Here's a taste of the Prologue from my up-coming book Return to the Heavens...
Quoren moved silently through the shadows in his underworld lair. Burning incense mingled with torchlight to create flickering, smoke shrouded spectres on the stone walls, as he passed room after quiet room. He paused suddenly, bending double, his lips pursed tightly against the soul-wrenching moan threatening to escape his lungs, both hands clutching his chest. The pain in his heart slowly subsided, but it felt so cold and heavy now. Breathing deeply of the intoxicating musky air, he regained his composure and moved on. Walking with long, quick strides, the fallen god cloaked himself, sucking his essence in to contain any hint of his presence, wanting to reach his private rooms unseen and unheard, as he wished not to be disturbed. He didn’t want to forget any details from this past night. Dawn always was so quiet at the Marble Palace – servants, slaves, guests and important dignitaries should be sound asleep by now after a night of…. Well, Quoren knows what, as the saying goes in Qorentia. The tired Castrati Guards continued their rounds, two passing by and taking no notice of their master, their senses not quite as alert as the fresh bodies that would replace them in an hour’s time. As he passed through the guest quarters, another wave of pain gripped Quoren’s heart, causing him to stop and reach out to the cool marble wall to steady himself. Muffled moans and giggles came from behind a closed door as he stooped, riding out the agonizing spasms of evil reclaiming him for the Darkness.
“Kreshtia is still entertaining the young Morelust prince from Takmore, I hear,” Quoren muttered to himself as the last twinge of pain left him. “Naughty succubus,” he said through a half grin, shaking his head and catching his breath before continuing down the passageway.
Not a waking soul saw the Fallan pass through the arched halls, gleaming in the many torch lights dotted along the smooth walls, as he made it to his own rooms undisturbed. At last, he thought, sighing in relief. He would have hated to flog anyone now after the night he’d had. Besides, he didn’t have the time. He had more pressing needs on his mind.
The large, ornate door swung softly on its soundless hinges, closing and barring itself behind the Dark Fallan trapped in his daimonic form, the body he had been condemned to after the his fall to evil in the underworld, and then disappeared, fading into the wall. Moving swiftly about his chambers, he grabbed a large handful of fresh parchments from a wooden chest and set them down at his writing table, along with a shimmering stone he pulled out of a small pouch kept close to his body. Thinking twice, he paused and picked it back up again, gently passing his cold thumb over its glossy surface. It glowed under his light touch. As he let it dangle from its dainty gold chain, the gem’s luminosity intensified, growing bright blue as though to say, I remember you; I am here for you. Quoren pinched his lips into a tight, melancholy smile and let his shoulders drop. Fighting the emotions welling up through his hardening soul, he thought about the one who gave it to him. He pressed it to his lips, and then put the stone back to rest beside his parchments.
Stepping down from the stairs in his study to the platform into his bedroom, he cursed under his breath as his legs, weakened and shrunken to their smaller size through atrophy, were unable to make the wide gap in one stride. Quoren took full notice of his hideous evil form and stopped in mid-pace. Tears burned in his red eyes, threatening to spill over, but he fought them back. No time for self pity, he admonished himself, gathering up the remaining necessities and returning to his study. With a silver cup and two unopened bottles of Frigg’s finest Dark Amber Rum in his hands, he settled down at his desk, and then pulled ink and quills out of the drawer.
Daylight began to fill his otherworldly gardens outside, spilling down from the reflective shields strategically placed high in the mountain walls of his paradise in hell, its brilliant rays reaching in across his polished chamber floor. With one fluid motion of his hand, long heavy drapes slid across the tall windows plunging the space into darkness and every wick in the room ignited with small dancing flames. He couldn’t face the sun today. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ever see it again, as it had so callously just torn him out of the arms of his beloved. His heart ached again at the thought of her. Hold on to this night, and I hold on to her, he smiled tenderly, remembering her, her scent, her touch, her lips, and let the comforting embrace of darkness envelope him, prolonging the blissful night he had just spent with her.
Go Here to read the rest...
Thanks!
Q
