Author’s Update:

Mhorag, Prophecy of Hope Book 1 is coming very soon! It is almost through the editing process and will enter the Layout phase within a couple days. In honor of Read a Book Day, here is a sneak peak!

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Darkness is alive.

In a strange sort of way.

Its substance is twisted and complex.

Some say it presses in, but true darkness is not so easy to spot.

True darkness begins with a thought. It kisses and whispers, and you let it in. It grows so easily in the deep moist recesses of life, you scarcely recognize the trap until you are already locked in its cage, and all else is crushed, dominated and silenced within the black. Such is the nature of darkness.

I should know.

I am that darkness.

I remember when I was no more than an errant thought in the mind of another. I remember being the wretched stain marring the glory of the Kingdom. I remember biting a god and tasting life for the first time. I am a predator, but I feel like prey as my heart races in the utter black of this hour, and my substance penetrates upward from the hollows of existence, slowly, painfully infecting the rotting world above, as battered souls still clinging to their lives suffocate in the quicksand of my rising void, as I advance through the broken shields into the matter of life, eating it away like acid.

What does my prey fear in this moment? What do you fear as the world finally fades to black and light dies, and the only evidence of something more is the thud of my hidden heart driving you slowly mad?

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud . . .

A heart I had stolen.

A heart without body, without blood yet still beating, all around . . .

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud . . .

And what do I fear as I listen to the cries of my prey, starved and trapped? Am I so different from them, always clawing for more, never escaping the horror, the futility of my own existence?

Layer upon layer, year upon year, I grow stronger and yet I cannot stop the whispers breathed out against me so long, long ago.

Hope is still graven into the very fabric of existence, scarred into time and space, emblazoned into the ancient foundations above and below– foundations I have yet to overthrow! And as I rise in this time between times, in this place between places, over this world between worlds, I am forced to acknowledge yet another disruptions to my beautiful darkness, on this the eve of damnation.          

Mhorag, Prophecy of Hope Book 2 COMING SOON!

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