TevenB

I'll tell ya A-L, your story was very intimidating when i first laid eyes on it. It dwarfs my story. I did read from the prologue to chapter 3 though and it was very good. Other than a few spelling errors, which are very minor, theres nothing wrong with the story. I have learned a lot as well with how you use dialog also. Keep it up!

A-L

thanks! thanks a lot for your comment . I'll be fixing those errors as soon as i get the time.

TevenB

Yeah, no problem! I also forgot to mention i like your imagery. The way you described things made you get a pretty good picture of what the environments are. By the way, i added chapter 6 to my story now, its in the first topic i made of it. Go take a look.

Aaah, i'll just put a link. http://www.writingforums.com/fiction...-extended.html

A-L

I'm about to post chapter 4, its where the 'antagonist' if you will, is revealed to an extent. I hope you enjoy!




Victor lounged generously into a huge chair, blowing black smoke from a grand cigar. His right leg lay across his left and his left arm lay across the back of his chair. A disquieted room of cohorts and associates stretched behind him. But he faced the window. He watched the vast city, as it stretched far as he could see, and even further still.

In the distance he could see the shimmering waters of the Murk, the huge polluted lake, and the docks that spread along it. Monolithic cargo balloons floated from the docks, careless giants of the sky hovering betwixt the concrete and steel giants of the earth, carrying what Victor knew to be more of the cargo that he had ordered from across the lake.

He blew out a series of black smoke rings, his mind far from the demands of the room behind him. He closed his eyes. It was almost as if he could feel it. It was so near. He would have it soon he knew, but the excitement that boiled within him was frightening.

He stroked his chin, with his free hand as he contemplated, and all the while the room behind him grew ever more restless. He tried to calm himself but his excitement continued to grow and he stroked his chin with mounting fervor. Behind him, the room full of assorted peoples, all of whom had relations to Victor in some way shape or form, began to buzz with the makings of light, almost unnoticeable, conversations and the occasional snort of abrupt laughter as someone uttered a joke.

Victor’s sharp mind tried to focus on the goals he had set before him, but his mounting excitement and the rise of irrelevant monologue in his presence prevented him from doing so. His excitement quickly turned to displeasure. His once fervent stroking of his chin slowed down to a leisurely almost thoughtless action, his growing displeasure turned to a sick feeling of encroaching rage.

The black smoke hung low around his head like a thundercloud, as he turned to face the now vivacious council room. The hilarity and mirth ceased abruptly. He stared calmly at the assorted people before him.

“My shipment is coming in soon.” He spoke his first sentence with no emotion. “And this is how you come to a meeting with me?” No one in the room dared to answer the question. “I sat before you, trying to think of ways to address a current issue and how it should be handled, and behind me you can’t even sit in silence.” He took several long draws from his cigar.

The assembled council sat in anxiety, fear was clearly imprinted on their faces, and none were brave enough to voice an opinion. The entire room jumped, as he suddenly waved his free hand. “Leave, all of you, I’ve real business to attend to.” The relief in the room was palpable as the council was adjoined and the councilors stood ready to leave. They all looked at Victor again for his assent. He nodded and his council hastily filed out of the boardroom.

He sat in his chair for a while longer, watching the sun set over the monstrous lake, and the night set in behind the suns descent. Just as the last rays of light had begun to disappear Victor snapped his fingers and the council room faded into darkness.

“When will it arrive, today or tomorrow?” He spoke to no one, but after a fashion he nodded as if he had heard a satisfactory answer from the enveloping darkness. “Tonight you say? Good, very good. Tell me, how soon can it be ready for testing?” A long silence, Victor laughed. “Excellent, then prepare for tomorrow, for I can hardly wait.”



They sat beneath the tall trees, drowned in their shade which saved them from the oppressive mid day heat. The instructor’s monotone voice carried all the way to Bane as he sat farthest away from the group.

“Now I want you all to relax, ease your minds, and find a comfortable position, we are going to be out here for a long while.”
Bane watched as a sea of beige moved about in search of comfort, like a storm driven ocean.

Leaning against the tree trunk, as he was used to, Bane was comfortable enough. Once the motion ceased the instructor continued.

“I want you all too slowly grasp for your unique abilities, it should feel as if you are opening a door.” Bane knew the feeling, and it came to him without effort. The students around him were truly attempting to reach within them, but to Bane they sounded as if they were having a bowel movement.

With his eyes closed he decided to shut out the constipated sounds of the students around him. Instead he focused on what signs of life he could feel. With his eyes closed it was almost like staring into a light bulb, the life around him gave off an almost ambient luminosity, whenever he closed his eyes, and opened his third.

Its pigment was beyond description, he had not the words to describe the exact tincture of life. He sat like this, completely enveloped in the wonders of his abilities. Time was lost, somewhere in between the worlds of human colors and concepts and that where life itself represented by pigmentation.

Some of the life energy glowed brighter than those of others. Some were mere candles flames in the presence of bonfires, and others were even more extreme. Bane speculated if this represented their unique abilities or their sheer power. But he was not quite sure. The intensity of their radiance would fluctuate, as if one moment it were a dismal firefly and the next it would become a magnificent firestorm of luminescence.

He wondered just how his force looked and felt, but despite his efforts to feel for himself, he could feel nothing, he was absolutely blank as if he were a vacuum of life. Curiosity suddenly gripped him, and he reached out towards the trees. Their life felt so much different, so much older and strange. The tree against which he leaned was extremely old.

He didn’t know how he knew this but he could feel something more than that of other beings, it was life but so much, more at the same time. His consumption of the life in the garden had given him an exceptional feeling towards plant life, a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. He rubbed his hand along the trees huge trunk, the rough bark beneath his fingers like rough skin.

Running his hands through the grass he felt the warmth of it, like a warm blanket. Locating the roots of the tree, he ran his hands along them, feeling their life and warmth course their way into the soil. There was nothing like it, this amazing feeling that life gave him. His cursed power was as much a gift as a tool of death.

Distantly he could hear the instructor, as if he were speaking from a mile away. With great reluctance he left his visualization of life behind, as he shut his power back into its place, and opened his eyes. Night had fallen, and the other students were wandering off towards whatever activities their young minds could conjure. The instructor approached him, and held out a hand. Bane took it and stood. He dusted off his beige robes, which he knew would take a time to get used to.

“Thanks,” he said to the instructor whose name he vaguely remembered.

“You did a good job today,” he replied as they walked back towards the main building together.

Bane smiled. “It only appears that way because many of the students here are first timers at using the Art, and I have been using mine for years.” The instructor nodded at that.

“You are a rather advanced student, but there are still things that you could learn.”

Bane stopped walking, and the instructor followed suit, “such as?”

“Well, for one, you would have to learn not to release so much energy when you practice.”

Bane was surprised. “You can feel it?” The shadows played across the instructors face as he nodded. “How, I mean I can feel others but I can’t feel my own. Is that natural?” He nodded once again and put hand on Bane’s shoulder.

“Most students often don’t realize just how much energy they put out or in turn release.” He looked at Bane seriously. “That can be dangerous Bane, particularly for someone such as you.”

“How do you”-Ban interrupted, but his instructor continued to speak.

“I know how to judge people when I see them Bane, I don’t know why you are here and I don’t care, but know you this, there are those that notice when you practice it, you must learn to control and use your power like a knife, slick and quiet, else they will sniff you out like a dog.” The instructor turned and walked away, his black robes billowing around him like shadows, and Bane called after him.

“But can you teach me how?”

He stopped and turned, “I am afraid I will have to, or you will have hounds on your heels.”



Back in his room Bane lay on the bed trying to rest, but he couldn’t. His mind was on the conversation he had had with the instructor. It gave way to a flood of aspects, none of which he liked. “Is it how they found me?” he whispered aloud, as if the shadows that accompanied him knew the answer. Deep down inside he knew it to be the truth.

For the first time, he was glad he had come. He wasn’t sure how long he would have survived in the city if he hadn’t found his way to the institution. He sighed deeply. Oh, but how he missed his home, what a time that had been. The silence, the solitude and simplicity, even the bleak land where he could see for miles, he missed it all.

He missed the sunsets where the sun would fall slowly bathing the land in its orange-red tint, it was like watching it die only to be reborn again come the morning. His orchards, how he missed them so! The oranges, they had been delicious. He missed walking amongst the trees, dousing himself in their shade, especially Bessie. He had watched her grow for years, along with the rest of them. Particularly he missed his long lazy naps.

He could sleep for hours with nothing in mind other then what he would eat for dinner. The walks along his small lake, more like a big pond, but he missed them regardless. The taste of fresh fish every evening, or duck, which was greasy but still pretty good, he had lived so long in his sanctum he had almost forgotten about his past. Almost he had forgotten about the things he had done. Almost he had forgotten that someday he would pay for them. Almost.

He had thought his battles long past, that he could run from what he had wrought, but the death of an old enemy had squandered his chance for peace. Often he thought of why he hadn’t yet died, why he was still living. At times he wished for death, like a lover might a kiss, for it would be the ultimate relief, the world and its sorrows and woes would be gone. He would shed his problems and never worry again, for he would sleep eternally. But, could he actually die?

The question, since the infestation of his power, had plagued him. Had he not conquered death? Did he not hold it within the palm of his hand? Was his body the mere manifestation of death, a soulless husk of skin and bones, tissue and blood, made of bereavement and fatality? What was is the purpose of a man who cannot die? These speculations of thought and theory ran through his psyche, overwhelming him, breaking through the walls that he had built within his mind, shattering who he had thought he was, leaving him a stranger, stranded on a bizarre and far away shore, and then he felt it.

He sat up in bed. Instantly he thought of what he had felt within the Pillars that tremendous power, so beyond his means to understand. But he knew this to be different somehow. It was less, or perhaps not as prominent, as what he had felt before, but still the force of it struck Bane with bone jarring force. Whatever it was it moved, and Bane could feel it, and he was damn sure that his instructor could as well.

It was far to the east, and Bane could feel its presence like a distant thunderstorm, and without a doubt in his mind he knew that it was coming. He stood from his bed and walked towards the window. It afforded him a view of the city beyond the grounds. “What are you?” He asked to the darkness, no one answered.

A-L

Continuation



Victor lounged across a sofa, his head resting on the arm rest, with his limbs stretched out, taking up all the available room. He was swathed in a plume of dark smoke, which issued from his cigar. A magnificent room stretched out before him. Lush carpets brought in from the south, an antique time scale hung from the wall, periodically calling dates and times before reverting to the appropriate one, charts of every reverence called the walls home. Thick furs of beast unknown to even Victor hugged the floors close. Gaseous orbs floated about in the air giving off radiant yellow light, a mural was painted across the ceiling, and its pictures depicted a battle almost as old as the city itself.

He looked up at the dark figures, in spite of the light cast by the orbs, and he figured they were meant to be that way. The mysterious piece of artwork would have terrified lesser men, but Victor was only fascinated.

He noticed what could only be the Pillars within the mural and this caught his interest. Swathing darkness hovered over them, like thunder clouds ready to weep rain and shout thunder, yet as imposing as it was, it was absolutely enthralling. There was something within the work of art that he could not quite put his finger on, but it drew him.

His eyes scanned across the vast ceiling and with a hunger, his mind devoured the images, and after a time they began to come together, moving as if they were actually alive. Victor knew that something had happened but he couldn’t and wouldn’t strip his eyes away, the mural’s images blurred together and he was seeing more than just a painting, but an actual story.

Suddenly he was hearing voices, feeling people move and brush past him, and then he was seeing them as if he were within the mural, fighting their battle. He closed his eyes and let the images completely envelop him.
The plains of the Pit stretched out before him, engulfed in twilight. Shadowy figures moved about him. They moved oddly, as if stiff and old, as they seemingly pulled themselves from shadow to shadow, merging with each patch of shade. In the distance the Pillars stood proud and prominent. Thunderclouds brewed over them, growling in their dismay.

Millions of the creatures moved about, stretching from shadow to shadow. Their numbers stretched for as far as Victor could see and higher than he could count. Their ever forward march was painfully slow and consistent. Then slowly the sun sunk behind the clouds, dissolving the earth into shadow. Then the battle began. He hadn’t seen the massive army of government troops behind him, but there they were their war masks and armor glistening in the darkness.

There were horrid screams of untold horror as the last rays of light faded, and darkness set in. Only the scant light cast from glowing orbs allowed Victor vision of what was happening, and he was enraptured. The once stiff and inflexible creatures were now numerous shadowy figures of death, their movements swift and precise, slick and silent.

He could only watch as men were torn apart, and completely engulfed by the savage monsters from the Pit. He took witness of men being dragged into the unknown depths of their own shadows. Fire bombs and incendiaries flew through the air, igniting the night air with fiery explosions, twisting and contorting the shadowy figures only to have them reappear and tear into even more victims. Blood ran dark and thick over the desolate ground, nourishing it in ways the rain never had. Victor watched as even the soil drank its fill. Gunshots were fired, ripping into the darkness and shredding the obscure assailants.

Explosions tore apart the soil blowing debris into the air, spheres of conflagration were sent careering through the lines of the opposing force, and the white heat of the flames seared the earth and made the air crackle with their intensity. Yet still the vast army refused to give way and only proceeded further. Thousands of soldiers lay torn open, their entrails flooding from their bellies, their arms and legs broken and twisted in brutal positions.

Groups of soldiers ran into the fray firing automatic rounds that exploded on contact, but Victor watched in sheer fascination as one by one they were swept into the air and eviscerated, their entrails falling from the sky like confetti.

In spite of the military effort, the battle was becoming completely one sided, with almost every casualty being that of a human. It was as if death had come amongst the living, wielding a cleaver. To watch the horror unfold was sheer ecstasy to Victor, who walked amongst the dead and dying, completely unnoticed yet captivated by the carnage that surrounded him. The sheer scope of the violence sent his heart racing.

Victor knew that the end was near, the human forces were dwindling and inadequate compared to the greater power of the shadowy figures. Despite the mighty efforts of the human military, the battle was coming to a horrid conclusion, and then the wizards came. But just as he watched a furious discharge of electricity shred the Pit dwellers into fluid patches of shade, he was dragged suddenly from his reverie and thrust back into his own body, where he lounged upon the sofa. The darkness receded from his eyes as if he were awakening, and before him stood the Watcher.

Victor had never seen such a man before, if the Watcher could even be considered a man, or anything even remotely similar. He was mid-sized shorter then Victor who was a near head taller than he, but his well tailored suit did little to hide his powerful build. His neck was perhaps as thick as one of Victor’s thighs, and his hands were enormous. A barrel chest pressured his suit jacket near to bursting, and his arms were about as thick as a tree trunk.

His physique, although impressive, was nowhere near as imposing as his eyes. It was like staring into pools of copper surrounded by a lake of black diamonds. Victor always imagined him as a bull whose horns weren’t visible but this only made him all the more deadly.

Victor looked up at the Watcher, not quite prepared to meet those eyes. Victor feared no one, but the Watcher always put him on edge, like a cat with its hackles up. He wasn’t sure but he always got the feeling that there was a lot more to this being in human flesh than met the eye, his very aura seemed to take up all the available space within the room. It was like being asphyxiated by his presence alone.

Finally meeting those eyes of solid mineral he stood tall before the shorter man, letting his own power emanate from within, pressing against the ever salient figure that was the Watcher.

“Victor! Your presence is ever welcoming within my humble abode. Please tell me what it is that I can do you for?” The Watcher’s eyes scanned Victors face hungrily, as if he would devour him whole. Victor gazed into the eyes of the Watcher and decided to make his visit brief, because at the moment he was thinking of better things then trading blows with the Watcher and his consistent witticism. Talking with the Watcher was ever a dangerous occurrence, it was like dancing on glass, and one had to be very precise indeed in order to prevent being cut.

“As much as I would love to sit here and so eloquently battle you with the marvelous intellect that I possess, I at present have neither the time nor the patience to trade blows with you so to speak. But instead I have come to ask of you a favor.”

“Ah,” the Watcher bounced back, “and what might that be?” He seemed to float more than walk was he took a seat in a large chair not far across the room. Victor thought him a bull with astounding grace.

“You know of what it is that I speak you needn’t play stupid with me.”

“Do I?” The watcher feigned sincere surprise at the accusation. “Well, if you think I know of what is you’ve come to ask of me then why did you come?”

Victor quickly grew angry yet he kept his fearsome temper in check.
“I have come to ask that you wouldn’t intervene with my already blooming plans.” Those eyes came up slowly to meet his own, and even from this distance he could detect the danger in that gaze.

“Victor, you poor ignorant boy, I saw of your plans before you even pieced them together. Had I the desire to prevent such an occurrence then I would simply have intervened. But seeing that I did not you should count yourself lucky that I consider your company in some regards pleasant, otherwise I would have seen to it that your whorish mother had died before a thing such as you could even be thought of, let alone brought into this world.” He paused and then continued stoically. “So, you should be far more grateful of just who you are dealing with, I have granted you more than, by any means, you deserve.”
Victor shook with controlled rage, but he knew that to kill the Watcher, were it possible, would only play against him, so he asked stupidly. “So you will not intervene then?”

He looked at Vincent pityingly.
“Of course not, but you are drawing your line ever closer.”

“What do you mean?” queried Victor. His voice full of the utmost loathing the Watcher answered.

“My brother, he watches closely from across the Murk, and I am afraid that his power runs deeper than you or I know.” Victors mind went into a spiral.

“What do you mean? You told me you had him under control!” The Watcher closed his eyes as if pained.

“I did for a time, but I am afraid that his influence in the affairs of wizardry, sorcery, and all forms of magic has grown somewhat, and he has made some rather powerful friends.”

Victor howled in rage, but he quickly regained control. “How could you not have foreseen this? I cannot allow them to get involved, at least not yet.” The Watcher reopened his eyes and a fury red glow made itself eminent from the center of his horrifying eyes.

“I will handle my brother, but you must do what is necessary, do not allow anyone to know anymore of your plans, my brother though not as talented as myself is still quite adept at finding things that he shouldn’t.”

“Is that not why they call him the Revealer?” The Watcher gave Victor a murderous look, and then asked.

“Seeing that I’ve already agreed not to intervene in you operation, may I ask where it is be to staged?” Victor smiled devilishly.

“The poor district,” replied Victor still smiling as he placed his cigar in his mouth.

“The poor district, really? I wonder why?” queried the Watcher. Victor looked at him, as he drew deeply from his grand cigar.

“No one notices when the poor die, it’s really the best I could do under our circumstances. Plus, it provides for marvelous experimentation as to how efficient my new weapon is, in truth I think I'll be doing the city a favor.” The eyes of the Watcher glowed brighter.

“Ah, I see.” He closed his eyes, and then reopened them suddenly. “But it appears that it has already started.”

Victor blew a magnificent smoke ring. “So it has.”

TevenB

Lol yet another intimidating post, very well done. I am really interested in your story so far. Keep it coming!

Do you usually write this stuff as you go, or is it all already done? Because if you make it up as you go you have a pretty damn good imagination.

Check back on my story, i already added chapter 7 and will be adding chapter 8 come morning hopefully.

A-L

Thanks i'll be checking out your next installment as soon as you post .

TevenB

You going to post more? Cant wait! By the way, i sent you a message!

writer_87

Hey there. I'm with TevenB on the intimidating comment. Very nice story and I love the characters! Dont think there's any critique i can give thats not already been posted but keep up the good work and please keep posting please!

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A-L

Thanks you guys, i'll post some more very soon.

A-L

Riel awoke abruptly, his heart hammering in his chest and his sheets clinging to his sweaty body. He looked over at his wife Nia who also lay awake. Neither of them needed to speak to the other to know that they shared an overpowering sense of horror.

Both he and his wife stood from the bed at the same moment. The house was silent except for the drumming of Riel’s heart in his ears, but other than this he heard nothing, which was utterly impossible. In a city like the Metropolis night was merely a passing of time until day began again, the city never slept.

He went to the window, and his wife Nia peeked through the other one. They were both horror-struck by what they saw. Before their very eyes lay thousands of dead bodies in the street before their home, it was as if the entire sector had been butchered and thrown like so much trash before their house.
His heart beat faster in response to his shock. Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Bodies were strewn everywhere as if they had died where they stood. Some hung from windows, others lay face first in the doorway to their homes having died before they could even leave their homes, some lay atop one another in piles as if having fallen in clusters. The dead were everywhere, lying along the cobblestone walk, dead leaning against light poles others with their lifeless limbs wrapped around a lover or perhaps significant other.

Nothing moved and nothing lived. Before the married pair was the reapers masterpiece, a frightening décor of the dead.
Suddenly the pair heard what could only be the sound of footsteps against stone. It was the sound of something alive. Riel and his wife dropped from the window in unison, but both peeked over the sill in order to see what it was.
A moment later they had their answer. A man who looked as if he were running from hell itself sprinted up the street, a look of desperate fear and complete terror contorted his features. Riel wanted to say something to him, but his mouth wouldn’t open. He wanted to shout and cry and tell the frantic looking man that refuge was only across the street. Yet he couldn’t open his mouth, it wouldn’t move.

The pervading feeling of death was too strong and against his own will he remained silent. He just hoped that the man would make it to wherever he was running too, but Riel had a feeling that his death was imminent. Just as this horrible premonition ran through his mind the running man fell to the ground in mid stride. At first the pair thought that he had tripped over the many dead bodies, but when he did not rise they knew different. The running man had died.

Both Riel and his wife Nia stopped breathing. Although they couldn’t see it they knew that whatever had done this was near. Through the darkness they grasped hands, knowing that the end was near. Still peaking over the window sill they watched as a figure appeared. It was iridescent and seemed to remain half-way between a fully solid figure and that of smoke.
In and out of existence it appeared, at first it was near, and then it was far. Every so often when the being was solid enough the pair could distinguish features. They were those of a man, but gaunt as if no nourishment had ever touched its features.

Its hair was long and dark it seemed to be as one with the shadows, as if its length were determined by the cast of the light. Its eyes were dark and barely discernible, but even at such a distance they pair could tell its eyes reflected no light, they were the eyes of the void, eyes of the Pit, before them stood a demon.

Then suddenly the translucent figure became completely solid, and from its mouth came a long tongue. The two watched in mutual horror as it apparently tasted the air with its tongue. Its entire body shuddered as it licked the air, letting its thick saliva drip to the concrete.

Suddenly it drew its tongue back into its mouth and before either of them could react it popped out of existence. Both let out a sigh of relief. But just as they stood, so did the demon, but right before their very eyes, outside of their window. They grasped hands tighter. Riel could feel energies tugging him towards the demon, which looked at him and his wife with a horrid desire.

“Please, please, just take me, just take me.” Riel begged but the demon didn’t appear to understand or care, it simply shuddered with a revolting excitement. “Please-” Riel tried again but he couldn’t speak, his voice was no longer his and he was falling ever so slowly into those dark eyes to be forever lost. But just as he felt something inside of him begin to tear away from him, he heard the demon howl in an otherworldly frustration, and just as it had come the demon popped out of existence. Sagging to the floor the married couple cried and held each other in their arms.

TevenB

Wow, very intense. I should probably try writing your way for once, its very interesting. I could probably get more description in that way too. But again, short but awesome.

A-L

Thanks! glad you liked it, but its only part of the whole chapter.

Jax1108

I didn't read the whole thing, but what I did read, I liked. It pulled me in! Thats always good to hear right? Now your descriptions were very good, very detailed and you have a nice style. Since I was 12 I wrote with a TON of detail. Of course back then I tried to cram in every big, adjective I could to a sentence. I have learned and matured since then but my style is the same.
I have been HEAVILY criticized on this forum with my descriptions which, I will say, weren't as detailed as yours. (It's a strange injustice I have been observing for days now. No positive posts for my thread, but tons for others that were less...nm) Now, I had to learn to take the criticizm for my benefit, however most of them are opinions. Some are worth listening to. But when it comes to your target audience and your style, no one can tell you its WRONG. There are plenty of very successful authors who take atleast 2 pages to describe something. They are STILL famous.

The advice is to only go into deep, detailed descriptions when it is relavent to something critical (which, excuse me, isn't what is HAPPENING relevant?) and to leave room for imagination. Now the latter I can agree with. Some of the best scenes that come alive in my mind are ones that are mildly detailed. But this is ADVICE, not guidlines. There are no rules for expression. I say every once and a while, yes, leave room for reader interrpretation. But most importantly BE YOURSELF.

That being said I enjoyed it, and I was interested. I am sorry I couldn't read it all, for I am at work But you did a good job with the hook! Bravo

Mr Sci Fi

Good job at having a lot of material so far. A lot of writers can't even say that much.

I think it needs a lot of tightening. I noticed too many boring and insubstantial details. It's chock full of "Bane grabbed this and Bane did this and Bane did that." Try to throw more voice into it.

I admit I didn't read the the whole thing, but like others have said, there's potential here. Keep at it.

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"The writer you envy today will probably have reason to envy you tomorrow." - Orson Scott Card