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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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, no—Greed? 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 mine—he’ll pay—I’ll make
him pay—for
those kids—for
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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