Official Selection for New Apple Literary's Excellence in Independent Publishing
"I expected a hero to save us all. Turns out, I was thinking of the wrong part of the story. In the beginning, we aren't saved. The world is broken. There are only pieces and grief. The pieces must be gathered and flames kindled before I'm reforged. I don't know what shape I will take.Those pieces might become a hero...
...or a monster."
A mad king’s genocide destroyed Alea's home and left her sanity in tatters. The struggle between the gods and their creators fills the world with war. Caught in the crossfire of a conflict she knows little about, Alea only wants a quiet life. Trouble is, the darkness roiling in her mind may be the one thing that could end the bloodshed.
A storm brews within her, and not even the gods will be safe when it breaks upon the world.
“I wanted to see cities, learn the beauty of this world. Instead, in a single, bloody minute I learned the danger of ignorance and the impermanence of innocence. I did not appreciate peace until I was rotting in a Banis prison cell. Now I just want to silence the person crouched inside my head. I left looking for wisdom.
Instead, I went mad.”
No one was prepared for the chaos mending the world unleashed. With Alea and Arman gone and the queen dead, Athrolan faces civil war. The kingdom fractures between two heirs—the disinherited Daymir Blackhouse, and a rumored child of the Dhoah’ Laen. Except Alea’s mad son was never told about the power in his veins and now he is missing.
Who sits on the throne may be determined by whomever runs from the duty faster.
"Death hurt less than I thought. Pain was there, obviously. I was stabbed in the chest. But afterward, it was painless. Peaceful, almost. I wish I could bring that peace back with me. The war doesn't scare me now, nor the strange city or life at home moving on without me. Only one thing scares me now -- when she brought me back from death, from that beautiful peace, something stayed.
Whatever part of me that was still human got left behind."
Blood stains the land. The gods' desperation grows, and with it, Azirik's mania. Away from her newfound family, Alea struggles to control the blackness in her mind and the power in her veins. What the Laen wish to teach is something very different from what she must learn, however, and war does not make time for history lessons.
Stuck in a foreign city, Arman wrestles with madness. The inertia of battle leaves friendships tainted and alliances shattered. If the only creatures able to mend the world refuse to speak to each other how can they win a war?