Musing about Second Life's Premium account and Basic account changes

I do not normally write about Second Life prices here. However we do utilize Second Life at times to obtain digital photography and videography for our projects, to network, for my involvement with the Trotsdale Library, various writing contests, and even some of our books (not all as the porting was an experiment to test the market in SL books) being available inside Second Life.

I am somewhat disappointed in Second Life right now.

I (Teresa Garcia as Amehana Ishtari/Arashi) have 42 groups current. Over the years there have been times I have had to pare out groups that I would have preferred to keep in order to make room for groups that I needed for administration duties for communities or for storefronts in sims that require vendor groups instead of renting out parcels that can be set to one's store group. Between Meditation/Shrine groups, the Library group, various Pony/Furry communities, storefronts, and artist/book/networking communities, my store group for Arashiryuu Productions / THG StarDragon Publishing, and a couple family/friend groups I only have space for a few shopping groups that I use to get discounts on set pieces from manufacturers I like to follow. Now the basic accounts are dropping the number of group slots available and increasing the amount it costs to go premium.

I use a basic account due to my income. Although the premium account has 70 slots I did not see a need to pay monthly for something that I wasn't certain I could always cover out of my personal expenses plus that I pay monthly for inworld rent for the store and covering the library's rent (that is my responsibility now as Zepdek has had personal issues to attend, meaning his financial contribution had to drop).

I heard about the changes first through CrimMip, a fellow admin for Nisa/Dreaming Twilight (the group whose land I normally use when obtaining Second Life originating visuals for projects). I heard about it next from Bixyl Shuftan through their blog article. There is a bit of a conversation ongoing now in the SL Newer's discord chat. Some that I have talked to see no problems with the amount of group slots, feeling they are coming no where near their cap. Others, like myself, are frustrated because they are and do not wish to switch to premium to increase their groups slots, already putting quite a bit of money into the platform through virtual land rent, market purchases, and tipping performers.

I can understand increasing prices for premium accounts. They did decrease (temporarily) land prices for those that buy land. However they lowered the amount of group slots and ofline IMs for basic accounts, a feature that theoretically costs no money. They do have to pay their developers and admins. It does put people like me in a strange spot though. Porting my clothing goods and furniture items over to an alt account is not possible due to licensing agreements of used components. Transferring stores to another account would not work due to still having to keep the same groups to rez the vendors from my main account (and then I'd end up missing payments due to notices going to another email). Asking admin duties to transfer to an alt would not work as well either due to my main account already being an established and known name, the other account not being as well known since my main alt is a prize dispersal for library based contests, who started out as an "I'm overwhelmed and want to enjoy and explore inworld but want to focus on a handful of people right now" account.

So, now I weigh and decide. Basic has dropped seven slots. If I need to jiggle groups for any other needs that arise admin group wise for communities and networking I will have to drop seven, which would include those I currently need. I also wonder how well this move will work for them. Honestly I am glad I do not work for SL or have to figure out good financial moves for their company. They have such a large user base and not many are going to be happy with price increases, especially with the fluctuation of the $L and if the monthly stipend for inworld spending that goes with a premium does not increase.

How will this impact THG StarDragon Publishing's sponsoring of the Trotsdale and Intersim Library Network? At this time I do not know. I continue paying the library's rent. I need to set aside some funds for a prize for the next contest. I need to decide whether it will be writing, art, or if I should shake things up and ask people to make reading videos or tracks. Tonight at 5 PM Pacific Illya Leonov has his music hour followed by his story hour. This week he plays chapter 10 of Past Sins, an MLP fanfic. Sundays I normally (unless ill or too inundated) read or stream, now at 5 PM Pacific and sometimes followed by other readers. How will it impact the Library, or my own store group and meditation group? With a decrease in group slots for the basic account I can guess that fewer peoplewill be getting notices of the inworld events, and overall the world will get smaller for Second Life users as they will have fewer options available to them. The work around of a Subscribomatic to send messages has the pitfall of it's owner only being able to use it to send announcements for one group, meaning that if they have to have work arounds for several groups they may end up with several of the free alternate accounts and have to switch between them for what should be a simple thing... advertising.

SL Blogpost: Land Price Reductions, New Premium Perks, and Pricing Changes
Bixyl Shuftan's article: http://slnewser.blogspot.com/2019/05/linden-lab-raising-price-of-premium.html
Second Life Forum Discussion Thread: https://community.secondlife.com/forums/topic/437783-what-are-your-opinions-on-the-new-land-price-reductions-new-premium-perks-and-pricing-changes

Book Tube Real Talk Tag and Musing about Publishers and Booktube

This video was Patreon Patron only for a day to give them a chance to see it first, but as I knew I wasn't going to have the time intended to record a story as planned this is also the Sunday posting. Technically this is a bit of a story.

Original Tag Video:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AuIil5h-vKk
Emmmabooks video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPNYNlDt4WY

Publishers I work with in some fashion
THG StarDragon Publishing: http://www.thgstardragon.com
Pen It! Publications: http://www.penitpublications.com

Gaming sites and groups I work with in publishing/content
Dragon Hearts RPG: http://www.dragonheartsrpg.com
Dreaming Twilight (SL group)

=Interviews with illustrators, authors, and editors are intended to happen for those that wish to partake from Pen It! Publications, THG StarDragon Publishing, and Dragon Hearts. Once these are finished I may open up spots for others.

=booktube real talk tag=
- questions -
1. What's something nobody told you about booktube before you started your channel?
2. What is your opinion on “typical” booktube videos? (wrap-up’s, TBR’s, hauls, etc.)
3. What is an assumption you had about booktube before you joined? Was it proven to be correct, or not?
4. What is something you’ve done that has actually helped you grow your audience?
5. What is a common mistake you see new booktubers making, or one that you made?
6. What are your thoughts on working with publishers and sponsorships?
7. Do you think booktube is dying?
8. Tag your friends!


Tags
Illya Leonov: https://www.youtube.com/user/Melotah
Scribbler: https://www.youtube.com/user/ObabScribbler
Icarus Lunarguard: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCOQH_cXGPvHmppHpbx13nGQ
PenIt! Publications: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCaB_vnprv16-MJUWA3aLvZg

---

Want to visit me, see some of my other works, or support me? Find me at:
Patreon: http://www.patreon.com/Amehana
Ko-fi: http://www.ko-fi.com/amehana
DeviantArt: http://amehanarainstardrago.deviantart.com
Dreamwidth: http://rainstardragon.dreamwidth.org
Livejournal: http://rainstardragon.livejournal.com
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Teresa-Garcia/e/B009Q938VE
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TeresaGarcia
Storenvy: http://thgstardragon.storenvy.com/ Check now and then for new things, some I can't list just yet.
Paypal: http://paypal.me/thgstardragon
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/TeresaGarcia
Publishing Website: http://www.thgstardragon.com
Commissions Info: https://www.deviantart.com/amehanarainstardrago/journal/Commissioning-Information-566657935
https://www.instagram.com/amehanaarashi/

Podcast
iTunes: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mythical-minstrelsy-and-flash-fiction-fridays/id1461538463
Google Play: https://play.google.com/music/m/Iregmi7sag7o3fg6p3e32k5ghwq?t%3DMythical_Minstrelsy_and_Flash_Fiction_Fridays%26pcampaignid%3DMKT-na-all-co-pr-mu-pod-16
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/1vLsYYcHOkDdasTFvqe9Ph
Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/teresa-garcia-34

Want to send me something to read on here or to review? Have a particular request?

Need to send something the old-fashioned way? Maybe you've got a hard copy of a book you want reviewed, or a copy of some of your own work for me to look over? Perhaps you have some of your work you'd like me to record?

THG StarDragon Publishing
Attn: Teresa Garcia
PO Box 249
McCloud, CA 96057
USA

Email necessary?  Send me a note at ladyrainstardragon@hotmail.com but bear in mind that I have been having problems with it eating things sometimes from even verified senders.

Mythical Minstrelsy Volume Three is now also available on Amazon Kindle

Gather under the tree with the traveling bard while she recounts poetry and short stories centering around various mythical and magical creatures. Month by month her project grew as her supporters lent their ears. Here and there she shares some artwork, some snippets about her books, and even a little in the realms of meditation. This is the third year of her Patreon anthology, and this is arranged in month by month format. This anthology is a handy gathering of the year's work, not including the progress made in the "Selkies' Skins: Temple and Skinquest" manuscript which will be provided her patrons separately.

Although some images are in black and white others are in color. Even though they look good in black and white it does not do them justice. For the full effect of the art pieces it is suggested that you view on a color capable device.

Year four's collection ends in August 2019 which will also mark the beginning of year five.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07R1T6GL3

Mythical Minstrelsy Volume Two now available on Amazon Kindle

Gather under the tree with the traveling bard while she recounts poetry and short stories centering around various mythical and magical creatures. Month by month her project grew as her supporters lent their ears. Here and there she shares some artwork, some snippets about her books, and even a little in the realms of meditation. This is the second year of her Patreon anthology, and this is arranged in month by month format. This anthology is a handy gathering of the year's work, not including the progress made in the "Selkies' Skins: Temple and Skinquest" manuscript which will be provided her patrons separately.

This title contains color art among the leaves and is best viewed on a color capable device. Black and white does not give the full impact.

Year four's collection ends in August 2019 which will also mark the beginning of year five.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QXG2LL8

Regarding Amazon and book reviewing

The link below is for an article that I found to be good regarding the dos and don'ts of book reviewing. With Amazon's policies changing often and being easy to miss it is important for authors and book fans to understand what their policies are. This said, please do remember to leave reviews for any book that you have read by anyone, no mater the author or publisher. Your reviews help the author to sell their books, and help other readers figure out if they are likely to enjoy the book beyond the sample pages.

https://www.thebookdesigner.com/2018/10/the-definitive-guide-to-dos-and-donts-of-amazon-reviews/

I myself have several books I need to finish reading so that I can post my reviews. I have missed doing that with so much work I've been trying to keep up with.

"The Starr Family's Ice Cream Creation" is available

I notice that the latest children's book I illustrated has been posted on that publisher's website as available. In this sweet story a family explores the world of ice cream in search of new flavors and even goes to Italy as part of their search. It was a fun one to color and one with gave me a good place to implement some color techniques I had been wanting an excuse to use. I will point out that I did not do the text layout on this cover piece.

In this short children's tale we meet the Starr Family. They love ice cream so much that they go on adventures to find new flavors. Each member has a different idea. This even includes a family vacation (and a little implied romance for mommy and daddy) to Italy.

"The Starr Family's Ice Cream Creation" by Barbara Kurtz and illustrations by Teresa Amehana Garcia.

PenIt! Publications

You can get it now at the Publisher's Catalog page or on Amazon.





If you click the link above to buy off of Amazon I get a very small bonus from Amazon. Such purchases help me out as I was paid a per illustration fee and so collect no royalties of of this particular work. If you'd like to tip me after you've read the book please feel free. There are a few ways you can do so.

Tips and Support

Patreon: http://www.patreon.com/Amehana

Ko-fi: http://www.ko-fi.com/amehana

Paypal: http://paypal.me/thgstardragon

Looking for where you can find my own books or art?

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Teresa-Garcia/e/B009Q938VE

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TeresaGarcia

DeviantArt: http://amehanarainstardrago.deviantart.com

Storenvy: http://thgstardragon.storenvy.com/ Check now and then for new things, some I can't list just yet.

Illustrations, cover art, or cover art WITH book text included available

(as not everyone prefers to do their text layout themselves)

Commissions Info: https://amehanarainstardrago.deviantart.com/journal/Commissions-Stuff-for-SL-and-in-General-566657935

Publishing Website: http://www.thgstardragon.com

Project Updates

Mythical Minstrelsy
Within a week we should be seeing the print edition of Mythical Minstrelsy, volume 1 (the 2015-2016 volume) hitting Amazon. It will take a few days longer generally for the print edition to link to the ebook edition. Hopefully soon I will be able to have layout ready for volume 2 print and ebook as I try to catch up my own backlog (so many projects get prioritized over my own writings). I will post again once I see that it has become available.

Illustrations
In other news I am working on color for panels 11 through 15 of the Starr Family's Ice Cream Creation with PenIt! Publications. After the completion of that children's book project I will begin the art for the next Moey book, also with that publishing house.

Selkies' Skins
I champ at the bit to get back to the current volume of the series.

The Ian's Realm Saga Trilogy
Work is still ongoing with getting clean tracks for the audiobook version of D.L. Gardner's classic book. It has not been as quiet nor as calm a summer as I needed for the rerecording of the chapters.

Dragon Hearts RPG
There have been a few delays in getting to writing the second part of the current split questline. I need to check in the work tickets to see if the gamesite owner/coder has had a change to work on the code for the first part of this installment in Fetu's saga and if anything is ready for testing.

Dragon Shaman series reviews

Dragon Shaman Books One and Two have received reviews through Kaina's Book Blog in conjunction with Nerd Girl. Call of the Kami will also be receiving a review later through the same group. So what did the reviewer think? Follow the links and find out.

Dragon Shaman Book One review

Dragon Shaman Book Two review

Thank you for the reviews, I'm glad that you liked them. Links to these reviews will also be going up on the official Dragon Shaman series site at http://thedragonshamanseries.weebly.com/.

Series linking is now on Smashwords

So last night I was working with the Nooks testing some things and went to Smashwords during the process. When I logged in there I discovered that they had given publishers and authors the ability to link the books in their series. I thought that was rather cool. Even cooler?

The option for the same books to be in multiple series (ex: The LOTR series, and The Hobbit + LOTR for The Ring series). With this I was able to link the extant series books. I project that this will be useful also for linking Dragon Shaman, Selkies' Skins, Wavelets (the shorts related to Selkies' Skins) and Shadow Chronicles when those series are ready, as they are interrelated. I still have no idea yet of what I would call the overarching collection of those series... It will bear thought and once I have some ideas I may or may not open up a feedback poll on that point.

This also means that I can group books that should be read together to give additional understanding of how those worlds function. Thus the birth of Spirit Bridges, I'm debating adding in "Stories of Spirits" to give more depth to one of the characters that makes cameo appearances in Dragon Shaman.

Later today the interview with the Cautilis regarding their book "Robots vs. Zombies" goes live (watch for that at 9 AM Pacific Time).

Dragon Shaman Book One: Taming the Blowing Wind approved

I was finally happy with the new print edition of Dragon Shaman #1 through Createspace, and so hit the approve button. In a few weeks it should populate to Amazon, and this first book of the Dragon Shaman series will finally be able to be down to an affordable price for those who have been wanting it in print ($9.99).

This means that it will be time to set up a publishing party to celebrate, of course. Be watching for further news on what we do with that. Meanwhile you can add the new edition to your Goodreads to-read list.

Guest Post: Dan O'Brien and "The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow"

Dan O'Brien returns to us yet again to tell us a bit more about himself and to share a bit of his book The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow.

---

Welcome to the fifth day of The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow blog tour. It will run until August 17th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

A plague has covered the land, a single word on the lips of the frightened masses: the Widow. Washing a wave of terror over the countryside and then disappearing like a thief in the night, the Widow holds a kingdom in the palm of her hand. The eyes of Chaos have settled on Prima Terra and heroes must rise. Xeno Lobo, enigmatic and cryptic, hunts the Widow, seeking an object taken from him years before. Will he be able to stem the tide of violence and horror that sweeps the land?

A few questions for the author:

Decisions are being made right now. The question is: Are you making them for yourself, or are you letting others make them for you?

I make as many decisions as possible. There are always some elements of your life that are out of your control. It is those select few options that appear to be out of reach, but are in fact just scary and push you out of your comfort zone. Those are the choices that you desperately need to make. Too often we do what we think we should do, and miss out on what we love to do. 

Quickly, give us the title and genre of your book and a 30-word or less tagline:

A fantasy novella: The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow. A rip-roaring adventure that doesn't stop moving until you read the last line. 

Who is your intended audience and why should they read your book?

I like to think that everyone will enjoy my books, but the reality is that reading is highly subjective. Readers who enjoy fantasy, especially the sword-and-sorcery variety, will not be disappointed. 

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

The guest quarters were fit for royalty.  The bed was a construction of pure mastery.  The four corners were pillars of ivory that strangled their way into one another. At the top was a grand canopy of linens. The sheets were sewn of the finest silks and were plentiful in the wake of the extreme cold that had gripped the lands. Xeno lay surrounded in the sheets, his body writhing in a nightmare. His arms flailed and his head shook from side to side.  Muttering, it was the incoherent rambling of sleep.  The remainder of room was darkness, except the dwindling flame at the side of the bed encased within the iron-cased lamp. The cold winds manipulated the fire like a dancer as the warrior slept.  The door to the chambers opened slightly.  Shadows of the hall merged with that of the room. The figure that accompanied the shadow slithered, as if without form.  Xeno remained undisturbed.  His mind was still trapped in whatever nightmarish world gripped it. As the shadow neared, the gaunt, featureless face of an imp moved close to the bed. Its wicked fingers gripped a ragged, curved blade.  Xeno mumbled in his sleep as the creature crept close. Its pale, sickly features curved into a grin of malevolence as it hovered above Xeno. Drawing the thin edge above its head, the imp prepared to plunge the blade into the slumbering warrior’s chest.  The moon shone behind the listless clouds that drifted by lazily. As the imp brought the blade above its head, the metal glinted in the moonlight and flashed across Xeno’s face, waking him in an instant. The imp screeched and slammed the blade down. It was too late. Xeno rolled and drew his blade from the table at the bedside.  “What in the name of Exodus?” roared Xeno as he brandished the blade. The imp thrashed about the bed linens, spitting and growling like the feral creature of the night that it was. The creature stopped upon hearing Xeno’s voice and cocked its head to the side. Its eyes glazed as it watched the warrior standing there.  “Kill––the––warrior Xeno,” gargled the beast as it leapt from the bed. Approaching Xeno, it slashed at the air with its savage edge. It moved like a beast upon four legs as it rushed toward the warrior.  Xeno swung his blade from the ground into the air with a deep arc, tearing the creature in two as it leapt. It squealed as it crashed back into the bed and convulsed momentarily, until it moved no more.  The blood pooled on the sheets.  Xeno sighed and moved toward the bed.  The half-light of the moon provided the only visibility; the torch had long since burned down to embers. Moments passed and Xeno felt the pressure of the solitude and silence of the massive castle and the halls that lined it.  The door burst open, revealing light from deeper within the recesses of the edifice. Hooded, shadowed figures emerged, their motions hurried and confused.  Xeno strapped his sheath along his back once again and pulled the straps tight, the leather groaning as it gripped against his back and along his chest. He pulled his cloak and wool shirt from the side table as Verifal approached, flanked by Gaition and three faceless guardians of Me’lein.  “Master Xeno, what happened?” queried the sleepy king as he surveyed the room.  The imp lay in blood.  Xeno sat in light of the moon.  He smirked and placed the blades into their hidden sheaths around his waist. He sighed at king. “That is a question I hoped you would answer,” replied Xeno as he pushed past Verifal and into the hallway just outside his room.  The corridor stretched far into the darkness. People had gathered because of the commotion. They ambled about like cattle in a pasture, waiting for a command, a reason.  “What are you saying?” began the king.  “I’m not saying anything,” interrupted Xeno as he leaned back into the room and glared at Gaition as he passed. The attendant lowered his head as he met the hateful gaze of the traveling warrior.  Xeno made his way across the room to the opposite end, his head peering out the stone window, looking to the darkened forest below. Shaking his head, he watched as the guards crossed paths and circled around the corner once again. “How many guards are posted along the outer wall?”  “Seven. Two at the gates and five roaming along the wall,” replied Uthen.  “And inside the castle?”  “At least ten or twelve more depending on the hour of the night,” replied Uthen once again as he leaned against the wall.  “What are you driving at, Master Warrior?” queried Verifal suspiciously. His regal robes were pulled tight around his frame, combating the biting cold of the night.  “Unless you are in the practice of keeping forest imps within the castle walls,” began Xeno. Turning with an accusing finger, he continued. “If that is not the case, then an imp with about as much intelligence as a stone wall managed to sneak past almost twenty guards and into my room without even the slightest bit of notice.”  “Are you saying that someone let it in?” queried Uthen trying to follow Xeno’s train of logic.  Xeno shrugged and looked from the king to Uthen, to the cowering Gaition. “It knew my name. It spoke it before I put an end to its life,” finished Xeno with a sigh.  “It spoke your name? You must be mistaken,” burst out Gaition. It was the first time he had spoken since coming upon the scene.  “You doubt my word,” returned Xeno, his anger seething. It seemed to rise from his person.  “No, it is not that. It is merely….” stammered Gaition, backing away from the angst and venom in Xeno’s words. Uthen glowered at Gaition, and then looked to the astonishment on Verifal’s face.  Verifal could feel the mounting tension and stepped forward quickly. “This cannot be decided here tonight. We will convene in the morning and discuss this further. Let us leave it until then.”  “Will that be alright, Master Xeno?” queried Uthen, turning toward the hunter.  “Fine, in the morning I leave for the north. I leave these matters to your court.” Xeno turned away from the congregation and looked out the stone window, out into the darkness that held both secrets and truths.  Verifal motioned for the guards to leave and he followed them, flanked by Uthen and Gaition’s shrouded figure. Leaving Xeno to the solitude and soiled sheets, he would see no more sleep that night.

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

Bitten (US) 

End of the World Playlist (US)  

Cerulean Dreams (US) 

The Journey (US)  

The Path of the Fallen (US)  

The Twins of Devonshire (US)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (US) 

Publish Your Dreams (US)

The End of the World Playlist (UK) 

Bitten (UK) 

Cerulean Dreams (UK)

The Journey (UK) 

The Path of the Fallen (UK)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (UK)

Publish Your Dreams (UK)

Follow My Blog  

Follow Me On Twitter 

Like Me On Facebook  

All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!

Download The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow for free on Kindle from 8/13 until 8/17!

Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

Visit http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!

Curating a list of books on Shinto

Call of the Kami is still in #1 on my Goodreads list of books on or containing Shinto. I have added all the other books on it (or that had references to it in stories and poetry) that I know of.

I was actually surprised that there was not already a list for Shinto. This being such an overlooked religion was one of the factors that lead to me writing a poetry book to make some of the lore and outlook more accessible.

I would also like to see more people voting on that list for their favorite books on the topic (or adding ones that I don't know of).

Guest Post: Dan O'Brien's Bitten

Dan O'Brien, Northwest author and one heck of a nice guy, returns to tell us a bit about himself and his book Bitten: A Lauren Westlake Mystery. Once again he's even provided an excerpt of his book.

I should mention, I really like this cover. There is just something about it that appeals to me, maybe because it makes me think of one of my mate's RP characters. This is definitely one that I plan to read!

Welcome to the second day of the Bitten blog tour. It will run until July 16th and will feature excerpts, new author interviews each day, character interviews, and a casting call by the author. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this dark world

A predator stalks a cold northern Minnesotan town. There is talk of wolves walking on two legs and attacking people in the deep woods. Lauren Westlake, resourceful and determined F.B.I Agent, has found a connection between the strange murders in the north and a case file almost a hundred years old. Traveling to the cold north, she begins an investigation that spirals deep into the darkness of mythology and nightmares. Filled with creatures of the night and an ancient romance, the revelation of who hunts beneath the moon is more grisly than anyone could have imagined.

A few questions for the author:

What do you want to be when you grow up? 

More of the same. I like where I am right now. The notion of growing up is a funny concept, as it conjures a certain set of hurdles one must pass to be grown up. Short answer: me. 

What is your favorite bedtime drink? 

Chamomile tea with honey and hazelnut milk. 

Do you ever wish that you had an entirely uncreative job, like data entry or working in a factory? 

I have had probably around 30 or so such jobs since I started working at 15. I would prefer to have a thinking job from this point in my life forward, otherwise what was the point of a graduate degree.

Do you believe in a deity? 

No. I believe in critical thinking, a healthy skepticism, and an open mind. Call me old-fashioned.

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

Chapter II

Lauren Westlake had not yet seen the monster that hunted the woods of Locke. Nor was she privy to some of the uncouth and less than reputable members of the community. But as she pushed open the doors of the Mill Saloon, she was aware of one thing: something was wrong in Locke. 

She pulled off her hat and tucked it into her bag, flushing out her hair. The bar was as one expected, dark and smoky. There were few lights and even fewer women. Booths lined the outer walls except for the one that housed a wooden bar adorned with various hides, pelts, and horns fitted to inexpressive plaques of death. 

As she walked through the open area that served as both a dance floor and a drunken staggering area, many heads turned to watch her pass. Lauren was indeed an attractive woman; as well as confident, with a sense of purpose and an intensity that might be viewed as unusual in such a small town. 

Sitting down on a stool with a smile, she placed her hands on the counter of the bar. The bartender was a thick man in shoulder and girth with a heavy beard of coal hair. His shirt was too loose and his pants too tight. The thick slur of his voice hinted that the good bartender was sampling his own goods. 

“What can I get ya, pretty lady?” 

Lauren looked around the bar; most people had returned to their business. But some continued to stare. A particular one, dressed in a manner that attracted the attention of the drunken, masculine sort. 

Looking sideways at the bartender, she replied. “Whiskey, straight.” 

She watched the woman cross the room, drawing stares from every man; the cut of the shorts alone would have facilitated that. Dark red lips and piercing hazel eyes fixed on Lauren immediately. The woman crossed her arms underneath her breasts and cocked her hips suggestively. 

“What’s your story?”

“Better question. What is the story with those shorts? It has to be thirty degrees outside. Are you looking to catch pneumonia?”

The woman looked at her in shock. Lauren was quite certain that another woman had never talked to her that way. Lauren reached back and grasped the dirty-looking glass and took a sip, wincing as she did so. She had overestimated her once rather stout resistance to the brown stuff. 

Times certainly change. 

“I’m not looking for a fight there, cupcake. Just scurry back over to whichever of these fine young gentlemen you were hanging on.”

The provocatively dressed woman, however, would not be so easily deterred. “It is fair to say you some kind of out-of-town cunt then, isn’t it? You looking for trouble, bitch?”

Taking another sip of the whiskey, this one smoother than the last, she smiled. “Not in the slightest.” Touching the weapon at her side with a sweeping finger, she continued. “I have come to this wonderfully cold corner of hell that you call home to help. Last thing I need is a sad little bar fly buzzing about.”

The woman looked at her with a horrified stare. Even the bartender, normally quick to disperse from tense situations, could not tear his eyes away from the train wreck before his eyes. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?”

Lauren drained the last of the whiskey, feeling a warm sensation trace down her spine and a familiar fog drift past her senses. “I believe I might be the bitch who beats your hillbilly ass if you do not march back to your boy toys.”

There was a moment where Lauren thought the woman might respond to her challenge, but it passed as the hard stare went glossy. It was the early stages of sorrow and tears, mostly from embarrassment and as well the deep throes of anger. 

“You…”

“Yeah?”

The woman bit her lip as if to say more and then turned, flashing nearly the entirety of her womanhood at Lauren before fading back into the throng of staring drunks once more. As if on cue the bartender leaned forward, pushing another glass of dark amber liquid. 

“Seems like maybe you could use another.” Lauren feigned protest. “On the house, you’re a bold one to talk to Charlene like that.”

She thought about saying something back to the bartender, perhaps dissuade this newfound tough-gal personality, but thought better of it. It might serve her well to be perceived immediately as a kind of hardass. People would certainly be less inclined to question her motives if she did not allow a lot of room for discussion. 

“I have to agree with him. Quite bold.”

His voice had a rough, deep quality to it, but there was as well something profoundly articulate in his speech. Turning, she looked into his cool blue eyes, vast oceans of serenity that stared back into hers with a distant glint. 

A light beard covered his face, like he had been hiding from a razor for several days. His lips were a kind of small, perfect curvature that made her heart flutter in a way she would never admit to another person. He wore a long sleeve shirt under a black button-up, a swooping, gold design across the chest. As he opened his mouth to speak again, he extended a hand, exposing heavily muscled forearms that rippled as he reached out. 

“Dominic,” he spoke with clear inflection. 

Lauren stared at him for a moment, uncertain of what to do next. It was one of those moments when it felt like the world had plunged into slow motion. Each utterance, every smell amplified beyond its normal dominion. 

Dominic stared for a moment, seeming very at ease leaving his hand out there waiting for her. With a sheepish smile, she extended her hand as well. He had a strong grip, but not one that was intimidating or a turn-off. 

“Lauren,” she spoke. 

He smiled and it was a dazzling one. 

Once again, she felt her heart flutter. 

Why was she acting like such a girl? Perhaps it was the whiskey. She shook her head. Realizing that he was watching her carefully, she blushed. 

“Clearly you are not from around here, Lauren. I could not help but overhear your conversation. You are a peace officer?” 

There was something distinctly odd about the way he asked the question. As if he were transplanted from another time period, pulled from an era of courtesy. 

“It is not often I hear cops referred to so eloquently.”

He smiled, more a manipulation of his perfect lips, and revealed a sliver of teeth underneath. “My apologies, perhaps I should have gone with something more colloquial such as copper or uniform.”

Lauren laughed in a way that was more the giggle of a high-schooler with a crush than an admonition of humor. She could not help but feel like an idiot. Grabbing the whiskey for courage, she drank it in a quick gulp. “That would have been strange. No one has used those words since the 50s.”

Dominic smiled again. “Indeed. Pardon my old-fashioned manners. How then would a lady from the modern era have referred to officers of the law?”

“Officer would have worked fine. I’m a federal agent. Agent Westlake,” she continued, stumbling over her words. “I came to investigate a murder. A strange one.”

“Strange how?”

Lauren allowed the veil of silliness to depart. It was replaced with the business tact she had learned to use as an efficient front. “There have been several instances across the country of violence that are unique, to say the least.”

Dominic sat back in his stool, signaling to the bartender for something. The heavy bartender pushed a heavy mug forward. “Unique?” 

Lauren looked at him strangely, uncertain if she should give credence to the warning in her stomach. The concern she felt immediately that a random man was taking interest in what she had to say. 

“Are you very interested in murder, Mr…?”

“McManus.”

“Dominic McManus,” she spoke softly.

He tilted his head at her, a small smirk on his lips. “And as far as murder is concerned, Agent Westlake, we should all be aware of such things. A death is a sad thing, especially where a life is forcibly taken.”

Lauren nodded. “Agreed. These murders, however, are of a very specific and violent nature.”

“Hmm?”

Lauren moved closer to Dominic, leaning in slightly. He smelled of the woods, like camping. She swallowed hard before she continued. “They look as those an animal attacked. Yet the wounds are not consistent with any known predatory creature that lurks in any of the woods of the northern continent.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “More often than not, the victims are women. Most are attractive, single women who are lost in the woods or walked home late at night, alone.”

Dominic smiled. 

“Are you asking me to walk you home?”

“What? Huh? I didn’t mean…”

Dominic’s smile dissolved immediately. “Was I too forward? My apologies, I thought that…”

Lauren looked at him, completely flummoxed. 

“No, I mean that wasn’t my. But you…”

“Shall I leave?”

Lauren was beat red now. 

“No. Please stay. Unless of course you…”

“As you were saying,” he replied, alleviating the awkward discussion that would follow rife with open-ended questions and quests for validation. “Women walking alone. Attacked. Murdered. And the cause?”

Lauren regained her sensibilities quickly. “That is just the thing, no cause. There has yet to be one arrest or the closing of a single case.”

“That is dire.”

She nodded. 

“There is talk that the attacks may be supernatural.”

“Supernatural?”

She inched closer still, his smell delicious. Perhaps it was the long train ride or the time that had passed since she had slept with a man. Or perhaps it was simply because he was gorgeous. 

“Werewolf.”

The look that rose to Dominic’s face was one of quiet disbelief mixed with concern “Werewolf?” he repeated briskly. 

Lauren nodded. “Weird and completely insane, right? As if there are such things as werewolves. I personally believe it is some kind of a transient serial killer: a smart, resourceful creep who moves on when he has made himself too visible, uprooting and changing his identity.”

“Sounds reasonable. Has there been a murder here that mirrors your previous investigation?”

“A woman was killed on the lake. She had similar markings. I was supposed to have arrived this afternoon, but the weather is dreadful and the transportation less than timely.”

“The weather is unfortunate here at times, especially this deep in winter. I am quite sorry to hear that your trip was unpleasant. Though I am confused, were you called in to investigate?”

Lauren tapped the counter, grabbing the bartender’s attention. With a swift finger, she pointed for a refill. “Not exactly. There was an inquiry about the specifics of the murder that was flagged by the bureau. When I got wind of it, I made my way here. This is a small passion of mine.”

“So this would be an on-going investigation?”

She nodded. 

“Then perhaps speaking to a complete stranger about it would be taboo?”

Lauren looked through the haze of whiskey and realized her error. He was not wrong. Speaking to some random person about events that were not meant to be public knowledge was more than taboo, it was grounds for dismissal. 

She felt like she would cry. 

Or at the very least scream quite loudly. 

“Please do not be concerned. I have no intention of participating in some gossip circle. But this is a small town and if people do not already know, they will very soon. I did not mean to put you on the spot.”

Lauren tried to recover. 

“No, it wasn’t an imposition.” 

The words sounded silly as she spoke them. She was overcompensating for the dwindling pool of thoughts she had to draw from. Dominic smiled again. His face came alive each time as if his joy were an aphrodisiac. 

“That is good to hear. I would not want to make you uncomfortable. I can imagine a long train ride and your altercation with the woman here tonight would be enough to turn you off of this small town.”

She nodded. Feeling the whiskey take over completely, it broke down the walls of her implicit rules; the fortress behind which she dwelled so efficiently. “There might be some things here worth my time,” she slurred slightly. 

It was no secret that her skill at flirtation was less than par. Dominic looked at her, the intensity of his blue eyes speaking of a much older being than the one who sat across from her. She shook her head, the mist of intoxication making her think strangely. 

Suddenly, her emotions were all over the place. And then looking at Dominic, something animalistic took over. Something overtly sexual grabbed a hold from the inside out. “So what was that bit about walking me home?”

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

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Guest Post: The Path of the Fallen by Dan O'Brien

What follows is our first guest post, where we get to know Pacific Coast author Dan O'Brien and his book The Path of the Fallen. He also kindly gives us an excerpt to get a little taste. I have had the chance to get to know Dan thanks to a great author support group, and also had the opportunity to participate in one of his kickstarters, which was for an illustrated version of this book. Dan O'Brien will be visiting with us fairly often for the next few weeks.

Welcome to the third day of The Path of the Fallen blog tour. It will run until July 8th and will feature excerpts, new author interviews each day, character interviews, and a casting call by the author. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this sprawling fantasy world:

Set against the backdrop of the tundra and a world desperate for hope, the journey of a young man, E'Malkai, will come to define a realm that has been broken by an evil that does not sleep. A bitter betrayal, and the inception of a war that will consume the world, forces E'Malkai to confront the past and undertake a pilgrimage that is his birthright. Follow him on his journey and be transformed. 

A few questions for the author:

What is the most demeaning thing said about you as a writer? 

Probably a whole variety of things that would make me cry myself to sleep, but none that I would share. People are going to love you and hate you for what you do. Best prepare yourself for it now.

How do you react to a bad review of one of your books? 

Read it, see if there is anything useful, and then flush it from memory. It is easier now than when I was first starting out. 

When are you going to write your autobiography? 

It has been in the works for a while, though it might turn into one of those 80% autobiography, 20% bullshit books.

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

ⱷ

Fe’rein

Fe’rein was an abysmal sight. Crimson and shadow energy cascaded around him as he descended from the skies of Culouth, death and blood materialized. He lowered himself through the atmosphere feet first, as if gravity really held some control over him. His dark black boots emerged as he set foot on the platform outside the Commerce Deliberation Hall. The powerful energy trail diminished like ash and fog; his features returned. His white suit was unfettered, as if he had done no more than take a leisurely walk down the street. 

The great balcony was a sight to behold. Golden railings ran the length of the three exterior sides. The interior wall was a tapestry of stained glass, ornate shapes and colors dancing across the crystalline surface. His feet clicked on the marble tiles. Strict arms were at his sides, as if restrained by some force. Hateful eyes directed forward, though a cruel smile crept onto his lips. As he approached the wall of tempered glass, a grand sound resonated in the open air. If Fe’rein had heard or cared at all, he chose not to show it outwardly so. 

“Fe’rein, you have returned unscathed,” called the voice.

Fe’rein regarded him with a critical eye. He did not bother to turn as he passed by the diminutive orderly whose name he had chosen not to remember. The orderly opened his mouth to say more, but Fe’rein had already continued on. The mion moved through the wall next to the metallic port. He remerged within the confines of the inner chambers of the highest echelons of the Deliberations, into the personal chambers of High Marshal Kyien.

The room was dark. An artificial tint made the room darker than it would have been otherwise. Despite the impressive floor space there was only one real piece of furniture: a steel desk at the far corner of the room. The base possessed no legs that were apparent from the front. Deep indentations were carved into it; each was accompanied by another and another, until they appeared as erratic scratches on the surface. 

“There is no need to degrade Jilen. He was merely greeting you as I had instructed.” The voice held power and influence––a tone of supreme confidence that was not readily found in such abundance, even in the overzealous confines of Culouth.

The walls were darkened as well. Fe’rein could make out the outlines of the Umordoc guards set shoulder to shoulder the length of the entire room, more than twenty-five in all. None of them were as intelligent as Elcites, nor were any of them so affectionately named. 

They were designated by letters and numbers randomly assigned within their divisions. Each carried the metallic pikes that the lower beings told stories of them possessing. Their eyes had a haunting amber color to them, as wolves did when they hunted in the night. 

Fe’rein stopped as he approached the table, behind which sat the High Marshal. The man’s face was a sneer no matter what angle it was perceived from. His stature was not as his voice suggested. He was almost a head shorter than Fe’rein, a fact that was amplified by their current positions. 

“You were successful.”

Fe’rein cocked his head and bowed slightly. 

“Though sloppy. The entire collective already knows of your exploits as if it had been broadcast all over the frequencies.” The High Marshal rose from his chair, his hands gripped one another behind his back. His gray suit flared out in the arms and legs as Fe’rein’s did. “You were instructed to kill those aboard, not to obliterate the entire installation.”

The man’s face flushed. His cheek muscles flexed as if to personify his anger, while Fe’rein remained as he was, uncaring. His face was impassive as he watched the smaller man. 

“Have you nothing to say?” challenged Kyien.

“They decided what was necessary, not you.” 

“They?” queried Kyien, the arch of his eyebrow rising.

“The word of the tribunal supersedes your own. I did as instructed. No more, no less.”

Kyien turned, resuming his seat behind the desk. He folded his hands and propped his face atop his arms, watching Fe’rein with a scornful snarl. “They speak to you directly now?”

Fe’rein merely looked at the man. 

“Then you believe that you can perceive their will?” His words were feverish. But he kept his voice low, restrained. The High Marshal knew what would happen if the wrath of the mion were incited. 

“They would have wished any indication…” 

He was cut off as Kyien leapt up from his seat once more and approached Fe’rein with an unbridled speed. The smaller man raised his hand as if to strike. Words rolled from his lips before he had thought them through completely. “You are a fool of a human,” he roared. 

Fe’rein caught his arm. His hand glowed as he did so, the energy seeping out like bloodied smoke and wrapping around the High Marshal’s arm. He lifted the squat Kyien into the air. The grimace on the High Marshal’s face grew exponentially as Fe’rein’s grip began to burn through the suit. A stomach-turning smell of boiling flesh flooded over the room. 

“Damn you, Ryan.”

Fe’rein’s eyes exploded into energy, as did the rest of his body. The Umordoc began to move, a light twitch of their feet. Yet, it was far too slow to catch a Creator, the mion, unprepared. He extended his free arm out behind him, not bothering to look. An undulating pillar of liquid energy burst from his outstretched palm. Taking in three Umordoc with one blast, the energy incinerated them to ash as soon as the beam passed over them. 

“Stop it, Ryan,” struggled Kyien. But as he looked into Fe’rein’s eyes, he saw the anger, the hatred, and realized that he had used his human name. He grimaced then, mostly from the pain, but more so from his stupidity at angering a Creator. “Stop this, Fe’rein.”

The energy receded as quickly as it had come. Fe’rein let Kyien fall back to his feet. Twisting his arm, the bones and metal there clicked against one another. They made a cracking sound with each turn of his wrist. “You forget your place, Kyien. I serve the Intelligence, not you.”

Kyien pressed the burnt flesh that had been underneath the grasp of Fe’rein. Looking ruefully at the mion, he grimaced. “Forgive my impertinence, Fe’rein. I was not myself. I trust then that the Resistance forces in the space station are no more?”

Fe’rein nodded in agreement. 

His unwavering posture was strange after witnessing the power that resided at his fingertips, the awesome energy he commanded with nothing more than a thought. The orderly remained huddled inside the far balcony entrance. His wary eyes watched as the room returned to the more pleasant darkness that had been there before Fe’rein’s outburst. 

“Jilen,” spoke Kyien, regaining his former confidence when addressing the cowering man. He eyed Fe’rein, though the mion did not bother to return the gaze. 

Jilen pushed himself to his feet and approached, shuffling them at first. The stern look from Kyien quickened his step. He moved alongside the desk, bowing and not even looking in the general direction of Fe’rein. 

“Yes, Kyien sien. How may I serve you?”

“Would you please escort the good councilman in, we now require his presence. The mion has arrived.” Jilen bowed and scuttled past Fe’rein. Disappearing past the Umordoc, he moved into the darkness of the council chambers. 

“Why do we require the councilman? His words are useless, and neither truth nor action comes from them,” commented Fe’rein with a frown. 

“Because there is a council. The citizens of Culouth may be sheep, Fe’rein, but they still like to believe they have a say. That belief originates from their spokesman, Augustine.”

Fe’rein blew air through his lips in distaste. Folding his arms across his chest, he moved about the room for the first time without violence. He faded back into the darkness near the balcony entrance.

“I would ask a favor of you. Do not be harsh with the good councilman, he scares rather easily,” commented Kyien as cautiously as he could without sacrificing his pride. 

“So be it,” the mion replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

The opposite doors slid open and Jilen appeared, scuttling across the floor in hurried steps as he had before. This time Augustine remained no more than a few paces at his back, his robes dragging on the floor. His robust face beaded with sweat from the minimal exertion of walking.

Kyien stood, spreading his arms wide. A smile crossed his face as he took in the approaching figure of the councilman, but not before looking across the chambers to the pacing, faint figure of Fe’rein. “My good friend Augustine, how nice of you to join me––us here.”

“Kyien sien, it is good to see you as well,” he replied stiffly, still not yet aware of Fe’rein’s presence. Jilen disappeared and reappeared with a flat-backed chair. The plush cushion at its bottom was a dark purple, the yellow-clawed globes at its feet were engraved with runic symbols of ancient languages. “Will M’iordi sien be joining us as well?”

Janel M’iordi was another member of the council. His position dealt more with the war maneuvers of the Culouth state. He served as Secretary to the Intelligence, a rank set just below High Marshal Kyien. “He will be joining us shortly, but I wished to speak with you about the nephew of the mion, the one called E’Malkai sien.”

“Yes, young E’Malkai sien. He is well, even though the meeting was sullied by that bumbling fool Fredrick. The drunken one who blathers on; he said some things about Fe’rein.”

Fe’rein came out from the shadows in a flash. He was next to Augustine so quickly that the large man leapt from his seat as if a ghost or specter had accosted him. “What did Fredrick say?” rasped Fe’rein with interest. 

His wide eyes subsided. Augustine evened out the twisted ends of his robes, his sweaty hands drying against the fabrics. “Nothing of consequence, my mion.”

“Let me be the judge of that, Augustine,” replied Fe’rein. His tone assured the councilman that he held him in no respect, his title meaning nothing in his eyes. 

“Of course, Fe’rein sien,” stuttered Augustine, casting a worried glance at the calm features of Kyien. The High Marshal allowed himself a smile as he watched another of power quiver beneath the mion. “He said that you were not a hero, not like Seth, I believe is what he said. I do not know of any Culouth warrior by such a name.”

“Nor would you,” snapped Fe’rein, ending the man’s words with a thin hiss. 

“Your nephew has accepted the trials. He seemed dispirited by the human’s words,” added Augustine, his fat face frowning in contemplation. 

“Fredrick’s words,” mused Fe’rein, eyeing the reluctant councilman.

“A ward of a mion has not been chosen for a thousand years, perhaps a thousand’s thousand. Nor has there been a Creator for near as long,” spoke Kyien, sensing that Fe’rein’s already dark mood threatened to grow worse after hearing the councilman’s words. 

Jilen approached the table; his hunched shoulders slackened since Fe’rein had returned to the far shadows of the room. “Secretary M’iordi has arrived, my sien. He asks for an audience with you,” spoke Jilen, his head bowed, body lowered to one knee. 

“Show him in, Aide Jilen.”

“As you wish, Kyien sien.” 

Jilen disappeared as quickly as he had come. Silence descended upon the three of them. Fe’rein’s anger manifested as the dark energy billowed off him, lighting the shadow with the blood red of his power. 

“Is it true that the Harbinger has been destroyed?” queried Augustine, trying to break the tense silence that had wound itself around the three men.

Fe’rein did not look up, but instead fader deeper into his thoughts of E’Malkai and Fredrick. His cold eyes permeated the darkness, sending a shiver over the portly councilman as he averted his gaze back to Kyien. 

“It was indeed, though it was necessary in order to seal away any indication of the Resistance,” replied Kyien, choosing his words carefully. He felt the power that he wielded sapped by the mere presence of Fe’rein. He could feel that the mion had his eyes on him at all times, listening, seeking out those who were not worthy. “There is little left of them now. They hide in the streets and here among us, chameleons that they are.”

“They will not for long, High Marshal Kyien.” The voice came from the direction in which Jilen had exited. The shadow broke, and a man strode forth, sauntering. His lank frame was taller than Kyien’s. Although his waistline possessed much less girth than the High Marshal’s, he still had much wider shoulders.

M’iordi had stark white hair, as white as the garb Fe’rein wore. His eyes were blue globes, and his pale skin was freckled. He extended his hand across the desk to Kyien as he came in range, waving away Jilen who had brought a seat for the Secretary. 

“Kyien sien, you look well,” he offered. His accent was lighter than any of the others and then turning to Augustine, he bowed slightly. “Councilman Augustine, you look well-fed.”

They all laughed, even Augustine, though his faded the quickest. He watched the lank Secretary with a distasteful glare. Kyien leaned back into his chair and gestured to the shadow, his fingers twitching under the cold glare of Fe’rein. 

“You, of course, know Fe’rein.”

M’iordi bowed, interrupting Kyien. “My mion.”

“You look well, M’iordi,” returned Fe’rein, stepping out from the shadow. His thoughts lost for the moment. A twinge of a smile crossed his face, the canyon of his scar twisting as he did so. 

“Only through your graces, my mion.” 

M’iordi remained bowed as he spoke. 

Fe’rein stepped forward. He placed a gentle hand on him before he spoke again. “Call me Fe’rein. If the others see fit to do so, then so shall you,” replied Fe’rein as amiably as he could muster. 

“Of course, Fe’rein. There is talk that your victory was complete; that their base is no more and the day of their meddling will soon come to an end. Is this true, my mion?”

“Fe’rein has…” began Kyien. 

The dark demigod silenced him with a wave of his hand. The High Marshal bowed, although his contempt was not lost on the others. “Yes, there were some there, even Marion. I doubt that they were based there. It is my belief that the base was merely a diversion. It matters little, for it was necessary to make an example of their impertinence. The destruction of the space station was an unfortunate side effect––an effect that has seemed to create a rather heightened state of affairs here within the city.” 

Kyien looked on with surprise, Augustine as well. It was well known that Fe’rein rarely spoke at length, and to hear it in person was something of a memorable occasion. Many spoke of the trust between Fe’rein and M’iordi; a bond built on the distrust of the hierarchy of the Culouth Commerce. 

“A decoy in space to draw you away from the city? To what end?” queried M’iordi incredulously. His concern and surprise were not as heartfelt as they seemed, but the others went on whether they noticed or not. 

“There is a belief that they wish to strike Fe’rein’s own blood, to attack a blood relative of a Creator. How foolish. E’Malkai, sien of the House of Di’letirich, has been advised of a possible attack, yet he and Leane ilsen seemed rather unconcerned with it all,” replied Augustine, the jowls of his face swaying as he spoke. 

“Then the rumor that the young sien of the House of Di’letirich is to take on the trials of Tal’marath is true. What do we hope to accomplish from this?” continued M’iordi, pacing behind Fe’rein. 

“A ward of a mion is granted powers, so it is written. To have another powerful force aligned with us will be a great help as the Resistance continues to gather followers to its cause with each passing day,” explained Kyien. He laced his hands together and placed them on his chest, leaning back in his chair. 

“Do you believe this as well, Fe’rein?” queried M’iordi as he turned to the stoic mion. 

“There is certainly a possibility. There are those who doubted I would become what I am, yet here I stand. I believe that what was written possesses the same power now as it did then in the cradle of its birth,” replied Fe’rein, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“There are also those who say you do not deserve the gift that you have received,” spoke Augustine. His eyes glazed and he stared forward, his lips moving mechanically. 

Fe’rein was beside him with such deftness that neither M’iordi nor Kyien had the skill to follow. “What did you say, Augustine?” queried Fe’rein with a deepening scowl. 

“You do not deserve the power that you took,” echoed another’s voice through Augustine. The robust man was no longer himself. “Seth Armen, son of Evan, was to inherit the mantle of the Believer, not Ryan, son of Evan, desecrator of the power.”

M’iordi took a step back, gasping. He held his hand over his mouth in horror. Kyien rose from his seat, drawing a weapon from underneath his desk. The sidearm was twice as large as the High Marshal’s hand. He held it unsteadily as Augustine stood from his chair, throwing it aside and pointing a putrid finger at Fe’rein. 

“This is not over, another will see you fall.” Those were the last words as a blue light fell over Augustine. It consumed him, bathing him in unnatural energy and then dissipated in a flash of light. The heavy councilman dropped to the ground with a colossal thud, sprawling him out on his stomach. 

Fe’rein remained were he stood; his face showing as much surprise as he would allow himself. M’iordi and Kyien ran past him to the side of the fallen councilman, jostling him. He opened his eyelids and looked at them with a hazy, glassy stare. 

“What happened?” he asked as he wobbled, trying to get to his feet. He fell back to a sitting position with an uncomfortable groan. 

“Shaman,” whispered Fe’rein.

“Fe’rein, what was that?” spoke Kyien. 

“What is it that you remember, Augustine?” responded Fe’rein, not bothering to turn or answer the High Marshal’s question. 

Kyien’s eyes were aflame again, his passions getting the better part of him as he stormed toward Fe’rein. He paused, his shoulders shrugging as Fe’rein turned to face him. His cold stare reduced him to a child once more. 

“Answer my question, Augustine. Do not think, just speak what you remember. The words that still linger,” continued Fe’rein, standing over Kyien. His eyes swirled with liquid shadow and flame. 

Augustine shook his head. His hands trembled. “I––ah…”

“Speak, do not think,” commanded Fe’rein with considerable force behind his words. 

“Seth Armen of the Fallen. The true herald of the Believer,” replied Augustine with shame. He lowered his eyes away from Fe’rein, a whimper escaping his lips. 

“Fear not Augustine, I do not blame you. This was not your doing,” spoke Fe’rein with a sigh, as though a fantastic weight had been placed on him. “There is another at work here.”

“Are we in danger?” asked Kyien, placing his hands on his desk for support as he rounded it. “Will this voice come again?”

“I doubt that he would risk it again, but he came for me. He wished to speak to me and did so through Augustine,” returned Fe’rein with disgust plastered across his features.

He turned now, fading into the darkness, leaving the others to care for Augustine. His voice floated back over the shadow and his words froze their hearts. “If this being returns, it will be the end of Culouth and all those who serve the Intelligence.”

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

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