I already know this place is utterly fucked, I just wish you would give me a moment to figure out what I’m going to do about it.”

Jere’s eyes widened. “You’re going to do something about it?”

“What brings you down?” he murmured, his tone the complete opposite of last night. “Come to torch down here too?” Calista felt an ache in her chest as the brunette glared at her. “What are you talking about?” she said, taking a step back and bumping into the barrel behind her. “You don’t know?” he scoffed. “Do they really shelter you that much that you don’t know your father killed hundreds of people last night?” The accusation spawned a painful burn behind her eyes. “He did what?” she said. For the first time, she stopped to ponder what other sanctuaries her father had destroyed for the sanctity of the Crown. And what happened to their inhabitants? “The Tenebris,” he said, “the one place where the peons could come together and survive—I suppose you people finally hit your quota on empathy.” A certain frustration brewed in her that only came with being written into a story that wasn’t hers. “I didn’t have any part in whatever happened there,” she said. “You aren’t even letting me form an opinion about it.” “Do you really get to have an opinion when your silks are weaved from other people’s suffering?” Jere asked, his tone softening, but still keeping an overall cutting demeanor. “Should I just die?” Calista cried out. “I already know this place is utterly fucked, I just wish you would give me a moment to figure out what I’m going to do about it.” Jere’s eyes widened. “You’re going to do something about it?”

My #WIPSnips for "written"

#Threadwalker #FantasyWIP #SFF

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Shinji Ikari x Imara Khedie

[mutual eye contact across the group therapy circle] 💀💔

#WIP #Evangelion #EmotionalDamage #QueerFantasyWIP #THREADWALKER

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Here are some moodboards I made for Calista!

#Threadwalker #QueerFantasyWIP #WriteSky #WriteSky #SFF

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Imara, Bue, Teorin, Jere, and Calista?

If they ever DID break apart it’s because they realize they’re all power refracted through different lenses—and sometimes wavelengths just don’t align 💔🥀

#ComJunity #Threadwalker (f/k/a #TheDarkestCrown) #QueerFantasyWIP #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

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