He waited. He was still as a great willow: his limbs gently swaying as branches in the faint suggestion of wind. So he wasn't really still, but he tried to be. That was all he had done in this life, tried. Tried to be a better son. Tried to be a better god. And now, he tried to be still, but even that he couldn't muster.

The shadows chittered. They were small and long whips of inky darkness. Like snakes they coiled around him, welcoming him into their domain. There was a warmth to them. A warmth that Obsidian had never known before. A god was not supposed to like shadows. Obsidian dipped his neck low to the ground, his labored breath the only sound that could be heard in the Void. He fixated on it, focusing his eyes and his mind on the darkness. It was a warped sound, an awful, heavy sound. It was his pain. The pain of an abandoned god. The pain of a rejected god. And the pain of a dishonored son.

The shadows did not reject his pain. They drank up his tears, they coaxed his jarring breath. They gave lift to his wings and showed him his new realm.

A god doesn't indulge in shadows. Obsidian whispered to himself as the Void unraveled beneath him. A god is a being of light. That was his father's grating voice now.

Obsidian slowed. He finally stilled. He supposed he wasn't a god then, not anymore.

Chapter 17: The Priest of Prism [Excerpt]

The priest watched the gem dragon disappear, aware of the hurt in his eyes. He wouldn’t have said he approved of Prism’s actions, making a deal with Death wasn’t smart, but he did understand the god’s predicament. Perhaps that’s why he sighed in relief as Fossil began to vanish, he could not tolerate anger towards his god, not when it wasn’t Prism’s fault. The words carried a weird tune in his heart. His god. The priest almost smiled. Equinox isn’t my god. Tanzar felt the need to remind himself, for even with the gems of Prism adorned on his body he had a hard time remembering that.

I do not serve Equinox. Tanzar released his breath, repeating the words over and over in his head as he strolled over to the next church. The cobblestones were cold underneath his claws, but they would not crack. They had been weathered down long ago from usage by the gem dragons, and had evolved -in a manner of speaking- to tolerate the pressure now. It could have been the influence of magic, but regardless, the stones did not break under his feet.

He looked around, wondering how else the kingdom had been influenced by magic.

Certainly there was the fact that all gem dragons were reliant on it, and that the gem fruit needed it to grow, but there were more subtle applications for it too. Tanzar’s favorite was the illusion magic provided. Such a simple concept that the usage of magic itself wasn’t necessary in the slightest- merely the concept of it did its job. When the rest of the world thought we were strong. Tanzar snorted, That was when magic was at its peak. Before the fire dragons had been allowed into our city. Before Firestorm had the idea to overpower us. When the kingdom of the gem dragons was only a myth.

Not a very good one. The god’s voice came to him. As the priest to Prism, it wasn’t uncommon for the god to pay him visits. They had started when Prism had died and had gotten bored of the realm of shadows.

Taking advantage of our connection, are you? Tanzar frowned, now wasn’t a good time for the god to be here. I just saw your incarnation. He looked like he could have used your help.

He has the crown. The god would have shrugged had he physically been there. That is the most help I can offer him.

He could use your guidance. Tanzar stared at the other church in his field of vision, dusting his robes off as he walked through the doors in his human form. He chose today.

It was a recurring topic of conversation between Tanzar and the priests that had recently been introduced to the original Prism. More of a bet really, whether or not Prism the prince would choose between his duties as a god or his natural tendency to seek out mortality.

Tanzar had assumed after the upcoming war that the prince would prioritize the comfort his friends provided him most of all, but to his dismay he had been wrong. You remember how you chose. I still wonder why the prince didn’t do the same.

He probably saw where me choosing my loved ones over my divine heritage got me. The god sighed, I do not blame him.

He is mortal. Tanzar drew out his words, hoping the god would consider them. Do not underestimate how important relationships are to them. The last word felt strange in his mouth, which made the priest glower. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was mortal too. He talked like he wasn’t one of them, but deep down he knew the truth.

Tanzar was a priest, and that meant he could never again be a god.

And I’m mortal, which means I can never be one either. The god took Tanzar’s words for consideration. You are right. It will tear him apart, choosing between these two lives. But why then, would you seek out his divine heritage for him? The god saw through Tanzar’s eyes, noticing the building they were in. The church of Equinox. Prism’s tone changed, as though he was frowning, pray tell, old friend, what business could you have here? The god asked with a hint of fear.

Oh, so you do recall the story I told you then, don’t think that I can’t tell when you’re scared. Tanzar huffed, he knew Prism well enough -god or prince- to know the precise changes in his voice that indicated certain emotions. Fear made Prism’s voice rise slightly, as though he were scared, but secretly ashamed to admit it. Which was why it also came with a pause.

I remember how my father used the sword to strip you of your immortality, if that’s what you refer to. Prism rolled his eyes, pettily hoping his words might force Tanzar to traumatically recall his demise.

You remember how I told you that. Tanzar once again put emphasis on his words. If I can relive through that day then it won’t be too hard for me to do it again. He grit his teeth. Luckily I’m here on other business. The priest rolled up his sleeves as he pushed open the heavy birch doors, his hands struggling to support the wood. Unlike the rest of the buildings in the kingdom, the churches had doors of different wood, native from different biomes of the world. There wasn’t any particular reason why, but when the kingdom had first been built, the priests had had enough time on their hands to gather their own resources from wherever they desired and build their churches however they pleased (though they made the churches look the same architecture wise). Tanzar smiled, he missed that world. It had been him and Prism, the priests, and the first gem dragons. Nothing else, except for the primitive life Prism had created in the oceans, which had evolved without the need for intervention.

He liked that world, it had been quieter, and there certainly had been less for him to worry about.

For one thing, his relationship with Equinox then had been less strained. Obviously the god had still punished him for his coup, but that was in the past, and Equinox had been nicer to the priest then, when the crown had first been created and it seemed as though Prism had permanently escaped the shadows. And yet here they were, bringing up old wounds.

Literally. The original Prism murmured, the prince carries the same scar I do.

Tanzar thought of the knot in Prism’s back, where the sword had stabbed him clean through. Yes, I suppose you’re right.

Then why bother bringing up more? Prism pondered.

I could ask you the same, I’m not the one going through the sword’s memories. Heliodor’s eyes narrowed as he met Tanzar’s gaze. The priest gulped, Heliodor was anything if not a nuisance.

Prism’s presence vanished in the priest’s mind, and Tanzar wondered how Equinox would react to him wringing the smug dragon’s neck.

“In the church of Equinox it is rude to talk to other gods,” Heliodor gestured to the crumbled statue of Equinox on the ground, “I believe this is the god you should direct your attention to,”

“Some god,” Tanzar snorted, kicking at a cracked piece of the statue. “But old habits die hard for you, don’t they Heliodor?”

“We are both priests, you should remember that,” Heliodor warned him. His canary yellow gems sparkled in the sunlight, a mute trace of magic echoed off of them. The priest

flicked his tail as he circled Tanzar on the opposite side of the statue, unsure of what to make of him.

“I am obeying Equinox’s law, am I not? Serving the god in which he bound me to?” Tanzar hissed. He knew the words would have little effect on the priest, they hardly had an effect on him if he had to be honest. Though Tanzar served Prism, and would always support him, defying Equinox was still out of the question. There had always been that unspoken thing between the priests, that while they each served a different god, they all served Equinox out of fear of being punished even more. A mockery of magic. Tanzar wished he had been strong enough to fully fight his instinct. Equinox is the god of caesealium, by all regards I owe nothing towards him.

“I do not blame you for serving Equinox,” Heliodor grinned, picking up pieces of the statue and returning it to the podium in the center. “He hold his life in your hands like a bird,” Tanzar forced himself to break free of habit. He hardened his gaze, staring at the priest that served the god he despised. I am Prism’s priest. He reminded himself, half tempted to write it on the walls in Heliodor’s blood. He watched the shameful excuse of a priest before him, the suck up who had betrayed his god.

The priest that had chosen Equinox.

And just like him, Tanzar had a god to choose.

He reached for the statue, pulling the severed head of Equinox's statue and setting it in

front of him. Heliodor watched with a suspicious curiosity. I have made my choice. Tanzar eyed the statue grimly, he would end Equinox’s reign.

“Summon him,” Tanzar said softly. “Just like I have a connection to Prism, I ask you to find yours to him,”

End of excerpt.

Shadowhunter and the Dragons of Rodargon is a YA-Fantasy novel by Victor Garza (myself) directed towards high school students and young adults. It is 105,829 words long and is a good fit for the US today as it focuses on relevant themes such as religion, duty, and desire in a flawed country not dissimilar from America. Shadowhunter and the Dragons of Rodargon is a coming of age story for princess Shadowhunter and prince Prism of Rodargon, gem dragons navigating their obligations to their subjects and their personal motivations, they struggle to rule their kingdom as they make flawed choices and learn the truth about their father. It features a vast array of characters, from gods to royalty to priests, all deadly dragons in a dangerous and magical world.

Synopsis: Shadowhunter, the princess of Rodargon, rebuilds her vulnerable kingdom following a war with fire dragons and the decay of magic after her brother, prince Prism dies. She seeks out her estranged and power hungry father for answers on how to fix her kingdom, finding herself in a much larger and older war than she originally anticipated.

Bio: I (Victor Garza) am a high school senior who spent the majority of lockdown writing and perfecting my novel. I have been spending it out to agents now while also navigating college admissions. I have always loved high fantasy novels, and I have been writing my entire life. I enjoy reading, rain, quiet nights, video games, writing, and chocolate. I am from the Bay Area in California and I am 18 years old. I hope you enjoyed this quick excerpt from my novel, and I'd be happy to keep in touch if anyone from your agency is interested. Thank you for your time.