[Complete] [6534] [Epic Fantasy] The Hallow (Prologue & Chapter One)
Story Blurb
Two years after a magical catastrophe reduced the South Tower to ruins, kobold scavenger Garf uncovers something impossible beneath the wasteland known as the Hallow: a dormant Battleforge.
When the construct awakens with no memory of who he is or why he exists, Garf gives him the only thing he can, a name.
Rusty.
While others would see a forgotten weapon, Garf sees someone frightened, confused, and alone. Their unlikely friendship soon draws the attention of powerful forces searching for answers buried beneath the Hallow, setting them on a journey that will change the fate of kingdoms.
This excerpt contains the Prologue and Chapter One of a completed epic fantasy novel.
Feedback Requested
I'm primarily looking for reader reactions rather than line edits or proofreading.
In particular:
- Did the opening hook you?
- Were you confused at any point?
- Which character interested you the most?
- Was there anything that slowed your reading?
- If Chapter Two were immediately available, would you continue reading?
Excerpt Length: 6,534 words (approximately 25–30 minutes)
Timeline: No deadline.
Critique Swap: Not currently seeking critique swaps.
Excerpt: PROLOGUE
The South Tower lay in pre-dawn darkness.
Shadows clung to the tower, broken only by the faint glow of glyph-etched conduits and the steady rhythm of idle regulators. Deep below, the hum of machinery rose through the stone. Blue and violet crystals flickered at irregular intervals, casting brief flashes of light through the darkness.
Battleforged technicians moved with quiet precision, no voice raised above the hum. Purpose and intent guided every movement.
A single low chime pulsed through the offset lab, P3’s signal from the antechamber.
Senneth froze mid-calibration.
“Arrival.”
He straightened his coat, wiped the smudge from his glasses, and crossed the narrow corridor that linked his private workspace to the antechamber.
The door slid aside.
Heat rolled in, warmer than the night outside. Torches guttered along the stone walls, their orange light wrestling with the cool blue glow of the suspended Aetherwyrm shard at the room’s center. Its steady blue light washed across the chamber, tinting everything in cool shades.
Baerun stood waiting with four of his acolytes. Their hoods and veils obscured their faces.
Senneth approached with controlled calm.
“Master Baerun. The South Tower acknowledges your arrival.”
Baerun inclined his head. “Ambition breathes here.”
“Progress requires air, and privacy.”
A faint, unreadable smile touched Baerun’s lips. “Privacy is a fragile thing, Master Senneth. Especially at this scale.”
Senneth didn’t flinch. “Then let us not waste it.”
At a gesture from Baerun, two of his acolytes guided a transport chest forward. It hovered just above the floor as they brought it to a stop before Senneth. One of them released the latches and opened the lid. Pale light spilled into the chamber, revealing the compressed Atlas core within.
Senneth’s composure cracked for the briefest moment.
“So,” he murmured. “The core survived transit.”
Baerun studied him with a scholar’s patience and a predator’s certainty.
“You asked for a configuration the Moorajal have never sanctioned. Yet here it stands. Keep your promise, and perhaps your designs will justify the risk.”
Senneth allowed himself a faint smile.
“They will.”
Baerun's gaze lingered on him for a moment.
“Then let us finish what others feared even to attempt.”
Senneth turned toward the doorway.
“P3.”
The Battleforge straightened.
“Master.”
“Proceed to the main laboratory. Begin preparations.”
P3's gaze shifted briefly toward Baerun and the four acolytes.
“Master?”
Senneth's smile widened slightly.
“I'll be fine. Go.”
P3 bowed once and departed without another word.
Only then did Senneth return his attention to the Atlas. He stepped closer, fingertips hovering just above the compressed frame as he studied the workmanship.
"Remarkable. I didn't think this degree of compression was possible."
Baerun inclined his head.
"Planar magic is capable of certain accommodations. Besides, it was required not only for travel, but for installation."
Senneth nodded slowly, eyes tracing the intricate modifications worked into the housing.
“As specified,” Baerun added.
“Better than specified,” Senneth murmured.
His gaze lingered on the Atlas another moment before he finally turned toward the corridor beyond.
“Come. The laboratory is this way.”
Baerun gestured to his acolytes, and together they followed Senneth deeper into the tower.
The corridor opened into the heart of the South Tower.
Cold air rose from the machinery itself, deep, metallic. The laboratory spread outward in a wide, circular descent, tiered platforms falling toward a central installation. Harmonic pillars lined the perimeter, their low vibrations shivering across the floor in steady pulses.
And above the center hung the Velumin crystal, suspended within a stabilizer ring.
Baerun slowed.
The crystal pulsed with a resonance he had not felt in an age, split, amplified, driven beyond any Moorajal sanction. Power bled from it in thin shimmering threads that fed into channels etched across the stone like veins of light.
That was the first wrong thing.
The second awaited on the dais: the Atlas frame, fixed into a mounting array whose dimensions were unmistakably altered.
Baerun’s eyes narrowed, the quiet calculation of a scholar confronted with a blasphemy wrapped in brilliance.
As he took in the impossible geometry of the modified frame, Senneth stepped closer to the railing above the dais. He leaned forward, bracing one hand against the metal to inspect a convergence line etched into the stone, his coat shifting just slightly with the movement.
The motion shifted his coat just enough.
Light from the overcharged Velumin crystal struck a pendant resting against Senneth’s sternum, red and blue stones arranged around a swirling white core set in gold that caught the resonance like flame catching breath.
Baerun froze.
It cannot be, he thought.
A planar creation, unmistakable in design.
A artifact that should not have existed in Ardrunheim.
Tarik’s Sphere, worn openly by a mortal.
And with it, Senneth was untouchable; no spell Baerun commanded would so much as graze him.
A quiet pressure tightened behind his ribs.
“How,” Baerun wondered, “did he procure such a thing… and why was it allowed to answer him?”
Senneth, unaware of the revelation he had shown, traced a fingertip along the etched conduit line, muttering calculations under his breath.
Baerun’s expression did not shift. His attendants remained motionless.
But the balance of the moment had tilted, irrevocably.
Senneth stepped down onto the dais, hands moving with confident precision as he inspected the altered frame.
“You changed more than the shape,” Baerun observed quietly.
Senneth’s expression brightened with unguarded pride.
“Of course. The original Atlas was elegant, but inefficient. All its power forced through a single channel.”
He tapped the modified housing. “I redistributed the flow.”
Baerun tilted his head. “To what extent?”
Senneth ran a hand along the etched lines of the conduit, the gesture practiced and certain.
Interested?
The Hallow is a completed 156,000-word epic fantasy with series potential.
If the opening captures your interest, I'd be happy to send a formatted PDF containing the complete Prologue and Chapter One (6,534 words). If you'd like to continue beyond that, I'm also looking for readers interested in beta reading the full manuscript.