Nathaniel.

Crap! I have no idea why it did this!

Thanks to all who (had the patience to) read this!!!

Hiya! Pen here with a review for you!
First of all, this is good, but what's up with the format? If its a story, why is it not in story format?
Now, for my little nitpicks.
“when she’d become pregnant with Nathaniel,” This makes it sound as if she's been pregnant with him multiple times, become is in present tense, so you want to use became here.
It should look a little like this:
'when she'd became pregnant with Nathaniel...'

It would makes a little more sense that way.

Next:
'This woman, Nathaniel thought, liked to make an entrance.'
What do you mean? She's not making any entrance. Perhaps you mean to say that she's flashy, she likes to make a scene.

Also, maybe you should explain why and how Tya and Nathaniel are able to communicate by thoughts. Is it a side effect of the immortality? Is it because of Tya's heritage?

Speaking of Tya's heritage, where is her mother? Is she half-human? How was Death able to have a child if he is literally the embodiment of the opposite? He takes lives, but he was able to give just one?

Judging by the way you ended this, I assume that there will be more of Nathaniel and Tya to look forward to.

And it may just be me, but Tya seems too caring about Nathaniel, I have a vague feeling that she likes him as more than a sibling.

So to sum up; work on using the proper tenses, explain things more, make sure that you're making sense.
I'd love to read more about this duo, so if you don't mind, I'd love to be notified (maybe you could PM me?) when you update.

Happy review day! <3

Okay I must say over all this was a good story, however, I felt like it was missing something. First of all while you did give us a basic gist of what Nathaniel's mother was like, I felt like we needed a better discription of what she was like. Also what do the characters looked like. You only said that Nathaniel was tall, and dressed in all black. For Tya you implied that she was relatively small compared to Nate. We don't know about their features. Does Nate have a scar anywhere? Is Tya's hair short and blond, or black and long? What about their eyes? Do they hold kindness of any sort? Also I feel as though you kind of just added Nate's curse, there wasn't anything to suggest that he had one prior to your mention of it. When did Tya stop seeing Nate as a son, and more like a brother? Don't get me wrong I still loved your story, but like I mentioned before it was missing some things that make it flow better, so to speak. Anyways I hope there's a sequal, I'd love to read it! Keep calm and write on! =^_^=

This text was very hard to see, so I literally had to post it on here. I don't understand why you start it out with one word and than the rest of the sentence below, though I assume that is your style of writing. People, some of the lazier type, (like me) are too lazy to read the entire piece, and if they also struggle to read the writing, it's going to make people loose interest very fast.
I couldn't understand very much of it at all, and you did use good descriptive words, even some that I haven't heard of before. Thumbs up on that! So his mom died from labor or somebody murdered her ...? I don't have a very broad understanding with things so intelligent... lol


Nathaniel
had been born for greatness. Or so he’d been told.

His
mother had been a blasphemous woman who’d early on realised
Death had no hold on her. Instead of using her powers for good,
instead of remaining anonymous with this peculiar trait; she flaunted
it, made a spectacle of herself in every possible way. People she met
feared her, which only spurred her on.

Even
when she’d become pregnant with Nathaniel, although he did not
know how, she pushed the limits of her immortality, challenging Death
to prove her wrong. But her gift wasn’t meant to be squandered
and Death’s patience had its limits.

On
the night she went into labor, Death sent his best assassin, his
daughter Tya, to end her life. Instead, she ended up delivering tiny
Nathaniel into this world, and the mother succumbed to internal
injuries.
Tya,
driven by some maternal instinct she previously knew nothing about,
brought Nathaniel home. Her father disapproved of this until he held
the baby in his arms. He said, his voice growing deeper, echoing
throughout the cavern, that this baby boy was destined for greatness,
had been born in terrible circumstances which would either help or
hinder him. Only time would tell.
Nathaniel
remembered all of this. He remembered everything he’d ever
heard from the moment of his birth. That wasn’t the issue. The
issue was that he’d been cursed with a limit of spoken words.
And he was dangerously close to reaching that limit.
After
decades of searching, he’d caught wind of a witch who might
have the answers he was seeking, who could help him break this curse.
A frail sense of hope spread tattered wings inside of him, gliding up
toward his heart; today
could be the day!

He
took the steps to the third floor at a measured pace, his appearance
one of calm and confidence. But his insides quivered as the fragile
bird of hope struggled to spread its wings, striving to reach the
surface. He tampered it down. Although this was his best lead in
Death knew how long, it could be just –another- dead end.
He
felt her presence as he reached the second floor landing. “Show
yourself, old friend,”
he thought to her. Tya appeared in a small twister of black smoke,
walking through it, whipping her braided black hair over her
shoulder. Nathaniel rolled his eyes at her, “Why
the dramatic entrance?”
She
raised her chin, dark eyes narrowing slightly, “If
you’re being watched, they will know we are a force to be
reckoned with.”
“You
have that feeling too?”
He rolled his massive shoulders, trying to avoid the temptation to
run his palm over his prickling nape; he didn’t want to give
his unease away.
In
response, she tilted her chin towards the stairs leading up. He
nodded. “1352,”
he thought, anticipating her next question as they reached the third
floor.

They
stalked the hallway, senses on alert, eyes whipping left and right,
careful to not miss any detail, mindful of potential traps. But their
senses revealed nothing supernatural to their attention, and so they
pressed on, anxious to have this lead confirmed – or denied.

The
door to apartment 1352 stood open, awaiting. The mistress of the
place stood in her kitchen, swirling a mixture in a green bowl.
Nathaniel stopped at the doorway, aghast at the normalcy
of the apartment. Tya shoved at him as he was blocking the doorway
with his sheer size. He immediately turned sideways, more than enough
room for Tya’s small frame to pass.
“Are
you Liana Bishop?” Tya asked, standing slightly in front of
Nathaniel.

“I
am,” the woman replied without looking up. She bent toward her
bowl, her long red hair creating a curtain for her face, before
taking a sniff from the contents. She straightened, reached for a
yellow box on her counter, and sprinkled some white powder. She then
set down the box and looked straight at Nathaniel.

“We
heard that- ” Tya began, but the woman held up a hand.
“I
would hear from he who is looking for me.” She never took her
eyes off Nathaniel.

Out
of the corner of his own, he saw Tya bristle. “He does not
speak,” she said between clenched teeth, standing taller,
squaring her shoulders.

A
patronizing smile appeared on the woman’s red lips as she
glanced at Tya. “Child, do not insult my intelligence or my
power.” She turned back to Nathaniel, her green eyes gleaming
like a cat’s. “Now, Nathaniel, is it? Tell me why you
require my aid.”
If
he’d been less capable at schooling his features, surprise
would have bloomed on his face. This witch was very powerful. His
hope soared a little higher, wings beating a little more forcefully.
“My
name is Nathaniel.” His voice was raspy from disuse. Tya turned
wide eyes to him, taking a step toward him and lifting her right
hand, as if to quiet him. Nathaniel took Tya’s tiny hand in his
much larger one. He set her palm flush against his chest. “I
require her help and she requires my words. I will do what is
necessary, old friend.”


Tya’s
eyes narrowed slightly in acceptance as she cocked her head at him.
“You
do not have much skin left to mark.”


“I
am well aware of this. I will choose my words carefully.” She
bowed her head slightly, before turning to face Liana who was
observing them curiously.

“What
is the relationship between the two of you?” Liana asked, head
tilted to the side.

“Siblings,”
Tya quipped, chin jutting. Nathaniel knew she was displeased to have
been silenced by the witch.
Liana
raised an eyebrow, but Nathaniel merely smiled and dipped his head in
agreement. As he dipped, he glanced down at himself. His dark clothes
covered him from head to toe. It wasn’t a fashion choice; it
was simply easier than answering the inevitable questions that came
when people saw the tattoos that marred his skin. The only clear
surfaces on his body were his fingers and his face. So little space
left. So few precious words left to say.

Nathaniel
straightened and noticed Liana was now pouring the bowl’s
mixture into muffin tins before turning to deliver them to the over.
Then she rounded the corner in a flurry of an ample green skirt and
dangling gold bracelets. This woman, Nathaniel thought, liked to make
an entrance.

She
settled in an armchair in her living room and motioned for them to
come in and sit with her. They did neither. Tya stood stock-still, a
tiny deadly bodyguard, ready to defend her friend.

Nathaniel
sifted through the words in his mind, trying to find the ones that
would appeal to this witch, words previously spoken by him.

“I
require your assistance,” he said, his voice thick. “I
have been cursed.” His mind worked furiously as sentences flew
across his mind. “I was told you might have some knowledge of
this.”

“What
is this curse?” She tapped a long red nail along her jaw line,
her eyes narrowed lazily.

“Every
new word I speak is printed on my body. I can say the words
repeatedly once they are imprinted, but once I run out of available
skin, I will cease to breathe.” He had spoken these particular
words often, in his quest to find answers, but each time they angered
him. He clenched his fists, waiting for the witch’s reply. It
wasn’t long in coming.
She
shot up off the couch, stalking toward him. “Show me!”

Tya
growled low in her throat, shifting in front of him to block the
witch’s passage. “You do not need to come closer.”

“Move
away or you will get no help from me, Child.” She glared at
Tya. “Remember; you
came to me.”


Before
Tya could reply, Nathaniel removed his fingerless gloves, exposing
his hands and wrists. The Witch’s eyes locked onto the exposed
skin. He then removed his coat and long-sleeved turtleneck. She
beckoned him in, out of the doorway and as she rounded him, eyes
glued to his words, she shut the door. Tya bristled but Nathaniel
sent a soothing thought her way. She was glaring at the witch, her
fingers dancing as if playing an invisible guitar; he knew she was
readying herself for battle.

He
went completely still as the Witch’s long fingernail raked his
left shoulder blade, as if drawing a line underneath. “Don’t
touch me!” he growled, whirling on her. He realised a second
too late that he’d mispronounced. He should have said, “Do
not touch me.” He jerked as the burning sensation burst along
his jaw line as the word ‘don’t’ scorched his skin,
as if he’d taken a hot poker to his face, permanently branding
him.
Tya’s
lips compressed into a thin line, her fingers dancing faster as her
emotions grew more chaotic. There was nothing she could do and it was
eating her alive.

But
maybe the witch could. Nathaniel turned hopeful eyes to her and was
surprised to see her watching his jaw, eyes wide, right hand covering
her mouth. “It can’t be,” she said, shaking her
head in denial.
Hope
sank.

Her
green eyes were wide as they caught his gaze. “Who did this to
you?” Her voice had a shrill quality to it that wasn’t
there before. “I do not know,” he answered quietly.

She
closed her eyes as a whimper escaped her lips. She turned from him,
long hair swinging like a long red cape. Tya cocked her head,
puzzled, as she gazed at the other woman. “What’s
wrong with her? She’s acting a lot stranger than the other
witches did.”
Nathaniel
frowned. “I
do not know. Maybe she is also gifted with empathy?”
“How
old are you, Nathaniel?” Her back was still to them and his
frown deepened.

Tya,
knowing he had never told his age, stepped forward and said, “He
is- ”
The
witch swirled,
skirt flying, following the motion of her raised hand. Before she
could parry the attack, Tya flew across the room, inside a wardrobe
that hadn’t previously been there. The doors slammed shut and
the wardrobe disappeared.

Nathaniel’s
instincts kicked in. His clothes materialised on his body as his
staff appeared in his right hand. Standing taller than his own six
foot five frame, it ended with a red glowing crystal framed by two
miniature scythes; a gift from Death himself.

He
charged Liana, his hand spinning his staff deftly, as she crystal lit
up the runes marking its length. The witch’s eyes widened
fractionally as she clapped her hands together, then rapidly spread
them a foot apart.

A
shimmering in the air was the only warning he got, so he dove to the
side, landed on his shoulder and swung the staff at her. The glowing
crystal caught her eyes long enough for Ahktar, his cobra, to unravel
himself from the runes and launch itself at her. She saw it last
second, attempted a maneuver but too late; the snake coiled his body
around her. She struggled in vain.

He
squeezed her body into submission, before swinging his massive hooded
head to face her, eyes glowing the same red as the crystal as he
undulated from side to side, her gaze caught in his spell.

Rising
swiftly, Nathaniel spoke a thought to his cobra, “Enough,
old friend. Keep her restrained but lucid.”

Ahktar
did a strange bobbing gesture with his head and the slight humming
Nathaniel could hear ceased; the snake’s eyes were no longer
glowing.

Liana
shook her head, although her expression remained dazed. Bracing
himself for the pain, he told the Witch, “Release her.”

The
pain was as immediate as whiplash. The words struck his right cheek,
burning like the sting of a hundred bees at once. His knees grew weak
but he remained still, unwilling to show any sign of weakness.

Liana
shook her head again, then frowned at him. “Release me
immediately!”
“Release
her!”
he growled, Ahktar coiling tighter at his tone.

Liana
gasped, fully realising her predicament. “I- need my left
hand,” she choked out.

Ahktar
parted his body enough to set her hand free. She immediately flexed
it before giving an imperious wave, as if slapping someone upside the
head.

The
wardrobe immediately appeared on the far wall, and the doors were
flung open in a burst of black smoke and flying daggers. “Call
them off, Tya!”


He
swung his staff, deflecting the daggers, but knew that they would
keep coming unless their mistress recalled them. “NO!”


Tya’s
roar made him wince in pain. He thought he might have gone deaf. He
shook his head, swung his staff to deflect again. “We
need her, Tya. Alive.”
He
felt Tya sputter across their mind-bond and he sent soothing thoughts
her way as he dropped his staff, standing between the daggers and
Liana. Tya felt this and with a scream of rage, she appeared in
mid-air, plucked her daggers, and dropped gracefully to the floor.

She
strode to Liana, flipping her dagger in mid-air, catching it, then
jabbing it at Liana. She narrowly missed shedding blood, a fact Liana
seemed appreciate, if the look in her eyes said anything. “Do
you have any
idea who I am?” Tya’s soft-spoken words brought a healthy
dose of fear to Liana’s features as she nodded her head once.

Satisfied,
Tya stepped back and jerked her chin. Nathaniel had permission to
proceed. He spoke to Tya’s mind, and she obligingly transmitted
the question. “If he releases the snake, can we trust you to
behave?”
“Yes,”
Liana answered, her voice tight.

Immediately,
Ahktar unraveled. Nathaniel tapped the floor, once, and the snake
resumed its place on the staff, body coiled tight, ready to strike at
a moment’s notice.

Liana
was visibly shaken as she walked to her armchair, her arms covered in
goose bumps, trembling from head to toe. She dropped down on her
seat, her face ashen, but head held high as she faced them.

“I’m
sorry for my impulsive behaviour. I will explain myself in a moment,
if you’ll allow. But first, Nathaniel, please. May I know your
age?”
She
glanced at him briefly, then turned to Tya for an answer.
“Nathaniel?”
“You
may answer her,”
he replied.

“He
came into this world one hundred and three years ago.”

Liana’s
body deflated, sinking into her chair. “Who was your mother?”
her voice barely loud enough to be heard in the quiet room.

“Abigale,”
Tya said softly.

“You
know her name?” Tya
flinched at Nathaniel’s shout, then turned to him, her eyes
brimming with apologies.

“I
realise you two can speak with your minds, but I need to be privy to
this conversation if you would bear with me.” As one, they
turned to find her standing, her hands held out palms up in a gesture
of peace.

With
barely restrained fury, Nathaniel gave a curt nod of agreement.
Speaking slowly, carefully, Tya said, “His mother was from a
long line of immortals. My father doesn’t understand why her
lineage was spared Death’s touch, but they were. Death has
always kept a close eye on this particular ancestry but, until
Abigale, they had always kept to themselves, leading long, quiet
lives.

“Abigale,
was different . . .” Large black eyes stayed rooted to
Nathaniel’s blue ones. “Forgive
me for keeping this from you, old friend.”
Out loud she said, “She did absolutely everything to challenge
my father, she even led people to their death by promising that Death
had no hold on them. That was the final straw.” She turned to
Liana who had come closer to them. “My father had sent me to
kill her with his Scythe; the one object no one could walk away from.
But nothing went as planned; we hadn’t realised she was
pregnant. She was in labour when I found her and she died just as she
expelled the infant, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel
knew the last part of the story; he just hadn’t known she knew
more about his ancestry that she’d let on. Her fingers reached
for his fingertips and she touched them briefly before pulling back.
Another apology.

“We
will talk about this later on, when all this is over.”


“The
curse was not meant for you,” a soft voice said. Nathaniel and
Tya turned squarely toward the witch, frowning at her strange words.

Liana
plucked a long box from a small drawer tucked inside the coffee
table. She lit a match, then walked around her home, lighting scented
candles as she went. While different smells assaulted their senses,
Liana spoke, “I knew your mother. We were friends, once upon a
time. Abigale realised early on that Death would not – or could
not- take her. And so she multiplied the attempts at luring him to
her, certain at some point he would slip his guard and end her life.
She was not a happy girl, all she wanted was some relief.”

Liana
blew out her match, then set it on a candle holder. She folded her
hands before her, her gold bracelets reflecting the candlelight.
Nathaniel’s throat was dry as his heart hammered against his
ribcage. His hope banked left, right, trying to break free yet unable
to do so.

“Go
on,” he said.
Liana
bowed her head slightly. “When we became friends, she learnt I
come from a long line of powerful witches. She wanted me to perform
death curses on her. I refused but she convinced me, saying it would
be good practice for me. She wasn’t worried; nothing else had
worked on her. Even beheading.” Liana shuddered.

Tya
wore a path from the living room to the kitchen with her pacing. Then
she smelled the air, swore, and made a beeline for the oven where she
pulled out the pan of burning muffins. She tossed the pan into the
sink, then rubbed her hands on her black pants; no burns for Death’s
daughter.

Nathaniel
straightened his staff as Liana approached him cautiously. He didn’t
think he still needed it but he hadn’t lived this long without
being cautious. The witch glanced at the staff, then back into his
eyes. “I performed every death curse I knew, then researched
some more and tried those. Nothing worked. And with every curse that
failed, Abigale became more resentful, more bitter, more vicious.”


She
turned her head and absently watched Tya pace. “I had grown
weak from using my magic too often. I was growing desperate to help
my friend and I was afraid to lose her to this insanity.” Her
eyes were haunted as she glanced back to Nathaniel. “I came
home one day to find my home burning, my family murdered. Abigale had
led the villagers on a witch hunt. They could not defend themselves
against her because she was impervious to their attacks.”
Liana
wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “In anger, I threw a curse
at her. A curse that would limit the words coming out of her foul
mouth. I didn’t think it would work but I had lost everything
else and I had to do something.”
“I’m
sorry,” the words slipped out of Nathaniel’s mouth before
he could think about it. Apparently, he’d never said those
words out loud before but he did not buckle at the pain of it
appearing on his forehead. He bared the pain of his ancestor’s
mistakes.

“No,
I
am sorry. You shouldn’t have had to pay for her folly. When did
this start happening? When you turned twenty-three?”

His
eyes widened in surprise.

“She
was twenty-three when she died and the curse was apparently
transferred to you.”
“I
remember smelling fire the night I delivered you, Nathaniel,”
Tya said, slipping her hand in his. “Could your curse have
caused her to go into labour?”
“I
don’t know. I hadn’t known of her pregnancy.” She
shook her head in regret. Then, eyes brimming with tears, she looked
at Nathaniel. “I can take this curse away but you will pay the
price of it; it will be very painful.”
“Can
the pain be avoided?” Tya asked tightly.

“No.
This curse was never meant to be removed. And if you came to me one
hundred years ago, I would not have had the power to remove it. I can
do so now, but at a price.”

“Do
it.” No pain; the words had once been spoken.
Liana
pulled her hair back into a ponytail, then instructed Nathaniel to
sit down. If he fell, she did not want him to hurt himself any
further.

He
knelt on her white carpet, his staff cradled on his knees, barely
breathing as his hope rose to the surface, ready to be released. He
kept his lips pressed together, afraid that this was a dream or a
ruse of some kind.

Liana
stood before him, eyes closed, palms pressed together, chanting in a
language even he did not know. Tya hovered nearby, constantly
shifting between her human and smoky form.

Chanting
faster and louder, Liana separated her palms, fingertips still
touching as a shimmering light appeared cradled between her palms.
That shimmering light was the last thing he saw as it propelled
itself at him.

He
crashed to the ground screaming, thrashing against the pain. Each
word felt like it was being clawed from his epidermis, ripped from
his skin. Where the words had been, the skin had melted and was
knitted back; pink unmarred epidermis.

Eventually,
he was blissfully knocked unconscious.

*
* *

Tya’s
screaming inside his mind and out was what woke him. He felt raw,
tender and exposed. He opened his eyes, caught sight of Tya’s
frantic expression, and he relaxed as her screaming ceased.
“I
am well, old friend,”
he thought at her. He rose gingerly, then stilled as the sound of a
body hitting the floor reached him. He turned to find Liana a few
feet away from him, on her knees, breathing heavily, eyes
half-closed.

With
Tya’s help, he made his way to Liana. He held out his hand to
help her up, not sure if he was in any condition to be helping
someone else, but he owed it to her. She took his hand gratefully,
then they both cried out in surprise as a jolt speared through them.

Liana
and Nathaniel fell back, landing on their backsides, eyes wide. “Do
– do you have any
idea how powerful you are?”

Nathaniel
started shaking his head.
“Say
something!” Liana said urgently, scrambling to get to her hands
and knees.

Nathaniel
searched his mind, trying to think of something he’d never said
before, “You have a nice house.” There was no pain, and
as he smiled, his bird of hope escaped his lips, flew to freedom.
Liana’s
smile matched his while Tya whooped with laughter and delight.

“Do
you know who your father is?” Liana asked, leaning toward him,
hands on her knees.

Both
Tya and Nathaniel shook their heads. Speaking out loud might never
come naturally to him.

“This
curse had restrained your powers because you could not speak the
necessary words to unleash them. I would advise that you learn of
them quickly before accidents occur.”
Nathaniel
rose, leaning on his staff for support. Tya hovered nearby,
excitement lightening her features.

“Why
ask about my father?”
“As
I said, you are very powerful and this was not in your mother’s
lineage.”
Tya
and Nathaniel thanked Liana, then walked out slowly, both lost in
thought. “Why
do I have the feeling that we’re going on another quest?”


“Because
it keeps us young and busy?”

Tya
snorted in her mind. “We
haven’t been young in a long time.”
“Speak
for yourself,”
he said out loud, testing his voice, his words.

And
then, he smiled.