[QCrit] INTENT & VIGOR – adult fantasy – (76K, 2nd attempt)

Hi all! Here’s my second attempt at a query. Thank you so much to those who commented on the last one, I ended up changing it a lot. You can find it here for reference if interested:

Any thoughts are appreciated. Thanks!

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[PERSONALIZED INTRO]. I'm seeking representation for my adult fantasy novel, “INTENT & VIGOR.” Complete at 76,000 words, it's a standalone work with series potential. Fans of Shelley Parker-Chan’s “SHE WHO BECAME THE SUN” and R.F. Kuang’s “THE BURNING GOD” will appreciate its dark themes of fate and its unreliable narration.

Rakhas has always told himself that he’s fine with living in the shadow of his brother’s divine selection. He’s convinced himself that he too could earn the same blessing from their patron deity, if only he were willing to become as obsessively devout and terminally dull as his brother. Surely, even the clairvoyant powers that elevate his brother to the status of a holy warrior of their people can’t make up for a life bound to joyless reverence.

However, when zealots devoted to an opposing deity attack their village, Rakhas and his brother are forced to flee the only home they've ever known. Haunted by the guilt and grief for those left behind, and looking for answers, Rakhas now begins to find genuine comfort in their patron's teachings under his brother’s guidance.

The brothers flee to a city said to be a haven for their people, one where the words of their mystical patron influence every facet of life. However, as they settle into their new surroundings, they begin to notice unexplainable discrepancies in their memories, ones which the city's inhabitants seem oddly reluctant to acknowledge. Furthermore, the zealots that attacked their village are on the march again, closing in on the brothers’ newfound sanctuary, intent to finish what they started.

During my day job, I work as a mechanical engineer in the development of the next generation of nuclear reactors, but have always had a passion for storytelling. For the past four years, I have had a part-time job as a professional Dungeon Master for D&D campaigns. Getting people to pay me for a service that most offer for free has required me to learn how to tell marketable and engaging stories, which I believe has transferred to my skills as an author.

Thank you very much for your consideration, I have the complete manuscript available upon request. I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

[MY NAME]

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300 words:

I drunkenly sauntered down the alleyway, intent to relieve myself of my evening beverages. If I was going to come to the Auroran side of town to drink, it only seemed fitting that the fine wine should make its exit here too—far too good for the slums.

As I squared up against the cobblestone wall, a voice sounded out behind me. “Hey, Demon boy!”

“Shit,” I muttered, hastily retying my breeches.

Taking a moment to plaster on a smile, I turned to see three young men in their early twenties framed by the alleyway's entrance. The dim moonlight highlighted their Auroran features: light-brown skin a shade paler than mine and eyes distinctly rounder.

“My dad said Vesprans burn if you splash holy water on them,” the middle one sneered. “Wanna go to the Dawnbringer's temple and test that out?”

“A generous offer, my friend, but only a myth I'm afraid,” I replied, trying to maintain a cheerful tone. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be on my way.”

I tried to step past them, but they stood their ground, obstructing my way. I paused and looked them over, my best attempt at a disarming smile still on my face. “How about we get to know each other,” I said, extending a hand. “I’m Rakhas.”

They eyed my outstretched hand as if it were a coiled snake.

“Right,” I muttered, retracting it. An awkward tension enveloped us, punctuated only by a chilling breeze that snaked its way through the alley. I cupped my hands and blew into them for warmth.

“Demon magic!” one of the boys yelled, pointing at my raised hands.

“What? No, that's not how it—” A sucker punch to the jaw cut short my protest. Reeling, I barely caught my footing when a second punch slammed into my gut, causing me to double over in pain.