Mary S

First Assignment: Story Statement Though only human in a world ruled by immortals, Quinn Frost’s life is perfectly placid. Stable job, supportive friends, bearable landlord, all the makings of an even-keeled future. But when her nation’s new king is murdered in the same, gruesome manner as their late Queen Hestia, tranquility’s knees begin to buckle. Now, a new tyrant rises—armed with schemes to re-enslave Untenables like Quinn and spark a new era of oppression. The only good news? Their late Queen, the only immortal brave enough to lift the shackles from humans and druids alike, who still lays claim to the throne, lives on in the body of another. Finding her proves difficult, especially with trails running cold as the bodies strewn among them. But with the help of an unlikely ally, immortal Fey, Cairo Longstar, hope clings to whatever time they have left. The deeper Cairo and Quinn plunge, the darker questions loom. Who killed Queen Hestia? Where is she now? And, what evil lurks in the shadows? Between flames of romance, chasms of treachery, and secrets that, for good reason, remain undisturbed, Quinn must uncover the truth that is always, and never, just within reach. Second Assignment: Antagonist A successful tyrant is defined by one aspect: wanton cruelty. Nazaire Hollows, destined to rule over Calystan in the wake of its Queen’s murder, embodies that nefarious quality. If her killing spree of rebels, sympathizers, and Untenables (the lower creatures of the caste system, such as humans or fairies) weren’t enough, her slaughter of love-interest Cairo Longstar’s best friend slashes every hope for her humanity. The Fey are creatures sculpted by nature, each imbued with the power of some distinct force. And for Nazaire, her likeness to a crow isn’t just uncanny—it’s genetic. A symbol of death, a bringer of despair, Nazaire hunts the main protagonist, eager to destroy the Queen’s reincarnation before Quinn can rescue her. Subterfuge and manipulation are her specialty, joining hands with perhaps the greatest antagonist of all: time. Routes run cold as Nazaire’s bodies pile up and Quinn confronts the horrid truth: if Nazaire should reach her inauguration date, not only will all Untenables face enslavement once again, but the last of her family may pay the ultimate price. Third Assignment: Breakout Title 1. The Untenable City 2. The Shackles That Bind Us 3. When Mercy Sleeps Fourth Assignment: Comparables 1. Crescent City by Sarah Maas 2. Pirates of Aletharia by Britney Jackson A closer look: Who doesn’t love a good romantasy? The recipe for my works are often a mash of adrenaline, intimacy, and impending doom; though, the role of humor cannot be understated. Sarah Maas brilliantly weaves these facets together in her work. Our similarities reflect in tone and style. The fiction work I’m pitching is a crime, fantasy, sapphic-romance novel that laces together comical relief and tension – all within a contemporary world. Much like Maas’ Crescent City, this work is easily digestible for readers even beyond the fantasy niche through its inclusion of familiar items (modern tech, cellphones, Pilates). Pirates of Aletharia capture a fiery romance between two unlikely women. Similar to my title, heading an enemies to lovers trope, Britney Jackson captures the passion between two hard-nosed characters, leaving plenty of space for character development and tension. Each conflict deepens the trust between her MCs, reflecting the relationship nestled within my own work. Fifth Assignment – Primary Conflict A murdered Queen’s unsolved case rests on the shoulders of a human, and as the freedom of her kind hangs in the balance, she must race against an immortal evil to uncover the truth. Sixth Assignment – Two More Levels [Context] Reincarnated souls are not privy to their past and, thus, will not know their immortal status until they perish and revive. Quinn must confront her inner struggle—that she isn’t a normal human, and that she possesses certain abilities, certain traits that liken themselves to a reincarnated soul (first hinted in the opening scene). In order to confirm her suspicions and obtain the power needed to save her people, Quinn must first…die. [Primary Conflict] And, no less—die by the hands of our gallant romance lead, Cairo Longstar. She trades places with her captured brother, doomed to be executed, and stands center stage below Cairo’s sword. But, if Cairo can’t follow through, Nazaire Hollow’s scythe will mark her end. Her unique ability, Nazaire’s scythe severs souls, prohibiting them to Rise, Fall, or reincarnate. She must place her faith in Cairo, trust that their bond can overpower whatever fear muddles her partner’s heart, while also balancing the harrowed perils of death. Will she reincarnate? Will she die for nothing, and her brother shortly follow? Fate is not always forgiving. [Context] Love is hard, but it's harder yet for Cairo Longstar—military Commander for the oppressive nation of Nyx, and Right Hand to Queen Esmeralda Olden. She’s learned to avoid relationships almost as intentionally as dodging Untenables. Haunted by her past, Cairo enters Calystan as a fearsome antagonist ready and willing to topple every unshackled human and druid alike. [Secondary Conflict] That is, until she meets Quinn Frost’s unflinching gaze. Cairo always believed Untenables to be spineless weaklings. After all, their cowardice led to the execution of her best friend, Lillia. But as the two cross paths, over and over, she’s forced to partner with the overzealous, bordering reckless human in their search for Queen Hestia’s killer. As conflict rises, so, too, do the emotions welling inside her, and even as the young Fey mounts armor across her chest, it does little to barricade the heart beneath. Cairo confronts two long-lost truths: that hope is stronger than fear and love omnipotent in the face hate. Final Assignment – Setting It’s been twenty-four years since Queen Hestia of Calystan’s murder, yet even between the darkest of alleys, her name still carries in whispers. Founder of the world’s only Free World, in which Untenables and Highers can prosper in harmony, she’s as beloved by her subjects as she is loathed by foreign leaders. As the inauguration of a new, treacherous ruler looms—Calystan prepares to host the decennial Ranking tournament, a competition in which recruits from all six regions of the world compete to either reaffirm or reorganize the caste system. Its paved, auralit city streets are swarmed by tourists and reporters all eager for a snapshot of this year’s competitors. But deep below the surface, a darker presence lurks in the underworld of the Maw, trickery dancing at her fingertips. Unbeknownst to the worlds above, the goddess’s power itches to interfere, igniting with the support of Nazaire Hollows’ induction. From the Packing District’s black-market debauchery to the succubus-filled Pleasure District’s deviance, Calystan is home to many spaces ripe with intrigue. When investigating the unsolved death of a Queen, what better places to commence the search? Quinn must use every element at her disposal, even if that requires traveling to the secret, barricaded elven forests or interrogating pirates at the putrid, stormy docks. After all, GPS may show her the paths, but its Quinn who must choose them.

[Opening Scene] Of all the ways to celebrate Quinn Frost’s birthday, this was far from ideal. Too bad city officials gave residents of Calystan little choice in the matter. Had it been up to Quinn, she’d already be halfway down a flagon of crisp, sweet ale and all the way up the Nine Lives terrace. Impatience bubbled in her chest like a venom as Quinn scaled the familiar four flights of musty stairs. Up, up, dread rising with her altitude. It felt like just yesterday Quinn was standing before the Teller’s sneering face, trying not to inhale the centuries-old debris that no doubt carried every number of toxic molds known to the Gods. Like just yesterday she was told her prospects of going to Aetheria were “neutral at best,” and she’d better work a heck of a lot harder to earn her slot among the angels. After all, she was only human. Life was about five-centuries shorter for her than most beings on this planet. Like she needed the reminder. The creaking floorboards dipped below her feet as Quinn paused, throat bobbing, before the arched door. How many fled this room in relief? How many in tears? It was a cruel ritual to impose on an otherwise joyous occasion but, then again, this world wasn’t renowned for its kindness. Quinn knew that best of all. She didn’t bother to knock before entering the shabby attic—blinking past the dust particles that skewed her vision to find a humanoid figure propped in a makeshift throne along the backwall. Quinn’s hands found the fringe of her jean jacket as she skulked forward, pressing her clammy palm to the aura meter standing erect in the center of the room. It hummed beneath her skin. Or maybe that was her roaring pulse. “Quinn Frost,” the Teller acknowledged as her hand fell from the gauge. Let’s get this over with, is what Quinn wanted to say. But instead, she asked, “On your birthday, do you give yourself a future?” Clutter littered the tight space, pinning Quinn on either side with bookshelves and ancient statues. Some were offerings to curry favor with the gods, but then, other items appeared otherworldly. Hides of creatures she’d never seen. Artifacts from a distant past; a history that eluded her kind. The Teller didn’t bother to laugh before responding in a hoarse, hollow voice, “I exist beyond time, and thus bear no present, past, or future.” “So, you don’t have a birthday?” “The Gods have viewed your history, Quinn Frost,” the Teller ignored her question, “and have ascertained your Rising outlook.” Quinn studied the chipped woodwork, pulse thrumming in her neck with a violence that was surely visible to the Teller. Assuming the Teller—whose face she’d never seen—had eyes. The mustiness served a purpose beyond asphyxiation, she learned after twenty-four visits. It shrouded the Teller’s identity. For all Quinn knew, this humanoid being was part lizard, which would certainly explain the smell. “So,” Quinn muttered, squinting through the haze. “Is it the Maw for me, then?” The Maw. A shudder crawled up her spine despite the springtime heat. If Aetheria was the land of goodness, brimming with crisp-winged angels and lyre-strumming spirits, the Maw was a black pit. Riddled with demons of her childhood nightmares, the Maw beheld seven rings—each one step deeper, darker, into the depths of eternal agony. If her soul should fall there… “For you, it is…” the Teller began, shifting slightly, “it is…” they drew a breath, pausing once again. “It…” Quinn was at the precipice, anticipation swelling in her chest until it threatened to implode. Jittery hands tugged harder on her jacket. She told herself she didn’t care, but the more the Teller lingered…seriously, what was taking so long? “Well,” the Teller’s voice hardened. “The answer is none.” Oh good, none. Wait…none? When visiting the Teller, three answers were given: Good, Bad, and Neutral. Last year, Quinn received a neutral outlook, meaning the gods hadn’t decided if, after she died, her soul would rise to Aetheria or sink to the Maw. Her community service efforts this year should’ve tipped the scales in favor of ascension. “I don’t understand,” Quinn’s voice strained, throat tight. “What is none?” “What the gods have decreed.” “Right,” Quinn stepped forward, “but what does it mean?” “It means the gods have decided your outlook is none.” Quinn’s hands shook. She shoved them in her pockets to resist clamping them around the Teller’s throat—assuming it had one of those, too. With a slightly hoarse inflection, she demanded, “What kind of an outlook is none?” “Yours.” “And where would that take me?” “Nowhere.” “But that’s—” “Another inquirer approaches,” the Teller remarked, noting the floorboards’ groan behind the door. The hinges of her jaw groaned until she feared her teeth might shatter. Quinn heard stories of restless spirits scouring the planet, doomed to roam for eternity. Forgotten souls. Was that what the Teller, what the gods, meant? She opened her mouth to protest—to command an answer—but a knock on the door captured her words. “There’s no need to return, Quinn Frost,” the Teller gestured to the door. “My services are no longer required.” A druid entered, flooding the room with fresh light, party hat tilted to one side. His loopy smile was smothered by the room's tension. Quinn spun back to the Teller, a blistering retort bubbling up her throat to settle on the tip of her tongue. It wasn't worth it though; it never was, so she choked down her indignation and stormed from the room. Gratitude be damned.