Posted in #BookTours

The Fractured Arcana Universe


Two series, one shattered universe: 

an ancient war that forged magic, 

and the modern invasion that it made possible.




Mother of Trees

Thaumatropic Roots Book 1

Part of the Fractured Arcana Universe

by Steven J. Morris

Genre: Epic Fantasy


A dying goddess. A fractured prophecy. A magicless elf who shouldn’t exist.

Elliah has spent her entire life being told what she is—bereft, wrong, a mistake the world would prefer to correct. Drifting from town to town with a mother who won’t explain why they keep running, she has no magic, no place, and no future. Then a single misstep draws the attention of those who’ve been looking for her, and everything her mother was hiding comes apart.

She isn’t ready for what she learns. But ready was never an option.

Mother of Trees is the thrilling first book in the Thaumatropic Roots epic fantasy series. Enter a world of dangerous magic, ancient powers, and one impossible girl who refuses to stay down.

 

**Get it FREE!**

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Elliah ~ 1

My mother told me many times that all adolescents feel like they don’t belong, but… I really didn’t. So I spent my free time away from other elves, on my own but for the animals… they didn’t understand how broken I was. And I was quite pleased with my current find, so I snarled when a noise behind me scared away the drakeling that had settled in my hands. Black with a pattern of red scales along its spine, its body the thickness of my finger, it took flight with a flurry of thin leathery wings and disappeared behind a massive brown trunk.

“The real ones are much more intimidating,” said an unfamiliar voice.

Time slowed as I tensed to run, shocked that I’d let my guard down so much that anyone had gotten that close. How many lurked behind me? On the outskirts of town, in the thick of the woods near the river, I had expected solitude.

“Stay, Bereft. I am not afraid,” said the voice. His words provoked me.

“No one’s afraid of me,” I blurted. Bitterness stained my words as surely as the pollen of the bloodcups had stained my ragged clothes.

I turned away from the vanished drakeling to focus on the intruder who’d scared it away. A man. No, I corrected myself, someone my age. Someone not quite old enough for adults to consider one of their own, but too old to call a child.

But not Bereft. No other elf shared that with me.

The newcomer was slightly taller than me with a thin frame, his light hair hanging long, wild, and tangled. He was new to the village—I would have noticed an elf with skin so light. I’d heard whispers of him at school. Kethryllia had called him Salt-kissed, and I’d wondered what that meant, but his light skin answered that question. He’d undoubtedly caught whispers about me, heard of my… condition. Bereft. Yet at that moment, I thought only of the hours of coaxing I’d spent to draw the little drakeling into my grasp, and that the stupid elf had scared it away. I wanted to punch him.

“Maybe they should be,” he said, taking a step back, though it would have taken me two leaps to get to him, and he’d have me pinned in one, if he had any skill with magic at all. But I’d prepared a leap already, only not in his direction. As I sprung away, he continued, raising his voice, “And you’re right, they’re not afraid of you.”

I landed with a tree between us. His magic wouldn’t be able to snag me there. Unless he was very good at it.

“They’re afraid of what you represent.”



Continue the Thaumatropic Roots Series

Magic is as natural as breathing in Elliah’s world — except to her. Born without a single spark in a war that runs on it, she has nothing but her will and her refusal to accept the limits everyone else has already decided for her. This is what happens when the world writes you out of the story, and you refuse to leave.

 

Get them:

Mother of Trees

Bones of Cenaedth

Secrets of Deara

Shepherds of Truth


The Guardian of the Palace

The Guardian League Book 1

Part of the Fractured Arcana Universe

by Steven J. Morris

Genre: Urban Fantasy


Magic isn’t real.
Red Hernandez is very sure of that.

She wants a quiet life after Special Forces—just a steady security job at a half-finished Manhattan skyscraper.

But then a sister tower implodes in a way physics can’t explain.
Witnesses report creatures in the smoke.
And something hunts her in the tunnels beneath.

Red wants answers. What she gets instead is an elf with a sword, a troll with a wry sense of humor, and a dwarf who believes every battle requires an audience. They insist an ancient enemy has crossed into our world—and Red becomes an accidental gatekeeper simply because she’s standing on the fault line when it cracks open.

As a hidden war erupts in the shadows of New York City, Red must decide: run from the past that nearly destroyed her… or fight for a world she’s only just beginning to believe in.

A veteran with nothing left to lose.
A threat born of magic and shadow.
A team she never saw coming.

The Guardian of the Palace launches the action-packed Guardian League series—perfect for fans of urban fantasy, modern-world magic, found family, and heroines who refuse to back down.

 

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Prologue

Corpses patterned the ground as far as my eye could see, a patchwork quilt of death.

I stood atop a skeletal tower, overlooking the broken ruins of an ancient civilization, so very far from home. I envisioned the beauty that the soaring arches once held, the bridges between the constructs reaching out with broken arms, buildings leaning against one another like ancient lovers in a final embrace. Crumbled remains powdered the bases of former statues, and, everywhere, all of it was littered with the dead.

Like a phoenix, I stood, bathed in fire. An Angel of Death. Not the Angel of Death—he was an ass.

A part of me wanted to go down and see for myself. Maybe just to make sure… to make sure I had done my job… and killed everyone that used to inhabit that world. The magic I was wielding should have destroyed them all—something inside of me could feel that it had—but I wanted to see it.

Yet I knew that was unrealistic. I didn’t have the time. There were other worlds that needed my infection, and Earth was on my shortlist.

  

Chapter 1

Red – Day 20, Sunday, the day after the attack

“Ms. Hernandez?” a muffled voice called from a distance, accompanied by a gentle rapping on a door. My consciousness registered the interruption as a nuisance and pulled me back under.

What seemed like seconds later, the rapping came again, more insistent. “Ms. Hernandez.”

Ms. Hernandez was my mom… why were they bothering me?

Then a scraping sound, and an alarmed voice. “Ms. Hernandez! Are you okay?”

Some scrambling, some grunts, more scraping… shit, I was going to have to wake up. Why couldn’t they just let me sleep?

I tried to answer, but my throat was dry and nothing came out. Coughing, I attempted to sit up, not wholly returned from my trip to dreamland. “I’m here. I’m okay.” Was I though? I wasn’t sure.

I was in my flat. Not the desert. My door was partway open, and a slightly overweight man had paused in the act of pushing his way in. I recognized him, but his name escaped me. Swinging my legs off my cot, I did a quick modesty check. I was fully dressed, though rather tragically, in some semblance of civilian fatigues—muddied, disheveled, and a little bloody.

The reason came screaming back to me. There had been creatures, unearthly monsters, in The Palace. They’d done things I could not explain by any of the rules I knew. And they’d beaten the hell out of me and then patched me back up in a matter of seconds. I’d blown the head clean off of one of them and fled the scene.

Not my smartest move.



Continue The Guardian League Series!


Earth, through its technological advances, supports nearly eight billion souls; from a cosmic perspective, that makes it ripe for the picking. ‘Red’ Hernandez, trying to put a questionable military life behind her, finds herself caught in the middle of stopping an apocalyptic invasion of Earth. But to do that, she has to figure out who the good guys are, and how she can combat forces in which she does not believe.

 

Get them:

The Guardian of the Palace

Stars in the Sand

We’re Going On An Elf Hunt

The Song Unsung

Get the Box Set Here



Steven J. Morris writes fantasy where magic runs deep and the consequences run deeper. By day he’s an engineer and father of three in Austin, Texas. He’s the author of eight novels across two completed series — the epic Thaumatropic Roots and the urban Guardian League — both set in the shared Fractured Arcana universe. Find him at sjmorriswrites.com.

 

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Posted in #BookTours

Where Dragons Are Captured


How much would you wager to save a dragon?

Your safety, your friends, your people?

How about your life?


Where Dragons Are Captured

Where Dragons Are Book 1

by Fran Zuid

Genre: Epic Grimdark Dragon Fantasy Adventure



How much would you wager to save a dragon? Your safety, your friends, your people? How about your life?

Skye, an alitur—elf as the small-minded humans would degrade her—is a gambler hiding in the skin of her enemy to escape capture, her past and her true identity.

However, her fragile safety shatters when she’s caught cheating. Thrown into the corrupt world of gambling, where animals and creatures are pitted against one another for sport, Skye witnesses something she thought long extinct: dragons.

Determined to save and connect with the dragons, Skye is drawn into a web of deceit, loyalty, and love, impelling her to face her past and reclaim her heritage.

With unlikely allies, Skye must confront the soul-devouring priestesses and their ruthless general, One-Eye-Nic, before the last dragons—and her own soul—are lost forever.

This is an enthralling tale of lies, rebellion, and the price of freedom…


**NEW RELEASE!**

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The girl showed up with their tankards and a jug of homebrew. The man’s attention went straight to her cleavage. The hairy man pinched her behind for good measure before tipping her. Skye used the distraction to nick a card from the pack, a prince, hiding it in her coat sleeve. She waited for the girl to leave before dealing. The cards were soft, faded, and stained from nights of gambling.

Skye watched the three players as they scrutinized their cards. ‘Stupid’ smiled, Sid’s left eye twitched. The hairy man downed his tankard of homebrew.

Skye looked at her cards, she had two of pawns and a prince. On the table were a five and a seven of shields, a castle, and a three of pawns. Skye wasn’t sure what ‘Stupid’ thought he had, but Skye was pretty sure Sid had a castle, giving him the highest pair from the table.

Skye’s attention turned to the hairy man. The more she watched him, the more he seemed a ‘Stupid’ and in that case, no threat to Skye. He was only lucky with the previous hand.

Skye had the winning hand if she switched her two of pawns for the prince in her sleeve. ‘Stupid’ started the bets, throwing half his coin in, four silvers. Sid saw the bet and the hairy man added a silver.

She didn’t want to chase away Sid, so she also raised with only a silver coin. Keep it modest, keep it moving.

As the bets evened out around the table, Skye shifted her weight slightly and slid one hand under the edge of her sleeve. A quiet motion, a simple flick. She switched her cards—replacing a dud with a prince. Now she had two.

But just as her fingertips closed over the edge of the second card, a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Steel. Not touch. Not pressure. Just steel.

“That is enough. We know what you are,” a male voice said. “Good call, Jim, you will get your reward. And you,” the man’s grip tightened slightly, “Finn Skylar, just won yourself a meeting with the gambler’s guild.”

Her heart jumped. Breath caught halfway up her throat. The hairy man had a smug cat-smile. He’d caught his mouse.

Her gut twisted. A setup. She shouldve seen it. Shouldve felt it. No wonder he was unreadable—he wasnt here to play. He was here for her. Cold flooded her limbs.

What did they know? That she was a cheater? A woman? An alitur?

Or all three?

She relaxed her face into neutrality, but her mind raced. Could she run? No. Not yet. Too many eyes, too close to the table. No one had drawn steel, which meant they still wanted her alive—questioned, not killed. Yet.

“What? You have nothing to say?” the hairy man–Jim–said. He leaned over and took Skye’s tankard of homebrew and downed it. “Cheers.”

Skye didn’t answer. She reached down, slow and measured, and picked her tricorne up off the floor. Her hat was just fabric—but it made her feel armed. Steady. Like herself.

She rose to her feet.

“I don’t know what this guy told you,” Skye gestured towards Jim, “but I didn’t cheat. I haven’t seen him before in my life.” She truly hoped that was the only reason they were confronting her.

The house-muscle behind Skye chuckled, or that was what she assumed the rumbling noise was.

“We have been watching, and you have an appointment with the gambling guild.”

“No one told me,” Skye said with a shrug.

“I did. Just now.”

Skye looked over her shoulder at the house-muscle looming over her. Tall. Broad shoulders. A scar cut down his right temple, hugging the cheekbone like a crack in old stone. His stance was heavy, but not rooted. A bit off balance. Good.

The short one would be slower, maybe better in a brawl, but easy to outmaneuver. The tall one could be clumsy. The real problem was her coat—it would get in the way if she had to move fast. If she had to fight.

But—

She ran through options. Surrender. Fight. Flee. None was good. She shifted her weight, breath held shallow in her chest.

“Where is this meeting?” Skye asked.

“At the boss’s office, at the pits,” the tall one answered.

Skye scanned the room. No escape. Everyone watched. Waited. Sid had crushed his cards in his hands. Only Jim kept drinking, he found his entertainment for the night.

“I don’t go to the pits,” Skye said.

The tall one rumbled again from behind, “I don’t care, you are going.”

The room inhaled.

Jim smirked at Skye and lifted his tankard off the table. With a flick and a flash of her hand, a knife plunged into Jim’s eye.

Gasps.

The cup fell, and Jim followed. 





Fran Zuid lives in a village on the outskirts of Cape Town, South Africa, with two dogs and four parrots (her personal dragons, without the fire-breathing part—which is a bonus). If she is not submerged in a creative fantasy world, or playing old games, she is fiddling in her garden, sipping wine at a vineyard or conquering a hiking trail somewhere—that is, if her “dragons” allow it.

Where Dragons Are Captured is her debut novel.

 

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Posted in #BookTours

Dragons of Mu


The Eternals, a non-magical woman as the Chosen One, Marfóir, and her best friend join in the battle to slay the most evil dragon on earth who’s plan is to take over the world.


Dragons of Mu

by Pamela Ackerson

Genre: Epic Fantasy Adventure


Drakine is rising. The only hope is the hero no one expected.

One non-magical woman is the Chosen One. Destiny won’t wait. With her fiercely loyal friend, Lottie, by her side, and Blaze’s army behind her, Amy is thrust into a war against the most evil dragon ever to preside over the dragon realm on the Island of Mu. A creature whose heinous ambition is nothing less than total annihilation of the mortal world and complete global domination.

To survive, they must fight the ancient powers and unite the fractured kingdoms. The Island of Mu is burning… and only she can turn the tide. Grab your copy today.

 

**Releases June 26th – PreOrder Now for Only .99cents!**

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She rubbed the back of her head, felt a small lump, and winced. Her head was throbbing. Her knee was yelling at her and now she heard angry, men’s voices.

One of them yelled, “Over there! There she is. Get her!”

Another pulled out a long knife and they ran toward her.

Amy rushed into the woods. Turning around, she could see they were catching up to her.

Up, Amy, up. They won’t be looking up.

She climbed an oak tree as high as she could. Pulling on the long skirt, she squatted on a branch.

The branch felt odd and slithered underneath her. A large, looming face in the shape of a dragon stared at her unblinking.

Holy cr—

The creature put a long claw to its mouth and said, “Shhh.”

Amy took a deep breath. A scream was building inside her but before she could release the ear-piercing screech, she was muzzled by the creature. Her heart jolted as its wing enveloped her and she lost consciousness.

A few moments later, she was gulping for air. Fully expecting to open her eyes and see the hotel lobby, she was stunned to be staring into the eyes of a dragon.

–A dragon, a huge dragon with big, green eyes.

You’re safe.

Amy shook her head. “No. No, I’m not. There’s no okay in this, whatever this is at all. This is crazy. Why is this happening?”

Where did you come from?

She stared at his mouth. It wasn’t moving.

This hallucination was freaking weird. A talking dragon that didn’t move his lips. They’re going to take her away and leave her in the psych ward for the rest of her life.

Her eye began twitching. It wasn’t real. None of it makes sense.

Think, Amy. Dragons aren’t real. How could a dragon talk?

Anything can happen in a hallucination. She repeated to herself. This isn’t real.

Was she dead? Is this purgatory? Her own personal nightmare of an afterlife? Could she have injured herself so badly that she died?

She wasn’t a bad person. It certainly wasn’t in Hades. Well, it better not be Hades.

A talking, psychic dragon communicating with his mind.

Of course, it makes soooo much more sense.

She watched as the men ran into the woods, searching for her.

The dragon spoke in a deep, soothing voice, “Why are you dressed in that garb?”

Amy stared at the huge beast.

The beast’s green eyes penetrated her with a questioning glare.

“A— a party. We were going to a party.”

He looked at the bracelet.

“Someone put them in my shopping bag.”

“Let’s go. We need to get you into normal clothing. I’ll take you to Bev’s.”

Amy started climbing down the tree.

“No, no.” The dragon grabbed her and placed Amy on his back before taking flight.

Amy squealed, inhaled and released another louder scream.

“Stop.” His body jolted. “Your obnoxious squawking is impaling my ears.”

Within a few moments, they soared through the air and flew from cloud to cloud.

Her stomach flipped and she swallowed the huge lump in her throat.

“Ugh, no ups and downs, please.”

He laughed. “No quick drops? You’re the slow-boat kind of person.”

Her heart was finally returning to its normal beat. She was getting comfortable riding on his back and was beginning to enjoy the view.

“Whoa! This is awesome. I never have flying dreams.”

The dragon huffed.

Amy was mesmerized. It was freaking fantastic. The warm heat from the sun and soft air on her face, the flapping of his wings, it was glorious.

She could do this. It was peaceful. He was gliding along and she was euphoric.

Hold on.

“Hold on? No, don’t ruin the moment!”

The dragon took a deep dive. Amy let out an earsplitting shriek and gripped the back of his neck tighter as he gracefully landed on the ground in front of a small, wooden cabin.

He grunted in pain.

“Your fingernails are cutting into my skin.”

“Sorry.” Amy dismounted him like she would a horse.

“You don’t look like you’re sorry.”

She gave him an angry side-eye.

He grumbled, “Go. Tell her I sent you.”

“Um. You want me to knock on a stranger’s door, in the middle of BFE, and tell her a dragon sent me?”

 “We’re not in Egypt.”

She snapped, “What? We’re in the middle of freaking nowhere. That’s what BFE means!”

Ignoring her irritation, he responded, “We’re in Ireland.”

 “Ireland? I’ve never been to Ireland. How am I dreaming that I’m here? I’ve only seen pictures and this in not anything like the pictures.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t have a passport with me!”

She rubbed her forehead. Why would she need a passport in a dream?

“No worries.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll be back in a blink. In the meantime, tell her Blaze sent you.”

“Oh, look. A fairy circle.”

His wide-eyed, incredulous stare gave her pause. He shook his head. “Wow.”

She shrugged.

“I can’t keep up with you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. My mind goes really fast sometimes.” She limped toward the fairy circle.

“What are you doing?”

Amy chuckled. “Making a wish.”

He looked at her like she was growing horns.

“Um, yeah. Make a wish and the fairies will grant it only if they see fit. You have to watch out for all the fairies protecting the fairy circle. You don’t want to step on them, you know.”

Amy stepped back from the circle. “Hello, little fairies. I hope you’re having a pleasant day.”

He harrumphed and walked away.

“Hey, it’s my dream. I can do what I want.”

Amy raised her hand to knock, but never made contact. An elderly woman, in her mid-seventies, opened the door.

“Oh, I thought I heard Blaze’s voice.”

“I’m Amy. He told me to tell you—”

The woman opened the door wider. “Come in. The sun’s going to be setting soon and it’ll be a bit chilly.”

The elderly woman had light hair, dark blue eyes, and a wide, pleasant smile. Her hair was rolled up into a bun tucked on the back of her head. Amy’s memories immediately went to the cartoon with the grandma lady who owned the canary, Tweety.

Amy cautiously entered the house and as she turned to look about, a man rushed through the doorway.

He was an average-looking man except for his eyes. They gleamed an effervescent green. The man’s dark hair was a deep contrast to his light skin.

She never cared for the five o’clock shadow but it did do him justice.

“There you are, Blaze.” She handed him a mug.

“Thank you, Bev.”

“Mark on his way?”

“Soon. He has a few things he needs to take care of before he comes.”

Mark? As in Harlow?

Bev turned to Amy. “What would you like, dear? I’ve got some hot tea on the table or, if it pleases, I can pour another draught.”

“T—”

“She needs normal clothes.”

Amy glared at Blaze. “And who are you?”

“I’m the man who saved your skinny bum and brought you here.”

“And how, pray tell, did you do that? A dragon…” Her voice trailed off.

Bev looked puzzled. “So, she’s not from medieval times?”

“No.”

“She didn’t time-travel here?”

“No.”

Time travel? Amy interrupted, “I can speak for myself.”

“Really?” He snorted. “Go ahead, darling, and explain how you got here.”

“Fine. I was at a party.” Amy flipped her hand in the air. “I tucked the jeweled comb in my wig and the next thing I knew, these men attacked me and I’ve been having this dream or possibly been unconscious ever since.”

Blaze sat at the table. “You’re not unconscious.”

“Then you tell me what’s happening.”

Bev took her arm. “Oh, sweetie, it’s been a day for you, hasn’t it? Sit, relax, and have a cuppa. I’ll get you some clothes that should fit you. We’ll get you all sorted out.”

The concern in Bev’s voice was telling.

Wariness clung to Amy as a hesitant smile tugged at her lips, a stark contrast to how she was feeling.

“I don’t need clothes. I just want to wake up.”

Bev asked, “Wake up?”

Blaze waved Bev’s question off and spoke to Amy, “Somehow, you’ve managed to get two very powerful and magical relics to bring you here. People have gone to war to possess the magical comb and bracelet.”

Amy grunted.

“Those men stole the relics to take over Mu and conquer the magical world. They will not hesitate to kill you for them.”

Amy bit her upper lip, repressing a nervous giggle. “Not ruby-red slippers? Will lightning flash from the jewelry when you try to remove it from my hair and wrist? Do I repeat ‘there’s no place like home’ three times?”

Blaze glowered. “I don’t find your sarcasm amusing.”

She removed the jeweled comb and handed it to Blaze. “Here. Take it.”

Bev glared at Blaze and tapped Amy’s hand. “Blaze can get you back to where you belong and to your party whenever you’re ready.”

“Good.” Amy put her wrist toward Blaze. “I’m more than ready.”

Blaze reached to take the bracelet off her wrist. “It won’t come off.”

Bev put her hand to her chest. “What?”

Amy’s voice shook in panic. “No, no, take it off!”

“It won’t come off.”

“Fine, then I’ll do it.”

She fiddled with the clasp and finally threw up her hands in frustration. “It won’t come off!”

Bev walked over to the cabinet and brought back a bottle of Irish whiskey and three glasses, and said, “It has begun.”

 




Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Wall Street Journal bestselling, award-winning author, Pamela Ackerson is a time traveling adventurer. She was born and raised in Newport, RI where history is a way of life. She lives on the Space Coast of Florida where everyone is encouraged to reach for the stars!

Her literary journey is as diverse and adventurous as the time-traveling escapades she writes about. With a rich tapestry of genres at her fingertips, she weaves stories that span from the wild frontiers of the Old West to the intricate cultural tapestries of Native American history. Her work doesn’t stop at fiction; she delves into the realms of history, self-help, and even marketing, showcasing a versatility that resonates with a wide audience.

Ackerson’s presence on the Space Coast of Florida reflects her forward-thinking approach to writing, always aiming for the next big leap in her storytelling odyssey. Her prolific output is a testament to her dedication to her craft, inviting readers to join her in exploring the vast landscapes of human experience and imagination.

Honest reviews of Pamela’s books are always appreciated.

Absolutely no AI programs were used to create any story she has written.

Thank you and have a good moments day.

 

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City at the Edge of Time


Stuck at the very end of time.

If you love gritty dark fantasy, epic mythical battles, and ancient gods interfering with mortals, you need to check out City at the Edge of Time by Janet and Chris Morris!


City at the Edge of Time

Sacred Band Series Book 5

by Janet & Chris Morris

Genre: Epic Heroic Fantasy Adventure



“An exciting and brilliantly colored sortie . . .” – David Drake

Join Tempus and Niko on the triple shores of land, sea, and eternity . . .
Where a young girl trembles between love and sorcerous obsession . . .
Where a prince’s refusal to admit his flaws makes him a pawn of hell . . .
Where a city of immortals learn that Death has not forgotten it . . .
In the catacombs beneath a warlock’s citadel, swords and courage face the jaws of demons — with a girl’s life and a god’s vengeance resting on the outcome.

 

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A red cloud rising out of the east was borne seaward on a hungry wind that howled like a devil. It was a hot cloud, a wet cloud full of the promise of rain, and yet it shed no drop on the forest below. It spread across the wilderness without end, a cloud like a funnel, a cloud like a waterspout turned on its side.

It crossed the scorched earth between the forest and the city on the coast, low to the ground and howling. Then it arched up like a striking snake, a hissing serpent that ate the sky and reared high over the city’s walls.

By then no one walked the city streets. Everywhere the city’s folk had fled indoors, even from the courtyards of the king. No peltast stirred on the battlements; no sentry held his ground. From within the walls of the palace, men peered out through slits at the unnatural red storm.

Women held each other in their boudoirs, and children sheltered under mothers’ skirts. Noise went everywhere, carried on a wet and flailing wind that made hairs stand up on arms and necks and dogs scramble under sturdy beds to whine.

Macon was in his father’s stables with his sister Tabet when the maelstrom started; and there he stayed, working with the grooms to calm the horses, lest one break a leg rearing and kicking. Among horses, as men, hysteria travels fast.




Don’t miss the rest of the Sacred Band Series!

The Sacred Band of Stepsons series is Homeric and heroic fiction following the exploits of an ancient cavalry unit modeled on the Sacred Band of Thebes. Deftly mixing history, myth, and fantasy, Morris’ Sacred Band of Stepsons live and die in a world where gods are real and magic works — sometimes.

Morris’ accursed cavalry commander, Tempus, first appeared Sacred Band first appeared in the million-selling Thieves’ world shared-universe in 1981. Subsequently, Janet Morris, first alone and subsequently with her husband Chris Morris, take the Sacred Band into their own series of novels, set in the fourth century BCE. Passionate, gritty, lyrical prose and unforgettable characters make this series. Perseid Press Sacred Band novels includes the “Author’s Cut” of the Beyond Sanctuary Trilogy and Tempus, as well as the epic novel The Sacred Band, and The Fish the Fighters and the Song-girl.

 

Find them at Perseid Press



Best selling author Janet Morris began writing in 1976 and published more than 30 novels, many co-authored with her husband Chris Morris or others. Most of her fiction work was in the fantasy and science fiction genres, although she also wrote historical and other novels. Morris either wrote, contributed to, or edited several book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on nonlethal weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and national security topics.

 

Christopher Crosby Morris (born 1946) is an American author of fiction and non-fiction, as well as a lyricist, musical composer, and singer-songwriter. He is married to author Janet Morris. He is a defense policy and strategy analyst and a principal in M2 Technologies, Inc. He writes primarily as Chris Morris, but occasionally uses pseudonyms.

 

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In the Wake of Gods


In the Wake of Gods

The Abyss Borne Gods Book 2

by Kent Priore

Genre: Epic Dark Fantasy



“Kent Priore writes like a natural about the supernatural. American fiction has found a terrific new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland


Standing amidst the destruction of Magistrum, great sorrow and guilt weighs upon Seth as he keeps the memory of his mistake close—to continue his growth, to remain good. A concern which lingers through the birth of his daughter, Persephone, labeled a True Born God by the personification of the White Abyss. And due to the sudden death of her uncle, Persephone’s abyssal powers emerge in a destructive way, tearing a hole through the fabric of the world. Thus, solidifying Seth’s worries of managing his own struggles while being father to a god who resembles his past far too much.

Feeling Persephone’s powerful aura pulsate through dimensions, both antagonistic forces begin pursuing her, wanting to eliminate a threat, and make her power theirs. Alongside these heavy stressors, Seth must also deal with the inevitability of Sasha dying the same mysterious way as the other Guild members.

The Earth devolves into a wasteland as the gods ravish the globe, devouring every human they can find. All the while Seth, Sasha, their daughter, and others lay in hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike back, to resist the will of the Abyssian gods—but can they without sacrificing everything they worked so hard to achieve? And will Seth, so burdened by his past actions, endure this, or will he devolve into the monster he once was…the monster he fears his daughter will also become?

Fans of “Jerusalem” by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath, or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters Among Us.”

 

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The pitch-black night splits apart as two dark clouds go their separate ways. A large full moon looms overhead, filtering its borrowed light through the open window of Persephone’s bedroom.

The young girl tosses and turns, with soft animalistic grunts emerging from her. Gritting her teeth, twitching, flitting about, she whimpers as a large weight festers like cancer within her. A multitude of pressures, cramping with tightness in her tiny chest. Aching for release. A god, trapped in the frame of a small girl.

Tremors ripple through her body, intensifying further and further, and—she screeches.

Persephone sits erect, her eyes closed, mouth agape. Breathing in deeply, her head arches back, her eyes peel open, and rays of white light shine out from her skull, as she begins sucking in a tremendous amount of air in one, unending gulp. The bright yellow moon distorts and wobbles and sways like water, and at one edge begins to spill into a bright golden river. Stretching further and further, like toothpaste through its tube. The stream descends toward the Earth, creating a glittering strand of moon dust, stretching across thousands and thousands of miles until reaching Persephone’s window, and spilling into her mouth—

“Persephone?” Seth bursts in. “What’s wro—”

Sasha follows in from behind, stricken in awe alongside him. “Persephone? Persephone!” she shouts, running over and throwing her arms around the girl.

Seth hurries over to the window, watching the stream of moon dust spill into his daughter’s mouth. Reaching toward the stretched-out moon, specks of dust displace from the stream, glittering its golden sheen around his fingertips. Looking out and up through the window, he finds the once full moon half dissolved, crumbled away like sand.

“What is happening?” Andes says, appearing in the doorway. Mikhail stands at his side, nuzzling his sleepy eyes with the back of his hands before waking to the commotion before him.

“She’s not responding!” Sasha says.

Seth rushes over. “That light…no, it’s happening again.” Sasha yanks her gaze toward Seth, alarmed. “It happened earlier today, while reading…this white glow—and this pressure. It’s the Abyss. No doubt.”

“My apologies,” Andes says, “But we have larger concerns at the moment. If she consumes the moon, its absence will devastate the Earth!”

Seth breathes in heavily. A doomsday event in the middle of the night. She’s my daughter, that’s for sure. “Clear the room!” he shouts, his eyes illuminated with white abyssal flame. “I’m going to try something.”

Sasha rises, inching away slowly. Her gaze locked too fiercely onto Persephone. Seth places a hand on her shoulder, gesturing with his head for her to step aside. A hollow sensation takes root in Sasha as she ambles over to Andes.

Seth hovers his right palm over Persephone’s face, curling his fingers in a circular motion. Hand shaking, the pull of the moon dust river is too severe, continuing its descent into the depths of Persephone—setting his entire body ablaze with white flame, Sasha and Andes feel a gravitation shift pulling toward Seth. Mikhail clings to Andes’s sleeve, fearing his feet would be swept up in the sudden, unnatural wind current rushing through their enclosed home. And though the fire is bright, it does not burn. It does not scorch nor warm.

The moon dust begins to retract. Rising from Persephone’s throat, she gargles and gags.

Seth’s eyes glow brighter, and a portal opens at the far end of the room, creating yet another gravitational pull. Beyond the portal lay a vast darkness, sprinkled with glimmering stars. Sasha, Andes, and Mikhail huddle together, clinging fiercely to the doorframe while Seth and Persephone’s abyssal weight holds them steady. The last of the moon dust ejects from her stomach, and the white glow of her eyes disappears. Waking up, she’s suddenly lifted into the air by the vacuum of space—she thuds against Seth’s big right arm, brought close to his side. With the flick of his left hand, the moon dust flings into the darkness, followed by a pillar of abyssal flame erupting from his palm. Gravity reverts to normal as the portal closes.

Rushing to the window, they find the wobbling moon slowly steadying itself. Aglow with abyssal flame, searing the fabric of the world back together, it reforms into the same bright full moon as before.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Andes says. Sasha stares in awe of Seth, but with an ever-deepening scowl sinking into her face.

“I had a hunch. The words she pulled from the book pages floated back into form once she snapped out of it. The abyssal flame was an added precaution.” Seth collapses onto Persephone’s bed. The young girl cocks her head in confusion at her father’s exhaustion.

Andes, noticing the looks on both parents, steps toward Persephone. “You two get some rest. I’ll tuck the youngsters back into bed.”

“You sure?” asks Sasha.

“Never more sure in my life! Now, go.”

Glancing tiredly at each other, Seth and Sasha hurry back to their room.

Andes pulls a chair up to the bed and takes the book he gave her years ago from the nearby nightstand. Mikhail hops into bed beside Persephone, both children content beneath the covers as Andes begins to read a story.

Persephone smiles widely toward her uncle. With no memory of what had just occurred, she relishes what’s to come. A story told by her loving uncle, her most favorite of things.




The Monsters Among Us

The Abyss Borne Gods Book 1



“Kent Priore writes like a natural about the supernatural, and The Monsters Among Us is a marvelously dark and true novel. American fiction has found a terrific new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland


Seth’s life until now has been a product of a diabolical, evil Truman Show, his entire upbringing a façade orchestrated for malevolent purposes. After his beloved dies, he undergoes a demonic metamorphosis, which causes the world’s fictitious walls to crumble.

As he tries to piece a semblance of his life back together and move on, he meets friends who inspire, but even more harsh truths are revealed, perhaps too difficult to cope with.

The very existence of life and reality is exposed as a machination of grotesque gods. And to defeat them, Seth will have to fill his emptiness, for which there’s only two options…
Bring the world to ruin, or learn to transmute his pain into strength.

Fans of “Jerusalem” by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath, or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters Among Us.”

“I was intrigued from the first sentence, determined to spend the night speed-reading so I didn’t have to remain in suspense any longer.”

-Ella Dupuie, author of Fractures of the Fallen

“Supernatural storytelling at its best, this vivid cinematic novel takes the reader on an imaginative journey through what could be considered end of days. The Monster’s Among Us is a masterful creation and a must read—even for those who aren’t fans of fantasy/horror.”
—Joni Marie Iraci MFA author of Vatican Daughter

 

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  “You’ve been gifted with versatile magic. Fire can destroy, but it can also create. You are a forge that bellows with hellfire. Make use of it. I have found that magic is best used in creative and unprecedented ways. Even the dullest magic knows few limits. Magic does what the mind wills it to do.”

  I start to run after Gluttony. I keep the image of those poor kids in my mind. The rage in me intensifies. My new demon body in combination with my anger makes me fast, but not fast enough. I can still see Gluttony in the distance, but he’s leaving my field of view more with each passing second.

  My mind is coated red with the image of the flattened children. Like a shark who had just picked up the scent of blood, my adrenalin surges, and I can feel a manic fit overtaking me. My perception is flooded in a crazed haze. I feel limitless, as if I can do anything. This is a feeling I know well. I felt it when I decided to return home to Crowley and burn it all to the ground.

  Where’s that voice, huh? Not going to tell me to stop this time?

  {No.}

  Why not?

  There’s no answer.

  Whatever.

  With nothing to hold me back, I really am limitless. Instinct takes over. I conjure my flames, but not with the intent to attack. I stretch my arms behind me and point my hands straight back. Fire erupts from my palms, propelling me forward. I take flight at a much greater speed than my legs can reach. I hurtle through the air, struggling to maintain balance. Like a cannonball I blast my way through trees and homes alike. Planks of wood and support beams scatter about in chaos.

  I wonder about the people living in these homes. Are they safe? Have I killed them? I don’t care. I feel useful to Melphis for the first time, and my bloodlust is reaching glorious heights as Gluttony’s body grows larger in my view. We are passing the border into New Mexico at intense speeds. Before I know it, we have passed into Colorado, the foot of the Rocky Mountains in sight. He appears to slow down. What is he looking for here?

  He comes to an abrupt stop, pulling up the ground beneath his tentacles as he does so. I keep my speed and make my descent. I plummet hard upon his back. His tentacles give out, causing his large body to fall to the ground. A thundering crash shakes the surrounding space.

  “Who’s there?” Gluttony roars. “Wait, noGreed? You smell like my brother!”

  For a dumb brute, he’s quick to piece things together. He rises, supporting himself with six of his eight tentacles. The other two pursue me. One slithers behind and wraps itself around me. The sludge-like tentacles are as strong as they are giant. I struggle but remain motionless. The heat rises again. I feel empty, but from that emptiness arises my rage which festers and grows ever more passionate. Flames overtake my body. I can feel the slime of his tentacles melting away, like sweat dripping off me.

    Fuck you!” I roar. The blood-stained clothes of those helpless children rush back to me, then so do the memories of my own ruined childhood. The flames increase and grow hotter until the whole tentacle catches fire. It burns away at a fierce speed. Ashes flutter away as black sludge spills out from the now open hole in his hard shell. Gluttony roars and his tentacles squirm like a spider that has just been stepped on.

    I climb on top of his hard shell and beat down my fists with reckless abandon. It withstands my punches, at first. I can feel my strength rising alongside my rage until at last, cracks form. The fractures stretch wider with each punch. Gluttony moans as they grow deeper. Melphis called him a transporter. Just what is he protecting with this dense outer layer?

    My focus intensifies and locks onto the growing fissure in his shell. My mind goes blank. All that exists is this shell, the sensation of my knuckles bashing into it, and the white flashes of rough skin being blown away in shrouds of dust. He is minehe’ll payI’ll make him payfor those kidsfor me

    The back of my head is hit by a dense, wet object and I am knocked off the beast. My body shatters the trunks of a few trees as I make my descent.

    {Your lack of focus has made you blind to the monster’s many tentacles.}

    “Shut u” I choke.

    Gluttony’s enormous face is now mere feet away from mine. My elation fades as I watch the skyscraper-devouring mouth open at its four hinges. A long snake-like tongue emerges out of utter darkness. It coils itself around my body before his teeth drop down, devouring me along with much of the landscape. I feel my body now coated in slime, as it slides down Gluttony’s throat. The darkness of the pit consumes me.



Graduated from Bard College with a BA in the Written Arts, Kent Priore is an author of dark literature, genre-blending epics and vignettes, where dark romanticism meets modern psychology for a macabre but hopeful depiction of inner struggle and the human ability to endure, and perhaps even prevail. He has a fascination with humanity and is one of the few to believe that despite our many weaknesses, we are far stronger than we often think. He wishes to show that strength to those darker individuals, burdened by lonesomeness, poor mental health, and other forces perceived to be out of their control, as well as show them that all is not lost.

 

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