Spoiler Warning..?

I’m a big spoiler baby. If you start talking about any kind of media I plan to experience but haven’t, I'm going to put my hands on my ears and sing until someone punches me in the face. I want to go into everything as fresh as I can. That said, I think a work should be able to stand on its own even if you know what’s coming. After all, part of the joy of reading is rereading and uncovering new facets of a story you thought you knew by heart. Stories are diamonds to be admired from every angle, turned over, and held up to the light so we can love them for all their perfect cuts and unique flaws. 

As any fan of a book series knows, one of the best parts of reading a book is speculating about the next one. It is especially true of fantasy fans who aren’t just speculating about characters, but entire universes. Some fans spend hours of their days pouring over books looking for any tidbit of lore or narrative they might have missed before that hints at what’s coming in a later book. I am unashamedly one of those readers. As great as this is for a writer’s fanbase, it does present an interesting dilemma. What happens when the readers figure it out before you tell them? What if your whole series is building up to one huge plot twist and the readers figure it out? Where do you go from there? Now, I’m inexperienced as a writer and have approximately zero fans and/or readers of my work so I can’t offer any personal experience in that department. As a reader, however, I have seen writers approach this problem in a whole range of ways. One way is to change the ending. 

“The reader’s figured out my plan?! Well, joke’s on them! Now the ending is going to be one that I didn’t build up to at all! There’s no way they’ll expect THAT! Mwahahaha!” 

As you can probably tell from that saucy little bit, I don’t care for this strategy. Twists hinge on build-up. If you want the first thing the reader says to be “No way!”, the second thing they say should be “Of course!” A plot twist should be a piece of a puzzle falling into place that re-contextualizes the whole puzzle for the reader even if it’s not complete yet. A plot twist without the necessary build-up is like the writer throwing a random puzzle piece at the reader’s head while screaming “It’s BLUE you idiot!”. Definitely shocking, but not as much fun. 

The opposite end of that spectrum is to just write your damn ending. In theory, the climax of a series should act as a mission statement for that series. Of course you don’t want your book to be predictable, but if you’ve created fleshed out characters and worlds then of course some readers are going to figure the ending out. It means you did your job well. Speaking as a reader, I am way more forgiving of a twist I saw coming if I had a good time getting there. The best writer is the one who can tell me the ending of their series and make me think “Oh man, I can’t wait to find out how we get there!” To quote the writer I consider to be the best example of this *cough* Brandon Sanderson *cough*, “Journey Before Destination”. 

Now, in a plot twist of my own, I’m going to reveal that this was all build-up to something a bit more personal. A few years ago, I wrote a book. It is tentatively titled “The Wise Man’s Sword” and it took about two years to complete. In the time since, I have sent it out to several publishers, none of whom have chosen to publish it. To be honest, I’m not sure I blame them. It needs work. I’ve moved on to other projects since, but every time I feel myself pass a checkpoint in my ability as a writer, I go back and tinker with it. It’s a fun little story and I would love to write a whole series of these books one day. What’s it about? I’m not going to tell you THAT. 

I am however going to spoil one of the biggest twists I had planned for the series. 

*Gasp*! *Shock*! “But Bob, you ask, why would you do this?!”

Well, Daniel, the answer is simple. 

I really like this bit that I wrote. I wrote it well after I finished the last draft of the book and it takes place much later down the line in the story I have planned out. As it is, it’s fairly disconnected from the plot of that first book, though some of the groundwork was laid out. This bit of story emerged from a single line that popped into my head while I was taking a shower. I really should just do all my work in there. I dashed from the shower, splashing water and soap everywhere, and sat down to write the climactic scene of a book that didn’t exist in a series that didn’t exist, that may have spawned from a book that has never been published. It takes place in media res and does not explain a thing about who these people are, where they are, or what they want. But I still think it sounds cool. It also fills the key role of a climax, a mission statement for what I want the series to be. It’s my hope that reading this makes you at least a little excited for how we get there. 

Now, lets get a few questions out of the way. 

“Will you ever write this series?”

Hopefully.

“Will this passage spoil some of this series?” 

Probably.

“Will it look like this in the published work?”

Probably not.

If you’re still here after that, then I guess I have to show you the story now. But before I do, one last thing:

SPOILER WARNING: This story reveals plot of a work that might someday exist.

“It is time to reveal the truth of Scribomancy. You, who has devoted yourself to the pursuit of an art you do not understand, the truth is this: Scribomancy is a heretical art cast from the blood of a murdered god. It is the power of divine creation bestowed upon those whose minds are mired in depravity. Everything you have created, everything you have accomplished has only served to lead the world further into madness. The voices that whisper to you are the blasphemous words of a corrupting fiend. Do you see now, foolish boy? Do you see why Scribomancy must be erased?” 

I fell to my knees. 

“Is it true?” I whispered. “Ariel, is it true?”

“I don’t know. It feels right though, doesn’t it? I feel the truth of what he’s saying in my bones and in my blood. Perhaps that really is what I am. If so, what of it? Has it changed what we must do?” 

If I let Lowell go, it would mean letting Yuka die. If he wasn’t lying, I’d already done irreversible damage to the universe. Saving one more person certainly couldn’t make it any worse. 

“Page thirty-two, ‘a chain of lilies bind all that remains.’” 

Ariel thrust her hand out and light coalesced into flowering vines which ensnared Lowell, pinning his arms together. 

“You fool,” he hissed. “There will be no redemption for what you have done.” 

“No, but there’s a little girl whose family is waiting for her. At least they won’t have to wait anymore.”

I ran past Lowell and leapt off the ledge. 

“Page seventy-three! ‘And the wings of time and wind shall guide all who follow to their true destination!” 

Ariel chuckled, “wow, you actually managed to bring that one back, huh?” 

Wings burning in flames of black and blue erupted from my back and carried me into the sky. There’d be time to consider the consequences later. There was no way I was going to let Yuka die. The last tower floated high above the rest. If the normal laws of physics applied, I probably would have run out of oxygen before I made it to the top. Instead, I soared even higher to the peak of the Silent Citadel. The altar sat in an amphitheater at the top. Yuka was lying atop it with Alisha and two other Scribomancers standing around her. There were also dozens of Pages. Most of them were the bird-shaped ones this realm favored, but there were others that had clearly been manufactured. 

One of the Scribomancers saw me coming and his Bookkeeper manifested behind him, a hulking masculine figure around eight feet tall with chalk white flesh that was covered in glowing veins like a volcano. Its hair also appeared to be made of fire which matched well with its flaming eyes. It bellowed and all the Pages turned toward me and attacked. 

“Page twelve! ‘The wave crashed before me and erased everything from view!’” 

Ariel swung her hand and a wave surged from nothing, striking the Pages and sweeping them away. The other two Scribomancers were still focusing their attention on Yuka. A white-gold flame appeared above her. Time was nearly up. If they managed to make her an avatar of the god, it was all over. It was too late to stop the ritual so my only option was chasing the god away. Of course that was easier said than done.

Although... Lowell had said my power was born from depravity. 

“Page thirty-nine!” I roared. “‘For the briefest moments the world became a wretched place that sought to devour any illusion of hope that the weak may have conjured in their despair!’” 

I reached inwards towards those lowest, most hateful moments I’d had, to whatever evil might be lurking within my power and I tried to channel it into the air around me. 

The world darkened. All color faded so that we were nothing but black, white, and gray. The air became bitingly cold and oppressively thick, so that you could almost drown in it. The sky turned black and gained a weight that gave the impression it could fall on us. It only lasted a moment, but when it passed one of the scribomancers had collapsed. Alisha and the other were both on their knees gasping for breath. Of the god, there was no sign. Yuka slept on the altar, hopefully unaware of what had just happened. I landed in the amphitheater and staggered, barely keeping my footing. Heresy or not, there were definitely going to be consequences for that. I approached the altar and picked up Yuka. 

“You bastard,” Alisha rasped up at me, “you’re going to ruin everything. And for what? One little life?” 

I looked down at Yuka and then back toward Alisha. 

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

I conjured my wings again and flew off. It was time to take the kid home.