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Fate’s Flames (Working Title): Part 2

by Chelsea

A scuffle of leaves and snap of several twigs made Kìlashà turn toward the stream. Phoenix stood staring at him, one hand dripping water and mouth slightly open. Kìlashà frowned at him, cocking his head and looking Phoenix over. He had a narrow frame, but his alert, confident stance said he trained daily with the weapons he wore.


More attractive than the average Serr-Nyen, for certain, Kìlashà thought. And no obvious sign of illness. I think he even bathes. If he weren’t so incompetent I might like him.


“Are you Dragon?” Phoenix asked.


I am a son of the Drae’gon, masters of both time and flight, Kìlashà fumed, snarling at the name. I am not some mythical beast to be tamed by human heroes.

It was the name Griffin had given him many years ago, however, and he couldn’t deny it without giving his true name. He had no desire to give the Serr-Nyen any information about him that they did not already know. Phoenix glanced to the side, looking uncomfortable.

“Pardon,” he said. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I am looking for someone, but I think you are not him.”

“I am,” Kìlashà corrected.

It didn’t feel as ignoble as agreeing to the name Griffin had given him. He knew he would have to answer to it, but he didn’t have to tell anyone to call him that.

“I see,” Phoenix said after a long pause.

Phoenix hesitated again, looking around as if hoping to find someone else to speak to instead. Kìlashà crossed his arms and leaned back against a tree. He did not like this dancing around the topic, but he couldn’t admit he knew why Phoenix was here. It would raise too many questions.

“I was sent by Griffin of the Sernien Resistance against Emperor Caildenn’s oppression,” Phoenix said in a more confident tone.

“You may call me Phoenix. Griffin asked me to request your aid, as you have been an ally in the past. We have reason to believe Imperial fighters are planning an attack on our stronghold and our forces are stretched thin at the moment. We won’t be able to hold them off.”

Caildenn Laisia is hardly an emperor, Kìlashà thought, pondering the information Phoenix had given him. He was amused to find they had usurped a bastardized version of the Drae’gon term for their homeland, but he didn’t intend to correct them. More important was the information that the Serr-Nyen knew of an impending attack and were seeking allies in combat. Their war would begin in earnest soon. Kìlashà felt better about his decision to travel to Sharan Anore with Phoenix. I would much rather sharpen my claws on Caildenn’s soldiers than hunt for a human worth my time. Griffin doesn’t offer anything without a cost, though.

“Griffin desires my presence?” Kìlashà asked.

He doubted that was the exact truth, but it was probably what she had said. Phoenix nodded, but did not elaborate.

“And she sent the message you delivered?” Kìlashà probed.

“She did,” Phoenix replied. “It would be rude to ask you to walk into our stronghold unaware of our peril.”

Naive as well as incompetent, Kìlashà thought in disdain. Griffin wants me to handle this attack as her price for my return.

Phoenix obviously believed what he said, however. Naive was better than duplicitous. Kìlashà pushed off the tree he was leaning against and strode toward the west, pulling on his power again to show him the way. As soon as he had the proper moment flickering before him he realized Phoenix had not moved. He turned back to the stream, holding the vision in his mind as a guide while he focused the rest of his attention on Phoenix.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes, of course,” Phoenix agreed, stepping toward him. “It’s this way.”

Phoenix turned north-west. Kìlashà cocked his head, confused by the direction Phoenix had selected. Did he know where the attack was coming from? Kìlashà checked his visions again. No, Phoenix was just lost and unable to determine direction properly under the forest canopy. Kìlashà was pleased to see he would have discovered his mistake as soon as they left the trees. He wasn’t entirely unskilled, just unfamiliar with the terrain.

“No, it is not,” Kìlashà told him, turning back the way he had been going.

After a moment, Phoenix followed him without argument.

Kìlashà traveled slowly and watched Phoenix for any sign of fatigue. Despite his best efforts to remain on level ground, he saw Phoenix stumble on underbrush several times as evening fell. He was not going to be able to travel through the night without risk of injury. Kìlashà had expected that, though. He could see the safe path in his visions, but Phoenix had no such tools at his disposal. Kìlashà paused, turned his gaze inward, and looked past the vision he had been using as a guide to the countless possibilities he had already relegated to the back of his mind. A quick search through the flickering images found a safe place to rest overnight. As Kìlashà shifted his focus to bring that vision to the fore, he caught another flare of possibility from one of his discarded visions.

Again? Kìlashà wondered. I don’t get multiple warnings in the same day, much less within a few hours. He hesitated, but he couldn’t afford to lose the information because he was in a hurry. He pulled the vision forward. It was weak with distance, several months into the future at least, but the colors, scents, and emotions were strong. This was a fixed moment that could not be avoided easily. Kìlashà let the moment flame into life.

The room was tiny, dingy, and smelled of rancid wound dressing. The only things clean were Phoenix, several layers of cloth laid over a thin straw mattress, and Kìlashà himself. In the vision, Kìlashà bore the filth without a moment’s thought, leaning forward toward Phoenix with obvious concern.

“Get some rest and heal,” the vision of Kìlashà told Phoenix. “I will return to the clan.”

“Come back,” Phoenix said.

“Always,” Kìlashà assured him. He leaned forward and caught Phoenix’ ear with his teeth for a moment before whispering a final promise. “I will always return for you, kai’shien.”

Kìlashà thrust the vision away with a force that shattered his control over his power. Searing pain exploded behind his eyes for an instant before he regained control and snarled at his own stupidity. He knew better than to try to force a vision out, especially one so fixed.

But that can’t be true, Kìlashà thought in horror. This naive boor is the Chosen’s Right Hand, a renowned warrior?

“Dragon, is something wrong?” Phoenix asked from behind him.

Kìlashà almost answered. He bit his tongue and backed away from the concerned look. There was no way he could sleep near Phoenix tonight. He probably wouldn’t sleep at all.

“There’s a safe clearing that way,” Kìlashà told him, pointing in the direction his earlier vision had shown. “Rest for the night. I’ll return in the morning.”

Kìlashà turned away from the clearing he had sent Phoenix to and slipped between the trees until he was certain he was no longer visible, then grabbed a low branch above him and scaled to a reasonable height. Once there he settled against the trunk to think.


I sounded just like that vision, he realized as he considered his parting comments to Phoenix. The rough bark of the oak he sat in would normally be a comfort, but tonight it made him think of the rough-hewn stone walls of the sick-room in his vision. Kìlashà shuddered at the thought. It couldn’t possibly be a true vision. He could never stand in that much filth and be that calm. He didn’t even want to consider the implications of the supposed relationship between himself and Phoenix.

Calm down, Lasha, he told himself, sitting up and forcing the panic aside with an iron will. You know what this means. You were expected to find your kai’shien and you have. That he seems ordinary can only mean there is something you do not know about him.

Ordinary was a kind way to put it, but Kìlashà had to admit that Phoenix would not have been considered ordinary among the Serr-Nyen. He was humble, which was a trait few humans possessed in Kìlashà’s experience, and he certainly seemed to believe in a greater good than what would benefit himself. What could have bred such a combination in a human who would willingly serve Griffin? Kìlashà reached for his power again but stopped himself.

It is rude to look into another’s past without permission. He might have done it again anyway, but something about the vision of their future made it seem more than rude on this occasion. Kìlashà rekindled the disturbing vision and pondered it for a moment. It seemed as unbelievable on second viewing as the first, but it was clear that the Kìlashà of his vision did truly care about Phoenix. If he is actually my kai’shien then breaking his trust before he even knows me is not the way to start things.

Kìlashà sighed, leaning back against the trunk again and wrapping himself in his cloak for warmth. He had hoped to have some time to deal with this nonsense Griffin was spouting about Caildenn before dealing with the prophecies again. Fate had always had its plans for him, though. As Chosen of the Four Clans, Kìlashà accepted the weight of a Fate-destined life as a natural course. He could not have been Chosen and free to while his time away on frivolous pursuits, and he could never have wished to not be the Chosen. Were he not, he would not be Drae’gon.

If I must pursue a pairing with this human for the sake of my clan then I will do it, Kìlashà thought, his eyes drifting closed. I will have to teach him a great deal about cleanliness first.

Fate’s Flames (Working Title): Part 1

by Chelsea

Kìlashà san Draego de Mìtaran, Chosen of the Four Clans of the Drae’gon People, lay flat on the branch, watching the human below him stumble through another tangled knot of underbrush. The human let out a curse as he extracted himself and sucked the side of his hand to ease the pain of a scratch. Kìlashà frowned down at the figure below.


He’ll get himself killed, Kìlashà thought. If those thorns caught in his skin he’ll poison himself.

He was young, but probably only a year or two younger than Kìlashà himself, with brown hair cut short and angular features. He was even a little attractive, for a human, but his incompetence made Kìlashà shy away from the thought of speaking to him. Why would this human’s people allow him into the wilds if he knew so little about the area? Kìlashà could look, of course…

That would be rude, Lasha, he reminded himself. His clanmother, Mìtara, had drilled the lesson home to him over the years. It was unacceptable to look into another’s past without permission. Still… Mìtara will have my head if she finds out.

Kìlashà braced himself against a limb and wrapped a leg around the main branch for balance. His cloak fell over the side of the branch to help him blend with the leaves. Then he reached for his power. Possibility flared to life in his mind and a thousand potential futures flickered and faded as the moment shifted and made each more or less likely. Kìlashà focused his attention on the moments involving this human, pushing the other events to simmer at the edge of his perception. Once he had the current timelines isolated, he began the laborious process of identifying the true present.

The human stumbled into the knot of underbrush, cursed, and worked his way free. He examined his injured hand, looking for thorns…

No, he had not thought to check for thorns. Kìlashà pushed the vision aside to join the others he had rejected.

The human worked his way free, sucked on the side of his hand for a moment, then glanced up, seeing Kìlashà in the trees above him.

Not likely. Kìlashà blended perfectly in the dim afternoon light. He pushed that one aside, as well.

The human sucked on the side of his hand for a moment, then leaned back against a tree trunk in frustration. After a moment, he straightened and began his search again.

That was the right timeline. Kìlashà isolated it and followed it back in time, checking against his limited knowledge of the human’s earlier actions. There was where he had camped the previous night, when Kìlashà had found him. There was his entrance to the forest the day before. It was close enough to the location where he had camped that Kìlashà was sure it was correct. Before that he had traveled for two days from the west. Kìlashà snarled when he saw the sprawl of ruined buildings the human had come from. He was one of the Serr-Nyen that had taken over the ruins of Sharan Anore.

It’s a good thing I broke Mìtara’s command, though, Kìlashà thought. If they’re sending scouts this direction I need to know what they’re looking for.

Kìlashà followed time back through the human’s preparations to leave, scoffing at the inclusion of the coins the Serr-Nyen used to trade for goods and the exclusion of any form of water cleansing. He knew these humans were little more than barbarians, though. How they hadn’t all died of illness was a mystery to him.

Thank the Spirits that Mìtara saved me from living among them. Not that I would likely have lived long had she not. They do keep population down with their wars. At least the one these humans are starting is justified, unlike most.

Kìlashà skipped past two more days of the human pursuing mundane tasks and finally found the meeting with the Serr-Nyen leader that had sent this human to Kìlashà’s forest.

“Phoenix, welcome,” a woman with filthy, matted blond hair greeted, her voice melodic and soft. She glanced up from a report she was reading as he entered.

Kìlashà remembered her. She called herself Griffin now, although she had used her given name when they first met. She had been kind to him, and he had been very young. Kìlashà had not believed she could be what his visions showed. He had been wrong.

“We have a report from the east we need investigated,” Griffin continued. “You remember the ally we had out there?”

“He was called Dragon, I believe, correct?” Kìlashà’s human target, Phoenix, replied. He sounded young, but with enough certainty in his words that his question did not expect an answer. “I thought he vanished years ago.”

“So did I, but we’ve received some strange reports,” Griffin explained. “It could be him, or, honestly, it could be some wild animal. We don’t know, and we need to. If he is still around, we need his help.”

Kìlashà let the vision die and stretched out the leg he had used to brace himself. The Serr-Nyen were looking for him. He had no desire to return to human lands and involve himself in their squabbles, but they might send more if he didn’t go. As well, he was supposed to be looking for the human who would stand at his side as partner and ally against the dangers that threatened his people.

As if any of these could be of use to me. Kìlashà refused to think about what else this partner was supposed to be to him. That he could fight beside any of them was enough of a stretch. That he could like one of them enough to claim friendship was absurd. He couldn’t even consider forming a true love match with any of them. A Drae’gon did not challenge the Ancestral Prophecy, however. No matter how unfathomable the idea was, Kìlashà had to accept the dilemma. Either he would yearn for a Serr-Nyen human as his mate, or he was not the Chosen of the Four Clans. He and Mìtara had been over the signs innumerable times. Kìlashà was the Chosen, and so he must return to this human settlement. It would be easiest to return with this human, Phoenix.

Several minutes had passed since he began his Seeking and Phoenix was no longer in sight. It was a simple matter to find him. Kìlashà pulled on his power again and sorted through the flickering moments again to find himself looking down from his branch as Phoenix stumbled into the bushes. He followed the timeline as Phoenix walked away, scouring the bushes for any sign of another living creature. Another vision flared to life at the peripheral of his Seeking, pushing its way to the fore. Kìlashà let it. His subconscious often knew when he needed to see a coming moment and revealed it in this way.

Phoenix stopped by the bank of a small stream not far from where Kìlashà had last seen him, kneeling to drink with one hand still on his blade. A low growl should have warned him away, but Phoenix didn’t seem to notice the sound. Instead he filled his waterskin and ran a wet hand through his hair, then splashed water on his face in an apparent attempt to remove some of the dirt that clung to him from his travels.

A young, female Warig stalked out of her lair under the roots of a nearby tree with another growl. Many humans would mistake her for a large wolf, but only because they didn’t know what to look for. Her face was broad at the base, leaving room for more intelligence that Kìlashà found in some humans, and her reddish-brown coat was stiff enough to turn a blade.

Phoenix finally noticed the danger, drawing his sword and crouching low to the ground for balance.

Kìlashà let the vision fade and dropped to the ground. No human would easily best a Warig defending her den. He didn’t much care about Phoenix’ life, but it would be inconvenient to explain his sudden return to the Serr-Nyen without the human they had sent to locate him. Kìlashà moved swiftly and silently through the trees, reaching the stream just as Phoenix knelt to drink. He shuddered at the thought of drinking straight from the stream but ignored the action to growl a quiet warning to the Warig in her den. She slunk further under the tree roots. Like most predators, she knew when she was outmatched.

Stories and Streaming

by Chelsea

Hi again, all. I said in my last post, about a week ago, that I would give an update when I had a newsletter available. That sign-up is available now on the main page, and I’ll add a signup to this post, also. I delayed the actual update just a bit in order to make sure I had some other plans finalized and announce everything all at once. Here’s the status of the story releases I used to do here, as well as my plans for the Hotplots & Synonym Roles channel.

The Stories

I’ll be using two platforms to try and build more readership for my serialized stories, Laterpress and Wattpad. Laterpress is a website built after the style of Kindle Vella but that doesn’t seem to have the same restrictions on content cross-posting that Vella does. I wanted a platform with a built-in audience, which Laterpress is a little bit worse at since it’s new, but it’s the best location I found where I can easily monetize my writing without being forced to put it all behind a paywall and remove a bunch of content from this web site. Wattpad has a massive built-in audience, but I’m concerned they may want faster-paced writing than I offer. We’ll see if I’m wrong. On both of those platforms I’ll begin by reposting the Tales of the Laisian Empire stories from here, though I’ll post them in their first-edit forms, which makes them a bit longer. As a result, they’ll all be broken into two or three parts and I’ll post them twice a week. Feel free to take a look at those updated versions on either platform.

For content here, I really wanted to maintain this location as a place where I can put some early drafts of stories, as well. I mainly stopped because I ran out of new content to supplement my existing books and wasn’t able to keep up with the demand of writing and posting a new story every couple weeks. To address that concern and revitalize this space, I’ll be pulling an old draft of the prequel to Wake of the Phoenix and editing that into a serialized version, releasing that on this platform. When I run out of Tales of the Laisian Empire stories for Laterpress and Wattpad, I’ll be cross-posting those, as well. That means that reading this blog will be an advance look at future installments from Laterpress and Wattpad, which gives those who support this blog something special for their dedication. The draft of the prequel novel is 80k words and I’ll be turning it into a serialized story at 1500 words per post, so I expect to have content for quite some time from that source material. Those posts will go up once a week.

The YouTube Channel

I’m very excited by the plans I have for my YouTube channel, HotPlots & Synonym Roles. I already have over ten video concepts and am beginning my recording today. I am concerned, however, that I might run out of content to edit while I talk about the topics I have on hand. I love to hear from readers what they want to see in that space. Part of the goal is to demonstrate editing styles and techniques in order to build my editing services so I can keep writing and publishing the stories I love. But another part of it is to give readers real access to my writing process and let them see what my stories go through to become their best selves for release. As a writer, I’m probably a bit too focused on what would help me and my writer connections write better. Please let me know what you, as a reader, really want to hear about in my videos!

Sign up for my newsletter below!

Welcome Back, Me!

by Chelsea

Well, I’ve been quiet again lately. In January I announced that I would be making some changes to this website and would update the blog when I had those plans made. Planning took longer than I expected. By a lot. Here’s where I stand.

Should I give up on this blog?

I hope you don’t, but it has become an endeavor that I won’t be able to return to with the consistency I had hoped. I have a few other plans to solve that issue, however.

First, I’m starting a newsletter. I know, you’re probably thinking “Wait, your blogging failed so you’re going to start sending writing to people’s inboxes? I don’t think that’s going to work…” The point of transitioning from a blog to a newsletter is that my newsletter will be very informal. Instead of a well-researched article on elements of publishing, fantasy books or shows, or storytelling, each newsletter will be short and will just be a few thoughts on stories I’ve engaged with lately. Sometimes that might be a comment on how frustrated I was with Rings of Power, or how I found the movie Missing surprisingly entertaining despite not really liking the storytelling style. Sometimes it might be a discussion on what I’m thinking about a particular trend in fantasy and then a question on what my readers think. And every now and then, my newsletter will just be me offering something free to those people who choose to subscribe. I’ll release another blog post when newsletter subscriptions are available. Hopefully that will be later this week.

Second, I’m starting a YouTube channel named Hotplots and Synonym Roles: Real-time editing with a real-life editor. This is an effort to combine work and get editing done on my writing projects which need my attention while providing content for my fans. Currently the focus of this channel will be editing my own work, but once I’m a bit more caught up on that, I will be accepting short submissions to edit live for another author, potentially with that author on the video to discuss the edits. More on that plan when it is closer. The YouTube channel currently exists and you can subscribe now if you would like. I expect my first videos to go up mid to late May.

Finally, I will still be releasing longer, more comprehensive updates and/or thoughts on this blog at least twice a year, hopefully 4-6 times a year.

What’s going on with the story collection?

I am still working on developmental edits for Tales of the Laisian Empire, Volume 1. As I said above, I plan to use my new YouTube channel for editing in order to streamline my various goals into one thing. That means that you’ll be able to watch me edit my story collection before purchasing it. If I get enough subscribers, I’ll even transition the edits into livestreams so my followers can comment on the decisions I’m making as I make them. The goal is to use this method to get the necessary edits done in time to release the book this year. Since that particular project is 10-11 stories that are relatively long, I may not release the entire editing series before the book comes out, but I’ll make sure the entire series gets released.

What about new stories?

I understand that a some of you enjoyed my fiction writing on here and I want to try to preserve that. At this point in time, I am too swamped catching up on publishing to get anything new ready for release. As a result, my plan is to do some writing on the second short story collection in downtime between my other projects so long as it doesn’t delay the release of any of the projects my current readers and followers are waiting on. What I would like to do is release them on a serialization platform like Kindle Vella to increase readership and make it easier to engage with me about the writing, but I dislike the inability to make the stories perma-free on those sites. I don’t yet know enough about those options to make a plan for that yet. I may use Wattpad, though I don’t write to that platform’s largest demographic. Regardless of how I release new stories, the edits to turn those initial stories into a collection for release will be live-edited on my YouTube channel. More details later in the year when I have more knowledge of what I can do there.

Another note about Twitter

I received a notification recently that Twitter has adjusted its interface system and WordPress will not be able to cross-post my blogs to Twitter any longer. Be aware if I suddenly vanish from Twitter even further that it’s all Twitter’s fault…or so WordPress would have you believe. They might be right, I don’t know. I wasn’t in the negotiating room.

Fantasy of the Future

by Chelsea

I want to talk about a trend I’m seeing in fantasy of late: No one takes it seriously for what it is. That’s a weird thing to say for me, because for as long as I can remember, fantasy has been perceived as a thing for slackers, goofballs, and dreamers. People for whom reality is just a chore, and the stereotype is that they spend much of their free time pretending to be a knight or an elf or a princess. But for me–and for many of the fans who love “old school” fantasy, it never was that. Fantasy is a place of complex character dynamics and intertwined plots. Of forces beyond human control vying for supremacy and proving that even the most insignificant among us can make something better, even if only for a few.

And then there’s the new Willow.

Let’s talk about Willow

I have genuinely enjoyed the new Willow so far, but I don’t know that I think it’s a good show. It has the same problem that the first installment of the Hobbit trilogy had. There are moments that speak to the core of me and draw on everything I love from fantasy. Bilbo Baggins runs head-first into fire and danger to defend Thorin Oakenshield despite everything, knowing he’ll die but unable to abandon someone he so admires. Kit defiantly insists she’s going after her brother whether her mother wants her to or not because that’s her family and family is everything.

But right before Bilbo saved Thorin, The Hobbit spent an entirely too long scene as a silly 1980’s side-scroller video game in the goblin tunnels. And when Kit is desperately trying to find her father, save her brother, and find a way to believe in the woman who’s going to save the world, we take a random detour to have a fist fight with no stakes that pops up out of nowhere and no one cares. No trolls show up in the middle of the fight to bring them to their senses. Willow himself just kind of shrugs. It’s comic relief of the worst kind: The kind that assumes no one actually cares what’s going on. The point of comic relief is to break the tension and give the audience a break, but this comic relief breaks the entire story. Nothing really matters anymore because, if something gets too serious, we’ll just pause for a random aside with some silly antics and then we’ll move on. Often everything is magically fine again afterward.

This is deeply infuriating to me, because I so love the good moments that I can’t just ignore the bad, weird, or random moments. Instead, they take something exceptional and tear it to pieces and I just want to shout at my screen for the writers to care about what they’re making, dammit! And yet, I enjoyed both The Hobbit and the new Willow. I rewatch The Hobbit somewhat regularly, and I’m interested to see where the new Willow goes, pretty impatiently awaiting the next episode’s release.

Nettle & Bone

This is actually similar to my opinion on a newly released book called Nettle & Bone that I recently read for a book club. I don’t feel like it’s well written from a story construction perspective–I make that distinction because each individual scene is exceptional–but it is a very, very fun book. I am having a lot of fun with this book, but I don’t actually care about any of the characters.

Nettle & Bone is a fairy tale retelling about a princess who goes on a quest to murder her sister’s husband because he’s an abusive spouse, and it has some really interesting potential. It completely ignores all of it. Instead, the entire book is an endless string of quippy one-liners and the MC feeling shocked, confused, scared, horrified, or some combination of those emotions. It is astoundingly shallow, and somehow delightful.

But it feels like a movie trailer.

Surely there is more to this still coming, right? Not so far as I can tell, and that is the thing that infuriates me about it. It feels like this author–who is clearly extraordinarily talented at writing because, as I said, each individual scene is exceptional–just didn’t care about writing a complete book. Now, I don’t believe that of the author, mostly because of what I know about the author world and how difficult it can be to craft the story you want others to see. I think this author was going for a light-hearted retelling that had a unique flavor all its own and still kept the feel of a fairy tale. The problem is that it feels too much like a fairy tale in all the wrong ways.

Instead of feeling wondrous and heavy with meaning, if feels shallow and uncertain what elements are truly important. As pointed out by my book club, the author didn’t even name the three primary kingdoms. Just “the Northern Kingdom”, “the Harbor Kingdom”, and “the Southern Kingdom.” That’s perfectly common in fairy tales, but it adds to the shallowness that steals so much of the potential of this book.

This book could have been great. Not just entertaining, but truly, deeply amazing, rewriting the way that we as a reading audience view story-telling. The author has that skill. Instead, this is the Bullet Train of fairy tale retellings. It’s not good, really, but it was pretty fun.

Make Fantasy Real Again

I’m not actually posting this to complain about The Hobbit, or the new Willow, or Nettle & Bone, all of which I enjoyed. And I’m definitely not here to point fingers at any of the other TV shows that have come out recently that have taken this problem to much worse extremes. Those I didn’t even enjoy, and most of them I couldn’t finish. My point is simply to say this.

I want my fantasy back.

I want the real stuff, where characters dealt with difficult problems and struggled against them, sometimes failing because of their own flaws and often being forced to live with the regret of the things they couldn’t change.

Don’t take that to mean that I think all fantasy should be a Game of Thrones clone, where the world is brutal and one minor error can cause you to be murdered unceremoniously (I did also enjoy the Game of Thrones TV show….until no one cared anymore). I want absolutely nothing to do with gore for the sake of gore like we saw in The Boys.

I’m talking about Lord of the Rings–the real one made by Peter Jackson before he was forced to bleed the franchise dry. I’m talking about Wheel of Time–the books, where Matt was a deeply traumatized person struggling to control the corruption that had gained power within him, Perrin was haunted by the terrifying wolf dreams he didn’t understand and had to go on a quest to control them, Thom mattered like, at all, and the story of Egwene and Ninaeve was about them deciding who they wanted to be, not deciding which men they wanted to fall over.

I grew up on fantasy that had something to say, not because someone somewhere was trying to shove a message into that fantasy, but because the people in those stories were deeply flawed and their challenges came as much from themselves as from the world beyond. Those are the stories I loved, and those are the stories I miss. I’m trying to write those stories and I know I’m not the only one. But I sure do miss that little stretch of time where the world took us seriously, and the stories we loved were treated with respect.

Happy New Year!

by Chelsea

Hey everyone. Hope everyone had a great holiday season and has some exciting plans for the new year. I had some big plans halfway through 2022 and then…well…life happened. Again. Sorry for going AWOL a second time. I do still have plans for book releases and I want to update everyone on that. I also will be making a few changes to my blog/website and my writing schedule to make sure I’m getting content to my fans more consistently. Those plans are a bit in the wind right now, but I will let you all know what’s coming in the next couple months. But now for the thing I care about most:

Writing Update

First… I have been writing! My draft of the second book in the Artifice of Power saga is moving slower than I’d hoped, mostly because of issues with my day job and stress from that. However, progress has been made and I hope to have it out to beta readers later this year. That will push back the release until at least mid 2024 (I am very sad about this) but the better quality book will be worth the delay. Closer to now, I had planned to put out my first collection of related short stories, Tales of the Laisian Empire, volume 1 last year. I sent it to a new editor in September and she found a lot of ways to improve the content, so that went back into revisions. That process is closing up, so my current goal is to have that collection ready for release in April or May. Here’s an updated estimate of my releases in this series:


Book		Placement in storyTentative release plans
Tales of the Laisian Empire, Volume 1All content occurs before the beginning of Wake of the Phoenix, book 1 in the Artifice of Power sagaPlanned for mid 2023
Artifice of Power saga, Book 2Direct sequel to Wake of the PhoenixTentatively planned for mid to late 2024
Tales of the Laisian Empire, Volume 2All content occurs between the end of Wake of the Phoenix and the beginning of Artifice of Power saga, Book 2Tentatively planned for early 2025
Artifice of Power saga, Book 3Direct sequel to Artifice of Power saga, Book 2Release not yet planned
Tales of the Laisian Empire, Volume 3All content occurs between the end of Artifice of Power saga, Book 2 and the beginning of Artifice of Power saga, Book 3Release not yet planned
Artifice of Power saga, Book 4Direct sequel to Artifice of Power saga, Book 3Release not yet planned
Tales of the Laisian Empire, Volume 4All content occurs between the end of Artifice of Power saga, Book 3 and the beginning of Artifice of Power saga, Book 4Release not yet planned
Artifice of Power saga, Book 5Direct sequel to Artifice of Power saga, Book 4Release not yet planned
Tales of the Laisian Empire, Volume 5All content occurs between the end of Artifice of Power saga, Book 4 and the beginning of Artifice of Power saga, Book 5Release not yet planned
Artifice of Power saga, Book 6Direct sequel to Artifice of Power saga, Book 5Release not yet planned

What ever happened with SPFBO?

That competition is a lot to keep up with. It is really exciting and I encourage everyone to check it out, but it turns out I didn’t have the time last year. Also, as Mark Lawrence says on his website, it is not perfect. No competition can be. I was a bit miffed, myself, that Wake of the Phoenix got assigned to a blog which promised to post at least a summary review of every book it received and then never posted even a summary review of my book. Did they not get it? Did they run out of time? Was the file corrupted? Did they read the entire thing, hate it, write a scathing review, and then decide to be nice and keep it to themselves? I’ll never know. And somehow it’s a worse kick to know that Wake of the Phoenix was one of only 2-3 books they didn’t get to. I don’t blame the blog, although I wish they’d said something a little less definitive about getting to “all the books they were assigned”, but it was a blow to my self esteem that I didn’t expect. And, full disclosure, that’s part of what happened last year.

To give a quick shout-out to the good things from SPFBO, I met a lot of other writers and made some great connections. Also, Bristolcon recognized the SPFBO finalists last year and all finalists got a commemorative coins. I found a book I love to plug: The Assassin of Grins and Secrets. This is a weird recommendation from me because I haven’t read the entire book yet and it has an element that I genuinely dislike (one of the characters attaches a color to everything she experiences), but the quality of the writing is so good that I have to recommend it anyway. It’s near the top of my TBR this year and I’m very excited to see where it goes.

Are you going to any events this year?

I don’t have my full year planned out just yet, but I am going to San Francisco Writer’s Conference in February and will attend Pikes Peak Writers Conference in my hometown of Colorado Springs in April. I’d love to attend more events, but most likely those would have to be in the second half of the year, after I have some other things back under control.

I never see you on Twitter anymore….

That’s true, and you probably won’t very much. I check it occasionally and respond to discussions that interest me, but honestly, with everything going on, I don’t have a lot of time for Twitter. I wish there was a better place to connect with my readers. Feel free to shoot me a message on Goodreads or Twitter. I will likely see it in either place, but for the next couple months I’ll be pretty busy getting writing ready for release.

A Final Plug

If you’ve stuck this post out this long, first, thank you. Second, I’d like to make a request. This is something I’ll be doing and I’d love to build some support for this movement. In short, the request is: Buy Brandon Sanderson’s “secret project” audiobooks on Speechify or Spotify. I, personally, don’t like audiobooks (the format doesn’t work for me) and I don’t enjoy Brandon Sanderson’s books very much (it’s not a content thing, I just don’t connect well with his writing style), but I will be doing this because he’s placed them on Speechify and Spotify for a reason. That reason is that Audible, the uncontested leader in the audiobook world, is very, very unfriendly to indie authors. As a quick sneak peek into that, the standard, industrywide royalty for a independently published creative work (from video games to e-books) is 70%. Audible offers 40%, and only offers that if you go to exclusive with Audible. If you want your books available on other platforms, that royalty drops to 25%. I know this personally, having released my audiobook for Wake of the Phoenix last year. My narrator did an exceptional job and not only could I not pay him up front, he made almost nothing on the sales of my book. I chose to invest my time into this endeavor, hoping to build an audience, share my worlds, and maybe be able to do it full-time. My narrator is working a job and not getting paid. Brandon Sanderson has a much more in-depth discussion of this issue in a video he released in late December of this year. If you’re interested in hear his full discussion, it begins around time code 7:20 here.

Thank you again for reading this far. I plan on more frequent updates throughout this year and will keep you posted on the upcoming release of my story collection and sequel.

Aftermath

by Chelsea

Lord Phoenix—

My family wish yours well, though we sorrowed to hear of your recent tragedy. Farm’s keeping well despite the pests. Lads are getting grown enough to cause trouble ’round town, but there’s work enough to tire them out. Love to share a keg of ale with you, if you’ve a chance to come see the new fields. Reckon my lads would get some good out of seeing a proper leader—

Saylina Sentarsin flipped the paper over, checking the seal again. There couldn’t be a reason to send this mundane gossip under an official, private seal. But there it was. Feathered wings rising from the outline of flames, pressed into a complex pattern of colored waxes. Red, orange, and gold glittering in the candlelight around the seal Arkaen had reserved for use only by his personal guards from Serni for the most private of messages. She wasn’t even supposed to know about the decree. A secret Caela had pried from the closemouthed foreign guards after years of building camaraderie. And then she’d died at the hands of a brutal boy and his minions, all to prove a point to Arkaen that had never been made. A pang of grief shook her. Caela, who had stood by her side since she was old enough to have a servant of her own, gone. The lump in her throat choked her breathing, dragging the fresh sting of unshed tears to her eyes. Unsheddable, if she wanted any respect from the lower lords. Nobles didn’t cry over servants. Not even the ones they’d grown up with, close as sisters, and lost to a senseless brawl.

And then, barely weeks after the deadly fight at her uncle’s former estate, this letter arrived for Arkaen under his most private seal.

A single knock, barely a breath of pause, and a servant swept the study door open and stepped in with a tray of steaming tea. Saylina glanced up from the message before her, fighting back her pain to nod in acknowledgment.

“My lady, you have a visitor,” the servant said, crossing the room to lay out the tea, sugar, and a gilded spoon on her desk. Saylina shuffled the books and papers aside to make room. “Count Brayden Skianda has requested your attention. He is just outside, but I can send him away if my lady is too busy.”

“Did he—” Saylina cut off with a scowl. She didn’t know this man, and while he might be loyal, she couldn’t trust anyone yet. Besides, he likely hadn’t even thought to ask why Count Skianda wanted a private audience. “Send him in.”

Saylina waited until the servant stepped outside before scanning the message again, hunting the meaning as the murmur of the servant’s voice drifted in. Arkaen would read something here beyond an update on a small farm, and that meant nothing was as it seemed. A farm with pests—bandits, maybe? But it could just as easily refer to a disagreement between wealthy landowners. The “lads” must be some form of servants, but without knowing the author’s status she couldn’t guess what specific threat “cause trouble ’round town” might imply. She folded the note, setting it aside among a pile of her own, more personal papers. A mystery to unravel when she’d dealt with this request.

Taking a sip of her tea, Saylina waited for her guest. It was only moments before Count Skianda followed the servant back into the room. And he stood, silent and patient, until the servant left again. Saylina gestured him toward a chair.

“Please, sit, my Lord Count,” Saylina said. “Tell me what the province can do for you.”

He smiled. “I’m not here to ask a boon of my province.” Count Skianda stepped around the chair and sat, waiting as if he expected some form of response. When she offered none, he continued. “I came to discuss a matter of some delicacy related to the stability of our home.”

“Well that sounds rather ominous, Count Skianda.” Not that Saylina disagreed with the sentiment. Arkaen had certainly left the town a mess, and the lands beyond suffered for the turmoil of their capital. “What specific issues concern you?”

Count Skianda stared at her, the edges of his eyes narrowed as if he couldn’t quite decide what to tell her. Saylina busied her hands organizing her papers and hoped her anxiety didn’t show.

“Before the rather… explosive events of the past weeks, your brother came to speak with me.”

Saylina let a frown cross her lips. “I recall. I advised him against it. What did my brother promise in that meeting?”

She hated to have to ask. A loss of her power in this negotiation, since he could say anything and she’d never know what was a lie. But Arkaen had been too busy to share the details, and then she’d had that tea with the princess.

A shudder ran through her at the memory. Ropes tight on her wrist. Hands dragging her past Caela’s body, the blood still flowing fresh from her head. The bitter liquid her captors had forced down her throat—

“Apologies, my lady.” Count Skianda leaned forward over her desk, face pained with concern. “I’ve no wish to bring that time back to your mind so soon. May I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.” Saylina pulled back, hands trembling as she dropped cubed sugar into her tea and stirred the liquid. The clink of the spoon against porcelain, gentle swirl of the dark liquid. A distraction from the memories she couldn’t allow right now. “I’m well, my Lord Count. What did my brother say?”

“Well.” Count Skianda hesitated, worry still sharp in his eyes, but finally resumed his seat. “It’s not about what he promised me. He asked my opinion on naming you, my lady, as his heir. He’d clearly been thinking about it some time.”

Saylina nodded. “He made a few comments to similar effect in our discussions as well. He was under a great deal of pressure. I’m certain the appeal of a living sister several years his junior seemed an easy solution to a problem he didn’t care to manage.”

“If you’ll pardon my audacity, I don’t believe that was his reasoning.”

“You flatter me.” Saylina smiled, but she could see the beginning of a suggestion she wasn’t going to like. “I’m afraid Sentar tradition is rather intractable on the matter. Women do not inherit. Certainly not when they’ve an elder brother able to wed and provide a proper heir.”

“But what if your lord brother has no desire to wed?” Count Skianda fixed her with an intense look that hinted at exactly which rumors he meant to reference.

“You’re edging dangerously close to an inappropriate accusation, Count Skianda.”

“To something inappropriate, my lady?” he asked. “Or to something you’d rather not admit? He’s spent these weeks refusing the care of the physics, closeted away with that demon of his. Talk spreads too fast for you to have missed it.”

Saylina rose, heart pounding. Of course she’d heard the whispers, growing since Arkaen’s last public display of womanizing. And he’d thrown oil on that fire when he’d demanded Kilasha stay by his side and refused any other visitors. He might just want the protection. No one could forget the speed with which Kilasha had crossed the crowded great hall where Arkaen had dueled Oskari, knocking a crossbow bolt away from Arkaen’s heart before it could hit home. But politics thrived on scandal, and Arkaen’s seclusion with only a foreign-born, terrifying man for company had sparked every scandalous rumor the nobility could imagine. She needed to nip that in the bud, regardless of who stood before her making the accusations.

Laying a hand on the desk, Saylina leaned forward to catch Count Skianda’s attention. Not precisely towering over him, but enough to emphasize her power in the situation.

“My brother is high lord, Count Skianda. Confirmed by the high lords’ council and supported by our high emperor himself. Any challenge to his rule, any accusation that he isn’t honoring his duty to our province, is treason.” She paused just long enough for him to begin to speak, cutting him off before he voiced a reply. “You’re not engaging in treason, are you, my Lord Count?”

He smiled at her. “I am not, Lady Saylina. Which is precisely why I brought the matter to your attention.”

He leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to sit. She straightened, looking down her nose at him. Another smile, slightly less condescending and more conspiratorial.

“To be honest, my lady, I don’t care what he’s doing with the man,” Count Skianda said. “Arkaen’s done his best by this province despite my initial fears. I wouldn’t call him a good ruler, precisely, but he’s certainly tried to do right by us. I’m only suggesting that he might welcome the opportunity to pass that responsibility to someone better suited to it.”

Saylina hesitated. Still treason, technically, but… You’re my heir, Sayli, he said. Arkaen couldn’t have meant that if he’d planned a full reign. She be far too old to inherit by the time his natural reign ended, and no doubt settled as someone’s wife besides.

“Are you suggesting I ask my brother to abdicate?” She took her seat again, frowning at the thought. Impossible. Too many of the lower lords would protest her coronation while Arkaen lived.

“I’m suggesting that you may not have to ask,” Count Skianda replied. “He’s already convinced the council to accept you as interim high lord while he recovers. We’ve had no objections so far.”

“That’s only a matter of time.” Saylina already knew of several petitions that had been retracted when the complainants had discovered she’d be hearing the claims. If she announced Arkaen wasn’t returning to the seat at all, those slights would quickly become dissent. “A lady has never been confirmed by this council.”

“Only one other has ever tried,” Count Skianda replied. “And she had a reputation for rash, selfish decisions and a tractable younger brother. You, my lady, have neither.”

“But you know I’d face objections from all the other lords.”

“Objections are not an end to the matter if you have proper support.” He leaned back in his chair as if to emphasize the point. “Lord Arkaen had plenty of objections to his coronation, as I’m sure you’ll recall.”

“Hard to forget,” she said. “Especially when his primary critics are still awaiting burial. I’d prefer to avoid a repeat of that circumstance these next few years.”

“We both know that result was avoidable.” Count Skianda paused, glancing behind him as if concerned someone might burst into the room to interrupt them. “If your lord brother had been more prone to placating the nobility we’d likely still have a full council. His temper doesn’t suit the position well.”

“Once I might have agreed with you, my Lord Count.” Oskari’s face hovered in her memory, his frustration at Arkaen’s stubbornness plain on the lined features. Saylina shivered at the image. Oskari had blamed the entire mess on Arkaen, but his words were nothing but a traitor’s justifications for acts he knew were wrong. As she’d known it was wrong to let Kyli Andriole take her place in the imperial capital.

“You don’t agree any longer, my lady?”

Her gaze settled on the message she’d been examining earlier. A coded message to Arkaen from some unknown source warning of potential dangers. And Arkaen’s guard—Kilasha… He’d always watched the province locals like a rabid dog waiting for an attack, until Arkaen had been injured. Now nothing could pry him from her brother’s side. Like he knew the danger wasn’t truly past, no matter what the physic said. The entire time they’d been waiting for something to go wrong, and whatever it was, they didn’t think it was over yet.

“My lady?” Count Skianda leaned forward, laying a hand on the desk between them again.

“I wonder, Count Skianda, why my brother has been so quick to take offense.” Saylina pulled the paper out of her pile, examining the seal again. Too obvious for the subterfuge he’d been managing these last years. Had he meant for her to intercept it?

Saylina looked up at Count Skianda again. “I don’t recall Arkaen being quick to anger when I was a girl. Impulsive at times, perhaps, but always kind-hearted. Was I mistaken?”

Count Skianda frowned for a moment, tapping a finger on the wood of her desk as he thought. Finally, he shook his head.

“No, my lady,” he said. “He was certainly rash at times, and he’d get his hackles up if you insulted his family or friends. But he was never cruel, and he never lashed out at anyone without giving them a chance to apologize first.” He looked up, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I told you when he took the throne that he’s not the boy we knew any longer. The boy I knew would have accepted Oskari’s surrender.”

She nodded. “But I told you when we agreed to his coronation that he’s still my brother.” An exchange so far in the past now it seemed a lifetime away. Separated from the person she was now by most of a month of captivity. “I’m more certain of that now than I was then. And one thing I know of my brother is he is not petty.” She saw the agreement in Count Skianda’s eyes before he nodded. “If Arkaen has become quick to anger, my Lord Count, then he has a reason to be angry.”

“Then perhaps it is long past time that we discover what that reason is.” He dropped his gaze to consider the message she held. “Is it reasonable to assume that is a hint?”

“If we can decipher the code.” Saylina offered the paper across the desk. “It’s some form of warning, though I couldn’t guess at the specifics.”

Count Skianda took the paper and examined the seal, his lips setting in a grim line as he opened the note. He skimmed the words briefly before looking up.

“That’s dangerous, my lady.” He tossed the page onto her desk. “I can’t imagine we’ll understand what it means without breaking his inner circle. But a coded message under that seal? You know what the lower lords will think.”

“That Oskari was right,” she said. “They’ll think he’s a traitor.”

“Are you certain he isn’t?”

She scowled. But what could she say? Arkaen certainly hadn’t confided in her since coming home.

“He wouldn’t do this.” The denial felt weak. Spoken to convince herself as much as anyone. “Kaen wouldn’t betray his home. There’s another explanation.”

“I agree.” Count Skianda didn’t sound hopeful. “He’d never betray his home. But what has Sentar Province ever done for him? Is this his home any longer?”

Arcana Hydrogista

by Chelsea

Caryllie Shaw frowned, her hand trembling over the bucket of water on the table beside her and her nail-beds aching in the dry heat. One dip and her magic would burst free. She could feel the pressure as a writhing creature under her skin, its desires fighting her own. The dry skin of her fingers throbbed as she clenched and relaxed each hand. Just the right pressure along the edge of her index finger and blood would flow from the cracks that had formed in her skin. The council would be forced to pull her from the front.

“Dammit, Caryllie, do something.” Llyr Moreno grunted as he dropped another bucket of water beside her, splashing her thick, leather hiking boots with the liquid. “I’ve got plenty of materials for more water, but I’m running out of space to store it.”

A chorus of quick, snapping noises drifted from across Centennial Boulevard, followed by a loud pop as a burst of sparks flew into the air. Cary looked up, scanning the area.The roads had long been evacuated, but the raging forest fire crept closer to the boundary. Anyone else would have needed full fire gear with masks and still would have been forced further from the edge of the fire. But Cary and Llyr stood protected behind a wall of aerogystas, each pouring their very selves into the effort to blow the heat back and away from where Llyr and Cary worked.

“We should go, Llyr,” Caryllie said, dipping a hesitant finger into the water. Still warm from Llyr’s magic forcing it to convert from separate gasses into liquid. She glanced back, at the distant forms of vehicles approaching their location. “If the firefighters see us here—”

“They bloody won’t if you do your job.” He waved at the growing flames. “You’re the only hydrogista in a hundred miles. Get this water onto those flames or we won’t have homes to go back to.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Centennial was a large enough road it would stop most fires from tearing through the city, but this monstrosity was no ordinary fire. It grew with a speed that seemed almost supernatural, even in the parched land west of Colorado Springs on a particularly dry summer. Wind blew into her face, pulling loose strands of brown hair away from Cary’s face. And sending the sparks drifting toward the untouched greenery of Ute Valley Park.

Cary dipped another finger into the water, sending a stream out of the bucket to douse the sparks before they found purchase. But that small stream was all she could manage with her hand still clear of the water. Proper control required full contact, her hand fully submerged and becoming one with the liquid, imparting her will on the foreign substance. A tactic she didn’t dare risk. Instead, she sent another stream into the heart of the fire, cooling a flare into a burst of heat. Uncomfortable, but not a risk of breaking free. Yet. Another stream pushed the flames back from the far side, where the fire had been creeping toward the elementary school to the south. A minor shift, but enough to keep the fire moving away from the school. Firefighters had already fought for Chipeta Elementary, further south and west, the night before. Cary shifted her stance, dipping the fingertips of her other hand into the water, as well. Stream after stream, like water guns, soaked fresh fuel and cooled the edge of the flame. Not enough. Like fighting a tidal wave with sand bags. Each shot slowed the fire less as the heat burned away any moisture before she could get a second blast in.

To her left, one of the aerogystas wavered. A blast of heat swept past, tearing the breath from Cary’s throat. Llyr, beside her, gasped in shock and collapsed on the ground, sweat dripping from his face. Cary’s body would take several more minutes to realize the danger and start producing sweat, and those minutes would likely be too long. Heat exhaustion would quickly drain her of any ability to manipulate the water and might leave her unconscious. Her fingers sank further into the water, the edge just below the damaged skin on her fingers, and she splashed the water closer. First on herself, drenching her clothes from top to bottom in controlled bursts. Then the aerogysta, who was far too close to danger to wait. Several splashes and the woman rose, nodding in thanks as she applied herself to the task once more. And finally, Llyr.

Llyr stood when she was done, fixed her with a damp glare. “You’re holding back. This isn’t practice.”

“My skin’s too dry,” she replied. “If I go deeper, I might bleed.”

He cursed. “I can’t allow blood work in my region.” Llyr glanced up at the still raging fire, creeping ever closer. “But that thing isn’t slowing down. Can you use gloves?”

Cary shook her head. “I need to connect. It’s not like air work. It’s not inside me already.”

A series of shouts sounded from behind her and sirens blared over the roar of the blaze. She’d waited too long and they’d been spotted. The firefighters would be there any minute. How many of their lives would her hesitation cost?

“Do it, Cary.”

Llyr turned away, running toward the far side of the park where a half dozen officials were waving at them. He could stall them, but only for a few moments. Hold this fire back now or lose the town.

For an instant she was paralyzed. Dip her hand into the water when she knew the aching dryness like an old, long-despised acquaintance? If she bled into the water as she used it, her soul would be bound to this place forever. Any other home would feel empty, devoid of the life she’d built and savored here. Llyr couldn’t be asking her to sacrifice her freedom for the whims of the arcane council. But if she didn’t, the entire town would burn.

Drawing in a deep breath, Cary dipped her hands deeper into the water. At first, the moisture seemed to soften her too-dry skin, soothing the ache of broken skin. She smiled, narrowing her eyes as her hand clenched in triumph and the water from all the buckets Llyr had filled leapt to her command. Then the pain started. First in her fingers, where the cracks had been in her skin, then growing and radiating further. The pulsing sting arced through every muscle. Her body throbbed in time with her heart, the essence of the ground beneath her suddenly an extension of her pain. She could almost feel the heat of the fire drying the trees, the needles screaming as they burst into flame. Cary stared at the water that streamed from her closed fist, sending a torrent toward the sparks that drifted across the road. A thin, nearly invisible line of red wound through the liquid, threading its way out of a deep crack in her skin. She was bound now, for better or worse. This land was hers, and she would allow no harm to it.

“No.” Llyr’s voice was a distant plea from across the park. “Cary, what are you doing? Stay here!”

The dry ground crunched under the heels of her boots. This land was hers.

Wake of the Phoenix ARC sign-up

by Chelsea

What is it?

Hi everyone. As the title says, I am now preparing to send out ARCs of my debut novel, Wake of the Phoenix. The release date will be at the end of September but this is your chance to get a look at an early release copy for free. All I ask is that you post an *honest* review on you favorite review website (and preferably Amazon, as well, if that’s not your go-to), and that you be specific about what you liked or didn’t like when possible. Most versions I send as ARCs will be e-books, but physical books will be available for purchase after release. Anyone with a strong audience is a candidate for a physical ARC copy.

When would I get this?

I’m starting to collect interested parties now. That means I’ll give it a week or maybe a bit more then examine the response I get and determine if I need to be selective. I would love to give a copy to everyone who requests one, so barring a pressing need to do something else, that is my plan. I’ll be contacting people about delivery of their ARCs in about 2 weeks.

What’s this book about again?

Wake of the Phoenix is an epic fantasy novel in which Arkaen, a nobleman with a somewhat questionable history, faces Niamsha, a thief trying to save her family, in an unexpected political clash.

War Hero. Thiefmaster’s apprentice. Traitors. Every title comes with a price.

Arkaen is a gods-damned saint. He sacrificed his childhood innocence fighting for the beleaguered rebellion in a civil war and relinquished a comfortable life with the man he loves to reclaim his place as high lord from corrupt nobles. Now, a hidden enemy is manipulating his lower lords into talk of rebellion, including the powerful Rogue Baron, who is slowly swaying the city into questioning every move Arkaen makes.

With the help of his near-omniscient lover’s gift of foresight, Arkaen finds a potential ally in Niamsha, a reluctant thief trying to pay for her brother’s education. But Niamsha owes an insurmountable debt to the mysterious leader of her thieves guild and failing to pay means death—for her entire family. When her guild leader demands she join forces with the Rogue Baron himself, she finds herself caught in a political battle beyond her skills. Torn between protecting her family and following her conscience, Niamsha doesn’t know who to trust.

If Arkaen can win Niamsha’s loyalty, he might just prevent a second civil war and the destruction of everything he fought to protect. Or he might get them all killed.

How do I sign up?

Sign up using the form at this link: Wake of the Phoenix ARC Request

I can’t wait to share this book with more readers and start seeing some genuine opinions in reviews (yes, even the negative ones… no book is for every reader). Keep an eye out here for a cover reveal, coming in the next couple weeks!