Tina Glasneck
CREATOR
15+ projects backed in 2024
28 days ago
Project Update: The Story Still Walks Forward
Hi everyone,
I wanted to share a quick update on Curse of the Fallen Fairy.
This project is still moving forward, and I haven’t forgotten it. I know there has been a longer pause between updates than I originally hoped, and I truly appreciate your patience while I’ve been balancing several moving pieces behind the scenes.
Right now, my focus is on making sure this book is delivered in the strongest form possible. This story deserves the right care, especially because it sits in that darker, magical corner of my fantasy world where curses, fae bargains, and dangerous choices all collide.
Over the past months, the story, worldbuilding, and revisions have continued evolving behind the scenes, and I’m looking forward to sharing more glimpses from the project again as we move forward together.
I wanted to make sure you heard directly from me: the project is still active, the story is still coming, and I’m incredibly grateful you’re here for the journey.
The past year has brought significant personal, health, and life challenges behind the scenes, and because this is a collaborative project, those shifts naturally impacted the timeline in ways we did not originally anticipate. Even so, the story has continued evolving, and we remain committed to bringing this book to life with the care it deserves.
I know this book has taken longer than originally hoped, and I deeply appreciate the patience and kindness so many of you have continued to show while this story becomes what it is meant to be.
Here’s a small return to the shadows and magic waiting inside the book, a new excerpt from the world of Curse of the Fallen Fairy.
Chapter 5: Wisteria
Everything seemed beautiful. As if a painting had come to life. Lavender-hued wisteria climbed and wrapped around stone, balcony banisters, even the lower towers of the palace.
All a warning.
Pretty but deadly.
The palace was busy, busier than usual. Pastel-dressed royals arrived to remit their taxes in an abundance of noise. What their loud clothes did not announce, their voices carried. Carriages jingled with bells, followed by miniature marching bands as if it were a parade. They waved to those lining the streets, as if anyone beneath them cared, while their overloaded carriages creaked beneath the weight of goods. All the while, soldiers, guards, Guild members, and scribes threaded through the grounds in careful order, immune to the spectacle.
The king’s guards kept things moving as common citizens maneuvered through the crush. But it was the presence of the Temple that caught my attention. The Concordance.
They walked with measured precision. Not wide enough to appear pompous. Not too short to seem inept. Secondary only to the king they served, they moved through the crowd, which parted instinctively before them.
Where the Guild enforced, the holy caste interpreted our sacred text.
They drew closer. I lowered my head, as was required.
Although they were scribes, those who ascended to the libraries, not through merit but bloodline, the law demanded our acquiescence. Their white and gold robes floated just above polished boots, spotless, as if dirt itself feared touching them.
They did not believe in free will, only in a proclaimed destiny carved by the Rooted One within our Wisterian Temple. The First Accord bound us all. Our doctrine taught that blood determined the king’s line, and every position of power beneath it.
Blood cursed.
Blood blessed.
Blood made whole.
Blood blessed.
Blood made whole.
Pomp and circumstance stank as badly as the manure ground into the stairs. Everything and everyone had a place in this kingdom of bright colors, beauty used to mask truth, deception painted carefully enough to pass for order.
I caught sight of Edan in the distance, moving toward a different wing of the grounds, his stride purposeful. I wondered what he was doing.
Being a prince granted freedoms I did not possess.
The midday bell chimed.
As I continued to scrub, despite my aching hands, I watched the students lining up before the temple’s gateway, entering one by one. The first holy command of the Concordance was surrender: to them, to their oaths, their power. They called it the utterance, when the students had to present themselves for the Concordance’s evaluation, their weekly evaluation.
The only good thing about being Griselda’s possession was that I didn’t have to head there and listen to that drivel. I was supposedly cursed by darkness, which made their skin crawl, and their discomfort gave me a pass.
I still often wondered if that community bubble they built through ritual was what reinforced my subjugation. If they were convinced I was evil, what if that belief was what contributed to my oppression? They’d exchanged unconditional love for overbearing power.
And just like they “supposedly” supported the king, could they rip it away so easily through holy greed?
If so, where did Edan fall in this? Playing politics? Or trying to find a way out from under their thumbs?
Questions about him followed me through the day. I avoided Griselda’s spies where I could, lingering in places they rarely bothered to watch. Gossip traveled faster than feet. Whispers of fractured alliances. Of realms tugging away from the marriage mart. Of a king struggling to hold the petals together.
I had no place in such calculations. The thought made me grimace.
Love for me was not a possibility. Lowborn. Daughter of a traitor.
The Temple would never sanction more for me than a quiet corner in someone’s shadow, never a home. Never legitimacy.
The king would choose carefully for Edan. Blood fit to bind the realm. A bride to warm his bed and bear sons.
I lived in purgatory.
I did not need to dwell on it.
Gathering my things, I slowly moved toward the gate, dragging my bucket and supplies, when I happened upon two men standing in the shadows. They whispered, still drinking deep from their cups.
“Briarwood’s uprising now.” The first one raised his tankard and drank deep, wiping the strong mead from his beard. “It won’t be long until Zenithhaven does the same.”
“Aye,” the other agreed. “His liege surely regrets his son’s denial of the Zenithhaven girl.”
Zenithhaven was one province over. Marindel was the seat of the realm, but many lords’ houses fed into the system, all ruled by King Frederick. The feudal system of power was simple enough. Obedience bought protection.
And blood… power.
That was the true currency here.
At the bottom, they were all like crabs in a barrel, seeking an opportunity not only to rise but to reign.
Those lords benefited from the king’s great army and might, paid dearly for it, and one fortunate house might even decree exact relation when Edan married.
My throat threatened to close. Why did I feel this way? Of all the faces in this place, his had been the kindest since Claire’s death…murder.
Still, the screams did not stop. I simply carried them with me now. Burned into my marrow. A promise to find answers.
“She wasn’t much to look at,” the guard continued. “I hear that he rebuffed her. No doubt.”
“Glamorous feuds for naught.” Words that could have been considered treasonous if heard by the wrong ears. He shook his head and the meaning clear. Without Edan married, dissent could take root, grow.
The worst thing possible was for one filled with pride to be found lacking. Zenithhaven, with its large harbor, treasures from the sea, and sail-ready soldiers, was not something the kingdom needed to fall to potential rebels. Their wealth in the wrong hands…I dared not consider it.
Pulling open the black metal door, the soldiers silenced, took one look at me, and chortled. “There is the prince’s lapdog now. Poor thing.”
Invisibility would have been better than pity. But pity carried its very own shield.
“Maybe she needs only a soldier’s attention.” The man took a step toward me, before his friend’s hand came down on his shoulder, stopping his approach.
“Don’t you know who she is? She’s the fallen fairy’s daughter.”
Those words were enough to splinter anyone weaker than I. I didn’t remember my mother clearly, only heard of her dastardly deeds, but her voice still carried in memories I couldn’t quite forget.
My steps didn’t slow.
Instead, the sound of the dogs barking beyond the keep’s wall was enough of a distraction. The cock crowed, and the sun’s twilight shimmered over the marooning sky.
Chased away by ghosts, there was nothing left for me to face except one question. If the gates were guarded, how was I to escape after curfew?
Thank you again for your patience, support, and belief in this story. It means more than you know.
Thank you again for your patience, support, and belief in this story. It means more than you know.
I’m looking forward to sharing more with you soon.
Tina
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