One's innate potential. Starts high and decreases with age, but can be increased and decreased through circumstance. It replenishes naturally to its current maximum value over time.
One’s existence as a living being. Finite and cannot be replenished naturally.
One’s inherent Purpose. Typically found only in Denizens and Flora, it is replenished by the Suns in a manner similar to photosynthesis. It acts like a liquid though it lacks true physicality.
The combination of One's Physis and Ousia together compose their soul. One’s Potential and One's Life.
The use of internal or external metaphysical forces to alter One's self, environment, or others. This includes a group of Arts known as Witchcraft, Bondsmithing, and Hedgemagery, as well as the techniques used by Denizens.
Also known as Soul Rot. An affliction that consumes one's Ousia to the point of death. It is accelerated by the use of Magic, and believed to be caused by personal moral failure.
The collective teaching of a magical path.
A spell woven using Ousia, considered both a masterwork and a new piece of magic. The equivalent of a doctoral thesis, and the requirement to graduate from a Floret to a full Witch.
When a Doll acts as though it is a person with full rights and autonomy.
A slur against fleshcrafted entities, particularly in use against trans people. Derived from the idea that they are wasted material, only half used, when they could have been fully woven into a Doll to provide better utility to others.
Hollow bone-like structures present on some combat Dolls that are used primarily for expressing emotions, communication, and secondarily as defensive measures.
On a Warlord's crown, they specifically serve the purpose of amplifying spellweaving.
A being with a Tripartite Soul, consisting of Physis, Ousia, and Nomos.
A derogatory term for a sapient bipedal insectoid species that engages in funerary Endocannibalism.
An individual of any gender and assigned sex that practices the Witch Arts. Their society is collected into matriarchal Groves, each run by a group of Matrons, experts in their respective fields of the Witch Arts.
An entity that has been woven into a frame through Dollcraft with their Physis and Ousia being transmuted into the outer layers that reflect their own desired appearance or the desires of the Dollcrafter. The original body is traditionally discarded. Dolls are devoid of detectable Ousia or Physis as it makes up their body, and are known to be immune to Moonwaste. Some Dolls have polymorphic outer layers that can switch between different forms determined at creation and/or interconnect with other Dolls.
Lunar debris. Known to be extremely toxic akin to radiation and unaffected by most magic.
A landscape within One’s soul, crafted through experiences and memories at the expense of Ousia and Physis. Extremely rare.
The world A Blade and Her Witch is set on. Dämmerung is part of a binary star system and has a single lunar satellite that was split into five pieces: three larger ones and two smaller ones, as well as a debris cloud that is the source of Moonwaste.
I do enjoy this story. The characters are interesting, the character interactions are interesting. The multiple perspectives, both on the world, and from a story telling standpoint work well and I do plan to come back and continue this later on....
But there is a somewhat glaring flaw with the story, as much as I like it. Several "events" just sort of happen. It's hard to describe all the different ones, but the problem is that these are notable events with lots of moving parts... that are never written down. A fight scene that should take up a chapter or two is condenced down to a paragraph and then I'm left with no real understanding of what just happened and it grates on me.
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This story is uniquely beautiful. Not the kind of tame, window dressed beauty that is curated for consumption. No, it is beautiful like a spider willingly being eaten by her young so that they have a chance to live. Like a half starved lion cub making her first desperate kill, all odds against her. Like a taxidermied Butterfly, it's life cut short for the quiet pleasure of another. It is beautiful in the way only something born from the sublimation of trauma and its survival can be, and we will be eternally grateful for its existence, for being allowed to share in this world, and are left better for reading it.
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This story is perfectly aimed at a certain flavour of trans perspective.
It's got a variety of wholesome themes to offer; becoming better, healing from trauma, sense sharing consensual gore s*x, helping pretty gerlthings live freely and more
10/10 almost forgot to eat for over half a day while catching up
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This is a story that trys a bit too hard to be unique. Instead of being introduced and immersed in the world we are instead thrown in head first. You quickly find yourself drowing in terms and turns of phrase that mean nothing. As all of this is happening you are given the barest hint of descriptions that barely give you a glimpse at what you are supposed to be seeing as a reader. The writing style generally just feels like a desperate attempt to stand out and seem sophisticated. Instead what you get is a story that provides nothing to the reader and feels like you suddenly started 10 novels into a series.
There is potential in the story but when I'm reading what is basically just word vomit I can't get far enough in to see that potential realized. If this writing style, of stumbling around blind, is your cup of tea then more power to you but it's not mine.
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