The Lanternglass of Eirenfall

I liked the premise — glass that holds sound is a lovely concept — but the excerpt left me wanting more depth in places. The imagery is strong (the kiln, the red crescents on Kellan’s palms), yet the core conflict feels familiar: a young artisan versus a villainous guild. The Sunder Guild’s idea of caging sound is chilling, but they’re introduced as a shadowy antagonist without much specificity. Who are they really? Why do they cage voices? That motivation could make them more than a plot device. Pacing-wise, the opening luxuriates in atmosphere, which is beautiful but slows momentum. I was eager for a scene that pushes the plot forward — perhaps the listening-bird in action or a direct confrontation with the Guild. Also, some secondary characters (Sera, Bram) felt a touch archetypal; a few unique quirks would deepen them. Overall: promising worldbuilding and lyrical writing, but I’d like stronger stakes and clearer antagonists to lift it out of trope territory.

Concise, sensory, and surprisingly affecting. The excerpt sets up a vivid urban-fantasy premise — crafted glass that holds song is a brilliant, tangible metaphor — and the author leans into texture: the kiln’s orange flare, the pipe in Kellan’s hands, the way Sera’s voice hooks on a high note. I appreciated the small, specific beats (Bram’s pine-tar scent, the knobby hands, the knuckle-tap) that ground the magic in craft. Pacing here feels deliberate but not slow; we get a sense of routine and stakes quickly: the Sunder Guild cages sound, the Night of Lanternsongs is threatened, and Kellan has the skill and courage to push back. The copper listening-bird and the ragtag crew promise fun ensemble dynamics and possible moral grey areas. If anything, I want more of the city’s politics and guild structure, but that’s a good problem — I’m invested and curious. Solid worldbuilding and voice. I’d pick this up for the premise alone.

Short and effective: this excerpt nails atmosphere. The sensory detail — the kiln’s warmth, the market’s tinkling voices, Bram’s gravelly speech — creates a believable, lived-in Eirenfall. The line about annealing glass so it “would remember sound without cracking under nostalgia” is a beautiful bit of worldbuilding that also encapsulates the emotional core. Kellan is portrayed with economical gestures (pipes, scarred fingers) yet feels sympathetic, and the threat from the Sunder Guild frames a clear conflict. I’m particularly intrigued by the interplay of craft and music; there’s real thematic depth here about preservation versus possession. Would read more.

Okay, I’ll be honest — I rolled my eyes at another young-artist-saves-the-city hook, but wow this one charmed me into shutting up. Kellan’s hands, the kiln, the red crescents — so tactile, I could smell the tar and taste the salt air. Sera’s singing? Perfect. Bram tapping the globe like he’s checking a pulse? Chef’s kiss. The aesthetic hits: canals that breathe, lamps that hold memory, and that copper bloody listening-bird (yes please). The Sunder Guild is suitably villainous in a way that makes you want to band together with a ragtag crew and smash jars. I love the idea of the Night of Lanternsongs — it’s cinematic and emotional, and the excerpt teases the stakes without giving everything away. Stylistically, it’s lush without being purple. The story feels like a slow-burning bonfire: warm, bright, and ready to roar. Can’t wait to see the lanterns lifted and the city sing again. Bring tissues. 😊

I fell in love with Eirenfall from the very first paragraph. The way the city is described by sound — boats, gulls, carts — is so tactile that I could almost feel the damp stone underfoot. Kellan is a quietly heroic protagonist: his scarred fingers shaping a globe of river-ice glass, the red crescents on his palms, and his reverence for sound made me root for him instantly. I especially loved the scene where Master Bram taps the warm globe and says, “You will know when it is done because it answers you.” That line gave me chills. The copper listening-bird is such a clever device (visually and thematically) and the ragtag crew has genuine chemistry — Sera’s careless singing, the kiln’s human warmth, the conservatory lamps — all of it breathes life into the story. The Sunder Guild is a chilling antagonist: the idea of caging voices into jars is haunting and raises real stakes for the Night of Lanternsongs. The prose balances lyricism and clarity, and the worldbuilding (glass that remembers sound!) is original and resonant. This felt like a story about making art louder and more public — reclaiming what’s been silenced. I can’t wait to read more and see how Kellan’s music reshapes the city. Highly recommend for fans of urban fantasy with heart and craftsmanship.