iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 16/10/2026

#WIPSnips | dazzle The word I don't have, but the concept I very much do - here, Fest's continuing to have a very bad time (which, to be fair, could also describe most of Silver in the Ashes) ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/03/29/s... )

He knew he’d slept badly – hard not to, when he’d fallen asleep at his desk with his head on his notes – but even accounting for that, the conversation seemed to be harder to follow than usual this morning, the more so because he kept getting distracted by how godsdamn *bright* the candles on the table were, bright enough that it almost hurt to look directly at them.

*Please tell me I’m not getting one of those bloody headaches on top of everything else. I don’t have* time *to be ill right now.*

His head wasn’t hurting, though, and, when he swallowed, his saliva didn’t have the metallic sour taste that tended to be a warning sign for the kind of sick-headache that made even the faintest of lights physically painful. Which would’ve been a relief, if swallowing hadn’t also made him realise how bloody *thirsty* he was.

*Need more tea. That’ll help.*

He’d had three refills already, which should’ve been plenty – more than plenty, since he’d been drinking both water and blood as well – but, no matter how much he drank, his throat still felt as dry and rough as sandpaper.

*Maybe I caught a chill when we went out in the snow, back when I saw Caine on the edge of the forest, and staying up last night made my body weak enough that it could properly take hold. That might be it.*

He didn’t have time to have a chill either, not when he needed to tell the Archmage… something.

*What was it? I know it was important, and I know he probably already knows, but I wanted the proof, and…*

And why was it so bloody hard to think right now?

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 15/10/2026

#WIPSnips | pass In which neither Fest nor Sabbat is having a particularly good day (and poor Fest was already more than a wee bit on-edge *before* he psyched himself up to sneak into Avebury's room only to find someone else'd got there first) ( saranadosfiction.com/2023/06/28/s... )

The door wasn’t locked – which was odd, because Avebury seemed like the kind of person who’d not want anyone to go snooping around their stuff – and, when he put his hand to the doorknob, it opened faster than he’d expected, almost as though someone was pulling it from the other side.

*What the-*

It wasn’t Avebury.

Which made perfect sense, because Avebury was downstairs and there was no possible way that he could have got past Fest and into the room without him knowing, but also made absolutely no sense at all because the person standing in the doorway (and looking very much as though he was about to either throw up, pass out, or both, which was coincidentally also exactly how Fest was feeling at that precise moment) couldn’t possibly be here either.

“…Sabbat?”

The assassin lunged towards him – he flinched sideways, barely dodging out of the way, hand going to his throat to try and protect himself from an attack which he knew he couldn’t entirely avoid, and-

And Sabbat crashed to his knees on the floorboards, doubled over, and was loudly and violently sick.

*…That… doesn’t seem good.*

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing – he had vague memories from childhood illnesses of his father patting his back and telling him it was better out than in, but he doubted that’d go down particularly well in this case – but standing around staring almost certainly wasn’t it.

The problem was, right now he honestly couldn’t think of anything else.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 14/10/2026

#WIPSnips | territory Not the first time we've met Jenny, but the first time Viola has. ( saranadosfiction.com/2022/08/01/s... )

“So. Viola Cervanso, eh?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Viola said, keeping her eyes resolutely fixed on Jenny’s face. The terror of the Sacaask slums might *look* like nothing so much as an grey-haired werewolf matriarch with a couple of missing teeth and a mess of old scars on her arms, much like any other clan elder back home, but there was a sheer power rolling off her which made Viola very aware of the fact that she was a) a long way out of her home territory and b) completely and utterly alone. “I was told you wanted to speak to anyone who came asking after Archer.”

“I do. You’re the lass who my Radish has been running messages for, ain’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. The situation’s changed since she brought me Archer’s note, and I was hoping I could find her and ask if she knew where it was he and Sabbat were going, since he didn’t make it explicit in the letter.”

“And what makes you think she’d know a thing like that, girl?”

“I… She’s obviously trustworthy, or he wouldn’t have entrusted even a coded letter to her. I was hoping that, even if he’d not told her outright, she might have overheard something.”

“So you’re accusing her of listening at keyholes, are you?”

*Careful. What would one of the clan elders expect from a question like that?* “No, ma’am. I’m saying she’s smart enough to keep her ears open and her mouth shut, especially when it comes to business that might go sour.”

Jenny stared at her for a long minute. Then she threw back her head and laughed, long and loud, her gold fang glittering in the snow-light streaming through the window. “Good lass! You’re not far from the mark, though she’s a few more years yet before she can do that without getting herself distracted by every passing butterfly.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 13/10/2026

#WIPSnips | blue In which Sabbat and Archer continue to work on trying to untangle Sabbat from that sixdamn box ( saranadosfiction.com/2023/11/18/s... )

“Do you have any other explanation?” Archer shot back. “I’ll own that it’s a theory, if that, but it makes a damn sight more sense than anything else I can think of.”

Truth be told, Sabbat agreed with him on that. But there was a deal of clear blue water between a theory, however much either of them wanted to believe it, and the plain truth – and the plain truth of everything that’d happened since he’d picked up that fucking box was that every single fucking idea they’d had on how to fix this had done either fuck-all or made it worse. “Again, where’s the fuckin’ proof, Archer? An’ even if you’re right, an’ it *is* doin’ somethin’ t’slow things down, what’s that buy us except a stay of execution?”

The vampire sighed, closing his eye and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger for a second. “Gods, I wish you wouldn’t use that metaphor.”

“An’ when it’s your neck on the line, y’can choose a different one. Y’still ain’t answered my questions.”

“Yes, because you haven’t given me a chance to. Have you ever had a reaction like that around the tattoo site before?”

“Y’know I ain’t.”

“I know you’ve never *told* me that you have, but you didn’t tell me about this until just now, so you’ll forgive me if I’d rather make certain on that point.”

*Something’s got his back up, and it ain’t just the fact I’m not agreeing with him about this.* Problem was, this was *Archer*, which meant asking him straight out was a fucking good way of getting him to pull back and pretend nothing was wrong. “Nothin’ like this afore this.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 12/10/2026

#WIPSnips | pulse For context here, this is post experimental ritual that backfired badly enough to destroy Archer's vision in his remaining eye - luckily, in a way that his healing could fix if he got the blood for it. As for where that blood came from... ( saranadosfiction.com/2022/12/03/s... )

Archer came to with a start, his mouth still fixed on Sabbat’s wrist. He had no idea how much time had passed – usual, when drinking from a willing volunteer, but still unsettling – but, judging by the white and grey blur that had replaced the previous black and red blur which had swallowed his vision, it’d been long enough that the blood had started to do its work.

*And more than long enough for something to have gone wrong.*

He pulled away, running his thumb gently over the incision in order to ensure that enough saliva stayed behind to clot the wound properly.

“Sabbat?”

No response.

“Sabbat? Can you hear me?”

The skin under his hand was still warm, thank the gods, and there was a pulse beating under his fingertips – but it was threadier and slower than it should have been, sluggish where it should have been strong.

“Sabbat?”

Still nothing.

With mounting panic (and cursing the speed of healing that meant that he was still all but working blind) he ran his hands over the assassin’s chest and face, searching for any sign of life other than that pulse beating so worryingly slowly at his wrist.

*Please. Please don’t let this be the end of it. Please.*

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 11/10/2026

#SundaySnips | witch Back into Blood on the Snow for this one, and Avebury being his usual deeply condescending and irritating self ( saranadosfiction.com/2020/09/16/b... )

“Mr Fest. I must admit, I’m honestly surprised to see you up so early, though I congratulate you on your newfound devotion to your studies. I’ll assume this seat isn’t taken?”

*Oh for the sake of all the gods, why did it have to be him?* Fest thought. He groaned internally, looking up to meet a pair of familiar cold brown eyes behind steel-rimmed spectacles – spectacles which, intriguingly, looked significantly more battered than they had the last time he’d met their owner. “What do you want, Avebury?”

“I should have thought the answer to that would have been obvious,” the Sinnlenst replied, pulling out a chair and settling himself companionably close to Anneke, who flinched almost imperceptibly away from him. “Or are the dietary habits of humans quite so difficult for your kind to understand?”

“There’s plenty of other tables. You’re welcome to go sit anywhere else you damn well please.”

“And what if I don’t please? Are you willing to use your witchery to get rid of me?”

That was obvious, even for you. And, come to think of it, Avebury looked a good deal less put-together than he normally did. Quite apart from the spectacles, which looked as though they’d very possibly been trodden on at some point, he had a black eye coming in, a split lip, and a mess of bruising over the bridge of his nose – a nose which, to Fest’s eye, looked just a little more crooked than it had done the last time they’d talked. *I wonder who happened to your face.*

*I wonder if, if I asked them nicely, they’d happen to it again.*

“I’m not going to rise to that,” he said, quietly, and tried to ignore the fact that his hands had started shaking.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 11/10/2026

#WIPSnips | cousin Silver in the Ashes, and Viola making her way up the mountain to the Hall ( saranadosfiction.com/2022/12/17/s... )

Though, speaking of…

*Ancestors, if you’re listening, I’d appreciate a push in the right direction. We can skip the bit where I’m a reckless cub who ran off without a proper plan in her head and is likely going to get her damn fool self killed and end her line in the progress, unless you really think it’s necessary, but if you can see your way to showing me the right direction, I promise I’ll come leave something properly good for you at the spirit house next time I’m back up with the rest of the clan.*

She’d be bringing offerings anyhow, of course – city-born or no, she wasn’t so rude and uncultured that she’d forgotten how to be a proper werewolf, no matter what some of her steppe-born cousins might think – but if the stories she’d been brought up on had taught her anything, it was that the ancestors appreciated being properly thanked if you’d had occasion to call on their help.

*Please?*

For a moment there was silence, save for the wind blowing through the tops of the pine trees and the clattering murmur of a stream a little way off in the distance. Then, right above her head and so loud it made her jump a good six inches into the air, there came the unmistakeable cry of a screech owl.

As she looked up, the bird launched itself from the branch and, ghostlike in the night air, began to fly north, further up the mountain.

*Well if that’s not a bloody sign I don’t know what is.*

With a brief prayer of thanks, and a mental note that she was definitely going to have to remember to find something *very* good for those offerings she’d promised, she followed her silent guide deeper into the forest.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 10/10/2026

#WIPSnips | fuzzy That I don't have, so going for a synonym with 'blurry' as poor Fest tries to untangle the mess of secrets he's found himself in the middle of (also apologies for not as much interaction over the last few days - currently at Fantasycon) ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/03/05/s... )

One moment he’d been sat at his desk, trying to put together the pieces of whatever the Sinnlenst were up to (and wishing quietly that he’d actually had the courage to speak up and ask the others for more information, because they clearly had more of the shape of the puzzle than he did), and the next he’d been blinking back to blurry consciousness with his head pillowed on his open notebook and his pen clogged with long-dried ink.

He’d also apparently fallen asleep before he stopped writing, if the mess of scribbles on the page was anything to go by – his handwriting wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t usually completely unreadable.

*Not that it’d be much use even if I could read it. I’m missing too many steps for any of this to add up properly.*

And too many memories, which was the other half of the problem.

*If I could remember what happened to me the night that I broke my neck, that’d be a start.*

Except that if he did get the memory of those missing hours back, then he’d also find out what had happened to the person he’d apparently drunk from.

*Archer said that there wasn’t enough blood for me to have actually exsanguinated anyone. And he wouldn’t lie about that… would he?*

Except that he’d lied about Fest being a sorcerer. Or, at least, known he was one and deliberately not told him, which was practically lying by omission. And Sabbat had said that he’d made a habit of that, and of thinking that he knew what was best for people.

*And if I had a half-hysterical student panicking at me and wanting reassurance that they’d not just murdered someone, I’d probably tell them they hadn’t whether I thought they had or not, especially if they couldn’t remember anything.*

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 09/10/2026

#WIPSnips | raid Back into Sabbat and Archer's backstory for this one, and the incident that actually led to them becoming friends in the first place (and to Archer losing his eye) ( saranadosfiction.com/2025/12/29/b... )

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 08/10/2026

#WIPSnips | lizard No lizards so far, but snakes I do have - here, Viola's getting a sudden reminder that she should really talk to her brother more when it comes to haring off into danger ( saranadosfiction.com/2021/03/20/s... )

He grimaced. “I just spent the night half convinced that my baby sister-”

“I’m the same age as you, you rat. Two minutes does not make me the baby here.”

“-had managed to get herself killed infiltrating a Sinnlenst get-together, and knowing that there was nothing I could do but sit here and wait for news. Allow me to be a little ridiculous now I know you’re alright.”

Which was fair. She’d not really considered how it must have felt from his end of things – Seb didn’t tend to do much active Order work, so she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d been away from her and in potential danger, but the few times it *had* happened she’d hated every second of it. *I’m a terrible littermate.* “Ugh. Sorry. That’s- I didn’t think about that.”

“You never do.” He sighed, then pulled her in for a quick, tight hug. “Normally I don’t mind. But normally you’re not right in the snakes’ den.”

“Hey, snakes are perfectly fine if you make enough noise to scare ‘em away. Sinnlenst’re more like some kind of mosquito or something.”

“Yes, but a den of mosquitos hardly sounds appropriately dangerous.”

“Depends how many of them there are.” She bumped her forehead affectionately against his, then stepped away. “Do I need to change, or am I appropriately professional?”

“You’re a mess.”

“Blunt.”

“True. You look as though you fell through a thornbush backwards. Go brush your hair and put on a better waistcoat, at least.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 07/10/2026

Non-NSFW snippet, but the story it's from is going to be NSFW (specifically, how do you deal with a currently not-particularly-mobile sub who's deliberately provoking you because he's bored of being stuck on bed-rest? Turns out Archer has some ideas)

On the one hand, Archer supposed, the fact that Sabbat was bored was, in fact, a source of deep and abiding relief, inasmuch as he was feeling well enough to *be* bored.

On the other, it was also a source of deep and abiding frustration, inasmuch as how he was choosing to express that fact was by spending entirely too much time and effort deliberately and unrepentantly irritating Archer.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 07/10/2026

#WIPSnips | comparison In which Avebury gets entirely the wrong end of the stick ( saranadosfiction.com/2022/11/11/s... )

“Oh please,” Avebury said, scornfully. “I’m hardly likely to give you the full details of my plan at this juncture, am I? Do you take me for some sort of gloating penny-dreadful villain?”

*If the comparison offends you that much, maybe stop threatening to have your pet monster rip the head off anyone who disagrees with you.* But needling him about that wasn’t going to make this conversation go anywhere useful – and, more to the point, might be a bloody good way to lose whatever protection he currently had from the Turned. *Though as far as I’m aware, he’s still back in the city. Or at least, I bloody hope to all the gods he is.*

Out loud, he said “And how exactly are you expecting to convince me to throw my lot in with your crowd if you won’t tell me what it is you’re after? Even the recruiting sergeants for the companies manage a better spiel than that.”

“A fair touch,” Avebury admitted, after a moment. “Though I’m still not about to give you every single detail of the great work. Let us just say that, when it comes to end goals, mine far outstrip any that Johann and the more traditionalist members of our organisation could even begin to consider – and, to that end, I am more than willing to use whatever tools come my way.”

“And that includes Viola?” Mortimer asked, before he could stop himself.

The Sinnlenst sighed. “I don’t see why you’re so fixated on the woman, but yes. Miss Cervanso is both a very capable asset in her own right, despite her obvious disadvantages, and also an exceptionally useful piece in the game. And, as I said, I don’t take kindly to poachers.”

“And, as I said, she’s her own bloody person.”

“And she’s also not here, so I don’t see what the issue is. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sweet on her.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 06/10/2026

#WIPSnips | rice Sideways into worldbuilding for a bit here, since I don't actually have the word in the serial/the short stories yet (which tells me I need to write more about Archer's childhood, since he grew up in an area where rice was much more common) ( saranadosfiction.com/2023/03/04/t... )

*What is the ecosystem like in the sense of plants/animals/crops? Bonus question: What’s most likely to kill you / is the apex predator?*

So some of this ties back into stuff I’ve already discussed with regards to food, inasmuch as a lot of crops and animals wind up on the tables in Sacaan – in terms of crops, we have root vegetables, cabbage, cauliflower, rhubarb, rye, barley, wheat, rice (though that’s a more common staple further south), and a whole passel of berries of various sweetnesses; in terms of food animals (as opposed to fish), we’re talking sheep, goats, yak, deer, reindeer, moose, boar, rabbits, chicken, geese, porpoises, smaller whales, and seals (not all of which are domesticated, obviously).

Aside from these, the other animals which call the caldera home include a variety of smaller carnivores (fishers, martens, stoats, weasels, foxes, and othersuch), as well as hares, lynxes, wolverines, bobcats, wolves, bears, and a few more unusual species, including antlered rabbit-like animals known as jackalopes. Bears in particular are sacred to Earth Brother – while Sacaask folk don’t shy away from killing them if they attack people or venture dangerously close to settlements, they don’t go hunting them unnecessarily, and there’re some very specific prayers and rites which need to be followed in the event of a bear having to be killed.

The other two sacred animals are eagles (sacred to Sky Brother) and orcas (sacred to Ocean Brother) – again, if Sacaask folk find themselves in a situation where they need to kill one of these animals, there’re rites and prayers which need to be undertaken in order to ritually purify the people involved and make amends to the deity in question.

(That also answers the part of your question regarding apex predators somewhat, given the bear and the orca are absolutely the apex predators of their particular environments).

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 05/10/2026

#WIPSnips | wall Fire in the Sky, so 'ware spoilers at the link, and Sabbat's distracting Caine so Viola and Fest can carry on with the mission (and more than a wee bit because he wants a rematch after Caine threw him off a rooftop the last time they met) ( saranadosfiction.com/2025/06/21/f... )

*Sixdammit, why’d I have to go and get myself a sodding conscience?*

Or, he amended for accuracy’s sake, an Archer. It pretty much amounted to the same thing.

“Hoi!” he yelled, again, and saw Caine’s head come up, eyes fixed on his blood-stained hand. “What, havin’ second thoughts already? Knew y’were a fuckin’ coward!”

Caine’d got the measure of him better by now, and the lunge Sabbat’d baited out of him very almost knocked him backward off the roof – he threw himself sideways and down, rolled onto his front, and dropped down over the gutter, kicking off from the wall and twisting mid-air to grab onto the drainpipe that snaked its way down the side of the houses opposite. It creaked badly enough that, for a heart-stopping moment, he was fairly convinced it was about to break and drop him the full two storeys, but Sacaask iron and caldera stone held as true as they ever did and, once he’d got his breath back, he was easily able to start the climb down, fast enough that Caine wouldn’t be able to catch him while he was still on the wall, but slow enough that he’d not lose sight of him in the fog.

Or, at least, that was the fucking plan. Right up until Caine decided to follow him down a *fuck* of a lot faster than he should’ve been able to.

*Shit. Shitting fucking cunting shit.*

*Get off the* fucking *wall or you’re going to fucking die.*

Easier said than done, with the bastard all but breathing down his neck, but he managed to gauge the drop just well enough that when he landed and rolled and pulled himself upright he had just enough breathing room to dodge out and away as Caine hurled himself off the pipe towards him.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 04/10/2026

#SundaySnips | eerie Fire in the Sky, so 'ware spoilers at the link, and Mortimer and Archer are sneaking into a Sinnlenst safehouse ( saranadosfiction.com/2025/09/13/f... )

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 04/10/2026

#LGBTQWriteAThon 4: 'Foreboding' I don't have, but 'forbidding' I do - here, a night ride up the mountain ends at the looming grandeur of the Hall, home to one of Archer's oldest friends and the person who might have the cure for Sabbat's current affliction (i.e. being bonded to a cursed box)

The assassin rolled his eyes. “Like I said the last ten fuckin’ times – been worse, been better.”

Archer gave him a look. “Unhelpful.”

“An’ what good’d bein’ any more fuckin’ specific do? Aside from makin’ you fuss even more’n y’already are?”

“I’m not *fussing*. I’m-“

“You’re fussin’,” Sabbat said, bluntly. “Ain’t anythin’ either of us can do about it – ‘s why we’re talkin’ t’your fuckin’ toff friend, ain’t it? – an’ you worryin’ y’self sick ain’t helpin’.”

He had a point, damn him. “We’re almost there. Just around this corner.”

“An’ through the fuckin’ rock?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The cliff face stretched up above them, the top of it almost invisible in the tree-shrouded gloom. Archer urged his horse onward, following the curve of the path round and into the mouth of a short passage carved through the rock itself, just wide enough for three horses harnessed abreast to pass between its rough-hewn walls.

Beyond the dark confines of the tunnel stretched a broad, open expanse of snow, bounded on two sides by high sky-sweeping pines, and on the third by an edifice that looked almost as though it’d been carved out of the stone of the mountain itself. To call it a house seemed inadequate – ‘fortress’ would have been more apt (though, in Archer’s experience, most fortresses were a good deal more filled with noise and life than the seemingly empty monolith rising in front of them).

“Welcome,” Archer said, taking a hand from the reins for long enough to gesture towards the forbidding frontage, “to Cauldwell Hall.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 04/10/2026

#WIPSnips | contract Midway through Silver in the Ashes, and Sabbat's not wrong here (though, to be fair, he's also inclined towards being uncharitable/grim at the moment given he's actively dying and very aware of that fact) ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/03/05/s... )

Sabbat gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Little late t’be second-guessin’ y’self, ain’t it? An’ besides, you know as well as I do y’wouldn’t get the whole fuckin’ Order pullin’ in the same direction on anythin’, least of all this. How many of ’em actually give a shit whether one whoreson gutter-rat contract killer lives or dies, huh? Plenty more blades t’be had on every street corner if y’know where t’look.”

*Is that honestly what you think of us?* But, at the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but remember some of the comments he’d heard from other upper-class members of the Order, when they thought none of their lower-class comrades were listening. *Add that to the list of conversations I need to have when we get back to the city. If we can’t find a way to treat our people equally no matter where they’re from or who their parents are, we’re no better than the damn Sinnlenst.*

“Y’can quit pullin’ faces about it,” the assassin growled, after a moment. “Was makin’ an observation, ‘s all.” He shifted in his seat, reaching up to rub the back of his neck in a gesture that was almost certainly unconscious. “Ain’t about t’go startin’ a fuckin’ revolution over a few toffs who don’t remember where half the fuckin’ muscle in the Order comes from.”

“Half the muscle and a good deal of the brains, and they’d do well to remember both. When we get back to the city, I’ll have words with the rest of the Council, see if we can’t put a stop to that particular prejudice.”

“Ha! Good fuckin’ luck wi’ that.” And, quieter, “Din’t ask y’t’fight my fuckin’ battles for me, Will.”

“I know. But equally well, now that you’ve brought it to my attention, you can hardly ask me to sit back and keep letting it happen.”

“An’ that ain’t anythin’ t’do wi’ the fact you’re feelin’ guilty on account o’the fact y’din’t see it until I told you.”

*Damn you.* “Sometimes I think you know me entirely too bloody well.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 03/10/2026

The nights draw in, the fog grows thicker… and was that something moving in the dark behind you? October’s the season for dark tales and gothic stories, so why not welcome it in with a collection of books that’ll keep you reading all through the autumn and beyond? itch.io/b/3931/lgbtq...

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 03/10/2026

#WIPSnips | petal Fire in the Sky, so 'ware spoilers at the link, and stretching a wee bit for this one because I've used the only other snippet with any mention of flowers or blossom several times already xD ( saranadosfiction.com/2026/06/05/f... )

A pause, just long enough for him to wonder if he’d completely misread the situation and start to shift his weight and stance for the inevitable fight, and then the door banged the rest of the way open and Viola launched herself across the space between them, barely giving him enough time to throw his knife-arm wide before she wrapped her own arms around him and hugged him hard enough he swore he could feel his ribs creak under the strain.

“I thought you were dead, you stupid bastard! Where did you go?”

“I- What?”

“You said you were going to the safehouse and then you didn’t show – I thought Avebury and his gang had finally had enough and decided to get rid of you.” She pulled away, looking him up and down. “Seriously, what happened? Did you get lost?”

“Not… exactly.” *And the rest of this conversation we’re not having out in the street.* “You thought I’d been attacked, so you… broke into my rooms?”

“Knocked on the door, didn’t get an answer, so I picked the lock. Figured if you were lying wounded in there you’d not mind the intrusion, and if you weren’t, then I’d at least know.”

Logically, he knew she cared – even if he’d not been courting her sister, the two of them had spent enough time together that he’d have been able to tell if she didn’t. Logic, however, could apparently go take a running jump as far as the sudden warmth blossoming at the centre of his chest or the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes were concerned.

“I… Thank you.”

She ducked her head a little, as though she could physically dodge the words. “Bah. You’d’ve done the same for me.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 02/10/2026

#LGBTQWriteAThon 2: As per usual, I'm working on my ongoing queer Gothic gaslamp fantasy serial Argentum in Aqua (or, more specifically, working on the next chapter for the third book because I'm very much posting the chapters on my site as they're finished right now)

A book aesthetic post in red, black, and white.

The title Argentum in Aqua is displayed in a black bar between two rows of photos.

The top row shows a red full moon, a view of a Victorian-era building from below, hands cupped around a candle, and a mountain veiled with clouds.

The bottom row shows a path through deep snow, hands covered in blood, a Victorian lamppost against a clouded sky, and a snow-filled alleyway lit by an old-fashioned lantern.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 02/10/2026

#WIPSnips | dent Everything might be going more than a wee bit sideways, but at least there's good hot food and mulled cider to have with it ( saranadosfiction.com/2023/12/22/s... )

*And this is entirely too bloody confusing to be trying to puzzle through on an empty stomach.*

Fortunately, that problem was solved soon enough by the excavation of the contents of the basket Viola had brought up, which proved to be an absolute feast of Cyra’s cooking. She’d clearly got it into her head that she was catering for at least one invalid (not that he was going to use that word out loud in Sabbat’s hearing, since he wasn’t feeling particularly suicidal at the moment), and, among the various foods on offer, he spotted at least a couple that he remembered as favourites from the recovery periods of any number of childhood illnesses.

*Gods, but I’ve missed this.*

It still didn’t feel entirely real to be back here, to the point that he’d not entirely given up on surreptitiously pinching the side of his neck just to be completely certain that he wasn’t dreaming. But, dream or no, he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to sit down to a dinner where he didn’t have to share a table with Adam bloody Avebury.

The first part of the meal passed in companionable silence – or, at least, what would have been silence if it hadn’t been for the wind rattling the shutters and howling around the chimney – which Mortimer didn’t exactly mind since it gave him more time to focus on his own dinner (both the food, which was exactly as good as he remembered, and also the practicalities of eating one-handed off a plate balanced on his knees).

Once the four of them had made a decent dent in the provisions, however, Viola put down her mug and cleared her throat. “Right. We need to have a war council, and a proper one at that.”

“Ain’t we already done that?” Sabbat objected, around a mouthful of pancake.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 01/10/2026

...Apparently next week the weather will be in beta?

A screenshot of the Met Office weather site, showing 14 degrees celsius and sunny intervals for today. Underneath, we see the weather for Friday October 2nd through to Saturday October 10th, showing weather icons (mostly clouds), temperatures (mostly 18-20 degrees celsius for the first half and 14-16 for the second)... and a blue box with 'BETA' written on it under the sections for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday next week.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 01/10/2026

#WIPSnips | injury In which Sabbat has some distinctly complicated feelings ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/02/02/s... )

"[...] have something else I need to ask you about, and I want you to hear me out before you make a decision one way or the other.”

*What now?* “Aye?”

“When we go to the library tonight… you’re not going to be able to get there by yourself.”

“Thanks fer fuckin’ remindin’ me. Might’ve forgot otherwise.” It came out bitterer than he meant it, and he saw Archer flinch.

“That’s not-” He sighed. “Either I can carry you, which is doable but means that I won’t have a hand free to defend us if anything happens, or you can wheel yourself, which gives you more freedom but might tire you out.”

*Wheel…?* He knew wheelchairs existed, of course – you didn’t see many folks using ’em outside in Steepside, given the lay of the land, but they were common enough in the flatter bits of the city – but he’d not exactly paid much heed to ’em other than that. “Where the hells’re y’gettin’ a chair from?”

“Philip.”

*The cane. Reckoned it was an old injury, means that’s as healed as it’s likely to get if he was using a chair to get around before that.* “He alright wi’ you borrowin’ it?”

“He offered.”

“Right.”

Accepting the loan of the chair meant accepting the fact his legs weren’t going to start working any time fucking soon, and there was a part of him that wanted to throw the offer back in Archer’s face just for the implication alone. But what other choice did he have?

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 30/09/2026

#WIPSnips | guard Avebury's definitely up to something. The question is, what? ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/04/19/s... )

“Yes.” *Especially because, unlike Sabbat – and, apparently, Fest –* you *seem to be completely coherent.*

More evidence for his theory, that, and that wasn’t a good thing.

“Very well.” Another pause, and the sound of furniture being moved, and then the door swung open, revealing a barefoot and pyjama-clad Adam Avebury, wrapped in a dressing gown and with his loose hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. “There. Good enough for you?”

*What am I supposed to say to that?*

The Sinnlenst certainly *looked* sick – the dampness of his skin and the dark shadows under his eyes were proof enough of that – but there was something in the way he was behaving that didn’t entirely seem to fit that assumption, even leaving aside the fact that he was apparently capable of both being upright and knowing exactly where and when he was.

*But, then again, if he’s faking it, is that honestly a problem as long as he stays in his damn room?*

He didn’t like the idea of leaving Avebury alone up here, not with everyone else downstairs or otherwise occupied, but the idea of dragging him downstairs and into the same room as Fest and the others seemed like an even worse plan.

*We don’t have enough people to set a guard on him, not without arousing suspicion, and putting him anywhere near the kid he almost certainly just tried to kill* without *supervision is a fucking terrible idea.*

“You don’t look like you’re immediately about to keel over, I suppose,” he said, out loud.

“Good,” the Sinnlenst said, and slammed the door in his face.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 29/09/2026

#WIPSnips | well Back in Blood on the Snow, and Archer would really prefer it if Sabbat wasn't deliberately throwing a spanner into his carefully thought-out plans ( saranadosfiction.com/2020/05/02/b... )

[...] sighed.“Much as I appreciate the sentiment, Viola’s not going to sell us out. And, if Fest does turn traitor, I trust her to handle the situation.”

“Y’do, do you?” From the assassin’s tone of voice, he didn’t share Archer’s confidence. “An’ besides, who says they’d notice? You forget what I do for a livin’ again, Archer?”

“No, Sabbat, I didn’t. But given what you do for a living is *kill people*, I think I’m justified in suggesting that getting involved in a mission in which success somewhat revolves around everyone involved remaining alive might not be the best use of your talents.”

“Thought y’said you trusted me,” the assassin objected.

*Yes. Which is why I’m currently just about managing to keep my temper in the face of what I’m pretty damn certain is utterly deliberate provocation. Please stop making that harder*, Archer thought. Out loud, he said: “I do. I also think that adding any more uncertainty to this situation increases the chance of everything going horrifically wrong – and, whatever else you may be, you’re something of a walking uncertainty generator when it comes to plans of this sort.”

“I ain’t-”

“Oh for the love of all things holy, Sabbat, will you just listen to me for a moment? Yes, you’re a damn good assassin. One of the best the Order has, and I’m not just saying that as a friend.” And, as the other man’s anger bled away into uncertainty in the face of the unexpected praise, he went on: “You’re also stubborn, impulsive, reckless, and by all accounts a complete bastard to work with – for anyone who’s not me,” he added, as Sabbat opened his mouth to protest. “With that in mind, and given how bloody tricky this whole blackmail business is even without accounting for whatever the Sinnlenst have up their sleeve, I’m going to suggest – as a friend, and *because* I’m your friend – that you stay well clear of it.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 28/09/2026

#WIPSnips | prime Turns out running into a Turned - and specifically *Caine,* who's his own kind of nightmare altogether - kinda throws all your previous plans out of the window ( saranadosfiction.com/2023/10/07/s... )

They’d not made a noise, he would have sworn it on his life, but somehow the Turned had still sensed their presence, snapping from sleep to waking fast enough that, if they’d not been already primed to run the moment he moved, he would have caught up to them right then and there.

As it was, they’d managed to get at least a little distance, but that wasn’t going to hold for much longer. Their only hope was either to stand and fight – a poor prospect, even if Caine was a normal Turned – or somehow make it back to the relative safety of the Hall and trust that he’d hold to the instructions Foreval had apparently given him.

*Two bad choices, and no third option. Not a situation I enjoy being in, and I’ve been in it more than I’d like.*

Ahead of him, he saw Viola leap across the stream, landing in a crouch on the far bank. As he watched, she turned to face the oncoming Turned, lowered her head, and snarled, the sound loud enough to carry even through the blood rushing in his ears and the thunder of his racing heart.

*What’re you doing? Run! This isn’t the time for heroics, Viola!*

If Caine caught him, he’d die – but, unless the Turned was particularly inclined to make certain he wasn’t going to get up again, it wouldn’t be permanent. Viola, on the other hand, had no such protection – if Caine killed her, she’d *stay* dead.

And yet, there she was, standing stiff-legged and hackles-up on the far side of the stream, all but daring the Turned to come and have a go if he thought he was hard enough.

*Which is impressive, I’ll grant you, but it’s still a bloody terrible idea.*

And if Caine took her up on the challenge, it might be the last mistake she’d ever make.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 27/09/2026

#SundaySnips | turn Fire in the Sky, so 'ware spoilers at the link, and Viola and Mortimer's journey back to the safehouse is interrupted by an ominous-looking gathering ( saranadosfiction.com/2026/07/18/f... )

“Then stop chewing on it until we get to the house!” Viola shot back, and then immediately regretted it as several heads turned in their direction. *Oh that’s the last thing we bloody need. If someone realises who I am – and that’s more likely than I’d hope, given what happened at the Daggers – then we’re both done for.*

Though, now she came to think of it, her outburst hadn’t prompted nearly as much of a reaction as it might’ve done – and, looking more closely at the crowd on the other side of the street, she had a sudden gut-lurching feeling she knew why.

“Trouble,” she said, lowering her voice and jerking her head towards the knot of people at the heart of the group. “Don’t think it’s a fight, not yet, but might be about to turn into one.”

To Mortimer’s credit, he didn’t waste time asking stupid questions. “Break or stay?”

“None of our business, and the longer we stick around here the more likely someone is to make one or both of us.”

“Then why’re you asking in the first place?”

“Because they’re all human. *All* of them. Which means whoever’s at the centre of all that mess might not be.”

“…Shit.”

*Knew Amelia made the right choice with you.* “We go in, then?”

“We go in.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 27/09/2026

#WIPSnips | delay Near the start of Silver in the Ashes, and Sabbat's just brought Archer back from having been shot in the head (after he took apart the Sinnlenst who'd done that to him) ( saranadosfiction.com/2021/07/23/s... )

“Y’alright? Look like you’re about t’keel over.”

*And if you were anyone other than… yourself, that would almost sound like concern.* “I’m fine. I just need a minute, that’s all.”

Sabbat scowled, but didn’t press the issue. After a moment, he jerked his head towards the road and said, gruffly, “Y’comin’? Longer we leave it, more chance of someone else comin’ down and stumblin’ over ’em.”

“Good point.” The mountain roads weren’t exactly well-travelled at this time of night, but if the Sinnlenst had been the vanguard of a larger party – or even if they simply had a friend or two who’d been delayed – then the sooner he and Sabbat dealt with the bodies the better. “Lead on.”

***

The box hadn’t approved.

Didn’t make sense to think of it like that, mind. It was a piece of sodding artifice – magical, aye, but without a mind behind it. It was about as capable of approving or disapproving of his actions as a fucking coatrack.

But still, when he’d taken his knife from his belt, sat down, gritted his teeth and very carefully opened up the vein on the inside of his elbow he’d got the distinct impression that the damn box hadn’t liked it one fucking bit.

*Means it was a good idea, then.*

It’d been a good idea whether the box liked it or not. It’d brought Archer back. But the fact that the thing hadn’t approved was definitely another point in its favour.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 26/09/2026

#WIPSnips | observe Way way back at the very start of Blood on the Snow (hence that '2018/06/02' date in the link) and Fest meeting Archer and Sabbat for the very first time (via them rescuing him from a pair of Sinnlenst) ( saranadosfiction.com/2018/06/02/a... )

“Somewhere y’need t’be?” Sabbat asked, making the question sound a damn sight more menacing than, in Archer’s mind, it really needed to be.

“The Midwinter Ball,” the young vampire replied, in the slightly slurred tones of the mildly shocked and seriously nauseous. “Which is where I *was*, last time I checked. I think I might be sick now, if that’s alright with you.”

There… really wasn’t much Archer could say to that, though he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing at Sabbat’s expression. He stepped back, leaning against the wall of the alleyway while he waited for the boy to compose himself, and taking the time to work through a few rather worrying questions that the whole situation had thrown up in his mind.

First and foremost, what exactly had two Sinnlenst enforcers been doing with a red-eye vampire student?

And secondly, what were *they* going to do with him?

***

He wasn’t sick, in the end, though he’d come closer to it than he’d have liked to admit. Apparently being rendered suddenly unconscious, dragged through the street, rescued by a slightly terrifying pair of complete strangers, dumped next to a pile of corpses, fed something that he was fairly certain was incredibly strong gin, and then told that he’d been out for far longer than made any logical sense had had some sort of adverse effect on his digestive system. Strange, that.

At least being ill had given him a chance to observe his rescuers while they weren’t asking him questions, he supposed, which was something. They seemed an odd pair (though his metric for ‘odd’ was rapidly shifting, given the night he was having), but he couldn’t deny they’d been effective in… well, in murdering the people who were probably going to murder him.

Funny. It didn’t sound all that reassuring, when you phrased it like that.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 25/09/2026

A fair way into Silver in the Ashes, and Archer's not the only one who's dealing with memories of previous sickrooms and deathwatches intruding into what's currently happening ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/08/17/s... )

*Ask a stupid question, I suppose.* “I- Do you mind if I come in?” He’d already as good as made the invitation, but she was getting the distinct impression she’d interrupted something – and, if she was being entirely bluntly honest with herself, she didn’t *want* to see what might be on the other side of that door.

*Fest looks bad enough, and he’s a vampire – if he dies of this, odds are he’ll come right back just a little the worse for wear. Sabbat must be awake if he’s singing, but…*

But one of the other reasons the clan sang was to keep the dying company, when there was nothing else that could be done, and bawdy songs were a good enough distraction for that kind of work.

“Oh for crying out loud,” Archer muttered, quietly enough that she suspected he hadn’t intended for her to overhear him. He raised his voice again, not quite managing to keep the frustration out of his tone: “No, I don’t mind. Or rather, I mind a damn sight more having to have this conversation through the bloody door.”

Nothing she could say to that, not least because she didn’t disagree. But…

*But you’re scared you’ll walk in there and it’ll be too much like the* other *sickroom, and then you’ll be no bloody use to anyone.* And, just for a brief moment, she heard her Granmamma’s voice echoing in the back of her head: *Pull yourself together, child. Grief has her place, but you’re too old to let it overturn you when there’s work needs doing.*

She’d faced down a fucking Turned out in the woods, after all. Compared to that, this was nothing.

It just happened to be a nothing that *hurt.*

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 25/09/2026

#WIPSnips | nation Blood on the Snow, and Archer paying a visit to a relative he's not seen in a long while ( saranadosfiction.com/2021/01/02/b... )

“Your guest, your Excellency,” the page said.

Crown Protector Ira, heir to the throne, Regent of Sacaan, and the most powerful person in the city, looked up from the pile of papers she’d been perusing, shoved a stray lock of hair out of her face with one scarred and ink-stained hand, and grinned crookedly. “Hello, Will. It’s been a while.”

The room was small, dark, and cluttered, and looked more like a study than any kind of chamber of state – which meant that it was almost certainly one of the few places in the palace Ira had staked out as her own. She’d been all in favour of gutting most of the interior when she’d taken power, Archer remembered, arguing that a nation which was built and founded on military might and being too damn stubborn to die didn’t need ornament and frippery to show the world it meant business (and also that, given the riots which had started the Revolution had been caused in no small part by starvation and poverty, the last thing the people needed to see was the leadership they’d returned to power sitting idle in the midst of wealth).

And, in the main, she’d managed to get rid of the worst of the excess, but enough jewels and tapestries had had to remain in the more public areas of the palace in order to make at least some showing to visiting diplomats that the city-state wasn’t just some collection of rag-tag barbarians without a culture to call their own. Not that it *stopped* them making the assumption, of course.

“Expecting something grander?” Ira said, almost as though she’d read his thoughts. She pushed away from the desk, and wheeled herself towards him. “I would’ve thought you’d know me better than that, cousin.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 24/09/2026

#WIPSnips | meddle Midway through Silver in the Ashes, and it's a damn good thing that Avebury talks to himself when he thinks he's alone ( saranadosfiction.com/2023/05/25/s... )

“I suppose it’s only good luck that you don’t know what you were meddling with,” the Sinnlenst went on, the floor creaking again under his boots as he crossed back towards the door. “Though I feel that an object lesson might perhaps be in order.” And, in an undertone that was still more than audible, “And if you’re *not* the one who’s playing games with the talisman, then I have some questions for our master.”

*‘Our master’? Take that at face value, means he thinks Fest’s the one who broke into his room. Could use that.*

*Should tell Archer about it first.*

His guts twisted again, cramping badly enough that he almost doubled over, and he swallowed hard, bile burning his nose and throat. He was almost bloody certain he’d heard the door close behind Avebury, but if the Sinnlenst was smart enough to try and trick him out of hiding, then-

*Stay quiet. Stay safe.*

Fuck. Felt like every bad day he’d had as a kid, back when he wasn’t big enough to make a dent in half the folks who’d want to do him harm. Back when he’d first run away, when it felt like half the fucking world was out to get him, when he’d barely a couple of knives and no kills to his name, crouching in the darkness with his mouth tasting of blood and vomit and his heart rattling in his chest and every fucking fibre of his being screaming to get up, get out, and fucking *fight*.

*Supposed to be fucking* different *now, ain’t it?*

But he couldn’t kill Avebury – not right now, not knowing everything that’d bring down on Cervanso and the rest of them. And if he couldn’t kill him, then getting into a scrap with him was going to do nothing except make everything fucking worse, since knocking people on the head or choking them out didn’t conveniently erase their memories of what they’d been doing before you knocked ’em unconscious.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 23/09/2026

#WIPSnips | tumble Back into the past again, this time very very early in Sabbat and Archer's friendship (given the thing Sabbat wants Archer's oath on is that he won't tell anyone else that Sabbat's dusk-souled [transgender, in our-world terms]) ( saranadosfiction.com/2021/10/11/s... )

Didn’t mean he didn’t want his own surety on the matter as well, mind. “An’ by the Lady.”

“Pardon?”

“Y’swore by the gods, an’ that’s fine an’ good. But you’ll swear by the Lady, too, an’ bind it in blood and water while you’re about it.”

The corner of Archer’s mouth twitched, just a little. “Of course. Your knife or mine?”

“Mine.” The razor might not have been a traditional belt knife, but it had more weight and worth than any other blade he’d bought, borrowed or stolen over the years he’d spent both on the streets and at sea. “Here.”

*Look at that. Leeches bleed just like anyone else.*

The vampire’s blood welled red and glistening from the back of his hand – he wiped the razor on his handkerchief, folded it closed, and handed it back to Sabbat with a nod that was halfway a bow. “Do you have some seawater to hand?”

If the situation had been less serious, Sabbat would’ve made a crack about them being surrounded by the stuff. But this was too fucking important to be making a joke of, even if Archer’d been a fuck of a lot better about the whole business than he’d been expecting. (*And what were you going to do if he hadn’t been?* a treacherous part of his mind whispered. *Break his nose and then get yourself flogged for attacking the damn quartermaster?*)

The flask of seawater he’d put aside for prayer was still where he’d left it, tumbled in amongst the shirts and linens in the top of his sea-chest. He pulled it free and tossed it across to Archer, who caught it one handed with a flicker of a smile.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 22/09/2026

#WIPSnips | meltdown Don't have the exact word, but that's very much what's happening to Fest here ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/02/09/s... )

“Yes, and there will be a reckoning for it soon enough, you have my word on that. But while he is a guest in my home, you will not touch him. Not unless and until we have proof of his actions which is watertight enough to stand up even in a biased court. I’m sorry, Will.”

There was a pause, quiet enough that you could have heard a pin drop, and then everyone started shouting at once, loud enough that Fest dropped the towel and slammed his hands over his ears. None of the other people in the room seemed to be happy with Verist’s declaration, that much was painfully obvious, but all of them also seemed to want to express exactly what they didn’t like about it without waiting for anyone else to get their argument in first, which meant that the result was a wave of noise and pressure that felt almost as though it was physically crushing him.

*I need to get out.*

Except that even if he *could* stand up without falling over, Archer and Viola were between him and the door.

*I need to get out. I need to get out. I need to get out.*

He felt as though he was going to be sick. His head hurt, and his mouth tasted of blood, and the world was spinning around him as though he’d drunk too much cider, and he was fairly bloody certain that if he tried to open his mouth to tell them all to *be quiet* he was going to throw up all over the table, and that was a fine way of thanking the Archmage and Mortimer for taking care of him, wasn’t it, and-

*I need to get out. I need to get out. I need to get out. I need to get out I need to get out I need to-*

*I need all of you to STOP.*

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 21/09/2026

#WIPSnips | stream Back in Silver in the Ashes, and while it's not Archer or Sabbat's fault neither of them remembered werewolves tend to react badly to Smoke, that doesn't stop poor Viola getting a lungful of it ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/08/17/s... )

*Drinking would be bad enough when it comes to making terrible decisions. But Smoke? I thought you were smarter than that, Archer.*

Then again, she had a suspicion that it wasn’t Archer who’d been the driving force behind that particular decision – a suspicion which was upgraded to complete certainty when, through streaming eyes, she saw him dash across the room and wrench open the window and the shutters both in one sharp motion, letting in a howling blast of ice-cold wind that, to give him his due, did more than any amount of well-meaning fanning and fussing would’ve done to blow the smoke (and Smoke) out of her lungs.

*At least he remembered before I actually inhaled enough of it to make me sick, I suppose. That has to count for something.*

“Y’din’t need t’let the fuckin’ storm in,” Sabbat growled from the bed, though he didn’t sound entirely upset by the change. “Ain’t sayin’ a breath of air ain’t welcome, mind, but y’can leave the fuckin’ snow out of it.”

“And if I had the power to separate the one from the other, we’d all be in a far better state,” Archer shot back, wrestling with the shutters as he tried to pull them closed against the force of the gale. “Miss Cervanso, I apologise profusely for-“

“Viola, ‘less you want me to go back to calling you Lord-Captain again.” *Please don’t. I’m having enough of a day already without having to retread this damn argument.* “Nothing to bloody apologise for.” *Other than half poisoning me, and given the fact we’ve either two or three people down with actual poisoning, half is practically nothing.* “Want a hand with the window?”

“Gods yes.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 20/09/2026

#SundaySnips | crisp Back into Blood on the Snow, and Sabbat and Viola (plus a certain Sinnlenst-but-not-really) escaping from a Sinnlenst gathering that's gone decidedly sideways ( saranadosfiction.com/2021/02/02/b... )

The tunnel had been sloping downwards for the past few minutes. Now it levelled out and narrowed, the smooth tiles giving way to bare rock floor.

“Not far now,” Cervanso’s pet Sinnlenst said. “Should be an opening on the left-hand side, same width as this.”

He sounded surprisingly calm, which put Sabbat’s hackles up. Didn’t necessarily mean he was leading them into a trap, but it sure as fuck wasn’t evidence that he wasn’t.

*What do you know that we don’t?*

Didn’t matter. If he’d led them wrong, Sabbat’d kill him.

*Assuming Cervanso doesn’t get there first. She said she’d vouch for him. Far as I know, that means more for her lot than it does for most.*

*Where the fuck does she know him from, anyhow?*

Not a question he needed to be asking right now. But when they were out of here-

His left hand plunged into empty space. He skidded to a stop, grabbed enough of a breath to bark a curt “Here!” in the direction of the other two, and used his momentum to round the corner into the passageway, eyes and ears open for any sign of a hidden Sinnlenst trap.

There wasn’t one. Or, at least, not one he could easily detect. Just more dead rock and cold air – though the air in this tunnel tasted different to the one they’d just left, colder and crisper and with the faint undertone of snow.

*Fucking hellfire, we might actually have our way out.*

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 20/09/2026

Fire in the Sky (Argentum in Aqua 3): Chapter 28 In which Fest has a theory, Sabbat makes a mistake, and Archer makes an offer saranadosfiction.com/2026/09/20/f... New to the serial? Start here: saranadosfiction.com/2018/05/19/a... #ArgentumInAqua #GaslampFantasy 🌈📚🪐📚😱 ♿♾📚

His belly was cramping hard enough by the time he’d got the window wide enough to allow him through that he slipped over the sill without checking inside first – stupid, dangerous, like to get you killed in the normal way of things, but if the safehouse had been breached they had bigger problems – which meant he didn’t realise that the room was already occupied until he’d got himself fully inside.

Already occupied, and not by Archer.

*Fuck!*

Wrong room. Wrong sixdamn *fucking* room, and now Archer’s brat’s priest, who’d been sitting on the floor surrounded by more books than the average library, was on their feet, staring at him with their eyes wide enough that he could see the whites of them all the way around the irises, and their mouth opening on a shout and if he didn’t shut them up then the whole fucking thing was going to-

“I’ll get Archer for you.”

…Or they were apparently a fuck of a lot calmer about this mess than he’d given them credit for.

“‘ppreciate it,” he managed, after a moment, because it was that or ask them what the fuck *they’d* been smoking that meant they thought a blood-covered assassin climbing in through their window wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 20/09/2026

#WIPSnips | signal Back into Sabbat's backstory for this one, and we meet him again as a teenage runaway living on the streets of a pirate port who's just about to make his first kill. ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/01/29/a... )

*Eyes on the fucking prize. The bastard’s human, unlike Ironhands, and he should be asleep at this hour, which means this should be the easiest fucking kill anyone’s ever done. Get in there, slit his throat, get out before anyone realises and raises the alarm.*

*And if you get it wrong, you’ll die slow and bad, and that’ll be the end of you before you’ve made even half a name for yourself. So fucking concentrate.*

The wooden wall was blood-warm under his bare feet, still soaked in sunlight from the heat of the day, and, once he’d got his mind back into the here and now, it was the work of a few moments to scramble the last few feet to the window ledge, even if he had to stop and work two of his toes back into place against the drainpipe once he’d got there. So far, so usual – he’d been hiring out as a second-storey boy since he was old enough to climb, after all, and he was more at home up here than on the ground half the time.

The thing he hadn’t been, until tonight, was a killer.

*Below the ear, under the corner of the jaw. Press harder’n you think you need to, and make it a good cut so he can’t staunch it in time.*

He’d cut plenty of folks. Made ’em bleed hard enough that some of ’em probably died of it, too. But there was a world of difference between that and what he was about to do.

*Bastard has a foot in height and most of your weight again on you. It’s him or you, and if you fuck this up, you’re dead.*

Wasn’t wrong. And, for all Red Tom wasn’t one of Ironhands’ inner circle, him being found dead in his bed with his throat slit might well put the fear into the rest of them enough that they’d back the fuck off the street kids and the whores and the beggars and the drunks and everyone else they’d been riding roughshod over. Or, if it didn’t, it’d at least send a signal to the captains that if they didn’t get serious about the problem, someone else just might.

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 19/09/2026

#WIPSnips | tube A wee bit out of season for this one, but we're back a year before the start of Blood on the Snow, and Archer waking up on the morning of the solstice to discover that Sabbat's a) in his rooms and b) acquired (stolen) a present for him ( saranadosfiction.com/2022/12/17/a... )

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 18/09/2026

#WIPSnips | payment Back in Blood on the Snow, and Archer's visit to the Old Town watchhouse has started off on a particularly sour note (by which I mean one of the troopers just full-on threatened him for being a vampire) ( saranadosfiction.com/2020/05/16/b... )

The boy spun round, eyes wide, and managed a surprisingly good salute for someone whose hands were visibly shaking. “Captain! I- I- I can explain!”

“I don’t need *your* explanation, Ataan. You’re relieved of duties for the next week, and you’re bloody lucky I’m not taking your badge for that little stunt. Do you realise how much damage you could have caused if you’d tried that with anyone else?”

“I- I-”

“I’m prepared to overlook a lot from a trooper who’s just lost their spouse, Ataan. I am not prepared to overlook rhetoric like that when we’ve already got a district that’s *this* close to rioting over interspecies tensions. This isn’t over.” Her voice softened a little. “Go see the medic before you leave – Brewer, Varinsson, you two make sure he gets home safe – and tell your brother to come see me before eighth bell tomorrow. Given I’m sending you home without pay, the least I can do is make sure you get the death payment as quickly as possible.”

The boy – Ataan – nodded, the colour draining out of his face. “Understood, captain. May I-?”

“You’re dismissed, Ataan.” As he took to his heels, she turned to address the rest of the room. “The rest of you, listen up! Yes, we’re angry. Yes, we’re hurting. Carr was a good kid – he didn’t deserve what happened to him, any more than any of the others we’ve lost did – and he died hard. And yes, we *will* find who did it, and they *will* pay. I can promise you that. But this? Shit-stirring, starting fights, throwing accusations at people purely on account of their species? This stops. Now.” She looked around, obviously taking stock of the various troopers and officers in the room. “This district is a tinderbox at the best of times. Right now, we’re one small spark away from a fire that’ll burn the whole damn place down around our ears, and I will not have one of mine be the one to provide it. Understood?”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 17/09/2026

#WIPSnips | effort A good deal earlier on in Silver in the Ashes, and Viola's just made a somewhat less controlled descent to the bottom of a ravine than she'd have preferred ( saranadosfiction.com/2022/12/17/s... )

*…So much for getting down easily*, she thought, muzzily, poking the inside of her mouth with her tongue in an effort to find out if she’d shaken loose any teeth. Everything seemed to be still in the right place, but the taste of blood at the back of her throat and the pain spreading across her face suggested that she’d very likely knocked her still-healing nose badly enough to upset the break again.

*Damn it. That’s going to make following trails a whole lot harder.*

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, wincing as her shoulder protested, and looked around the bottom of the ravine. There were more than a few skeletons down here, deer and small animals which’d either been chased off the cliff or found themselves trapped down here with no way out, but there were also several distinctly fresher – and more twolegs-shaped – corpses, piled in a tangle of limbs and coats which looked unsettling like the few glimpses she’d caught of whatever it was she’d fallen onto.

*Ugh.*

None of them looked like Sabbat or Archer, thank all the ancestors – wrong skin colours, and none of them were the right shape – and they didn’t match anyone she recognised from Order meetings. They did look familiar, though.

*Now where have I seen you before, I wonder.*

Another wince, more scrambling, and she was up and twolegged and walking over to the bodies, kicking away the folds of fabric to expose the face of the nearest corpse. And, suddenly, she knew what’d been nagging at the back of her brain – and, importantly, where she’d seen the dead woman before.

*At the Sinnlenst meeting. She’s one of Avebury’s mob.*

*Well, this just got interesting.*

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 16/09/2026

#WIPSnips | call Towards the climax of Silver in the Ashes, and things are... not going well. ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/10/12/s... )

“‘nks.” Another pause. “Y’got any more blood, ‘d ‘ppreciate it. Need the strength.”

Even blind, even weak enough that Archer had to keep an arm around his back to hold him sitting upright, even soaked to the skin with fever-sweat and with his shoulders tight with the effort of stopping his hands shaking, Sabbat’s fingers moved over the fastenings of his boots with all the dexterity of a musician tuning an instrument they’d played since childhood, all-but instinctively checking the positioning of the various hidden knives and lockpicks as he worked. The blood seemed to have revitalised him enough that he was able to keep himself in the present – that, or the repetition of a task he’d done a thousand times before was serving as an anchor – and, by the time he’d finished, he’d even managed to call back a bloody-mouthed echo of his normal half-frozen lopsided grin.

“‘s better. Least I get t’die properly, even if I ain’t dyin’ standin’.” He closed his eyes, let at least a little of the tension bleed out of his shoulders. “Y’know, never reckoned t’goin’ out like this. Always figured it’d be a fight or a fall. One way or t’other.”

“I know.”

“‘f it had t’be this way, though… ‘m glad it was wi’ you.”

For a small, selfish moment, he was almost glad that Sabbat couldn’t see his face. Not because he thought the assassin would mock him for the tears, but because, if he didn’t know that Archer was crying, all he had to worry about was himself.

*And I’d rather you save all your strength, all your heart, for keeping yourself breathing.*

“Do you…” He swallowed, fighting back the shake in his voice. “Do you want me to unbraid your hair for you?”

“Aye,” Sabbat said, quietly, after a moment. “‘d like that.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 15/09/2026

#WIPSnips | exterior Back into the rescue mission in Fire in the Sky (so 'ware spoilers at the link), and Viola's attempting to break into the temple of Ashkenta (for completely legitimate reasons, to be fair) ( saranadosfiction.com/2025/07/19/f... )

Not a problem for right now, anyhow. Right now, she needed to get off the street before someone noticed a wolf where they weren’t expecting one and started asking awkward questions.

*Or shooting awkward bullets*, the back of her mind added, unbidden. *Especially since we still don’t know what the one that went through your leg was coated in, or why someone out to assassinate Avebury was carrying anti-werewolf ammunition.*

The thought made her leg ache worse, which was another good argument for getting inside sooner rather than later.

*And for staying four-footed as well, given it’s a lot easier to get around on three legs rather than one.*

Was going to make it harder to work the latch, given the lack of opposable thumbs, but she’d had plenty of practice during Amelia’s childhood – her baby sister had taken the rule about not locking herself in rooms to heart, but *latching* herself in was apparently a completely different matter – and the looming threat of the Sinnlenst was an excellent incentive to get it right first time.

*Alright. If it’s the standard kind of latch on an exterior door, a nudge in the right place should-*

*There!*

The door jumped in its frame, just a little, and then swung very quietly open to reveal a dark hallway lined with doors, a dark-lantern and a collection of cloaks hanging on the wall… and a determined-looking priest with a candle in one hand and a drawn sword in the other.

*…Crap.*

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 14/09/2026

#WIPSnips | month Perfectly reasonable kind of question to ask your best friend. Perfectly normal and platonic to get a sudden spike of jealousy at the idea of him being romantic partners with/having sex with someone else. Absolutely nothing going on here. ( saranadosfiction.com/2024/02/16/s... )

“Keep forgettin’ y’were in the city rather’n down south afore everythin’ properly started. That where y’met him?”

“Where I- Oh, Philip? Yes. He and I were classmates at the university together, and comrades in the same revolutionary cell. And,” he added, because he had a suspicion that Sabbat had already guessed, and it was better to have the damn thing out in the open before the assassin decided to go ask *Verist* about it, “lovers. For a few months.”

“Y’wound up fuckin’?” There was an odd edge to the question – something that, if Archer didn’t know better, he’d almost have taken for jealousy.

*Careful. The last thing we need is the two of them at each other’s throats – or, more likely, Sabbat either stabbing Verist or, possibly worse, deciding that he doesn’t trust him enough to consent to having him work on this damn ritual.*

“I suppose it would have been too much to ask for you to have phrased that in *any* other way.” *Not least because there’s every possibility his son’s about to walk back into the room, and I’ll be damned if I’m having this conversation in front of him.* “And yes, I believe that’s what I just said. For a few months, during the height of the Revolution, until we realised that we made better friends than we did partners.” *And that neither of us were about to die tomorrow. There’s a reason for the tradition of short-term partnerings on the warpath, after all.*

“An’ since?”

“Not since. There’s not been anyone since then.” *And you know as much, since you shared half those years with me.* “Why the sudden interest?”

Sabbat scowled. “What, I ain’t allowed t’be curious now?”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 13/09/2026

#SundaySnips | spice Back at the start of Silver in the Ashes, and Sabbat waking up in Archer's bedroom after a nightmare ( saranadosfiction.com/2021/04/03/s... )

He gasped, drawing lungfuls of cool, spice-scented air until, finally, his breathing settled into something close to normal and he was able to roll over onto his back, one hand going instinctively to his razor while the other, half-unwillingly, landed on the lid of the box resting on the bedside table. It didn’t move under his touch this time, thank fuck, but there was an unsettling warmth to it, as though it’d been lying in full summer sun for a couple of hours rather than in a dark room in the depths of winter.

*Fuck this.*

He wanted the sixdamn thing gone. Even the lack of pain wasn’t worth this.

*Still ain’t letting Archer burn it, though. Least until we know how the fuck to break that binding. Otherwise I’m fair fucking certain that doesn’t end anywhere good.*

Problem was, none of the paths he could see out of this ended anywhere fucking good. Closest to a workable solution was Archer’s friend somehow finding a way to break the binding and destroy the box, and even then he’d likely end up laid up for a month once the injuries Caine’d inflicted on him reasserted themselves.

*Fuck that. Fuck this whole fucking situation.*

He sat up, hissing out a breath as a jolt of pain shot through his spine, and glared irritably around the room. Unlike his own approach to his garrett back at the Daggers, Archer’d taken the time to decorate his lodgings, which meant the walls were hung with a mixture of tapestries, blankets and paintings – pretty much all of ‘em either religious iconography or seascapes, though there were a couple of paintings that Sabbat reckoned must be landscapes of Efir (either that or they’d been painted by someone who couldn’t colour snow properly and couldn’t draw a tree to save their life).

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 13/09/2026

#WIPSnips | distract Fire in the Sky, so 'ware spoilers at the link, and Sabbat's just sent Viola and Fest off to continue the rescue mission while he stays behind to stall Caine ( saranadosfiction.com/2025/06/07/f... )

$*Then, logically, means* we *need to go up.* Wasn’t the best plan, not least because it’d put his head and hands level with Caine’s boots for long enough to risk a staved-in skull or a brace of fractured fingers, but between that and letting the bastard get eyes on where Cervanso and Fest were headed, that was a chance he was going to have to bloody take. *Before he realises there’s only one target down here, not three, and gets interested in where the other two’ve fucked off to.* The climb back up the wall was easier than it’d been the last time, the more so because he was getting used to his new strength (and that was something he wasn’t going to think too hard about, because that meant he’d have to think about getting used to everything *else* that’d come along with it, and if he started trying to work through that while he was half a breath away from a proper fight, he’d get his head kicked in for being distracted and he’d fucking deserve it). *Get up there, get the bastard’s attention, see how evenly we’re matched this time round. Get the impression he ain’t going to be expecting much in the way of a challenge, so let’s see if we can fucking* use *that.* No sign of Caine lurking at the top of the wall, which only meant he wasn’t arrogant or stupid enough to let Sabbat see him. *If we can hear his heartbeat, though…* Then Caine could hear *his* and that’d kill any attempt to turn this into an ambush. *Don’t focus on that. He’s big, and, if that ruck in Steepside’s anything to go by, he ain’t much for hiding. Use your fucking* eyes.$

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 12/09/2026

For all I definitely want to go back and do a fairly heavy editing pass on Blood on the Snow once I've finished Fire in the Sky (for worldbuilding reasons if nothing else), I'm still very pleased with the opening. (And, if that's piqued your interest: saranadosfiction.com/2018/05/19/a... )

“I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to wash up *before* you invite me in,” Archer said. He looked around the garret, trying to find something to focus on that wasn’t Sabbat’s face – or Sabbat’s shirt, or Sabbat’s hands, or, in fact, literally any part of Sabbat whatsoever. “And, while I’m on the topic, I distinctly remember the phrase ‘quietly and subtly’ being mentioned at several points in proceedings.”

The assassin grinned, the lopsided expression rendered utterly ghoulish by the mask of gore. “An’ who’s sayin’ it wasn’t quiet? Or subtle, fer that matter?”

“The amount of Caine’s blood you appear to be wearing, for a start.”

“I slit his fuckin’ throat, Archer. That ain’t exactly the kind of thing y’do without gettin’ your hands dirty.”

Archer closed his eye, fighting back the sudden and unhelpful urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. “I’m aware of exactly how much gore a severed artery tends to produce, yes. Which is why I was assuming you’d use a method which *didn’t* involve you traipsing back across half the city looking as though you’d just butchered a sacrificial ox.”

“Din’t ‘traipse’ anywhere,” Sabbat retorted, sounding somewhat offended. “Used the thieves’ roads.” The floorboards creaked, and there was the sound of cracking ice, followed by a splash and a hiss of indrawn breath. “Besides,” he added, after a minute, “ain’t as though anyone in Steepside gives a shit.”

Which, Archer had to admit, was true. It also wasn’t what was worrying him. “That’s not the point and you know it. You’re getting careless.”

“-th’fuck’s that supposed t’mean?”

*You know full well what it’s supposed to mean*, Archer thought, irritably. Out loud, he said “Precisely what it sounded like. That was sloppy work.”

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