Sacred Bell
"Bring to me your beloved dead. No matter the cause of death, whether they have been gone a day, a month...so long as there is flesh on the bones, they will live again."
actions will decide the future for all necromancers to come.
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This story takes place in the North region of Fife during the early days of magic. This is a chaotic, almost lawless time as the people of Fife adjust to their magical new reality. People are both more and less open-minded than they were in what they call the Old Era,
*Necromancers in Fife are called 'Bellwethers', or 'Bells' for short, in reference to the first necromancer, who became known as the "Sacred Bell".
Sacred Bell is the story of Keria, the first known necromancer* in Fife's history. This is the story of how she learns about her powers and, more importantly, what to do with those powers. Keria's
Lore
so while sorcerers and elementalists have begun to carve out their place in society, no one knows what to do with one strange young woman who can bring the dead back to life.
Listen to the Sacred Bell playlist on Spotify!
Novel Stats
Genre: Fantasy
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Status: Second Draft/Revisions
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Word Count: 66,882
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For the first round of revisions, my main focus is on the structure of the novel, including adding/expanding a lot of scenes. I also need to flesh out the characters more and really bring out their arcs.
Revision Goals
Excerpt from Sacred Bell
The first thing that hit Keria was the smell. Though the windows were cracked open, and incense and mint were scattered about the room, none of that could quite make up for the powerful scent of death that had by now seeped into the very pores of the apartment.
Keria gagged, earning her a swift glance from her client. As tears born of disgust sprang to her eyes, she knew that the man was about to turn her out as a fraud. To her surprise, he apologized instead.
“You’re probably used to cleaner environments,” he said abashedly. “I couldn’t afford a proper coroner, but I knew as long as there was a hope of bringing her back, I couldn’t have her buried…I’ve done the best I can to keep her clean…”
Keria nodded and forced down the sourness that was trying to rise from her stomach. Taking shallow breaths, she spoke very deliberately. “Where is the body?”
She followed her client to the bedroom, where a fresh wave of rot nearly doubled her over. Just managing to hold herself together, Keria looked at the body laid on the bed. The woman must have been pretty, once; now she was a bloated, pale corpse whose skin had taken on a faint greenish hue. Yet on a second glance, she had clearly been cared for since her death. Her skin was clean and her hair had been brushed and neatly arranged over her shoulders. Even now her husband stood over her, gazing at her with an expression of intense sorrow. He gently touched her hair in a familiar gesture that must have been performed countless times before.
Keria felt a pang of guilt, tinged with doubt, as she witnessed this grim yet tender scene. What if she couldn’t raise this woman? The other times she’d done this had been on people dead only for a day or two at most. She didn’t know what would happen if she failed, what this man might do to her.
Part of her considered slipping out while he was distracted, but she knew that cowardice wouldn’t get her anywhere. If she backed away now, she might never find her place in the world. So she made herself move forward.
“Step away, please,” she instructed her client, “so that I may begin.”
Reluctantly, he did asked, and Keria stepped into his place.
Keria took a deep breath—regretting it as she inhaled the decay in the air—and lay a hand on the woman’s chest, right over her heart. She closed her eyes.
I can do this. I can make her come back.
She breathed steadily and forced herself to ignore the distractions: the stench, the slipperiness of the skin, the ragged, distressed breathing of her client. Her palm was sweating.
Bring her back.
But it hadn’t taken this long before. Had it? Keria’s heart beat faster. She couldn’t fail here, not now. This had to work!
She leaned harder into the body, intending to force the life back into it if necessary, but the loosened skin slipped under her and she fell forward with a cry.
“What happened?” her client cried in dismay. “She’s still dead!”
Embarrassed and on the verge of dismay herself, Keria cut him off harshly. “You’re distracting me. Get out.”
“But—”
“Do you want her back or not?”
After a long glance at his wife, the man left the room, closing the door behind him.
Keria closed her eyes and took a moment to calm herself. She wiped her shaking hand on her skirt, then placed it back over the woman’s heart. She breathed in slowly.
Easy. You can do this.
Slowly, she breathed out. Her heart calmed, returning to a steady rhythm, pulsing in her chest and in the vein in her wrist. She imagined that pulse running through her fingers and into the dead woman’s still heart.
Beat.
Keria’s chest rose and fell gently, deep breaths pushing the air in and out of her lungs. She imagined that same air flowing into the woman and filling her lungs until they, too, rose and fell in time with her own.
Breath.
Live again.
There was a flutter under Keria’s hand—the faint drum of a living heart. The up and down of the chest was no longer her imagination. Hardly daring to believe it, she opened her eyes to see a miracle.
The bloat of death rapidly shrank away, revealing a slender figure and a face that was, in fact, beautiful, the death pallor chased away to reveal warm, vibrant skin. Lank hair took on a soft sheen. In seconds, all signs that this woman had ever been dead were nothing more than a memory, as her heartbeat grew stronger and her breath fuller.
Last of all, she opened her eyes.