Hey everyone,
It’s been a while since I’ve posted, and I didn’t want to come back with just another chapter drop like nothing happened. My schedule has been messy, life has been chaotic, and I know I’ve fallen behind on updates for Where the Prince Lay Dying. But the truth is, even in the middle of all that, I’ve never stopped living in this world.
Writing for me isn’t a clean, perfect process. It’s coffee at 6 a.m. because I just got home from work and can’t stop thinking about a single line of dialogue. It’s outlines scrawled on scraps of paper during breaks, or voice notes whispered into my phone while I’m half-asleep. It’s nights where I tell myself “just one more scene” and suddenly the sunrise is creeping through my window.
I won’t lie — I’m practically powered by coffee these days. But every sleepless night, every caffeine‑shaky hand on the keys, leads to moments like this — moments where everything between these characters breaks open.
Here’s one of those moments, straight from Chapter 6, still one of my favorite confrontations so far:
Then, without turning, Cassian said, “You lied to me.”
Elias blinked once. “About what?”
Cassian’s voice sharpened. “Don’t insult me.”
Now he turned.
His expression wasn’t rage. It wasn’t even disgust. It was deeper than that.
It was disappointment.
“You went to him,” Cassian said. “You crossed the seal. You stayed. You didn’t report it.”
“I did what I thought was right.”
“What you thought was right?” Cassian’s voice broke into a laugh — short, joyless. “You risked destabilizing the entire court because of a feeling?”
Elias stepped forward. “Because he’s our brother.”
Cassian’s face darkened. “He was our problem. And you dragged that problem out of its grave and gave it legs again.”
“He was already waking.”
“You helped him stand.”
Elias didn’t back down. “Because someone had to.”
The words echoed. They hung between them like a drawn blade.
Cassian stepped closer.
“And who made you the judge of that?” he said. “Who gave you the right to decide when the kingdom would be reminded of the boy who nearly tore it apart?”
“I didn’t decide anything,” Elias snapped. “I reacted. Because you refused to.”
Cassian closed the distance.
“Say it,” he hissed.
Elias stared at him. “Say what?”
Cassian shoved him.
Hard.
Not theatrical. Not political.
Personal.
“Say you want him back,” Cassian growled. “Say you missed him.”
Elias didn’t stumble.
He stood still, the shove absorbed like stone takes rain.
And then, evenly: “I did.”
That broke something.
Cassian’s fist came next.
Moments like that don’t just happen. They’re born out of late nights, long shifts, and the kind of stubborn love for a story that keeps me going even when I’m exhausted.
And now… I’m excited to say things are moving again. Outlines are tighter, drafts are sharper, and that fire is back.
One more thing — World Building Wednesday returns tomorrow!
I’ve missed sharing the deeper layers of Varestal with you all, and I can’t wait to dive back in.
Thank you for sticking with me through the chaos, the silence, and the sleepless nights. Where the Prince Lay Dying is far from finished — and tomorrow, we start peeling back the layers again.
– E.J. Cordoue
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