The following excerpts are teasers for characters that will be major players in my upcoming fantasy epic, "Divinity's Twilight: Rebirth."
I sought to bring about an era of eternal peace.
To cage the darkness within men's hearts and save the realm of mortals from itself.
But they rejected my dream. The other races, unwilling to stomach a master not of their own kind, betrayed me first. That was expected, and the pain was not so great. Then my own people, fearing I'd gone too far, turned on me as well. Their treachery was like a deep, seeping wound. But it, too, was survivable.
The day my siblings turned their backs on me was the day I lost everything. Though I possessed magic more powerful than any other, the seven Elysium crystals of legend, and an army that did not fear death, all of existence now conspired against me. In time, they bore me to the ground. And there they floundered. For, you see, my arcane prowess had made me immortal. They could no more slay me than they could the Creator himself.
It was the ageless Eliade, undying themselves, who at last proposed a solution: "Seal him by the powers of magic, earth, and blood." Elysium became my prison, a cave my tomb, and the life force of a hero my shackles. I was locked away, mind and body, and history eventually forgot me.
Seven long centuries have since passed. While aware of my immediate surroundings, I cannot influence them. My atrophied carcass cannot so much as twitch.
But what's this? Something new has wandered close. Not an Eliade jailer, nor one of the hero's descendants, whose blood might renew my waning seal.
No, it is a fresh mind. One I might reason with, and cajole, and mold.
And, if they are receptive to my spirit...
...perhaps my dream might still be realized.
~Unknown Subject Excerpt Two:
I am old.
But not so old that I was there when the empyrean Veneer blessed us with magic. Not so old that I witnessed its original misuse, its primordial perversion, or how the boundless power it gifted gave outlet to the darkness residing in the hearts of mortals. Nor was I alive when those same deities turned their backs on us in disgust, departing our world for planes unknown. Who could blame them? Gifted with the capability to unlock the limitless potential of our own blood - of the men'ar residing within it - we chose, as with all our advancements, to turn it against one another instead.
I am tired.
But not so tired that my failing eyes cannot see the enduring enmity between the seven races inhabiting our continent - even between offshoots of the same stem, the same family. Not so tired that my rasping voice still doesn't try to halt the conflict even now. Rabban to the south. Sarconia to the north. Darmatia caught between their incessant bickering like a leaf whipped by the wind. The rest of Lozaria smolders too, threatening an inferno that will leave naught but ash in its wake.
I am old. I am tired. But perhaps...
...the next generation will succeed where I have failed.
~ Rowan Metellus, 3rd Steward of Darmatia More tidbits of information and teasers for the novel will be unveiled both here and on my various social media pages as we approach the release. Seven Blessings Go With You, Chris