“But how could he guarantee… here you are, with all your free will… things,” I say, waving my hand. “With only Terrance allowed to kill people.” “Yes.” “Then he failed. He completely failed.” Notte sighs. “No. He succeeded.”
A sample from my work-in-progress, Solomon's Choice. Don't forget to join the newsletter for updates! I roll onto my back, marveling again at the lack of weight in my chest.…
In celebration of Solomon's Choice, coming in 2023, the book series got a glow-up.
I am glad to be with him, right now. Whatever is watching is not friendly to me, and Terrance is known, like a sated lion on the veldt, safe only because he is satisfied.
Perfect movements, nothing wasted, arching smooth and lunging sharp and landing solid at angles I don’t think human bodies can do, and there are no pauses in their fight, no moments of indecision or rest, and all the while, hypnotic sparks fly overhead like a rainbow shattered. They fight the way music sounds. There is a rhythm, and I want to join the dance.
How that that THING be a person, be a being that thrusts its sentience in my face like a rude too-powerful slap?
It does feel borrowed, like ancient powers I’ve never known know me, and they have come calling my name.
Here I stand in the monument to his beloved gone, alone with the weight of decisions I cannot possibly see the ends of, cannot possibly work out all that will come from my choice, and yet I must make it now.
This smile, this is not a good smile, this is a killing smile with too-wide eyes and too much teeth and more of a snarl than a smile at all.
I am just about to blurt let me go home when the Lord of Night Whispers speaks. “By rights, we should kill you.”
This post contains miscarriage mention and other medical issues. It still all needed to be said.
"I am The Mortal’s Doom, and before your mother shed her first infant tears onto the soil of the old world, I was."
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I see two Merits, briefly. While the possibilities for such a thing are lovely, it strikes me as wise not to comment on it.