Thom L. Matthews's Blog

Void and Shadow Prologue

The dreams were like oil in a wet hand, slipping away the moment he grasped at them. It was infuriating every time. He was his father—a recurrent theme.

His father seemed young in the dreams. Old enough to know the cruelty of the world but young enough to think it had a chance to change. 

No, wait. That wasn’t right. His father always believed it could change. It just wouldn’t in his lifetime. 

There was blood. Enough to fill buckets by the time the dream was over. So much death. Witnessed, but also exacted. Alphonse bloodied his blade as if the steel itself thirsted for it. Wastelanders nearing Freztad, cut down before they reached the village, its people never knowing about their secret savior. 

Early Ænærians, the first among the Rhion, torn asunder by the Voidsweeper after an ageless woman handed it to him. A woman Ben knew was his mother. The love in his heart for her was more powerful than any bit of strength he’d carried as a Nephilim. Or was that love his father’s, rather than his own? 

In the dream, there was little difference. 

He was Alphonse but with a vague knowledge that he was not. Confusion shrouded Jean, like a dense fog, the details scrambling away like scurrying rats under a sudden light when he looked too closely. He could see her, physically, easy enough. She was tall and golden-skinned, with bright green eyes and blonde hair. But he could not know her, and whether that was a reflection of Alphonse’s feelings toward her, never all the way knowing her secrets despite the life they shared together, or the fact that his mother was a complete stranger to himself, he did not know. 

Perhaps a bit of both. 

Time passed by like pages flipping in the wind, with only tiny glances here and there. Alphonse and Jean married under a starlit sky. Their friends were there, too. Marcus, Jesse, Siegfried with a woman who must have been Arynn’s mother, Alejandra, and Heath. They were under an arch made of woven branches with fresh red and cream dahlias and dark green leaves and vines in the upper left-hand side. Risa stood between them and spoke while Ben’s parents mouthed responses, silent in the wind breezing through the pages of the memory. 

They were together in a room, illuminated only by the fireplace in the back. Jean leaned forward, face buried in her hands, Alphonse’s eyes intent on her, hand on her back. 

Gulls called, and the air was thick with ocean brine. They were on a ship. Jean’s belly looked ready to burst as she braced herself across the deck, skin pale without the golden sheen.

Jean hopped across boulders in a flowing river. He followed, eying each step before carefully jumping. Strapped across his chest, little arms and legs flailed with each leap, accompanied by an awe-filled coo. 

He looked down at the baby, with little tufts of dark hair peeking out through a blue wool cap. The child had only just learned to keep his neck upright and was turning from side to side, soaking in all the beauty around them.

Here, the trees were a vibrant green, and the trunks were sturdy and stood tall and proud. Shrubs carried berries, adding a palette of red and blue to the scenery. This is what the rest of the world had once offered. This place itself was an oddity. A gem amid the rubble. 

When they crossed the river, the woman turned back to him. Her eyes like gems of green themselves. They met his, then glanced down at the child. Tears welled instantly.

He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder and let out a breath. Letting go was like releasing the last air in his lungs while stuck underwater. He might as well have been. He’d already been drowning in anticipation of this day. 

“You don’t have to go,” he said. The voice was not his own. Or rather, it was not Ben’s voice. But he was not Ben, the child strapped to his chest, examining the world around them, unaware this could be the last time he’d ever see his mother. 

“You know I do, Al,” Jean said. Her voice was calm, her tone even. It told Alphonse just how upset she was. She shut off her emotions whenever they got to be too much for her now that she’d healed sufficiently in the Grand Vault. In many ways, she’d changed since that day. She was always a driven woman, but now the horizon she looked toward was beyond Alphonse’s sight. There was still love in her eyes, especially when she looked at their son. He imagined leaving them behind would have broken her before the Vault. Now, she was stronger than ever.

She had a son to protect, and all the power in the world to do it. 

And that was why she needed to leave. 

“He’s still a threat,” she said. “Dol-F’raa is out there. The Na Oiad still wants him for abandoning his post. He’ll attract attention to us, and when they come, Ben will be in danger. More so if they learn what he is.”

“He’s our son,” Alphonse said. “That is what he is. Anything else will be up to him when he’s old enough to make those choices.”

Jean shook her head. “Enochians don’t have children. We’re all created artificially, cloned and genetically engineered to perfection.”

“And yet Ben was born of your blood. Our blood.”

“Yes. They have a name for such things. Nephilim. Half-angels. Imperfect creatures who belong neither in the heavens or on Earth.”

“From the Old Days tales,” Al said, remembering. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. It would be the last, though. 

“From tales before the common era of humans in the Old Days. Not the oldest of tales, but perhaps the most fitting. There is a reason such span across time and space.”

“You told me the Nephilim weren’t real. Nor were angels or demons. So what is it the Na Oiad fears?” 

“They fear nothing. They know all. Anything beyond that doesn’t exist. They make sure to keep it that way.”

“Is that why they’ve erased so much of human history in their efforts to rebuild the world?”

“They’ve erased nothing. They’ve hidden it, kept it close to their chests. And now, I’ve taken that from them just as they have to you and your people.”

“What you did in the Vault…” Alphonse said. He hadn’t been in there. He’d stayed with Ben and his friend at the foot of the mountain, where now they planned to create a town to monitor the Vault for any sign of Enochian retaliation. 

“Yes. Their AI—the amalgamation of all Enochian consciousness and bearer of all history both human and Enochian—will remember nothing. It’s all there in the back of its mind, but whenever it tries to draw from them, it will find them drifting away like the beginnings of a dream just after waking. All it will know is its purpose to keep the Vault functional. Keep the seeds for future generations.”

“It seems cruel to do that to someone. To take away all they’ve ever known and leave them all alone, trapped inside, cursed to never see the world it is bound to.”

“The AI is not a person. It knows only what I have told it. It will send occasional messages to the Light Tower—useless information to maintain the charade. Despite that, the Na Oiad will soon uncover the truth. When they do, we’ll do all we can to stop them. I can’t let Dol-F’raa interrupt that. The other Enochians will keep to their posts, but a rogue Enochian is a dangerous thing.”

He didn’t like the way Jean spoke of the person inside the Vault. This ‘artificial intelligence.’ As far as he was concerned, any intelligence at all was real, whether artificial or natural. Jean was real, and so was their son. Yet they were the products of something that sounded anything but natural. 

He’d done his best to keep up with Jean all this time. He’d known from an early age that he was perhaps the sharpest mind in all of Freztad—save perhaps for his sister, who’d been able to read people as well as the books on her shelves. Yet even he had a limit to how much he could comprehend what Jean told him. Already she’d taught him love beyond all his imagination. Surely, there was only so much his mind could contain before it began to lose something in exchange for new knowledge. 

What he did understand, was that Jean’s people were controlled by tyrants who had their eyes on this world. Jean had been a part of their ranks once upon a time. Her betrayal would cost them dearly. It had put her in danger and was the reason he’d ever met her in the first place. They presumed her dead and had erased all back-ups of her consciousness on Earth and in Tsiyyon. Enochians weren’t supposed to be able to live in this world’s conditions. 

Except they viewed life differently. A life without their abilities was the same as death. The same as stranding a woman in the desert in summer with naught but the clothes on her back. Eventually, she would die. It was only a matter of how. 

But if the woman found someone to care for her and bring her to shelter, she may survive and thrive. 

That was how Jean came to know Alphonse and survive in a world she’d been taught for centuries would kill her. Her people had forgotten long ago that it was those encounters with death that made life stronger. Those able to weather the storms could pass their strength onto their descendants. The other rogue Enochians had discovered that. Yet even they’d been killed. All except Jean, Dol-F’raa, and Ere-Bose. The most dangerous beings on the planet. 

He looked down again at his son and his little hands, tiny fingers wrapping around his own. A strong grip for a strong boy. Their son would need more than strength to handle the coming storm. He would need the strength of others. He would need their love and their trust. 

And as much as it pained him, Alphonse knew he would need their hatred, too. He would need to face isolation. He would need to experience everything to know what he was fighting for. Jean had not known what it was like to lose her powers before she realized just how much she missed them. 

She hadn’t even left yet, and already he knew just how much he would miss her when she was gone. Ben would grow up, perhaps never knowing his mother. Never feeling her love. Alphonse had known all of it, and when it disappeared, it may never return. 

“I will miss you, Jean. Please be careful.” 

She reached for his cheek and smiled softly. “When it is over, you will know. The sword hilt will be sent to you. Ere-Bose never perfected it, so once I kill Dol-F’raa, the blade will break. He’ll be forced to leave his hiding place and gather more void matter. You need to bring it to him.”

His eyes drifted from hers to the weapon sheathed in the heavy sheath she’d said had been lined with lead to stop its abilities from dampening her own. The hilt of the crowned and winged snake was meant to illustrate the evolution of Enochians, who’d called themselves angels and shed their bodies like a snake its skin. The crown was to show they’d reached the pinnacle of evolution. Ere-Bose used that symbolism to show that it was the Na Oiad’s own hubris that would lead to their downfall. 

“He’ll be without his powers, won’t he? Maybe you won’t need the blade.”

“If the sword is sent to you intact, then you’ll know I didn’t need it.”

“In that case, you bring it to me yourself.” 

Jean’s brow furrowed. The tears were back, and this time, she let them run. 

She didn’t expect to come back from this. She was ready to die to kill Dol-F’raa, all to keep their son safe. If their roles had been reversed, he knew he’d do the same. 

A kiss goodbye. Jean was radiant again, eyes not a bright green but a glowing purple. Ben—rather, Alphonse—carried Ben, a small, cooing child swaddled in layers upon layers of cloth. Jean leaned forward and kissed Ben on the forehead.

She was gone, and Alphonse sat in a dark room, scratching at his growing beard, eying a half-empty bottle of wine, then at the bassinet in the opposite corner. A smile touched his lips, and he replaced the cork in the bottle and gently rubbed his thumb against Ben’s cheek. 

Rain clattered against the roof of a tent, and thunder rumbled in the distance like a snoring beast. Alphonse shivered in wet clothes while a pile of his dry set swaddled a fussing Ben. He stood over top the baby until he eventually quieted and drifted off to sleep. 

A familiar sight appeared just over the horizon. A town atop a small mountain overlooking a lake. The sun all but set to his right. Ben slept in the sling across Alphonse’s chest. They weren’t alone. A young man leaning against a tree studied Alphonse with an unreadable expression. The haze was thin enough for Ben to make out his features. Dark-skinned, blue eyes, blond hair. His piercing gaze shifted to Ben, then up at Alphonse. His lips moved, but the words were drowned out by the rushing river nearby.

Book 3 Summary

The prologue of Heir of Ænæria once again visits Sam and Mimir discussing the Enochian threat as well as a new grief that has stricken Ben. The story then rewinds back to Arynn during the battle of Jordysc. Randolph captures her and she then sees Ben get shot in the eye by Longinus and believes him to be dead. Arynn is kept in captivity for weeks until Rhion start killing one another following the power vacuum of King Xander’s death. She is taken to the capital of Vestinia, First Hearth, and begins meeting with Randolph. She trusts him after he reveals he has rescued her childhood friend, Sera, from slavery. Sera and Arynn were in a romantic relationship before she went missing. Arynn agrees to be the legate for Vestinia after Randolph manipulates her into hating the Penteric Alliance. 

Back to present day, Ben is in Freztad meeting with Rose and other important villagers to discuss his Nephilim powers and his plans to train with Mimir in the Grand Vault. He goes with Alejandra’s daughter, Mandi, and they become friends. Ben’s training is cut short after Mimir is alerted that another Vault has been opened in Ney, the land of the Orks. He travels with Mandi and Darius along with Sierra and his father’s two robotic raven, Müninn and Hüginn. 

Meanwhile, Rose and the leaders of the Penteric Alliance plan for war against Ænæria. It is decided that Rose should be named the Queen of Ænæria and the Penteric Alliance in the hopes of undermining Randolph’s rule in Ænæria. During her time in Freztad she marvels at the vertical farms with the seeds from the Grand Vault. She also becomes friends with Trinity. She reveals to Trinity that she is suffering from nightmares and panic attacks after Julius nearly bled her dry outside the Grand Vault. She is saddened to learn that Kabedge’s husband Vic is dying. He may not survive long enough to see her again after she marches off to war. Kristos is named the new Sentinel Commander and swears revenge against the Ænærians for killing Rakshi. On Rose’s 16th birthday she is officially crowned queen. 

Longinus is getting used to her new role as the Legate of Bacchuso. She leads an assault on the young province’s final rebel stronghold. She teams up with the forces of Legate Thatch of Neptuan. After winning the battle she learns that this stronghold actually belonged to the Miners Guild. King Randolph now sees that she is ready to undertake an important mission to a Vault across the Shimmering Sea in a land called Kolpos using the blood from Ben’s eye. The two of them also reflect on the deaths of their loved ones in an attack that destroyed their home village twelve years ago. Ben and his friends traverse the wastelands together, and Mandi reveals that she also lived in same village that was destroyed. Later, they encounter a group of wastelanders and decide that even with Ben’s powers  and word, they need to run away or else they’ll be outnumbered and overpowered. Ben still maintains his oath against killing although he starts to wonder if everyone would be better off if he killed Randolph. 

Although Rose has experience with leadership, being a queen comes with a new level of responsibility. She is reluctant to send people to their deaths in war. The first phases of battle are planned in Vänalleato. Rose and a small group of soldiers will attack Parvidom because of its strategic importance in southern Ænæria. Meanwhile, a larger force will attack Dark Helm, the capital of Plutonua to capture their weapons factories and interrogate Legate Gatron who mysteriously faked his death and escaped imprisonment in Vänalleato. Rose finds a mysterious letter in her room confirming there is a conspiracy between Vänalleato and Plutonua. 

Nico, the captain of the airship heading for Kolpos, attempts to learn more about Longinus. She worries he may suspect that she is a woman in disguise. Not used to making friends, she finds herself oddly pleased by his company. Once they arrive in Kolpos they attack and defeat a village located just outside the Vault which is embedded in a mountain. The new land is named the 15th province of Ænæria and its villagers are enslaved. Longinus opens the Vault and explores it with Nico. They find several siege weapons and staffs that generate lightning. In her excitement, Longinus’s fears are realized and Nico discovers that she is a woman. She makes him swear to secrecy.

Ben and company are surrounded by Orkish scouts and escorted to the Cursed Grove of Tatanka which is located just outside of Ney’s capital city, Kokopolis. Another group of scouts also captured the wastelanders chasing Ben and his friends. Ben attempts to gain entry into Ney with Gal’s fang but it was lost during his initial skirmish with the wastelanders. The scouts state that anyone wishing to enter Ney must pass a trial. They need to survive the Cursed Grove of Tatanka and find the Mouth of Ney. Inside the Cursed Grove, Ben and his friends fight against wastelanders but then have to join forces against ferals—mindless, ghoulish Orks which crave blood and flesh and roam around the Cursed Grove. They eventually defeat the ferals but Ben ends up falling into the Mouth of Ney which is actually a massive waterfall. 

Arynn trains with her Rhion and Memnon, her prefect. Combat and leadership do not come easy to her but she decides to use her status as legate to make positive changes. She meets with Estel Crane, the head of Vestinia’s noble family and widow to the late legate Fenwin. They make a deal to end slavery in Vestinia. 

Ben wakes up in Kokopolis with serious injuries. A healer named Gus helps Ben with his recovery. Darius starts becoming friends with Liv, one of the wastelanders. Ben, who had been worried about Arynn’s disappearance, learns from Darius and Mandi that she is actually the legate of Vestinia. He becomes angry for keeping this from them. He meets with the leaders of Ney, the Sachems, and also learns that Gus is their ward. Ben learns that he is from Marzora from before Julius formed Ænæria. Ben tells the Sachems about his powers and the Vault in Ney. The Sachems tell Ben that they will ponder his story. During that time Ben amazes Gus with his rapid recovery. Gus helps Ben reunite with Skalle. He tells Ben he knows where the Vault is located. Tired of waiting for the Sachems, Ben reconciles with his friends and tells them about Skalle’s revelation. They team up with group of scouts to go behind the waterfall at the Mouth of Ney—the location of the Vault. 

Longinus returns to Bacchuso with the new weapons from Kolpos. She and Nico grow closer and become romantically involved. She also reveals her real name is Sam. Their victory in Kolpos is celebrated with a series of revelations. Randolph proclaims that he wants Sam to be his heir. She announces that the Bacchusan noble, Edwin Dion, will be her prefect. King Randolph also declares he wants to use the new Kolpos weapons to destroy the Grand Vault in Svaldway. 

Rose is shot during the battle of Parvidom. Fortunately Shadow, a member of the Miners Guild who resembles the Vänalleatian boy, Felix, with dark skin, blue eyes, and blond hair, keeps her safe.  Trinity also helps stabilize her and treats her wounds. The battle is a success and Rose makes her official proclamation to Ænæria that she is their rightful queen. 

Arynn leads an assault on Vänalleato with the help of Lady Estel Crane’s riches and Neptuan’s navy. She hopes a victory will earn her the respect of Ænærians and treasures to pay back the Vestinian nobles. Like Rose, she suspects a conspiracy between the town and Legate Gatron. She finds the Grand Elder who reveals he had been buying safety from Plutonua in exchange for a steady supply of slaves. Arynn also learns that the Grand Elder not only sold Sera into slavery, but had attempted to enslave Arynn as well. She kills the Grand Elder and successfully captures Vänalleato.

Ben and the others enter the Ney Vault and discover that there is an Enochian living inside. The Enochian kills nearly everyone—including Skalle, Mandi, and Darius. Liv and Gus are terribly injured. Ben narrowly achieves victory and kills the Enochian with the might of the Voidsweeper. Unfortunately, the weapon is shattered in the process. His robotic bird, Hüginn sends for help and leads the wastelanders to the Vault where they rescue Ben, Gus, and Liv and bring them to a camp outside of Kokopolis where Gus and Liv recover, although they have both lost the use of their legs.  It is revealed that Gus is heir of the massacred Marzoran royal family. Ben isolates himself from everyone else for days until finally approaching Gus, announcing that he can heal his legs and that he has finally decided to kill King Randolph. 

Book 3 Excerpt

After a near-sleepless night, he needed something to keep his eyes open. Coffee every morning hardly counted, and it was such an inefficient manner of keeping oneself awake. Gerald searched through the medicine cabinet. He swiped his finger across the screen, waiting for the display to load the available drugs. Looked like he still had enough credits to purchase a psychostimulant. Not one of those dangerous street varieties that would throw him into a homicidal rage. Thankfully, he and Deanna held good jobs. They had access to top-of-the-line medications without an appointment. In fact, he hadn’t seen a doctor in person in years now. He picked out a longer-acting drug that wouldn’t give him such a crash after. He still had to take care of Kyle. The glass screen slid open and dispensed a single sealed tablet. Gerald swallowed the pill with a sip of coffee and felt the weight of insomnia lift from his shoulders. 

“…anniversary of the twentieth, and final, GeneHome mission to Mars,” the news announcer said. The images flashed about on the wall, projecting straight ahead from Gerald like a screen. “Two decades and we still haven’t received any concrete evidence to explain the mysterious disappearance of the entire colony and the planet itself….”

“Dad, what’s GeneHome?” 

“Not now, Kyle. I’m trying to pay attention. Why don’t you go back to your room?”

“Mom said not to go near any of the windows until the next Siren Alert.”

Gerald groaned. Of course, she did, he thought. Deanna, you’re too damn cautious. No one’s going to attack us. Then again, he wasn’t suffering from insomnia without reason. The world was not a good place these days. Everyone thought that at some point in their lifetime, but things were truly bad right now. At least, that’s what Deanna kept telling him. If anything, he was more restless from not being able to go into work. They told him it was better to stay at home. Gerald was old-fashioned; he was of the minority who actually enjoyed going into work each day rather than doing it all remotely through holograms and TeleSight. “Fine, stay in here. I’ll explain GeneHome at the commercial. Just give me a minute of silence.”

“Can’t you just pause it, then come back to it?”

Gerald rolled his eyes. “Did you know when my grandparents were your age, they couldn’t pause live TeleSight? Besides, they could give us an update on the Siren Alert. We could have to evacuate at any minute.” Not that he really believed that. Damn, Deanna’s paranoia is getting to me. This stimulant has me a bit jumpier, too. 

“….and one common theory posits that the GeneHome terraformists attempted to move the planet into the famous Goldilocks’ Zone and, in doing so, they accidentally pushed Mars out of its natural orbit and caused it to reach an escape velocity that sent it into deep space. Astrophysicists have since dismissed this theory, stating it’s impossible for any amount of artificial energy to allow something as large as a planet to escape the sun’s gravitational pull. That said, they do admit that there was a tremendous radioactive ‘footprint’ left in the planet’s place. Astronauts are still examining the radioactive dust cloud—commonly referred to as the Æther—but have had difficulty doing so without space travel, which was internationally banned after the disappearance of Mars and the GeneHome colonists…”

Gerald took another sip of his coffee and swallowed his breakfast capsule. Grandpa said they used to have real meals for breakfast, too. Who had time for that? The pill descended his esophagus and dropped into his acidic stomach, where the gel-based capsule disintegrated, and the meal exploded. He belched and tasted eggs and French toast. “Mmm. Haven’t had that one in a while. Kyle, you have breakfast yet?”

“It’s almost noon, Dad! I had my pill this morning after Mom left for work. Do you ever pay attention?” Almost noon and yet the boy looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. With his messed up black hair and devilish grin, he looked like a feral child. God love him for that. 

Gerald snorted and waved off his son. At ten years old, the boy was too much like his mother. Always trying to say something to bother him, to get on his nerves. Frankly, it was growing old, but Gerald never saw any reason to make an issue of it. It’s how they are. Wouldn’t change 'em for anything. He grinned at his son before turning back to the TeleSight. He increased his internal volume by tapping his right mastoid process five times. Loud enough to concentrate, but not too loud to drown the boy out if he gets into trouble. 

“Thanks for the story, Cyan,” the anchor said as the screen moved away from the dark, bright-eyed woman reporting about GeneHome. “Hello again, folks, and welcome to Station Twenty-Three News. I’m your host, Arnold Mapgar, coming to you live outside of downtown Bismark. It’s currently 11:47 AM-CST, and I have a Siren Alert update for all you viewers at home. The roads will be re-opened at noon for necessary transportation only and will close at curfew, which has been extended to 9:00 PM-CST. Please be advised that this may be the only time you will be able to purchase NutraPills, water, and any fuel—if you can afford it.”

Gerald clapped his hands together, standing from his seat at the kitchen table and cheering. “Finally! Hear that, Kyle? We don’t need to be cooped up in here anymore! Why don’t you get changed so we can go to the market?”

“But, Dad! Mom said not to go to any rooms with windows while the Siren Alert is still up. Didn’t the TeleSight say it wouldn’t be lifted until noon?”

“That’s just so people have time to get to the market before it opens. Nothing will change in thirteen minutes. Go get dressed, and I’ll call your mother.”

Kyle grimaced and tiptoed to his room as if walking too loudly would alert his mother that he was going to his room while the alert was still in effect. 

Gerald pressed behind his ear again, this time moving the volume to zero. He placed the subtitles on in his contact lenses, just in case anything important came up on the news while on the call. Gerald placed his thumb onto the table’s center console, and a blue light flashed underneath as it scanned his finger. The white and yellow hologram display appeared before him. It showed a notebook filled with names and contact codes. He placed his hand over the first one and spoke the command. “Deanna, 93070. From Gerald, 51196.” The table vibrated, and the lighted display vanished. The table’s camera opened its lens and pointed it at Gerald’s face. 

A new hologram appeared, this time in full color. “Gerald, what is it? Is everything okay? Where’s Kyle? I don’t see him with you.”

“Calm down, Deanna. Everything is fine. He’s in his room getting changed—the Siren Alert got lifted. We’re going out to get some capsules and maybe even some food.”

Deanna frowned. “I saw that the Alert for home was lifted for noon. Unless I’ve got my math wrong, it’s only 11:49 back home. He shouldn’t be in his room.”

“Dee, nothing is going to change in eleven minutes. They just announced that it was lifted. He’ll be fine around the windows for a few minutes. Besides, who would attack us here? We don’t live by any major cities, bases, or resources. We’re not the ones in danger.” He spoke his last words with a hint of contempt. 

Deanna’s black eyebrows twisted into a nasty glare. “You know I’d rather be home. The president, prime minister, and overseer are all at extreme odds right now. Tensions are high.” She looked to both sides, examining her surroundings. Then she whispered, “The Doomsday Clock is at 30 seconds. It’s never been this close before, Gerald. So, believe me, anything can change in a few minutes.”

This time Gerald’s eyebrows twisted. The clock had always been something of a metaphor since its inception in the latter half of the 20th century. It got very close about a hundred-forty years ago. Some changes in climate policies and war pulled it back a bit at the next turn of the century, but ever since then, it had been inching closer. Many politicians took it seriously these days.

“Are you serious? Dee, you need to get out of D.C. now! You know that’ll be the Republic’s first target!”

“Who says I’m in D.C.? Sorry, Gerry, but my location is classified information. Look, I’m not saying anything bad will happen—I’m just saying that it can. Just please keep Kyle out of his room until the Siren Alert is officially lifted. Keep your ears on for any other updates, too. Things are unstable and could change at any minute.”

Gerald sighed. “Yes, Deanna. Fine. I’ll call you again when we’re leaving.”

She smiled her same beautiful smile. The same one he fell in love with. The same one that made him forget all her nagging and prodding. The same one he missed all the lonely nights without her. “Thanks, Gerald. Talk to you soon. Love you.”

“You too.”

The hologram flickered and turned off. Gerald’s contacts dilated his pupils, letting him see better in the dim room. He had had the contacts for nearly a decade but still couldn’t shake the unnatural feeling they did to eyes after a holo-call. It reminded him of the days before the war, when he didn’t need to worry about conserving electricity for something as simple as light. The War on Energy, he thought, shaking his head. 

“Kyle, are you changed yet? Mom wants you out of the room. Looks like you were right. Again.”

Kyle ran back into the kitchen, dressed in black shorts and a green T-shirt. “Ha! Told you! When is Mom coming home?”

“Probably not for a while. Work is busy.” He shifted his gaze to the TeleSight, then back to his son. “Are you really wearing that? Sun’s pretty bad this time of year. You need long sleeves to cover your skin.”

“What? Why? It’s so hot out!”

“That’s the sun thanking GeneHome for breaking the ozone layer. It’s the same thing that’ll cause you to burn. Go back to your room and get something else.”

“But you said I wasn’t supposed to be in my room.”

“Kyle, I’m the parent, aren’t I?” Sometimes Gerald had to ask himself that, too. His son seemed to boss him around almost as much as Deanna. He wasn’t tough enough on the kid. Always too soft and permissive. 

Kyle groaned and stormed back to his room, muttering something incomprehensible to himself. He returned a moment later with a blue button-down and some gray jeans. “Mr. Robier says the ozone was a problem from over a hundred years ago. Didn’t the TeleSight say GeneHome was twenty years ago? What is GeneHome anyway? You still haven’t told me!”

Gerald shook his head and laughed. “Are you sure you’re only ten? Damn, kid, you ask a lot of questions.”

Kyle’s eyes widened, and his jaw lowered. 

“What?” Gerald asked.

“Mom says not to say words like that.”

“Like what? ‘Damn’? Right, sorry about that. Guess I treated you too old there. Anyway, GeneHome… It’s sort of a joke that adults make for anything that’s messed up. Flat tire? Oops, must be GeneHome’s fault. Spoiled milk? GeneHome did it. Lose a planet? GeneHome is at it again!” Gerald laughed heartily, but Kyle simply stared at him blankly, not understanding. “Sorry, like I said, it’s adult humor. No one knows much about them. Technically, they started ninety-five years ago, but then they just disappeared twenty years ago. From what I hear, though, they were a bunch of mad scientists trying to play God and make Mars the new home for humans. Anyone who ever worked at the company, which had sites all over the world, eventually went to Mars. There isn’t a single GeneHome employee left on Earth, and that makes figuring out what happened to them so much more difficult.”

“Why didn’t we go looking for them?” Kyle asked, tapping behind his ear to turn down the TeleSight’s volume. 

“We wanted to, but the radiation levels at the Æther are so high that we have no way of ever getting anyone there and surviving. We can’t even send probes over because they just disintegrate as soon as they get there. The United Nations then banned all space travel, deeming it far too dangerous. That made a lot of people think they knew what caused it. Why ban all space travel if the problem is in one area?”

“I don’t know. Why?” 

“Well, a lot of people think it’s not an isolated issue—that something is out there powerful enough to make an entire planet disappear.”

“You mean like aliens?” Kyle’s lower lip quivered.

“That’s what some people think. Not me. There’s no life out in the universe. We would have found it by now.” Gerald remembered when he first heard the theory about extraterrestrials obliterating Mars. He was only a few years older than Kyle when the conspiracies filled the media. The idea had terrified him. Simply the idea that man was not alone in the universe made Gerald’s brain do somersaults. When there suddenly became evidence that they may be real, his worldview had nearly shattered. He had questioned everything he had ever believed. Questioned God’s plan for His people. Questioned God’s very existence. Years had passed, and the Incident became a memory, a date in the history books. He founded religion again and came to peace with himself. But anytime something about GeneHome was on the news, he made sure to tune in. May 26th was a day he’d never forget. The Incident had affected him like nothing else ever had—not even the war. He had more nightmares about aliens than he did about his time on the battlefield. 

Gerald smacked his palm against his face. He regretted saying anything about it to his son. Surely, the boy would have the same fears he had had. Better nip this in the bud before it goes anywhere. He sat at the table next to Kyle and put his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about, Son. There are no aliens out there. Whatever happened to the people at GeneHome was done by themselves. Any time humans face a problem, it’s generally their own fault.”

Kyle faced his father. “Was that supposed to be helpful?” 

“It helps me!” Gerald said with a laugh. He looked at his watch and sighed. It was only 11:52. Deanna will have a fit if I leave before noon. “Come on, let’s see if there are any other updates on the news, huh?”

The two increased the volume behind their ears and adjusted the TeleSight with their contact lenses. 

A commercial was being aired. It played a triumphant symphony in the background and showed the fifty-six stars of the United States overlaying a map of the country. The stars exploded into fireworks of red, white, and blue and fell to the bottom of the screen to form the words: Together We Are Strong! Together We Will Win! Join the Cause Today!

The fanfare continued for another minute or so. Gerald lost track of time as he recalled his days at war overseas. Russia, Korea, Europe… All of it. In his four years of service, he had seen it all. Carpet bombings. Gases and biologics. Energy weapons from old 20th-century films made a reality. His comrades running next to him one minute, their limbs spread out over fifty feet the next. He was drafted when he was twenty years old—far too young to be at war. Too young to make decisions about life and death….

“…received word that the Doomsday Clock is only 30 seconds before midnight, pushing it past the record high set back in the 2040s during the Second Cold War. Citizens are encouraged to stay in their homes at all times, even though the Siren Alert is to be lifted in five minutes. Citizens should also note that the Federal Militia is attempting to breach the old GeneHome facilities in the case of a nuclear emergency since they are believed to have stable fallout bunkers. We do not know at this time if there have been any new developments in opening the facilities since they have been sealed ever since the Incident. We will let you know as soon as we learn anything.”

The old GeneHome labs have fallout shelters? Does Deanna know that? Is that where she is? It must be if she’s with the president. Gerald turned down the TeleSight’s volume and pulled up his wife’s contact information once more on the holo-call. “Deanna, 93070. From Gerald, 51196.”

“Why are you calling Mom?” asked Kyle, with a worried expression on his face. 

“Something they said on the news made me think of a question,” Gerald answered coldly. A gnawing feeling suddenly erupted in his stomach. Something simply didn’t seem right to him.

“Hello? Gerald, are you there?” Deanna’s voice called from the table’s holo-call speakers. There was no holographic image of her face. Instead, the lights kept switching colors as if they were trying to find the correct image to make but couldn’t decide what to show. 

“Yeah, I am. Can’t you see me? I can’t see you,” Gerald answered. 

“Sorry. We’re in an area of poor reception right now. It appears imaging won’t work here. What’s going on, is everything okay? Don’t tell me you’ve left yet. It’s still only five of.”

“Relax, Dee. We haven’t left yet. Listen, the news said something about the Feds trying to get into the old GeneHome labs for fallout shelters. Is that true? Should Kyle and I head for one?”

“Dad? What labs?”

“Not now, Kyle. I need to talk to your mother.” There was a pause on the other end. Gerald could hear chattering and yelling, all scrambled over the top of each other. “Deanna, are you there?”

“Yes, Gerald, I’m here. There’s a lot going on now, I only have a minute.”

“Dee, the labs. Should we go there?”

“No, I doubt they’ll send anyone near you to open them. You’re safer at the house. Don’t leave. Don’t run any errands. Just stay home, and if you hear the Siren, go to the basement. I assure you that’s much safer than trying to get to a lab.”

“But if they could get a lab open…” Gerald suddenly realized his hands were shaking. They hadn’t trembled this much since the first time he saw someone die in combat. “Would they be safer?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Deanna answered. 

Gerald had spoken with his wife far too many times to misunderstand what she meant. “So, theoretically, are you safe?”

“Yes.” There was a long pause. “Theoretic—”

“Deanna? You still there? I think you’re cutting out.”

There was no response. The holo-call’s lights went out, and Gerald’s contacts dilated once more to the darkened room. 

“Dad…” there was a tremble in Kyle’s voice. “Are you seeing this?” He pointed to the TeleSight screen across the room. 

“Do not leave your homes. Do not attempt to drive or fly. This is not a drill. We have reason to believe that the United States, as well as multiple other countries, have been attacked. We cannot yet confirm who is behind these attacks, nor can we be sure of their nature. All we know is that we have lost contact with nearly all our agencies on the East and West Coast and are getting reports from across the globe that Europe may have also been attacked. Highlighted in red on the map are high probability target areas….”

“Dad, is Mom okay? Do you know where she was?”

Gerald’s hands continued to tremble. A knot filled his stomach, and he felt unsteady on his feet. “Your…your mother. She’s fine. I promise.” Theoretically. 

“We have just received a live stream from a correspondent just outside of D.C.—William, are you there?”

“I’m here, Arnold,” said a voice, unseen on the screen. 

“Thank you, William. We’ll stream the video now. Go ahead.”

The screen shifted a view from a neighborhood street just outside the city limits. It was pouring rain, and there were no lights to be seen from within the city. William held the camera in front of him and seemed to be running across the street as the image jostled up and down. He got to a black metal fence and dropped the camera over it. It fell to the ground and faced the rainy sky. Briefly, a man in a slick rain suit hovered over it, picking up the device and turning it back to the city. 

“Okay,” William said, breathing heavily. “You can see the city pretty clearly from here. As you can see, all the lights are off. I think some kind of EMP went off and disabled all electronics within the city limits. There was a great big flash of light just before we lost contact, so that’s gotta be it.” He paused another moment. Gerald could hear him breathing fast and heavily behind the camera.

A finger moved in front of the camera. It pointed at something above the skyline. “It looks like there’s a news drone over the city. Is that one of yours, Arnold?”

The screen split in two, showing Arnold behind his table on the left and William’s video of D.C. on the right. “No, it’s not ours. We’ll see if it belongs to one of the other networks.”

There was a flash of light, and everything on William’s screen was white. All was quiet. Then there was a cloud of dust, expanding like a NutraPill in every direction. A sound harsher than the crinkling of metal against stone—like something grating against the skull and burrowing into the ear canal. It was a bubble of dust and debris that disintegrated everything in its path. The cloud was not satisfied with the city and continued to engulf its surroundings. It rushed toward William and his camera faster than he could turn to run away. Faster than the quarter of a second it would take him to react and realize what was happening, and much faster than it would take to do anything about it. 

Gerald had seen a cloud like this once before, from far away on the battlefield. He knew that neither William nor D.C. would ever have time to react to anything ever again. 

He looked at his watch and saw that the hands now pointed to 12 o’clock.

 [P1]You only think to yourself, so redundant.

The Vault Guardian Book 3: The Scorched Earth COMING SOON

The shadow of the looming invasion seems as inevitable as time and death themselves. Although Ben killed an Enochian, the victory goes uncelebrated. The Voidsweeper was destroyed, and Ben must fight against despair after the death of his friends. He finds himself increasingly alone in the fight for humanity’s survival despite the prospect of new alliances. Ben and Mimir are close to unlocking the secrets of the Enochians, only to discover that there may be more already on Earth.

The war in Ænæria presses on. Queen Rose rides on waves of victory only to suffer a crushing blow. Now she must silence the demons within her and suffer the weight of the crown. Arynn vies for control in Vänalleato. A conspiracy gnaws at her mind, and the unseasoned legate learns that not all are happy with her rise to power. Following the acquisition of new weapons from the Vault across the Shimmering Sea, King Randolph orchestrates an endgame for his enemies, and Sam questions her place amid her uncle’s ravenous thirst for destruction.

In the third act of The Vault Guardian, treachery lurks around every corner. Truth wanes in the darkness of power. Time and death are the only constants in a battle against both. All may be for naught if the Enochians arrive only to find that humanity has left behind nothing but Scorched Earth.

First look into The Heir of Ænæria

Chapter 1ArynnIgnistad, Marzora; ÆnæriaOne Moon Ago
She hadn’t gone into the midnight council with many expectations. She noted Juarez of Juptura sharing a familiar eye with the other men around the long marble table in the castle’s meeting hall. There was little pomp for the half-nosed man being named, and if Arynn’s gut could be trusted, the man already had a reputation within Ænæria. The king’s nephew had been met with applause when named legate of the new province, Bacchuso. Gatron’s so-called return from the dead had been received with weary eyes and half-hearted ‘hurrahs.’ Indeed, they clapped their hands together and sung words of praise. That is until the king announced her name.“Meet Arynn of Vänalleato!” King Randolph cheered.The clapping died. Severing the legates of their hands couldn’t have yielded a better result. They shied away, sinking farther into their gold-rimmed stone seats arranged around the council table. Legate Gatron of Plutonua to Arynn’s right raised his hands in a fit. “Look, you know I’ve always respected you, Randolph.”“King Randolph,” Legate Glendir of Mercura, the King’s second-in-command corrected. “If you had respect, you’d do well to remember his title as the Sun’s Chosen.”Gatron’s face contorted into a grimace. “Of course. King Randolph.”The king’s elbows leaned against the smooth marble table like a lion prepared to pounce. Gatron swallowed, his gulp audible in the eerily silent room. “How can she be Fenwin’s replacement? She’s the enemy! She helped that treasonous Rhion and the Limmetrad boy ship me off to Vänalleato!”“Last I heard, Gatron,” Longinus interjected, “she not only defeated you but Fenwin as well. Seems to me she’s more than qualified to take his place.”Juarez sat to Arynn’s right; he turned, and she saw he not only suffered from half a nose but wore a face riddled with countless scars, burns, and other blemishes. He groaned and crossed his powerful arms across his thick upper body. “I don’t know. Gatron’s got a point. How can we trust this woman?”“Adding to that, she’s a pagan,” one of the legates across the table said. “Oh, can it, Ambrose,” a legate with jewelry laced golden hair said. “Aphredites was littered with pagans before King Xander placed you as its legate. Last I heard, you haven’t been doing too fine a job fixing that either.”“You’re all missing the obvious point,” another legate said. He had thick knotted black hair, blue lips, and a single glimmering eye. “She’s not but a wench. King Xander made it clear when he had us appointed that the fairer sex wasn’t to be among our ranks. The work’s too brutal for them.”Arynn cleared her throat, and twelve faces flashed around the table, all eyes shining on her. The thirteenth man’s eyes had hardly lifted their gaze since the beginning of the argument. The king was intrigued by how she’d respond. He’d told her it would be one of her first tests as legate. “The king himself announced me as legate of Hestinia. If that’s not enough for you then perhaps we should take a closer look at your loyalties.”That seemed to shut them up. Cowards, Arynn thought. They’re all too concerned about the king’s opinion of them. As soon as it’s threatened, they recede right back into their shells.Their commentary on why she wasn’t fit for legate yielded nothing she hadn’t already heard. She’d been acting legate of Hestinia for two weeks already. Nearly all that time had been spent putting up with Prefect Memnon’s ridicule and Lady Crane’s scrutiny. She may have had to train all day with the former, and live under the same roof as the latter, but at least she still had one person in Hestinia to keep her sane.“Gentlemen, please,” the king’s calm and uncomfortably soothing voice said. “Why expend such energy on the young legate when we could instead focus it on our enemies to the south?”Squinted eyes drifted from Arynn and shifted to bright expressions for the king.“We’re finally invading those southerners? Excellent!” the blue-lipped legate cheered.“Not quite, Thatch, though I do so enjoy your enthusiasm. We will focus our efforts on the homeland. Our Rhion lack the discipline our departed king had envisioned. The enemy has infiltrated our ranks, spoiling the minds of our children and workers. Lies spread among commoners and military men alike. We need to cull this sickness before it spreads farther.”“My king, shouldn’t we be planning a strike against the Penteric Alliance?” one of the legates said. “After all, one of them slew our founder! Since then we’ve lost Rivers as well, his chosen successor. Surely you understand that we must show strength in such times!”“Are you insinuating, Frederick, that I am making weak decisions since I was not chosen by Xander?”Arynn’s mind still struggled to understand what had happened to Xander’s true successor, Legate Rivers of Juptura. Apparently, the man had been named king during the northern expeditions but died soon after returning to Ænæria. Few people spoke of it. Even hinting at it, as Legate Frederick had, stirred a silent tension gripping the other men.The legate froze save for his eyes, which zipped back and forth to the other men like two swarming bees. “No, Your Majesty, of course not.”“Then what are you implying?” Longinus asked, his voice rough and gravely.“Not that the king is weak, I assure you! I merely think it would be in our kingdom’s best interest to take revenge for King Xander’s death. What they’ve done is horrendous. Unforgivable!”“You’re absolutely correct,” Randolph answered. “I’ve said nothing of forgiveness. We will first make ourselves stronger. Our first step will involve removing the traitors.”“How should we go about that?” Philemon of Cerez asked. Arynn had learned his name when she arrived at the castle with King Randolph. Philemon had been the first legate at the meeting, arriving earlier even than the king himself. He spoke with reverence to the king, his voice soft and almost timid.“Could always torture a few. Crucify ‘em for the commoners to see,” Thatch offered. “That’ll make ‘em think twice before committing treason.”Arynn chuckled. Thatch and a few other legates glared at her with fire in their eyes. “You’ve got something better in mind, girl?” Thatch asked.“As a matter of fact, I believe she does,” the king answered for Arynn. A slight grin stretched along Arynn’s face. Careful. I can’t have them thinking I’m too confident. “It is acts like torture and slavery that has our people rebelling in the first place. The harder you push them down, the stronger they become. They’re molded into people with a common cause and shared oppression.” “How do you suggest we deal with them, then?” Phoebus from Apollin asked.“Take away their ability to fight. Create the illusion that far more people are satisfied with their lives than are willing to rise up. Make them understand they’re replaceable. Commoners suspected of rebellion aren’t threatened with bodily harm. Instead, remove them from their homes and jobs. There are thousands of slaves in Ignistad—far more than the city needs. Though the commoners aren’t aware, there are also hundreds of other slaves throughout the kingdom in the service of nobles and we legates. They’re skilled workers who could easily replace the commoners. Pay them a wage, but lower than the men and women they’ve replaced. It’ll be impossible for them to find jobs that the former slaves haven’t already taken. That is unless they earn their homes and jobs back—with information. They’ll be so desperate, worried about fending for their families that they won’t care about a rebellion which can’t even fund itself when all of its members are fending for scraps of food.”It was a plan which would require far more effort than she made it seem. That was okay. That’s why it was being brought up now. The legates possessed some of the sharpest minds in Ænæria. And if they couldn’t refine the plans themselves, then they would find access to people who could. The legates had access to all the resources of the old noble houses. Lady Crane, the last living noble in Hestinia, would be more than happy to provide for Arynn and Ænæria’s cause. Her very life depended on it after all. “What are we to do with the labor the slaves provided before being freed?” another legate asked. His head was shaved on both sides, leaving one long strand of gray and black down the middle which extended like a horse’s tail down his back.“A fair question, Arion,” King Randolph answered. “The former slaves will be paid a fraction of what was paid to their previous jobholders. Of the sols we save from this, a small percentage can be used to pay any willing workers. These people will be hungry for work. Those loyal enough to Ænæria will accept jobs previously worked by slaves in Ignistad or in the noble houses. The rest will either starve or run south. Either way, we are removing traitors from our midst.”“And bolster the army down south even more!” Thatch cried.“All while we sit around waiting for them to attack us,” Frederick added. “Come now, my king, as a fellow Minervian, I should think you’d set precedent to strategy and not folly.” “We should at least kill them before they make it south,” said Juarez. Arynn shook her head and couldn’t help smiling. “We will let them go south. They will tell the southerners that we’re unstable and weak.”“That will invite them to attack us!” Arion said.“Can’t you see?” Longinus said softly, losing that gruffness to his voice for a fleeting moment. “This is the genius plan the king and Legate Arynn have come up with.”The air grew heavy with tension, nearly suffocating the outbursts of resentment from the other legates’ mouths. They can say what they want to me—a woman and an outsider. To disrespect the king’s own kin for defending the king’s honor would be a terrible offense indeed. The king squinted, the sardonic smile fading from his face. It was an expression she hadn’t often seen from the king. Nonetheless, it was one she knew. He was done playing games for the night.“Go ahead, Nephew. Explain it to your fellow legates. Show them you’ve more than earned your place at the table.”Longinus fidgeted with the metal prosthetic substituting for his right hand. It was the same from the one he’d had at the battle of Jordysc—a tri-pronged hook with sharp points like the talons of a mighty falcon. Arynn had first noticed it when he shot Ben in the head with a one-handed crossbow. A fair revenge. After all, Ben did take the hand from Longinus.“The southerners will think us weak and disorganized. They will come to us seeking vengeance for spiriting away King Xander’s daughter and keeping prisoner her two villagers. Remember, we want our people fighting for a common cause. Shamefully, the glory of the Sun is not motivation enough for so many of our people. Perhaps this strategy will remove that ilk from our lands. Regardless, if we goad the enemy into invading, our people will want to fight and defend their homes. It will be a stronger rallying cry than the death of a king most of them had never even seen.”Arynn exhaled a sigh of relief, lowering her shoulders if only a tad. The king had done a fair job of raising his nephew. He seemed to have a mind at least as sharp as the prongs on his metal hand. Makes him smarter than at least half these other men in the room.She watched the legates for their reactions. The two by the king’s side had shown largely constrained expressions throughout the council. They, of course, already knew the plan, being Randolph’s second and third in command. Arynn knew, of course, from helping construct it. It had been her way to aid with the end of slavery while also proving her place at this very table. The king had been with when she constructed these plans. He had, after all, been with her rather frequently since he rescued her at the Battle of Jordysc.Some of the men nodded their approval, praising Longinus for his astuteness. Arynn found herself instinctively reaching for her braid to twist, frustrated that the credit went to him rather than the one they knew had actually been the architect of this strategy. The braid was not there. It had been cut two weeks ago when she accepted her position as legate. This was the shortest it had ever been, resting free just above her shoulders. Other legates were less enthusiastic. Gatron spoke up first. “They can be lured into Ænæria, you can spread as much propaganda as you please, but don’t forget that it will be we provinces on the border who will suffer the most for this.”Philemon twirled the end of his thin, wispy mustache. “I’m inclined to agree with Gatron. Cerez will be vulnerable, and we’re the kingdom’s largest supplier of food.”Thatch rubbed his empty eye socket and licked his pale blue lips. “Neptuan will send Hestinia reinforcements to Hestinia. Can’t say it’ll be enough with a new, un-blooded legate right at the border. ”Arynn leaned forward against the cool marble table and shot him a cold stare with her icy blue eyes. He rolled his eye and chuckled, refusing to meet her gaze. “Look at me, Thatch!” she bellowed. Some of the men muttered unintelligible comments under their breath. Arynn felt the king’s sharp look transfer from his nephew to her. She knew he was looking for both of them to prove themselves. She didn’t know why Juarez, the other new legate hadn’t, but perhaps he had been an experienced enough warrior to earn a reputation in Ænæria. Arynn wouldn’t know. She hardly knew a thing about the kingdom. Apparently, the king saw something in her, enough to trust her with a key location on the border.  Thatch snarled and flashed a grin riddled with gaps where teeth should have lain. “Oh, I’m looking, girl. Unfortunately, you’re a bit young for my taste. I like my women with a few more years of experience under their belts.”Sprinkles of red dripped against the smooth tabletop. Thatch swiftly brought his hand to his cheekbone and pulled it back to examine the blood smeared across it. He turned to his right, and his eye brightened as he noticed the fluttering feathers of the trembling arrow lodged in his seat. Arynn held the orange bodark bow diagonally across her midriff. Some of the other legates gasped as she drew another arrow from the pouch on her right thigh which had been hidden from view under her long black cloak. “How’s that for un-blooded?” she asked Thatch, threatening him to come up with another rotten remark.Thatch eyed Arynn, his thoughts imperceptible. Arynn held her breath waiting. Maybe I went too far.He flashed an open smile, the stench of days-old fish wafting toward Arynn. Thatch removed the arrow from his chair, snapped it in half with a faint crack, and laughed. “Oh, I like this one, King! Far more entertaining than Fenwin!”The king leaned back against his chair, no longer leaning forward on his elbows. He removed his hat and tipped it forward in an exaggerated bow toward Thatch. “I’m glad my decision has earned your approval. I hope the rest of you will as well in time.”The legates exchanged looks and muttered their agreement with the king.He placed his fading black hat back over his balding scalp and brushed over his mustache. “Very good. As an extra incentive to my friends on the border, once the enemy has been dealt with, you will have free reign over the lands we conquer. Think of that as repayment for the resources you lose in the conflict.”Arynn saw the legates from the affected provinces shift in their seats. Gatron, in particular, appeared excited—his eyes widened, and even a faint smile carved on his otherwise dull face. “I will have an emissary sent to each of you explaining your duties and goals. Our communication will be strictly through the mouths of said emissaries to avoid interception by the cursed Miners Guild. Should you have any questions about tonight’s meeting, relay them to the emissary. I fear I’m growing tired and must retire for the night.” He scooted his tall chair back and stood. He waved his hat at them in a mock bow and retreated into the depths of the hall. He did not look like a king with his average height and regular clothes beaten down by the elements. He walked as if dancing, each step in a rhythm, pounding the hard floor like a percussionist alternating between hard and soft strokes on a drum. It wasn’t until now that Arynn realized the king’s seat was taller than the others, with the cushioning on the backrest woven not only with the Ænærian crest but also with another just above it—an owl standing sentry above a mountain’s summit. Even in the confines of a stitched symbol, the peak radiated more magnificence than her mind’s image of Vänalleato’s mountaintop village. A chill crept down her neck as she realized how little she missed her home.She hadn’t always hated it. There were those she loved: her mother and father, the shop with its navigational gadgets and the smell of parchment, freshly painted with a newly crafted map, and her best friend, Sera.Now those memories were tainted. Her mother had died of plague, her father had kept his many secrets, and Sera had been taken from her. She had learned the truth just before accepting the mantle of legate. Slavers had indeed taken Sera from Vänalleato. But they weren’t working exclusively for Ænæria. No, Vänalleato sold her to the slavers! Arynn held the bodark bow given to her by Ben. Her fingers squeezed tight against the wood while she ruminated on all the betrayals she’d suffered. The bow had been important to him; she once thought Ben was important to her. Those memories of her time with him, day after day for weeks, nearly growing closer than she had with anyone else. Especially after her time thinking she’d never find someone again. The orange wooden bow was soft against her hands, worn well by the years of use and care. It looked like it had been polished every night by its original owner. Since then it had been chipped and blemished with blood and soot and mud. Funny how she’d used it to kill for the first time. After all, it had been given to her by Ben, who claimed to be above killing—all because of the death of the woman who’d given him this bow in the first place.She slammed the bow down against her knee, snapping the bow in half as she thought back to the night which changed everything for her.

Draft for Book 2's Back Cover Blurb

The King is dead, long live the King. Following the death of Ænæria’s tyrannical King Xander, his seemingly unassuming subordinate, Randolph, has taken the crown for himself. Ben, the strange boy from Freztad, is blamed for the Xander’s death after chasing the late King in search of his cousin, Rose. After discovering the truth of the legendary Vaults, a war is the least of his concerns. There are beings from the stars that want to make his world their own.
And Ben’s mother is one of them.
Now Ben needs to master his newfound abilities and learn as much about the alien Enochians as possible. Though nearly overcome by fear and self-doubt, Ben has the support of new friends and allies. He only hopes their trust in him isn’t misplaced.
In the second installment of The Vault Guardian, noble journeys are muddied with paranoia and dread. A war for survival and vengeance is brewing. Vaults around the world are being opened, and time is running out. Ænæria may have the advantage of numbers and a cunning new King, but the Penteric Alliance has a powerful weapon of their own.
The true Heir of Ænæria. 

Update, long overdue

Book 2 is on its way! It's currently in the very capable hands of an editor. I anticipate to have the book back in about 1 month and will hopefully have the edits and changes completed roughly 1 month later. 
I am also looking for a cover artist right now. I have talked to a few people, but have yet to accept anyone as of yet. 
Book 2 was previously under the working title The Scorched Earth. It is now being called The Heir of Ænæria. 
In the meantime, I am currently updating supplemental information. I've just added an "Index" page with many of the key terms from the series. They do contain spoilers for the first book--so be wary! Speaking of the first book, there will be a new and improved edition coming out soon. 
Hopefully, there will be more frequent updates. Though I think I've said that before...


Also, the first draft of Book 3 is well underway....

Calendar for Vault Guardian

I realized while working on this series that certain references to lengths of time are necessary. However, using months like January, February, March, etc in a world taking place centuries after the apocalypse would anachronistic. So, I decided to create a hybridization of a solar and lunar calendar, including some feast days to the major settlements (and the main character's birthday). By the time the next book is completed, I will have other important dates and birthdays listed as well.


The Calendar of the Penteric Alliance 1.           Wolf Moona.          Corresponds to December 22nd through January 17thb.         1st Wolf is also referred to as New Year’s Day2.          Storm Moona.          Corresponds to January 18th through February 14thb.         February 2nd or 16th Storm is Ymbolg, the Feast of Mashariq3.          Crow Moona.          Corresponds to February 15th through March 14th4.          Thunder Moona.          Corresponds to March 15th through April 11thb.         March 21st or 7th Thunder is the Celebration of the Vernal Equinox5.          Seed Moona.          Corresponds to April 12th through May 9thb.         May 1st or 20th Seed is Beltane, the Feast of Sydgilbync.          Ben’s birthday is 11th Seed 6.          Harvest Moona.          Corresponds to May 10th through June 6thb.         2nd Harvest is the Celebration of Mathias’s Founding, Feast of Freztad7.           Fire Moona.          Corresponds to June 7th through July 4thb.         June 21st or 15th Fire is the Celebration of the Summer Solstice8.          Stag Moon a.          Corresponds to July 5th through August 1stb.         August 1st or 28th Stag is Lunastal, the Feast of Talamdor 9.          Fish Moona.          Corresponds to August 2nd through August 29thb.         7th Fish is Rose’s birthday10.     Bright Moona.          Corresponds to August 30th through September 26thb.         September 21st or 23rd Bright is the Celebration of the Autumnal Equinox11.        Hunter Moona.          Corresponds to September 27th through October 24th12.      Bear Moona.          Corresponds to October 25th through November 21stb.         November 1st or 8th Bear is the Day of the Ascendants, the Feast of Vänalleato  13.       Old Moona.          November 22nd through December 21stb.         21st December or 30th Old is the Celebration of the Winter Solstice 

The Scorched Earth...Revision Time!

Hello, fellow Vault Guardians!

I am very excited to announce that the readable edition of The Vault Guardian Book 2: The Scorched Earth is complete.

What does that mean?

It means that you, my wonderful fans, friends, family, and internet lurkers, can read the book early. What that really means: you can have an active role in the revision process. If you're interested in reading the manuscript prior to final revisions and edits then please let me know. I will accept any and all feedback. I want this book to be even better than the first. I simply cannot do that on my own. My view is tainted, no longer objective. I have spent too much time in the world of Ænæria and the Penteric Alliance.

Already forget what happened in Book 1? No problem, there are a few solutions. 1) re-read it! 2) If you don't have the time to do that, I have written a nifty summary of key events that I will share with you. 3) Not interested in editing but want to read Book 2 when it's complete? Well, I may or may not be looking into some bundle deals as well as getting better, professional editing on board. You could then read the new edition of Book 1 alongside the fresh release of Book 2.

Anyone who has helped with the books in the past and/or helps with book 2 will get free, signed copies. Heck, if you want a character named after you, I'm sure I could manage that ;)


If you are interested, please send me a message (Facebook, Twitter, email links below).

https://www.facebook.com/cosmicraces2...
@ThomLMatthews23
Thomlmatthews23@gmail.com

Book 2 First Draft Complete...And a long way to go

Just over a week ago I completed the first draft for my second book. Hooray! When I finished the first draft of The King’s Gambit (TKG), I had a tremendous sense of accomplishment. I’m not feeling that now. Maybe it’s because I’ve already finished a book (though finished may not be the best word. More on that another time). I actually think the anticlimactic feeling comes from the fact that The Scorched Earth (TSE) isn’t really one story, but four.
TSE will take the reader on a much different journey than TKG. While TKG followed Ben for 21 of the 23 chapters, TSE follows an additional 3 characters for about half the book. I’ve decided to move on from the third person limited point of view following a single, main character and switch to a rotating point of view. I’m still using third person limited, but I no longer think Ben’s journey is sufficient to tell the story I’m writing. As of now, Longinus, Arynn, and Rose all have multiple chapters written from their perspective. One of the many challenges I’ve had in writing TSE has been adopting four separate personalities. Hopefully, by the time the editing process is over, the reader will be able to notice a difference in the way each character is written. While Ben is modest, friendly, and a bit dramatic, Longinus is callous, angry, and resentful.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved writing TSE. It’s just been so much more difficult than I anticipated. I wrote TKG at the most emotionally challenging time in my life, and I channeled that into my work. I’m writing TSE during the most mentally demanding time in my life, and I think the experience reflects that. By the time TSE is released, I’ll be in an entirely different phase of my life. Who knows what struggles I’ll face as I write book 3. Boy, I don’t think I can even think of that right now. The task of finishing TSE is daunting enough. I want it to live up to everything readers of TKG expect of it…and then some. The scale of everything, the intensity of it all…everything is magnified in TSE. It’s really only going to get bigger from there. Here’s a reward to those dedicated few who read this post: an unofficial synopsis of TSE.   
The king is dead, long live the king. Following the death of King Xander of Ænæria, the known world is in disarray. Randolph has taken the crown for himself after the mysterious death of Legate Rivers, who was named King Xander’s successor when he announced his plans to become emperor. The new king has proven more tyrannical than Ænæria’s founder. His Rhion army is training harder each day. He’s enslaving more people and conquering new lands. Perhaps most concerning of all, Longinus, now legate of Bacchuso, has been tasked by the king to search for a Vault that holds something more powerful than anything any living human has ever seen.
The Miners Guild and Alliance leaders have decided to declare war on their neighbors to the north for their aggressive behaviors. Warriors from all five settlements gather together as a single army. While they don’t hold the numbers, they have a better fed army with men and women united under a single cause. They even have a powerful weapon of their own: someone with a better claim to Ænæria’s crown.
Fresh from his training with Mimir, Ben has decided to travel east to the land of Ney, where he hopes to find more allies. The uncivilized wastelands between his home and the eastern territory proves to be just as treacherous as the roads he traveled in Ænæria just a few months before. Unbeknownst to anyone else back home, Ben is looking for more than just aid in the war against the Ænærians. His true focus is learning the fate of his mother and discovering a way to fight back against the Enochians. And while Ney may have reasons of their own to aid the Penteric Alliance, they may also have something Ben wants: another Vault.
TSE still has a long way to go. But, as I often quote, "it's not good when it's done, it's done when it's good." --Adam Jones, guitarist for the band Tool.