Azaria M.J. Durant's Blog, page 2

ANNOUNCEMENT: THIS BLOG HAS MOVED TO A NEW LOCATION!

I won’t bore you with the details, but in the process of establishing an email list, I discovered that I needed a domain name. Thankfully, I managed to move everything over to the new website without much of a hassle, so all of the content is the same EXCEPT now there is now a newsletter!!

So head on over and check out the fruit of my labour (and the cause of this migraine).

CLICK HERE!

Book Review: A Book of Creation by Gregory James Gardner Jr.

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Title: A Book of Creation

Author: Gregory James Gardner Jr.

Genre: Sci-fi/Fantasy

Goodreads

Amazon

Synopsis:

From the creative imagination of Gregory James Gardner, Jr. comes a Western Genre Fantasy uniquely blended with Eastern Sanskrit Theater. A marvelous, feel-good, moving roller coaster of intrigue and high-fantasy adventure.

An encroaching Darkness threatens to veil All Creation’s Light. But a ray of Light, along with hope, emerges from beneath the shadow of an eclipse. Old enemies find common ground in the venture to right the wrongs of the past.

Azrah Lum’Aria, a Professor of Architecture, and a late bloomer in a family of genetic experiments, discovered the secret of creating planets and filling them with life. The Superiors, a totalitarian regime bent on galactic control, have imprisoned Azrah for his discovery. How will the secret ever to be revealed?

The answer can only be found if estranged friends, Talia and Mathus can reunite amid unbelievable circumstances. Will friendship overcome betrayal? Can Azrah be freed? Will the Darkness devour the Light?

Explore themes of destruction and loss that give way to optimism and trust, forgiveness and redemption as you traverse hidden planets, and dive into forgotten pasts.

Fans of movies like The Never Ending Story and The Dark Crystal will enjoy this gleaming handheld gem of a story. With action and plot that feels like Indiana Jones sprinkled with a little bit of Star Wars, and with storytelling inspired by the late Jim Henson, A Book of Creation manages to stay completely original and unlike anything written in decades; a fantasy straight out of the 80’s!

Rating: 4.5 stars

Review: 

All I can say is WOW! What I expected when starting A Book of Creation was nothing like the story that then unfolded so beautifully and eloquently before me. Though the book started out slowly as the backstory and mysteries of Nocturne were introduced, it quickly swept me off of my feet as the story picked up nearing the second part, and carried me all the way to the end of the story. The characters were well written and believable for the most part, and the story was even more so. The clash of sci-fi and fantasy was impeccable, and the entire system of worlds was set up exquisitely! Over all, very well done!

I’m not giving it a full five stars because, while the characters were all very interesting, Talia was written a bit too eccentrically? She was definitely my favourite character by far, but there were certain things thrown in with her that irritated me a little. Mainly, her obsession with randomly getting undressed in the most unrealistic situations.  No nudity was described in detail, but it was a little awkwardly thrown in at times.

If you love in depth worlds, political struggles, and a unique mix of sci-fi and fantasy, this book is for you!

*** This book was given to me for free in exchange for an honest review***

Beast of Fire (Exclusive Bellator Backstory!)

Bellator was anxious. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Heat beat against her body, and the cloth of her shirt stuck to her skin. What she would give for the protection of her leather jerkin, but today she would do without. Today was her chance to prove herself.

Today, she would kill a dragon.

The air was still, despite the thousands of eyes that watched her. Up in on the edge of the arena she could see The Master, his gaze fixed on her. Searching for weakness.

He would see none in her.

Beside the master was his daughter; the beautiful red haired sorceress, sitting like a queen – powerful and cruel. The sight of her sent a bitter taste into Bellator’s mouth. She too was watching her, blue eyes fixed as she clutched the sides of her throne. Bellator couldn’t tell if she was worried or excited. She suspected it was the latter.

A great roar broke the silence, and her ears rang. She clutched the hilt of the small knife she’d been given. A single knife against a dragon. The odds were against her. But she could do it. She had to.

A shadow fell across her, and she looked up, the muscles in her shoulders tensing. A great black shape filled the sky, descending upon her, forced down by the chains that bound it. It was a black dragon; a fire breather. Female. Bellator could see she was well matched against it. The metal cuffs on her wrists stifled her own magic, but her skill as a warrior was unparalleled. At least, that’s what she’d been told.

She stayed where she was, filling her lungs with air as the dragon landed in front of her. The dragon’s ruby red eyes flashed as it peered at the crowd. Scared, Bellator realized. She could use its fear against it.

One of the chains around the dragon’s leg tightened, digging in, and the dragon roared, the pain making it stumble. It blew fire in all directions. Bellator was ready, and sprinted toward it. She ran straight through the fire. Scalding heat enveloped her for a second before she was through to the other side. Her hair was singed and her skin ached with mild burns, but she was energized. She leapt at the dragon’s leg, using the chains to climb. The dragon turned, trying to shake her off, but she reached its neck, and used the spikes to climb up further still.

Fire blasted at the spectators as the dragon tried to shake her off. Bellator lost her grip as the dragon tossed its head. She flew upward, then fell, landing on the dragon’s neck. Blinding pain pierced her stomach, and she heard a gasp from the crowd. She tried to push herself up with shaking arms, blood making her hands slip against the dragon’s smooth scales. One of the spikes has impaled the flesh in her side – barely missing her internal organs, she suspected. She freed herself, but just then, the dragon tossed its head again, and Bellator tumbled to the ground flat on her back.

There was a roar from the crowd – deafening. Her head buzzed as she struggled to get up, but froze when she found herself looking up into the eyes of the dragon. Its teeth were barred, and it growled. She saw her knife nearby, and reached for it, seizing it in her hand. The dragon moved closer, hot air washing over Bellator. Just a bit closer, and Bellator would thrust the blade into the soft part under the neck. She would slay the dragon and win.

Yet something distracted her. The dragon had stopped, almost as if it sensed her motives. And looked at her. The fierceness faded, and Bellator could see fear again. The dragon was trapped, forced to play a game she didn’t want to play; to be the sport of another’s victory. In the dragon’s eyes, Bellator saw herself.

Bellator’s own fear faded. She lifted a bloody hand, slowly, to the dragon’s muzzle. The dragon didn’t move – but watched her carefully.

“You are young,” Bellator noticed. “Young like me.”

The dragon made a sound in the back of its throat.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

The dragon’s breath grew cooler, and its hackles lowered.

“They want me to.” Rebellion flashed through her, and she turned her head to look at the spectator’s booth- right to her master. “He wants me to kill you. Compassion is a weakness.”

When she looked back, the dragon was pulling back. There was meaning in her deep, intelligent eyes.

“But this isn’t weakness,” Bellator interpreted. “This isn’t compassion.”

She stood up slowly, blood running down her leg. Once again, she charged the dragon, and climbed up its side using the chains that were wrapped around it. The crowd watched, breath bated, but the dragon didn’t fight. Bellator reached the dragon’s neck, and crouched down low, putting her hand on the dragon’s head. “Ride with me,” she whispered.

And then leaned to the side. The dragon began to turn.

“What’s this?” The murmur of the crowd rose. “Has she tamed the dragon?”

No, not tamed. This dragon was strong and wild, just like her. She couldn’t be tamed either. They’d simply come to an agreement.

Together, they strode the length of the arena to where her master sat. The dragon raised its head, and Bellator stood, crossing her arms and glaring. For once, she was powerful too.

A bit of a smile twitched The Master’s lips, while shock betrayed his daughter’s cold demeanour.

“Well done, Bellator. As usual, your performance is most unexpected.” For once, there didn’t seem to be veiled malice in his voice.

Bellator bowed, hardly feeling the pain in her side amid the glory of his approval.

“A dragon has never been tamed before, young one,” his daughter’s voice said, approval in her tone as well if not in her expression. “You are a truly remarkable warrior. You do credit to your Master.”

“Thank you,” Bellator said, smiling to herself. She’d keep their secret; her and her new friend’s. One day, together, they’d be strong enough to make their own way. Then no one could cage them again.

“Broken Arrow” with Azaria M.J. Durant

A review of Broken Arrow (as well as an awesome Bellator cosplay!!) by Rebekah DeVall!

Flash Flood Typist

Hey, guys.

I’m off traveling, but the show must go on! Today we have a book that’s a little out of the ordinary for here… but in the most awesome way.

Broken Arrow

An ancient power long kept dormant stirs in the shadows once more as one boy embarks on a quest to earn his freedom and the freedom of his world!

Magic has turned to myth, the Vaelhyreans of old to legend, and the power wielded by the ancients has long been forgotten. However, with Ealdred, a mere half-breed slave boy, myth becomes real, the forgotten remembered, and the power of legend is reborn within him.

Ealdred is merged into a world of mystery, brimming with deceit, where the remaining Vaelhyreans are in a desperate fight for their very survival. When Ealdred is kidnapped by the power-mongering dark lord Zeldek himself, he must make a choice; to commit…

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Fire and Blood (Bellator’s Story)

A flicker of torchlight spread across the floor of the cold cell, almost reaching the small form that huddled in the shadowy corner. All that could be seen was the edge of a tattered cloak partially blanketing a pair of small, dirty feet. Footsteps echoed in the foul-smelling air, which – upon first breathing in, stung the nose – but one could get numb to it over time. The shadow of a man blocked the light, before the bars of the cell, his golden hair outlined in the light.

“Good evening!” a masculine voice greeted cheerfully.

The feet recoiled into the shadows.

A rattle, a click, and the door swung open. The man stepped into the room, richly dressed, a cloak sweeping the floor behind him, though he picked it up daintily between two fingers.

“I think you and I should come to an understanding, little one.”

There was no response. Nor had the man expected one. He sighed, resting his hand on the hilt of the fancy sword that hung at his side.

“Let’s start with your name. Can you tell me that?”

Again, no reply.

He sighed. Clearly, this was going nowhere. It was time for a new approach.

“Where did you get that brand on your hand?” he demanded gruffly.

A shuffle of feet. The man squinted into the shadows, but the glaring torchlight made the shadows even deeper.

“Look, missy, I can’t help you if you won’t cooperate!”

“Don’t call me that.” The voice was soft, feminine, and very young. Yet the childishness it carried was hollow.

The man was too wrapped in his own self-importance to notice. “At last. She speaks!”

A face materialized from the shadows as the girl moved forward. Her gaze sent a chill down the man’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the way the torchlight caught her eyes, or the fierce hunger and rage trapped behind them.

“I know who you are,” she said, her soft voice becoming harsher. “You are King Leonel, and you’re a despicable coward who gorges himself while his people starve!”

“And you’re a loose tempered brat, apparently,” he said evenly, smiling in an attempt to keep his bearing.

“Your people hate you,” she continued, just as calmly, yet venomous all the same. “I’ve seen it. I feel their hunger. You’re going to die if you keep ignoring them.”

He gritted his teeth. “Do you know what that symbol on your hand means? It is a brand, given to you by one far greater than you or I. It means that he is your master. You belong to him, and so I’m going to take you to him.”

The little girl’s eyes narrowed. “No one owns me!”

“My master does.”

Her breathing quickened, and she backed into the shadows again.

“That’s right,” he chuckled, using the ground he had gained. “I’m taking you to my master. Not that I know what use a scrawny, pint-sized brat—what the-!”

A foot hit him square in the throat, throwing him back into the wall. The girl had darted from the shadows, and now used his momentum to climb up him, wrapping her legs around his chest, and beat him about the head.

“G-guards!” the king bellowed when he could finally breathe again, his voice squeaking pathetically. His voice was quickly silenced as she grabbed his coveted hair in one fist and his beard in the other, and slammed his head back against the wall.

The guards rushed into the cell and grabbed hold of her, trying to pry her off of him. It was a few minutes before they succeeded. Still she struggled, trying to get at him again, shouting at the top of her lungs, “No one’s ever going to own me! You hear? No one!”

King Leonel reached to comfort a deep, bleeding scratch across his face. “Throw that little brat into the pit! Fire and blood is how it’s going to end, missy. Fire and blood!”

She was dragged from the room, kicking and screaming insults back at him. Fighting, biting, and scratching, she was half-dragged, half-carried through dark passageways until at last they stood on the edge of a deep, dark pit. Though she struggled to hold on, they grabbed her wrists and dangled her over the pit.

“Don’t!” she squeaked, just as they let go.

The girl fell for a brief moment, quite sure that she’d be dead at the bottom. But then she landed, her legs crumbling beneath her. There was a snap as her ankle twisted the wrong way beneath her, and her scream echoed from the abyss.

Only the darkness replied, and that was to envelope her in its cold grip as the torchlight slipped away.

Along n the dark she lay, her foot throbbing as the pain grew only worse. The walls around her seemed to come alive and press in on her, and she was sure that she heard a dull hiss from somewhere close by. A hiss which grew louder, and louder, until it was coming from all around her. Something brushed against her, and she froze, gritting her teeth. Another something coiled around her broken ankle, and yet another slithered up her arm to drape itself over her chest. A tongue flicked against her face. She could practically smell the poison in their fangs.

As the night passed by slowly, she remained still, taking only light, shallow breaths. Her skin was pale, and every breath felt like her last. All the while, hatred as strong as a raging fire burned in her veins, filling them until they ached more than the pain of her injury. All her life, she’d been pushed around, and she was done. She’d show these people they couldn’t own her, or break her for that matter.

Swallowing hard, she slowly started to pick herself up. A snake hissed threateningly as it slid off of her arm, and she froze. But it soon got bored and moved on. She managed to pick them all off one by one and rose steadily to her good foot.

When King Leonel returned the next morning, he threw a torch down into the pit. It hit the bottom, sending snakes slithering away in all directions. But instead of finding a lifeless body on the floor, he found the space empty. He gasped, stumbling backward, which was the only reason he didn’t fall into the pit when the rock struck his scalp. Black spotted his vision, and a cry of rage echoed in his ears as the girl grabbed him and dragged him to the ground from behind.

A deep chuckle rocked the ground, and the girl felt a shudder of fear. She looked up, mid strike, and saw a cloaked man standing in the shadows.

“I believe you have underestimated her, Leonel,” the man’s chilling voice said. “She’s quite the fighter.”

“Who are you?” she demanded, pressing her knee into Leonel’s chest.

He stepped into the torchlight, pushing back his hood to reveal a crown of black gold on a head of braided white hair. “My name is Zeldek. I am your master.”

She swore, leaping to her feet. Leonel tried to move, and she stamped her broken foot into his neck, ignoring the pain.

Zeldek raised an eyebrow. “How old are you, exactly?”

“Not your business!”

“You look quite young. No older than ten, I’m guessing? And yet,” he took a step forward, a sinister light in his eye, “you just took down not only a grown man, but a skilled warrior. I see great things in your future.”

“Go crawl back to whatever hole you came out of!”

A smile twisted his pale lips. “I’ll take her.”

“Excuse me?” The little girl’s fists clenched

“You did well to call me here, Leonel. For once, I am not disappointed.”

“The girl is all yours,” the king choked. “Take her, please!”

“No!” the girl growled, picking up the rock from the ground and clenched it in her fists. “You can’t have me!”

Zeldek’s eyes flashed red. “Do you really think you have a choice?”

“Yeah,” the girl tossed her head of straggled, chestnut hair. “I do.”

Leaping forward, she hurled the rock at his head, and then sprinted at him. But however quick she was, this man was quicker. He caught the rock in his hand without so much as flinching, and it broke unto flaming pieces, dashing sparks into her eyes. She stumbled, and he struck her to the ground with the back of his hand.

“You will learn to respect me,” he said coldly. “Or you will suffer greatly until you fear me.”

Blood filled her mouth, and she spat it out. Yet there was no fear in her eyes as she glared at him. She pushed herself back to her feet, only to be kicked back again. The air was thrown from her lungs as she hit the opposite wall.  A sharp pain penetrated her lungs, and her broken ankle twisted at an odd angle.

Again, she tried to pick herself back up.

Zeldek raised both eyebrows in astonishment. Leonel, who had picked himself up, drew his sword and raised it to run her through.

“Leonel, stay your hand!” his master ordered in a voice like thunder.

“She’s dangerous, sir!” Leonel protested. “Too dangerous to be kept alive! If this girl is allowed to grow up, she’ll be—“

“Perfect,” his master finished for him, casting his dark eyes over the girl.  “She is going to be perfect. I see a warrior so strong and fierce that legions flee before her. I see a devouring darkness that cannot be stopped, a resolve that cannot be shaken.”

“I see a stupid old man trying to plan my life out for me,” the girl said through her teeth.

He bent down beside her, his hand glowing like embers. Heat radiated from it, and he held it close to her face. “And a will bent entirely to my command.”

She gritted her teeth hard as the heat blistered her neck and sizzled the edges of her hair. Darkness seized her vision as the pain grew unbearable, and she was left with the echo of his voice to haunt her nightmares.

Review: Book: Broken Arrow- Azaria Durant

4 1/2 star review of Broken Arrow by Destiny (FromtheBookReviewer’sDesk)!

From the Book Reviewer's Desk

Title: Broken Arrow

Series: Darkened Destiny Saga #1

Author’s Name: Azaria Durant

Publisher: Imperatrix Publishing

Genre: YA Fantasy

Page Count: 498 Pages

ISBN: 9781775331117

Author or Book Website: https://www.inkitt.com/azariadurant

Link to Amazon purchase page: Broken Arrow

Link to Goodreads: Broken Arrow

Release Date: July 29, 2018

How I Got the Book: ARC

Summary of the Book:

An ancient power long kept dormant stirs in the shadows once more as one boy embarks on a quest to earn his freedom and the freedom of his land!

Magic has turned to myth, the Vaelhyreans of old are naught but legend, and the power of the ancients has long been forgotten. However, with Ealdred, a mere half-breed slave boy, myth becomes real, the forgotten remembered, and the power of legend is reborn.

Sold into slavery at birth, Ealdred has grown accustomed to his bleak existence, only dreaming of a life he can call…

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Book Review: Broken Arrow

A spot on review of Broken Arrow by CS Taylor from https://romantictypewritergardens.wordpress.com

romantic typewriter gardens

To all my beautiful people,

It makes me supremely proud to have the chance to review this book for you.

Not often do I get the chance to read ARC copies for up and coming authors. When those copies are the first book in a series, it’s common for me to read one, enjoy it, and never read the rest.

However, I’ve recently read a book for a young friend and I must say that it’s something that I would be interested in reading again, as well as having the opportunity to read its sequels.

This book was written by a young lady on my writing forum, Neverland. Because of this, I’m excited to share this with you.

I recently posted concerning the importance of being involved with other writers and the opportunities doing gives you. For me, that opportunity is getting the chance to see young authors…

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Meet Ealdred (MC of Broken Arrow)

Ealdred is a half-breed, the hated mix of the people of Lavylli, who live in the heart of the earth, and the people who live under the sun. He has been a slave since birth, tossed from master to master throughout his childhood.  In spite of being put down and abused his entire life, he still fights to be worth something, even though he believes deep down that he is worth nothing. He learned to fight through the anger and pain caused by the constant abuse he was shown, and instead looks for the good in others. Even so, he never really trusts anyone.

He doesn’t see himself as brave, but if he sees someone who is wronged or hurt, he can be quite dangerous in defense of them. Sarcasm comes naturally to him, but he keeps it to himself unless he’s especially annoyed. His biggest dream is to one day find the family that he imagines he was taken from as a child and to live happily ever after with them.

Age: 15

Race: Half-breed

Height: 4’ 8”

Appearance: Black curly hair, unnaturally blue eyes,  pale skin. Thin eyebrows, slightly pointed nose. Thin, hollow face. Very thin and small build.

Personality: Sweet, gentle, can be fierce under pressure. Intelligent, but doesn’t know much about the world other than how to survive the cruelty of others.

Weapons: Dagger, sword, magic

Magic Type: Unknown

Quotes: 

“My respect must be earned before it is given.”  — Ealdred to Zeldek

“Well, what do you think?”

For a moment, I think that she is talking about herself and I am grasping for something to say when I realize that she’d gestured to everything in general.

“Oh!” I stammer, glancing around. “Right! Yeah. It’s nice. Has a lot of interesting detail. And fire. Who would have thought to use a mountain range as a wall?”

She grimaces in irritation.  “I was talking about Fyra.”

I try to speak clearly, but my tongue won’t let me.  “Oh- oh, right.  Her.  She’s great too.  Flying is amazing!”

— exchange between Ealdred and Bellator after their flight on her dragon

“She told me to jump off the tower and I did it,” I say blandly.  “I’m pretty sure I knew what I was getting myself into.” — Ealdred to Zeldek

 

Concept art (drawn by me):

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Collage:

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Meet Bellator (Ally of Broken Arrow)

Bellator is a skilled warrior and assassin in the employ of the sorcerer Zeldek, who she serves as general of his elite guard. She enjoys fighting, terrorizing her master’s servants, and flying with her great black dragon, Fyra. Bellator takes pride in being undefeated, as no one has ever bested her in combat for many years.

In spite of her scorn of courage, Bellator is courageous, bold, and intelligent. She is always two steps ahead, and quickly comes up with a clever plan for any problem that comes her way. Trust is not something she gives easily, and loyalty even less. She is not good with friendships. Most often, she seeks to benefit herself, though overall she has a keen sense of right and wrong and tries to keep to her set moral code. She has a soft spot for half-breeds, as one saved her from getting her hand cut off for theft when she was young. Emotions are foreign to her.

Bellator values cleverness, intelligence, and honor above all, though she herself struggles with the latter.

Age: Unknown

Race: Human

Height: 5’ 2”

Appearance: Dark brown wavy hair which she always wears in a tight braid around her head. Ocean blue eyes. Light tan skin, cut scars all over face. Thick brows.

Personality: Vicious. Takes shit from no one. If you try to control her, she will plot your swift demise.

Weapons: Sword, daggers, bow and arrows.

Quotes:

“Your head would be at the end of my sword if my master elected to give the order.” – Bellator to ‘Zandelba’

“Lord Zeldek does not tolerate disrespect, and neither do I.  You will learn your place here, or you will have me to answer to. And I promise, I won’t have as gentle a touch with you as the Master has had thus far.” – Bellator to Ealdred

“If courage is a sufficient substitute for foolishness.  I’ve always seen them as synonymous.” – Bellator to Zeldek

“I am no mere child, you insolent swine!  I am Bellator, known as the Crimson Shadow. I demand to know who you are and what your purpose is with this town!” – Bellator to a crowd of ruffians

Concept Art (drawn by me):

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Collage:

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Pre-order an eBook copy of Broken Arrow today!

 

Into the Veil of Shadow — Annalyn’s Story

The tavern was a buzz of excitement as the midday rush neared its close, but Annalyn’s thoughts were elsewhere as she stared out through the open window. Beyond the docks, the waters of the lake shone in the sunlight, and the forest on the outskirts of town whispered her name. She stood, transfixed, only coming out of her stupor when the mug of ale on the trey in her hands toppled over.

“Oy, miss!” a disgruntled customer exclaimed, leaping up as his table was soaked with the stuff.

“Oh!” The white haired maiden grabbed a fold of her apron and rushed to dry the mess. “I’m so sorry, Mister Dowel. I’ll get a replacement for your meal right away. On the house.”

The cranky old man grumbled, but accepted her offer with a nod. “Best keep your head outta the clouds, little miss.”

“Yes,” she agreed, taking his food. “I’ll have the replacement out in a moment.” She walked around behind the counter and into the scullery.

“What happened out there?” the tall, pale woman with equally as white hair as Annalyn asked as she scooped beans onto a plate.

Della was the most gossiped about woman in town, not only for her unnatural appearance and the fact that she’d appeared out of nowhere, but also for the grace and beauty that she carried herself with. A lot of people said she was the only thing that held the town together sometimes, for her motherly nature extended beyond her own family. If someone was in need, she’d be there, and never once did she expect anything in return. She was the kindest, most sensitive woman in town, and despite the townspeople knowing nothing about her or where she came from, they loved her nonetheless.

“I got carried off again,” her thirteen-year-old daughter replied, dumping the ale soaked food into the slop bucket. “It is so lovely outside today. I wish I was out in the forest instead of stuck in here.”

Her mother laughed, her silver eyes twinkling. “Is that so?”

“It’s so hot and stuffy.” Annalyn tugged at the collar of her dress.

“I’ll tell you what,” her mother said, moving a strand of her daughter’s sweaty hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you finish cleaning up the mess, and then you can go out and pick blackberries for jam this afternoon? Does that sound like a good exchange?”

Annalyn’s lightly freckled face lit up. “Yes! Thank you, mother!”

Della laughed, and handed her a plate of food. “Alright. You bring this to poor Mister Dowel, and then you can run along.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Annalyn took the plate and hurried out into the tavern. Handing the plate to a now appeased Mister Dowel, she headed for the nearest exit. She undid her apron as she pushed open the door, and pulled it over her head, leaving it hanging on the railing outside of the tavern. She hovered about long enough to retrieve a basket from the stables, and then hurried up the road and out of town. The breeze caught her as she neared the top of the ridge that surrounded the town, and the sweet scent of the forest filled her lungs.

She entered, swinging her basket care-freely, and searched the underbrush for the juicy clusters of berries.   Hours passed as she hummed happily to herself in the peace and quiet of the forest, listening to the birds chirping in the treetops as she wandered further and further north. Annalyn was a smart girl, and kept track of where she was going as her basket was quickly filled with berries. She had a set destination in mind; a small glade with a little brook running through it, which was the home of her childish fantasies of fairyland, where she reigned as queen. Her pace quickened as she heard the soft bubbling of the brook, which soon swept into view. She set down the basket of blackberries beside a tree and went to the water’s edge, washing the berry stains from her fingers in the cool flow.

All at once, a shadow fell over the water, and she glanced up. Across the brook from where she knelt stood a figure, wrapped in a dark cloak and peering at her from under a deep hood. She froze, looking right back at him. The two stared at one another, him with his dark eyes, and her growing both frightened and curious.

“Hello,” she greeted at last, her voice hesitant. “Are you lost?”

He shook his head once.

“Forgive me, but do you live around here? Is this your brook?”

A bit of a smile turned the corner of his mouth. “No, child,” he said, his voice quiet. “I am simply passing through.”

“I live in an inn,” she said. “I can show you where if you are looking for somewhere to stay.”

“That would not be wise,” he replied. There was a slight breeze, which blew aside the hood of his cloak, revealing a scarred, wrinkled face and long, white hair. “I am on my way to my home.”

“Oh.” Most of her fear had vanished by now. “Where do you live?”

“A castle, far from here. To the north.”

“The north?” she echoed. “There’s nothing north of here. Nothing but wilderness.”

“You think not?” He smiled. “I see I have succeeded in hiding my castle quite well, then.”

Annalyn returned his smile, but then grew suspicious. “Why were you watching me?”

He hesitated. “You remind me of someone. Someone I knew a long time ago.”

“Oh.” This surprised her. “Did she have hair like me?”

All feeling left his face. “She did.” His eyes fell to the necklace that hung around Annalyn’s throat. “Where did you get that?”

She reached up to touch the pendant. “My mother gave it to me.”

“Is that so?” He vanished suddenly, appearing right beside her. Bending to one knee, he took the pendant carefully between his long fingers. Kneeling down, he was as tall as she was. “… how lovely.”

Annalyn stared at him, surprised and even more curious. “How did you do that?”

He looked at her, and she noticed that his pupils were dark red. “Magic,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “You’re a sorcerer?”

“Are you afraid?” he countered, letting go of the necklace.

She hesitated. “Should I be?”

The man rose to his feet, observing her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he seemed to decide. “I will take you to see my home.”

Annalyn hesitated. She’d always wanted to see a castle. But… her mother and father would worry. “No thank you,” she said politely. “I need to get home. But it was nice meeting you.”

He watched, looking a little disappointed, as she turned to leave. He raised his hand, his fingers moving in a ripple, and a black veil of mist stretched in the girl’s path. Annalyn gasped, backing away from it. But before she could speak, it had swallowed both her and the sorcerer whole.

The shadows cleared moments later, and she stood in the midst of a large, empty scullery. Everything around her was dark and gloomy, and the air smelled of sulphur instead of pine.

“What have you done?” she cried, frantically turning in a circle. “Where have you taken me?”

“To my home,” he responded, turning his back on her. “You are my servant now. Do as I tell you, and I will return you to your family in time. Disobey me, and you will never see them again.”

Annalyn couldn’t breathe. She clutched her hands to her chest to keep them from shaking. “No. P-please… sir…” She couldn’t go on.

He glanced back at her, his eyes now glowing in the darkness. For a moment, his stone heart softened as he saw the likeness of the girl he’d once known. But it hardened up again when he remembered the fate he’d brought upon her. “You should have been afraid of me.”

Then he turned and walked out, leaving her alone. Annalyn’s breathing grew louder as she tried to stop the sobs from coming, but it was no use. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her knees gave out. She stumbled, catching herself against a table, and held onto it, her body trembling.

A loud clatter came from behind her, and she turned with a cry of alarm. A boy peered at her from the scullery’s garbage chute.

      “Who’re you?” he asked, climbing out. He was filthy, and smelled of rotting matter. “Ain’t never seen you before.”

She sniffed, trying to wipe away her tears. “… A-Annalyn.”

“You must be new,” the boy said with a crooked grin, brushing rotten onion peels out of his curly orange hair. He extended a hand. “The name’s Uri.”

Annalyn looked at his hand, not moving to take it.

“You’ll get used to it here. Really, it ain’t that bad so long as you remember four things. One, you ain’t never gonna see the sun, so get used to it. Two, yes, the ezixs always smell like that. And three, stay clear of Bellator. She’s a nasty one.”

She frowned. “What’s number four?”

“Four?” Uri’s smile faded. “You’re gonna be stayin’ a while.”