BOOK 4
'Tricks and Thorns,
A Desert Storm...'
A Sequel to the successful #DAWNseries
Book 4 in the saga.
Follow our favourite couple, the goddess of life and her husband, the god of death, as they traverse through an even darker and more twisted pat...
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'Fire fire in the blackened night You're ripped, you're torn, yet you didn't fight
Surrounded by tricks and thorns Our love was found within a desert storm
Fire fire in the blackened night Without a doubt, a pretty sight
But along came the cold and the sudden ice Fire fire, in the blackened night Smothered in this fool's paradise...'
- A Desert Storm, Danelle Dreyer
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Prologue
The goddess of the night twirled her wrist and flicked the flame on and off; playing with it like a torch.
Warmth in the tips of her fingers, but the shine of light and fire never quite appealed to her. Her long, thin fingers snapped and the sound of bone against bone echoed.
The chamber was dark, moonlight scarce and the howling of the winter winds reminded everyone why immortality was something to be thankful for. The palace shook under the heavy snow; a pack of wolves not too far off. Hunting, marking a territory which belonged to gods. Skeletal in their form and harrowing to look at, but beautiful pets. Like children; her children.
Of course, she had her own brood. Her own pack to care for. To train. To tame. To break.
Night's unkind brood.
The necessities of a world others would rather want to avoid, or better yet- sweep under the rug. But everyone knows that death, ruin and shadow doesn't stay away for long before it tumbles back, like an avalanche; either silent or blaring.
A boat set adrift in a world mapped out to many points and destination; all of which trail over the edge. So what does it matter what route you take, when the end result is falling?
You can't fall much further than here. A tundra of white and ice. Frozen hills, mountains, forests, lakes...
The flame flickered up again and her yellow eyes examined the warmth. What a beautiful lie. Nyx could see why so many fall trap to it. Even her own.
Another kind of warmth shot through the chamber, snapping the flame from her fingers as the door opened and an icy breeze flew in. Nyx grinned softly, her eyes locked on the dark reflection in the window. Beautiful as always.
"What is it, love?" Nyx's voice cracked above the snap. It was strained.
The shadows moved around her, in the icy home of a barren tundra. A strong, but soft female voice spoke; "He's gone."
Nyx sighed; air turned to cold mist around her mouth and was sent up, into the light of the moon. Yellow eyes shifted to the figure beside the open door. "Again?"
The young girl didn't look too bothered with her mother's disinterest; hers was even less prominent. "It appears so..."
"Let it run its course."
The girl nodded with her black eyes. They were the same shade as her father's; the god of shadows and deep darkness. Her heart too, was made of night. She turned, letting her black hair wave and cut through the ice of the room.
Nyx didn't move a sliver as she spoke again, calling for attention; "Eris, darling..."
The young woman turned at the sound of her mother's voice; those black eyes trained on the back of the older goddess' head. Eris was not one for patience; "Yes, mama?"
A long, pale finger lifted up, the nail painted a deep red- blood red- and the tip pointed into a claw. There was amusement now in her voice. Eris knew of two things that could cause a sly smile on Nyx's face. Erebus and... the twins.
Erebus wasn't here.
"Let's cast a stone, shall we?"
Eris' lips tugged at the corners and she responded with a purr; "Excellent idea, mama..."
The goddess of night listened to the patter of her young daughter's feet moving down the stairs, leaving her to her own thoughts once more. Nyx was good at waiting. She's had to wait for many things in her life- most things. Others, she's had to take by force when waiting showed no end.
The wind started back up, sealing the woods in snow and ice; creating a halo of white around hell. A desolate and isolated whisper ran through the desert; the feeling of a familiar numbness sliding through her veins.
Freeze or be frozen.
A mantra she was taught with force.
A mantra she knew each of her children had been taught.
But what is a lesson without practice?
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More information on the release date for this book will be given later.
Until then, enjoy the Tales book, which can be found on my profile. Happy reading!
