There are three days remaining to get your hands on a free digital copy of my first novel, “Guardians of Gaea (Tales of the Firewing: Book I)!
In the meantime, I’m still polishing up these prequel chapters. I can give you a short glimpse into what to expect from these:
High King Dantek Danzig sat out beneath the open sky on his exotic Feruchal Throne. Feruchal was a rare Aethi metal made flexible, and all the more comfortable, through the special abilities of the Qurafters of the Royal Palace. He looked out among those that had gathered for the judgment of the criminal before him, seeing the faces of those that were pleased, and those that were panicked. The most surprising to him were the faces of those that were resolutely calm, as if they were viewing the norm. High King Dantek knew that this was nothing near the norm of the Aethi Kingdom. It sickened him, shook him to his core for what he knew he must do on this day. He cast his eyes down the platform upon which he was placed, over the several, several stairs that led up to the Feruchal Throne. He could not believe that he was staring down at his now only son, Levin, who was on his knees before him and the entire nation of the Fae Aethi. He had had two sons with his wife, Ferlena, securing the succession of the throne in permanence to the pleasure of the Aethi nobility. Although he ruled equally with his wife, she had made the decision the night before to not attend this ceremony. “It was difficult enough for me to lose Sieben. I will not see you throw away the life of my other son,” he recalled her nearly yelling, distraught beyond tears over the events of that night.
He knew it would be impossible to allow both of his children to rule the kingdom as equals, and he had thought it best to allow the younger of the two, Levin, to hold his own lands just within the border of the lands. That would leave the rest of the land to be under Sieben’s rule as the High Fae King. He thought that this would make them both satisfied, and he would be capable of ending his rule at peace; his youngest son would disprove that theory in the most quixotic way possible. He leaned forward from his seat, his demeanor edging closer and closer to rage over the regal calm that he would normally possess when dealing with criminals.
Seeing this, the once buzzing crowd lulled slowly to a hush in anticipation of the High King’s speaking. More time passed as the crowd waited, seeing that the High King was at war within himself, rage and temerity battling to the fore of his conscious over the usual calm that he was known for. Nearest the front of the crowd, the nobility feared that the worst side of the High King would win out over political correctness and create dissension amongst his people. Elissandra Gost, the Duchess of the Hallowed Coast, had attempted to dissuade the High King from passing judgment on his own son, to no avail. Dantek knew that if he were to remain the just High King that the kingdom had come to revere him as, this was something that he must do. Elissandra stood among the rest of the nobility that had survived the High King’s son’s mad tear of destruction from two nights before. King Dantek cast his eyes over in their direction, and although the other nobility looked frail and paler than the usual, Elissandra’s eyes carried a fierceness that would bring any other man to his knees. She was the only one of the fragile group to acknowledge his look with a nod, and though he made no motion that would be noticeable by anyone else, Elissandra knew that he’d understood her stance on what his judgment towards his son should be.