Aftermath of Two Hurricanes - October 18, 2024
Dear Reader,
As I clean up after the storm, I'm thankful I only suffered minor losses. Mostly the contents from the fridge because of power outages and a few other things needing repairs, but nothing life threatening that can't wait. Many of my neighbors weren't so lucky and my heart goes out to them.
The anxiety leading up to the hurricane, the evacuation stress, and losing power and water afterward is more than an old tiger wants to live with. I feel I'm ready to say goodbye to Florida when my current contract is over. That may not be possible, but the trauma from the storm weighs heavily upon me in the wake of this last hurricane.
As I sit in my office early Sunday evening and begin writing Friday's post on my desktop after the power came back online this afternoon, I don't want to allow the feeling of normalcy this simple relaxing task offers. I don't want to be complacent in the aftermath of these storms. Instead, I want to remember, so I don't allow my plans to backslide. I don't want to live this way and the first step to ensure I don't do this again next year is to lay the plans for a permanent evacuation. I look forward to writing next year's mid-October post from a different location.
Sneak Peek at Death Card
As much as I could, I escaped into the dream over the last week. It's difficult writing on my phone when I had to charge it in the truck after a few hours, not to mention all the social media which never ends with that device. I wrote a new scene in Death Card, but it may fit better in Joker's Wilde. Either way, I wanted to share this prologue snippet with you and I'll let you know which story it fits best once I figure it all out.
Okay, so the legalese first:
Warning:
This is a work in progress and
is subject to change at any time.
Read at Your Own Risk!
Copyright 2024
All Rights Reserved.
Prologue - Crumbling Walls
Blade
His mind drifted back to a long distant past. Rontin stayed quiet. He rarely whispered anything any more than he looked at the world through Fintan’s eyes. Four hundred years had passed, but that didn’t grant either of them an easier time of things.
Life hadn’t always been kind to Fintan Rian and his family. It hadn’t been kind to many people near Enrith Keep, but it had been an honest life with honest work. Peasant people once placed value on how willing a man was to help those in his community, rather than how much wealth he could amass.
Wealth always brought with it all the problems a man didn’t need. It wasn’t something a smart man chased. It was best to sow in the spring, fish in the summer, reap in the autumn, and whittle in the winter. Ensuring the care of his family was enough wealth for any man.
The unexpected loss of his twin should have devastated him. In some ways, it had as it would have anyone. But Fintan hadn’t withstood the sorrow. He hadn’t grieved and let his twin cross into the long night of the Underworld. Instead, he’d reached out on a cold winter’s night and twisted his brother’s soul into powerful dark magic.
“Lig taibhse an ghrá a dhó mar dhraÃocht na beatha agus a bháis.”
Fintan breathed ancient words as he held the torch to the wood.
They were the incantation the conjurer had spoken in the old fairy tales his mother had once frightened his brother and him with on the long winter nights.
Let the ghost of love burn as the magic of life and death.
He’d spoken the words as his brother’s body lay on the funeral pyre at the Winter Solstice. Magic was real. He simply hadn’t understood just how real it could be.
Maybe the magic worked because the Leaindeail was as close as it ever came to touching the Netherworld that night. Or perhaps Fintan had always held a touch of the magic in himself and it burned all the brighter as the flames licked the pyre. Or maybe it was the anger and pain of grief in his heart at the ruthless way they murdered his brother.
No one should have tortured and destroyed a man because he dared to love a woman above his station. Finding the ruined body twisted Fintan inside. Only insidious evil could commit such an atrocity. He couldn’t allow for it to go unanswered.
His brother’s heart had been true, even if the young woman’s father had other plans for his daughter. He’d been an honest man in love with a woman who returned his ardor. He deserved vengeance.
Rontin’s soul rose out of the flames and wrapped the darkness of the night into Fintan’s soul. His brother became his magic. The power of life and death was a wish granted by the ghost of love.
It took a long time to learn how it all worked. Only when he transformed himself into a dragon, to gain his immortality, could he avenge the wrongful death. That was when he realized how the other side of the magic worked. Death was easy. Life was far more difficult.
The dragon, Blade, stole the light from all but the one his brother loved. He left the wealth in her hands. The money didn’t matter anymore. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she accepted it in the spirit Fintan intended it.
She lived well and enjoyed a long life. She thanked him for freeing her from a life she hadn’t chosen. It had always been his brother she wanted. Her grief contorted her face. She put on a veil and it remained a part of her clothing until she died. She never took another lover.
Necromancy had two sides. Life and Death. Light and Dark.
Fintan learned how to use it all too late for his brother and the woman who loved his brother. But he avenged them and left her with what she needed to be comfortable.
The dark won out most often. It was born from the flames of death and a loss of love, so there was a glimmer of light, but it wasn’t enough. Fintan needed more light if he was ever to balance it properly.
It was the light he lacked which was required to bring Rontin back, but that took longer than a woman’s lifetime to discover. Finding it proved even more difficult.
He swirled the dregs of his cup, but tasted it not as he stared into the flames in the old fireplace. The castle walls crumbled around him, burned and desecrated, but this one room remained usable, so he sat alone, contemplating what he should do next.
It seemed a place known to dragons, the only standing tower of a long forgotten castle at a place once called Lachsmead. He’d met another dragon in it long ago. Diarmuid Cinead had wandered in from the cold, unsurprised to find Blade seated before the fire. The grey dragon had needed respite, too. The two spent a couple of days drinking Cinead’s wine, eating charred meat, and resting.
Things of magic remained stored in the tower by others. It was a place humans no longer visited. Fintan left them alone, needing only a place to recoup his thoughts. He was alone with only his brother’s soul for company, and Rontin spoke not.
The question concerning the light required to cast the spell necessary to bring Rontin back plagued him. What if he waited too long?
Take your time, brother. I have your knowledge and your memories. There is nothing else I need.
You should walk in the flesh.
Without the light, I don’t want it.
Fintan stared into the fire once more. The creature Rontin would become without the light wasn’t worth being. His brother was right.
Then he smiled. The answer crackled before him. He needed to find a tintean. Her firelight would make the spell work. If he could blend it properly with the shadow magic, he’d learned long ago, it would create the required balance.
Lachsmead still offered answers if one grew quiet enough to listen to the dream within its crumbling walls.
Behind the Scenes
In other tales, Blade has the unique description of a two-souled necromancer dragon. It is an accurate reflection of who he is, but his twin brother's soul needs to be a man once more. Only he can't be human. The magic Fintan used to become a dragon to gain immortality affects his brother's soul as much as his own. While becoming a dragon granted Blade eternity to discover how to grant his brother flesh and blood again, it added layers of complexity for resurrecting a dragon whose soul never stepped into the Underworld.
For Rontin Rian to rise as the dragon Razor, Blade has to organize a lot of moving parts. His first step is swearing fealty to a high king, so he has control of all his magic. The next step is locating a woman with the prerequisite firelight magic. Gifted humans are difficult to find, so when he discovers one, it only added to the complexity when she had all the marks in her aura to be his Valkyrie.
Things get out of hand when a shadowy evil stalking the immortals and humans with gifts targets not only the tintean Fintan needs but also Viktor Wilde, Nicklaus's claimed flaming horse shifter, and the levitating woman Rontin has a keen interest in. Did I mention that Viktor's dead wife needs to come back or Viktor will fade away, even though Kallik turned him into a polar bear after he got shot?
Well, it gets even more convoluted than that and there are Easter eggs all over the place for other miniseries, but y'all know I love to mix up my holidays. How Easter gets confused with Halloween every year, I don't know. It's got to be a dream anomaly. I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek. I have far too much work to do cleaning up the mess of two hurricanes when all I want to do is write. When you read, please remember to be kind and leave your reviews. Until next weekend, welcome to the dream...
Be Careful!
Happy Reading,
Ophelia Kee
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