Young Writers Society

You have a lovely writing style. It makes me interested in learning more about Meri's world and Meri herself, and the poem at the end is beautiful. Keep writing!

Hello! I hope this review finds you well!
Goodness, this story hit me in the feels! Honestly, I enjoyed every aspect of it. The way you handled exposition here was perfect, telling the story of their world through a tired and lonely Mother.
I have to say though, strangely, my favorite part of this story was how you called out to the characters surrounding them. We don't yet know who they are, but seeing how there are others helping the protagonist, even if we don't yet know anything about them, makes the setting feel more alive somehow.
Oh! Also the little song at the end! That was such a neat little touch that also connects the conclusion to the opening paragraphs! Furthermore, it's genuinely really good lyrics.
I have a few small nitpicks, though they are few and far between;
I feel as if the opening paragraph leaves a lot of hanging threads. We, as readers, never learn what the Sea Sparrow Star is, nor does songs about Merrows ever come up again. It's a little disconnected from the rest of the story, and I wish it tied in more.
I'm also not sure who Vashora is to the Main Character is ever made clear. I assumed that she was an older sister, but I do wish we had more clarification on that.

Still, this was a very exciting start to what I assume will be a series? I do hope you continue working on it! Keep on writing, and have an excellent day!

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: Hmmm, well this is off to a neat start I think. Its not fully clear if this is the first chapter or not, but it feels like one, and if it is one, its certainly a very effective one I think. You've got some very interesting elements scattered through a rather relaxing piece and it makes for a very unique and powerful combination here.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Vashora was taken on the night of the Sea Sparrow Star. I remember, because every time the Sea Sparrow Star visited, Ma would sing me a song about merrows. Merrows were my favorite of the creatures Ma sang about. I liked them better than the quick songs about fairies or the loud songs about dragons. Merrow songs were wild and silvery. They felt like they wanted to be sung on the deck of a ship far out at sea, with nothing but stars above and stars below and stars in your eyes.

That night, Ma sang no songs at all. We left the city in silence, the same night that Vashora was taken. No one likes to linger where friends are lost. I remember looking at the glittering ocean as we rode into the night, away from the city rising like a gravestone from the cliffside. I remember wondering why Vashora was not with us, but I knew better than to ask when my mother’s face turned white as snow. We rode for three days without stopping, except to change the horses. On the third night, we rested in the Forests of Sanaria. Then, finally, I learned what happened to Vashora.

“Do you hear them, Meri?” Ma’s eyes seemed to dance in the firelight, turning from oaken brown to amber. A small, wistful smile tugged at her lips. I closed my eyes, brow furrowing. The cold night wind brought only familiar sounds- Zilch in the hammock, humming some new tune, Marak and Jedda laughing quietly in their tent, the warm crackling of the campfire- “Who, Ma?”

She looked down at me sitting in her lap and drew me closer, resting her chin atop my head. “They say this forest is protected by the spirits of those who have passed on.” I turned to her, already enthralled by the promise of a bedtime story.

“Long ago, before I was even born, there was a group of magical folk who lived in this very forest. They were the most wonderful kind of people, loud and colorful and full of joy-”

“Zilch is loud and colorful, could he be a magical folk?” I sat up, glancing amazedly at the green-scaled dragonborn who swung gently in the hammock beside us. He shot me a look, rolling his eyes, but the hint of a smile was there as well.

Ma laughed, low and musical, “Zilch is not the sort of magical I mean, my merrow. I mean real magic, like the kind that druids and angels have.” I sank back into her skirts, hanging on every word.

“These people were the stuff of legends. They grew flowers as tall as mountains and wrote songs that could make the singer fly. But the most beautiful magic they created was the sort that could heal. They could heal sickness of the heart, of the mind, the blood, even magical sickness. They would heal great warriors of their battle wounds and little farmer’s daughters of their knee scrapes in the same breath. You see, these people did not care if you were rich as the queen, or poor as the field mice. If you were alive, you deserved healing.

One day, the king of the land found that his only son had fallen terribly ill, with a strange, magical disease. He traveled far and wide, seeking someone or something that could heal him. Soon, word of those magical folk reached him. He came to them, here in the forest, and begged them to heal his son. Of course, they were happy to help. They chose the most ingenious healers of them all- the three sisters Rakia, Tanis, and Sorrel. The sisters set out with the king back to his palace. When they arrived, they found the little prince on his deathbed. They tried everything they could think of, but nothing worked. Finally, the youngest sister, Sorrel, discovered the source of the little prince’s malady; he was under a dark and malicious curse.

When Sorrel asked the king if he knew anything about the curse, he grew very angry, accusing Sorrel and her sisters of using black magic on his son and had them killed-”

“Ma, Ma, wait, wait! Why do they die? They didn’t curse the little prince!” I scrambled back, staring angrily at my mother. She gazed sadly at me then. Now that I have grown older, I know that she wanted to hide me from the truth for many more years. But Vashora was gone, and I had a curious nature.

“Let me finish the story, little merrow.” She waited until I settled again, not satisfied to wait.

“The king had them killed, for he was afraid that Sorrel would tell everyone that his son was cursed. You see, the king made a selfish, terrible choice in the years before his son’s illness.

As you know, when the royal heir dies, the crown passes to their partner. That is why the heir must choose a good, strong person to love, who will care for our land as much as the heir does. The past queen of the land chose the king to marry, thinking he was of a good heart and mind. But she was fooled. The king simply wanted the crown all to himself. He killed her, using a slow and terrible poison, given to him by a hag. The hag had promised him power, in exchange for the soul of the one who loved him most in the world. The king assumed this would be his wife, and he would lose nothing, but his young son loved him more.

His son passed into the Other Life, and the king was left with nothing but rage and guilt. He outlawed all magic, and told his people that the magical folk in the forest had murdered his son, and his wife, who had died years before. The people believed they could trust their leader, as they should, and so, magic users were persecuted. Most of the magical folk in the forest were hunted down and killed, but a few survived. They hid, gathering strength and allies. They formed an army, made of the remaining magic users, those who knew of the king’s treason, and those brave enough to do what they knew was right.”

It was here that my mother paused, as though she was swept up into some memory. She gazed into the forest as though she was peering through time. Being the impatient child I was, I tugged on her dress. “What happened next?” How I wish I had asked her about the memory behind her eyes. She shook her head and smiled sorrowfully down at me. “There was a great war. It lasted for many years, and many people passed into the Other Life, magic or not. In the end, the non-magic folk won, and chased those remaining survivors deep into the southern mountains.”

She stopped, leaning her head against the tall oak behind us. “I know you have been wondering where Vashora has gone, my merrow. It is because of the hatred that non-magical folk have for the magical. Vashora-”, She took a long breath, closing her eyes, “Vashora had magic in her. So they took her away.”

I looked down at my hands, tight around my mother’s skirt. “Are they going to kill her, like Sorrel and her sisters?” Suddenly, I didn’t want to see my mother’s eyes. I knew that if I did, I would find a truth I didn’t want to know. She stayed silent, but the truth was there in the absence of an answer.

“That was a real story.” I whispered, “Not a very good bedtime story.” She pulled me close to her, and I could feel her tears and her smile. “I will sing you a song instead, yes?”

I nodded, burrowing deeper into her arms, breathing in the comforting scent. Ma always smelled like cinnamon, and nighttime always smelled like home.

Her soft voice rolled over me then, washing away my fears in gentle waves.

My eyes grew heavier and I began to drift off into sleep.

This is a really good story! I like your storyline about creatures. Is there gonna be another chapter? I'm interested to know, what inspired you? Where did the storyline come from? Keep it up!