I'm absolutely thrilled to join the blog tour for Children of Blood and Bone. I don't often add books to my list of favourites and this has definitely made it. I found the story thrilling and tightly plotted, with amazing characters and absolutely gorgeous writing. I haven't been this emotionally invested in a book for a long time and I loved everything about it. For more details about Children of Blood and Bone and to read my glowing review, you can follow this link.
For my tour stop, I decided to write a fan-fic journal entry inspired by my maji clan: Seer. You can use the handy graphic below to find out what clan you belong to. Leave a comment to let me know what clan you're in!
Journal of a Seer
An icy shock of water rolled over my feet, leaving behind a small chest made of dull metal. I picked it up, testing the weight in my hands as I traipsed away from the water.
Flipping the lid revealed a translucent golden stone and a crumpled scroll. Fiery colours shifted under the surface of the stone and I felt inexplicable warmth pouring off it. I’ve always been more interested in words than riches, and I reached for the scroll. Even now, with the layers of time fighting to surface in my mind, I recall that anticipation. What would have happened if I’d tossed the chest back into the ocean?
Of course, I didn’t. My fingers closed on the rough paper and that was all it took. There was a sharp jolt of energy and then the images assaulted me. I fell to the sand, with my head threatening to tear apart.
Laying there on the beach, I saw children splashing in the water and heard the lightness of their laughter, though I was alone. I saw fishermen in a choppy sea, hastily tugging on their nets as a storm threatened. How could the sky be stormy purple and summer blue all at once? I feel myself fragmenting and try to concentrate on writing one word at a time.
Then, I saw the worst images of all. Soldiers poured onto this beach, spreading through Warri like a plague and cutting down all those with colourless hair like mine. The village behind me was awash with death and blood. This is my curse. Time that was once linear is now layered: past, present and future sifting and mingling until I can’t tell them apart. I remember the older generation’s powers, flames that curled between their fingers or hands that could heal with a touch. All I’ve known until this moment is the stigma, the glares because of what I could have been.
I staggered home after that, seeing no living souls on the way but with every new step bringing a rush of time: our simple huts being built decades ago, celebrations with drums throbbing and people spinning…
Zu was passing when I arrived home and I set the chest in her small hands, babbling about the return of magic while the village burned around us. Unaware, she nodded, bright eyed and excited while I smelled the terrible char of burning flesh and heard the screams of the dying. I’ve heard those screams before: the day magic left us.
Zu ran off with the chest, taking that burden, but it seems I’ve already claimed my part in this. Writing in this journal is giving some solace but I can barely concentrate. The words blur and the threads of time are tangled in my mind. I take in a deep breath and release it, focusing on what I know to be real. The warm wood of my simple hut, the new curl to my hair as it springs around my face… these things are real and present.
Though the pictures are still there, they are distant, fading memories as opposed to tormenting spectres. It is clear what I must do but it will not be easy. I must master this ability instead of letting it best me. Magic is a gift, and I must wield it as such. I know of no past conflict in our peaceful fishing village, so the onslaught must be yet to unfold. The time for writing is done. There are villagers who were maji once, and they will come to my aid. I will master this ability, and I will help my people.
Really loved this Amy! x
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading Chelle! I'm glad you enjoyed it.
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