So, here is a new prologue. I’m rewriting again. This time I’m going to focus more on character development on my main character, as she’s pretty bland in my other drafts. How’s this for a prologue? Is it too cheesy?
My people are the traders of secrets. They offer intrigue and scandal in exchange for physical, political, and emotional barter. They are the revealers of darkness, the exploiters of dirty truths, the cult of demons waiting to cash in on the hidden horrors of your soul.
They can read your mind. They can taste every emotion coming from your heart just as clearly as you can taste the crisp tartness of an apple, or the sour fullness of a hunk of aged cheese. They can sift through your consciousness with nimble ease to find memories even you have repressed or forgotten.
They know everything, and they know nothing at all. For all the wisdom their abilities could give them, they stay ignorant and brainwashed by the decaying religion of their leaders. They are gods with no will, giants with no minds, a powerful crushing force with no ability to think on their own. They are an army of thieves that steal with no remorse, and use their spoils to fuel the men that entrap them in holy coils.
I am the lonely female secret that waits uncovered in their messy world of blackmail. Gifted with their same talents, I wait, I train, I hide. And I wonder if the very nature of my being will require some moral fall, some temptation from the darkness.
Or at least some kind of blood sacrifice
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wow
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