Darkness. It is ever so dark. The magic is ebbing; the magic is dispelling. It fades into the void and the darkness grows. As the blackness increases, we decrease. We begin to fade away. We are bound to the magic without it we cease to exist; without magic, we die. Perhaps…
Jenna slumped to the floor, her head laid within the palm of her hands. This could not be allowed to happen; the dragons must not die. She lifted her head speaking up, “Lendaw is not the only thing dying,” she paused, fighting back the tears, “The dragons are in peril too.”
…our time has come.
As opposed to:
Darkness and cold. The magic is ebbing. As it does, we depart too. Perhaps…
Jenna fell to her knees. Her face cradled in her hands.
Kur! I will never allow it. You must not die.
Jenna gathered herself together. She held up her hand to fend off the others from approaching. “I am alright,” she stated, as she rose; mumbling, more to herself than to anyone else, “I will never let you die. You have my word on this.”
…Our time has come.
Although this is still rough, one gets the point: The importance of critical first readers cannot be overstated if one is to produce good story telling.
-Robert Confiant 21 July 2018