The town of Akton is cursed. This is what happens when you try and unlock the secrets of the Necromancer Monarchs. Grace and a couple of her friends prepare a performance that they will remember for the rest of their lives.
For all the wrong reasons, of course. You don’t really expect a ‘that was nice, I’ll cherish that memory’ kind of moment to carry a story?
I mean, really? If it’s worth writing about you better assume that it’s going to be chock full of trauma and hard choices.
What we have instead ooey-gooey happy moments are worms, beetles, and eyes – all in unusual places – a shadowy assassin, a book, relationship problems, and a conspiracy to try and discover the deepest darkest secrets of the Necromancer Monarchs; those secrets being locked in the dark tome that is the Monarch Codex.
Good, wholesome, fun where loads of honest, hard-working, people die in horrible, horrible, ways.
Baldur Bjarnason - that'd be me - is an Icelander who managed to flee the cold, hard, rock known as Iceland just as its economy was collapsing.
My past is of the usual mixture of boring and interesting, almost entirely boring to you because there's no way I'm telling anybody about the insane, stupid, stuff I did in my twenties or about my teenage nuttery.
No I'm not telling. Get over it. Make do with fiction.