I giggled when I noticed that Amazon seemed to think Nigh should be categorized in Biographies & Memoirs. I write a convincing faerie-apocalypse, I told myself.
WELL IT'S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE!
Because it might be true.
Nigh 4 has been struck with a string of unfortunate events that slowed down production. Instead of releasing a sub-standard product (gasp!), we'll finish it off right and release it soon.
Obviously the faerie-pocalypse is a thing the faeries don't want you to read about, especially as we're just about to step back into our world in Nigh 4. FEAR NOT! I will bring you all the tips you'll need to survive this calamity! Or I will show you how to die terribly but with some sort of dignity (maybe).
Thank you for your patience and understanding as we work through this! Keep an eye on my blog for updates and sign up for my Newsletter if you'd like purchasing links sent directly to your inbox (check the right-hand column to sign up).
In the meantime, here's a bit of a preview! FIGHT ON!
“By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.”
-- William Collins, Ode Written in the Year 1746
Up above, the sky shattered.
Like falling stars, the gray tumbled down around them, shimmering into a light so bright that Alva’s eyes watered. But still she kept them open and looked through her tears. This wasn’t something she was willing to miss.
The falling patches from the sky crumpled and melted into the ground, joining the purple and green stars below them, swirling together to form a new pattern.
The world stilled. The stars stopped moving. The tiniest sound, from her breath to Hector’s coat shifting with his small movement, was amplified tenfold and echoed, as if they were caught in an endless chamber.
The floor trembled and Hector’s grip tightened on her hand. The stars from below swirled up, around them and through them, tiny electric shocks coursing through her body. The stars exploded, splattering glittered light everywhere.
The fragment of light set fire to invisible walls, green and purple flames dancing in a non-existent breeze. Al heard the Pete-Not-Pete cry out in fear behind her, and she forced herself to keep facing forward.
The flames grew wider and licked the air around her, but they did not burn her.
“The veil is fading,” Hector said.
Bits of flames erupted from the larger columns, floating away as embers, before burning out, dissipating with the fading light.
As the flames vanished, night grew in intensity. For one second, as the last flame burnt out, Alva stood in complete, smothering darkness, and she feared that this would be her end.
This was where they would be trapped forever, until they perished slow, agonizing deaths.
But then a crack appeared before her. And behind her. Around her, everywhere, cracks appeared, bright rainbows at first and then gray like a mirror.
The cracks joined one another, crisscrossing in wild patterns all around them.
And then the walls shattered.
Alva felt the ground solidify under her feet. The daylight hurt her eyes, but she forced herself to look.
And to see her world as it stood before her.
A world much the same, yet completely different.
--- to be continued ---