The crowds gathered with torches and pitchforks. Altogether they cried: “Burn the witch!” They threw deformed rotten tomatoes at the young girl.

She bowed her head and tried her best not to look at the folks all out to watch her be burned. A giant roach scurried past her and went rushing under a nearby wooden plank.

The folks all cheered the minute that the witch was tied to the stake. They watched with delight as a burning torch was moved close to the girl’s feet. The fire danced by her body. It swirled and hissed as it increased around her.

It didn’t stop there. The flames roared with rage and flew like fireworks. Some of the flames landed on top of one of the thatched cottage.

The fire on that roof burned and found its way on another cottage. Folks panicked and feared for their homes.

They looked at the stake where the girl had been placed, she was gone. All they heard was the sound of maniacal laughter.

The fire raged on and on. The villagers were distraught. They hoped that their homes would not be too hard to fix, and that the witch was gone.

#FEU.

My rose in a glass, safe from harm’s way

My weary soul encased in your deep red soul.

Everyday your precious petals fall upon my shattered

Table and time decay your fragile petals.

You were the shining beacon of my lighthouse

That guided me during my stormy days.

You lit up the winding path with bandits upon the way

Vanquished them with your virtuous hues.

Your thunderous amora fills the air

Filling my life with everyday joy.

Now you wither in the depths of the night

Never to light up like the flashing stars across the pitch-black night.

each passing year

disappearing

into our memories

another year gone by

time passes

just flies on by

doesn't look back once

doesn’t regret anything

and they all say

we're young and free

that we have our whole lives

sitting in front of us

but what about yesterday

what about tomorrow

what about all the time we lost

that we will never get back

why do we think we have

all the time in the world

when we are gone

before we even realised we were ever there…

Every Tuesday I would sit here on this same park bench watching two local women play tennis.

I watched them not knowing who they were or caring for that matter, they were perfect, perfect in every way, with their knee high socks, tight white tops and pleated tennis skirts.

One, a blonde with fine golden hair scooped up into a bun, she was very tall, the other a shorter more rounded woman with long dark wavy hair, which every now and then she´d blow out of the way of her eyes.

I would sit there hiding behind my newspaper pretending to read it, but really lurking, drooling and gripping the paper to my chest hoping to see a flash of their panties, as they athletically reached to hit the ball. Now and then their pert breasts would bounce a little pleasing me even more.

I was an amateur pervert and I knew it, my paper was there for one reason and one reason only and that was to hide little Elvis from the outside world. Even though I’d taken to carrying the Financial Times, I never actually read it; I merely used it as a prop in my debauched insignificant life, I thought it made me look more interesting and innocent. More like a young man just sitting reading, catching up with the stock market prices.

In reality I know that I was known as ´that man´, I’d hear parents say “Don’t play near that man” or I’d hear old ladies whisper “It’s that young man again”, then they’d scuttle past like small fat dung beetles.

Sometimes I just wanted to scream at the top of my voice “My names Kevin, Kevin Bradstock” but I never did, I also wanted to flash my little Elvis at every living female on the planet but I never did that either. I just sat doing nothing, not interfering with anyone but myself through the lining of my trouser pocket.

I was indeed sad and lonely, a dirty old man mentally but in reality a twenty-year-old version of one.

I´d been born here in Bournville and had hardly ever left, it was something like being trapped in a time warp.

Built to look like an old village but tagged on to Birmingham a very modern city, it had village greens and duck ponds, but it also had vandalism and spray painted scrawl.

On warm days it smelt of chocolate from the Cadbury factory as it wafted in the air, on other days of newly cut grass and dog poo. It was a town built by someone who held strict family values and morals, which to them meant blocking out the future, freezing time and pretending that the outside world never existed, when really it always had.

I felt like the human version of Bournville being hidden away from the big wide world, but by my mother, my own creator. She´d made me feel different from other boys of my age, from other young men, as if I was a dainty little thing, so precious. As a child I enjoyed the feeling of being protected and guarded, but as I became older it made me feel lonely, it made me seem odd to other people.

Things had to change, so I decided after today I wouldn’t sit here anymore. Something inside me was telling me that there was indeed more to life, more exciting things to do, I just had to try a little bit harder, reach for the things I wanted out of life.

If I was lonely I had to do something about it and not just sit on a bench hoping that a women would notice me and speak to me. It was never going to happen, so I had to make it happen, just not today, maybe tomorrow because it was nearly tea time and I loved Tuesday tea times.

Every Tuesday, Aunt Violet would always visit my house.

On her arrival she used to kiss me and when I say kiss me I don’t mean in a normal aunt kisses nephew sort of a way.

If I was lucky and mother wasn’t about Aunt Violet would slip her tongue in and squeeze her enormous bosom against my chest.

Hopefully you have gathered by now that she is not actually a blood relative, she is just a woman my mother used to go to bingo with for many years. I´d grown up calling her Aunt as children do.

For her age she wasn´t in bad nick, I remember her being quite pretty when I was a little boy and considerably slimmer. She was now mutton dressed as lamb but still not bad to look at, she reminded me of one of the starlets from the old black and white films, just an older version.

She would often just wink at me and whisper “You know Kevin I am not really your auntie”.

I’d always wondered why she said this time and time again, and then I figured it out, it was because the dirty old bag fancied me and wanted me bad.

So I set off back home.

When I got in mother asked if I had been to college, same thing every Tuesday “Yes mother I have been to college and the tutors say “I have a really good chance of being entered in the final exam this year”.

Same day, same lie, it had been like that for the last three years, afterwards mother would smile at me and give me a cream doughnut to nibble on while she prepared tea and every time I’d sit having crude thoughts about the doughnut.

Oh God how I wanted to stick little Elvis in its hole and waggle it about in the cold fluffy cream!

But what can I say, I never did.

Instead I sat waiting in anticipation for Aunt Violet, with little Elvis fidgeting eagerly in the safety of my very tight y-fronts. The doorbell rang and mother shouted “Kevin darling could you get that for mummy, my hands are full”.

Like a whippet I sprang from my seat hoping that today my hands would be full too, but with Aunt Violets ample bosom.

I opened the door and Aunt Violet stood there in all her glory, all 14 stone of her. I stared at her and gave her my ´come to bed look´ to which she would always reply “Kevin my sweet boy come give your Aunt Vi’ a snuggle”.

Then would come the best bit of all, she’d pull me in to her large heaving chest and kiss me.

She smelt strange sort of a mix of wool and lavender but I didn’t care, she was a female and she had a pulse and she had breasts, huge mesmerising breasts.

Oh yes! and she did it, she slipped her funny little pointy tongue ever so quickly into my awaiting mouth, little Elvis went wild as I hung in her arms like a fly stuck in a Venus fly trap, unable to move, gasping for breath, dying ever so slowly of happiness among her cleavage.

“Oh Kevin you naughty boy” she said then she waddled off like an egg bound duck to find mother.

I in the meantime ran off to the bathroom for a quick wank while little Elvis was in the mood.

Three minutes later I sat back in my armchair grinning, mother came in carrying a tea tray and said “Kevin go wash your hands before you eat”. Looking at her I wiped my hands down the front of my jumper, it was as if she knew. My mother had a sixth sense, she could I was sure detect whenever I´d been for a wank!

Then sulkily I took my place at the table, as usual I sat opposite Aunt Vi, just so that I could watch her chest jiggle inside her brown cashmere cardigan as she laughed.

Her tits were wonderful to watch they used to remind me of two plump seal pups bouncing about oblivious of the world around them.

That day my visit to the bathroom hadn’t been enough for little Elvis, he perked obstinately while I gnawed at the corners of my cucumber sandwich.

I could feel the wetness of the cucumber on my tongue, its saltiness, I’d read enough porn to know that this was a good thing.

Quietly I sat thinking about how I longed for the normal things in life.

I wanted a girlfriend, the sort that mother wouldn’t approve of, the sort that did not come with a safety valve and a puncture repair kit.

I wanted sex twice a day with someone other than myself; I wanted to get a job, leave home, to wear shirts open and without having to wear a vest.

As I ate slowly I visualised myself naked, surrounded by beautiful women all fondling my dangly bits, but then my vision abruptly came to an end when mother stood up and announced that it was time for her to go feed father upstairs. This normally took her around twenty minutes as first she had to go and liquidize his sandwiches and de-lump his rice pudding, so that left Aunt Vi and myself alone.

For some reason that day, I felt different, it was as though a wind of change had blown in, or maybe that was the cucumber sandwiches taking effect, who knows, all I know is that from that moment on my life would change forever.

With my head lowered I waggled my feet beneath the table and looked at Aunt Vi through my fringe, well not at her more, at her gigantic tits.

That was when I remembered a story I had read in “Big Jugs Weekly”, the one where a man had used his feet to touch a woman up while having dinner in some fancy restaurant.

As soon as I had thought that I could hear little Elvis goading me on “Do it, do it…Oh God please do it”.

I kicked off one of my suede hush puppies and flexed my toes. Then I sloped a little into my chair, I felt something hard but that was just the table leg, I reached a bit more and touched Aunt Vi´s shin.

She jumped a little so quickly I rubbed up and down, still peering through my fringe I slid my foot a touch higher.

I gave her my manliest look, then strained to reach her thighs, but the fricking table was too long so I slouched lower.

Finally I reached her upper legs, I felt her move her legs apart for me and so I went right in there, I felt undergarments, thick ones, so like a terrier digging in a tunnel my toes edged their way in. I rubbed slowly at first in no particular fashion, but then I had the bright idea of rotating my foot round and round.

I thought of next doors Cocker Spaniel, it always went mad if you rubbed her back in a circular motion, before long in a Cocker Spaniel type way Aunt Vi’s right leg started twitching up and down.

Aunt Vi moaned and said “Oh Kevin, oh Kevin yes”, I tried to lift my head to see her face but it hurt my neck, so I just carried on judging only by the sheer sounds of pleasure coming from Aunt Vi.

My foot felt sticky and hot, extremely hot actually, maybe I shouldn’t have been doing this?…Aunt Vi after all was no Cocker Spaniel, she was come to think of it, more like a Bull dog.

Then all of a sudden I heard mothers voice, she was coming down the stairs, in fright I kicked back to get myself up at the table. In doing so I catapulted Aunt Vi backwards in her chair, hitting her head on the dresser. Her breasts now flopping up into the air almost out of her cardigan.

“Oh dear mother of God, what’s going on?” mother shouted as she heard the crash.

I scrambled up and announced “Quick Aunt Vi’s had a funny turn, I will go and get her a glass of water”.

Limping with one shoe off and one shoe on I proceeded into the kitchen, sniping to myself “Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”.

I came back in to find mother helping Aunt Vi over to the sofa, I handed the water over sheepishly, mother grabbed it and helped Aunt Vi to drink it.

What had I done?

I couldn’t believe what I had done, poor Aunt Vi I had traumatised her and ruined mothers best dinner service in the process. I felt like a dirty, disgusting little boy, but I also felt a little smug with it.

Like a thief in the night I took off up the stairs to take refuge in my bedroom, I felt safe there surrounded by my many centrefolds from “Big Jugs Weekly”.

At last I heard the front door open then close and mother called up the stairs “Kevin it’s alright Aunt Vi’s gone home to rest, she looked quite flushed, poor dear”. I sighed with relief, thank the Lord she hadn’t said anything about what I had done.

I got undressed and into my night-clothes then slipped under my duvet, I suddenly felt quite pleased with what I had finally done. At long last I had touched a womans ´moomoo´, really felt what it was like, well almost felt what it was like (I really must remove my sock next time, that’s for sure).

As I cuddled into my bed I could have sworn that I heard little Elvis calling to me from inside my pyjamas…”Use the force Kevin, use the force”. I ignored him and turned on my side clutching my teddy Edward, oh how I loved my teddy, he had given me many hours of pleasure over the years.

Three hours later I was still awake, I lifted my covers and sure enough ´he´ was awake, the little bugger just wouldn’t settle. “Bastard, Bastard go to sleep” I shouted under my covers, but little Elvis stood proud. So that was it I had to go on to my computer, in a last attempt to calm the beast beneath my bed covers.

After surfing around the net for two hours I finally found some free porn, well actually it was a picture of a woman with huge black circles blotting out her pink bits, but “ahhhhhhhhhh” it did the trick, at last little Elvis would rest now.

Then I made a mental note once again, to ask someone how to turn off the child-proof settings on my pc.

“When I teach you this next trick, you’re going to be tempted to becoming self-involved, decadent; in short, you will be so distracted by the things around you that you will be easy to kill. I won’t protect you. Survive or die.” It’s not like me to give a damn, what is it about this albino? I’ll have to keep my guard up.

“I’m ready. How do I exert influence on others?” And will it work on you? Where is this consuming hatred coming from? Grandmother would be so heartbroken. If last night’s dream was any indication, she’s watching, not happy. With me?

“Follow me.” She catches the wind easily enough. Let’s see how high can she go?

“Exhilarating…” I should be cold, but it’s something else. How high are we? Is this what eagles see?

“What is that?”

“A Wandering Albatross. Don’t get too close. Their wingspan is almost twelve feet long. Let’s go higher.”

“Are we—“

“At the edge of space.”

“Has anyone ever—“

“I don’t know.” She’s doing it. Separating from the gravitational pull.

“I had to lie. I needed to see if you had it in you. Very few of us ever go there. None want to admit that there is nothing else.” Is she strong enough?

“I don’t understand. Why did you grab me by the ankle, I could have kept going.” Does he not know about the other realms?

“There is nothing else. You would have floated away without being able to return. The only way to travel outside of the atmosphere is by knowing where the satellites are, you could travel to one and then back down to Earth or on to the next satellite. If you go without a plan, you will keep going until you reach one of the other planets or the asteroid belt. It would be pure momentum, not direction or control. Do you understand?” I have to rip the bandages or she’ll not survive. “Also, there are no aliens, Nothing in or past the expanse. This world is all there is.”

“You don’t know that.“ I have the advantage. What was it that he said; something about the next time I try one of my potions that he would rip my head from my body. He’s not afraid, but can he be influenced?

“You’re not listening and I’m not going to beg you to be careful. Tomorrow, we go see the leadership. Expect pomp and circumstance. They’re very much into the old world traditions of being announced before entering their presence and other such unnecessary nonsense. Let’s go shopping. Madison Avenue or Paris?”

“What about ‘Influence?’”

“How do you think we’re going to get in so that you can try on a new outfit? You’ll find that the simpler the mortal, the easier they are to influence. Let’s go!”

Terralysa watched the lazy drip of the faucet as it fell hollowly into the sink below. The room was bathed in a deep flickering blue from the tinted lights overhead.

“You don’t remember anything else,” Chief Morganson against her again from his seat across the table. “Nothing about his face or his clothes? Nothing?”

“I’ve told you everything that I know,” she snapped at him suddenly, her hands flattening and spreading on the cool metal table top that stood between them. Her dark blue eyes burned in the dim light of the room. “If I knew anything else, don’t you think I would tell you? Do you think I want this fucking monster walking free?”

The Chief leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, studying her. His dark brown eyes were narrowed at her, but they were unreadable as always. He rolled his thick lips into a thin line. His face was full of wrinkles these days.

“I’m not trying to upset you, Kline,” he said with that familiar gravelly voice laced with concern. “I just need to get this guy off the streets. We need to get this guy off the streets.”

“You think I don’t know that,” she snapped at him, her eyes boring into his accusatorially. He sighed loudly and glanced away from her to the floor.

He had always been like a father to her, but she was in no mood to discuss this with him again. She had given him everything she knew, everything she could remember or recall. There was nothing else she could tell him, and none of it made a difference anyway. She winced as a flash of pain shot suddenly through her leg.

“I don’t need to do this right now,” she said, rising suddenly from her chair across from him. Even now, six moths later, her movements were still awkward and ungainly. “I want to go and get some rest.”

Terralysa saw Morganson clench his jaw and grind his teeth together anxiously. It reminded her of her father. She knew he wanted to say more, but wouldn’t dare. They both knew what she had been through. There was no use in pushing her.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “Alright. But if you remember anything else, you’ll call me? Right away?”

She gave him her thinnest smile as she pressed the button for her nurse. “I promise. As always.”

“Okay,” he said gruffly, rising from his chair, “Do you want help?”

Terralysa was shuffling awkwardly back towards the waiting shape of the black and silver wheelchair that waited by the wing door. Her leg drug awkwardly behind her. The pain jolted her from her toes to her teeth still, but she would not let him see it. She struggled on towards the waiting chair.

“No,” she said thinly. “I’m fine. You just get home and tell Marty I said hello.”

“I will,” the old man said as he made his way towards the door. He smiled weakly as she lowered herself awkwardly into the chair. She could see the nurse shuffling towards them from beyond, draped in her pastel pink scrubs. “She’s making a cobbler tonight, peach.”

“That sounds delicious,” Terralysa said warmly as the door behind her hissed open. The nurse made her way towards the broken girl in the wheelchair.

“Tell you what, what if I bring her around next week? She’s been asking an awful lot about you. She’s worried. She hasn’t seen you since before the incident.”

Terralysa’s lip curled at the word. Incident. It didn’t quite seem to fit. She looked up at Morganson and smiled. “That’d be nice. How about Thursday?”

The old man smiled warmly back at her for the first time since he entered the sterile greeting room. “Thursday it is. See you then, kiddo.”

The nurse was at the back of the wheelchair now and was quietly lifting the locks. “Are you ready to go back to your room now, Miss Kline?”

Terralysa nodded her head slowly. “That’d be lovely, Grace. Thank you.”

“Bye then, Kline,” Morganson said with one last bow of his greying head.

“See you, Chief.”

With that, the nurse turned Terralysa slowly around and wheeled her through the sheer sliding doors and back into the quiet solitude of the wing.

“He seems awfully pushy,” Grace said gently as the doors shut behind them. “He’s here almost every week with the same old questions. Seems to me you’d both be a lot better off if he just left you alone.”

Terralysa smiled sadly as her eyes watched the passing pastel tiles of the wall. She liked how clean it was here, how sterile. It smelled of soap and bleach here, not blood and piss and death. She cocked her head slowly to the side and supported it with her hand. The pain was beginning to ebb from her leg.

“He means well,” she said to the quiet nurse behind her. “He cares a lot for me, and this whole thing has been hard for him to handle.”

“Hard for him to handle,” Grace retorted suddenly, “you’re the one the nearly got hacked to bits and eaten.”

The pain throbbed in Terralysa’s leg again suddenly, and she felt a heavy stone of fear drop into her stomach. The hallway was beginning to spin around her. She felt as if she would vomit. She threw out her hand in a motion for the nurse to stop pushing.

“I am so sorry,” Grace said, quickly locking up the wheelchair and rushing to kneel at Terralysa’s side. Her face had turned an ashy grey. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so sorry. I just got so mad because I can see how much it upsets you. I didn’t mean to upset you to.”

“It’s fine,” Terralysa said suddenly, not looking up at the worry-stricken face of the pretty young nurse. “Really, it’s fine. I just need to lie down for a while.”

“Absolutely, honey. Let’s get you to your room.”

Grace rolled her slowly to her room, and helped her up into the bed. Terralysa winced as the young nurse maneuvered the mangled ruin of her leg into the bed. She could smell the stink of it through the clean white bandages. Grace pulled the covers up over her gently and tucked them neatly about her.

“Do you want me to bring you something for the pain?”

“Yes, please,” Terralysa said quietly between her tightly gritted teeth. She did not meet Grace’s concerned stare. Even now, more than six months on, she couldn’t bare the looks she got from people. Those sympathetic looks. They made her sick. She wasn’t someone that needed sympathy — especially not now. She shifted herself awkwardly in the bed, scooting away from Grace’s warm hand that still rested beside Terralysa’s own.  “Something strong, please. I just want to get some sleep.”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Grace said gently before retreating quickly from the room. Terralysa sighed loudly as the door swung closed. The pain was really beginning to rack up. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

It had been six months since they had discovered her in the barn, unconscious and bleeding out beside the cold, dead and mangled corpse of her partner. By the time they had gotten there, the killer was gone, and her leg had been little more than a shredded and mangled mess, with the sinews and meat of her thigh hanging in ragged little strips of dirty, red meat. He had left her for dead and disappeared before the other Enforcement Agents even had a chance to surround the derelict old barn. Terralysa looked over nervously at the small window that looked out into the darkness of the city skyline, as if she expected to see him there, watching her, waiting for her. She shivered, and pulled the covers up higher about her. The lights hummed quietly overhead.

She told them she didn’t remember much, but she knew she would never forget a single moment of it. She replayed the events over and over again inside her mind, feeling the hot, stinking breath of him and seeing the wide, dead eyes of Oltham as his blood seeped beneath her. Terralysa closed her eyes and ground her teeth tightly together.

It couldn’t go on like this. Not forever. She had to forget. She had to move on.

The door creaked open and Terralysa snapped from her gruesome reverie. Grace smiled as she approached the bed, syringe in hand.

“I brought you the good stuff, the strong stuff. Should have you out in about an ten minutes.”

“Good,” Terralysa said quietly. She still would not look at Grace. “I just need to get some sleep.”

“Do you want me to call for some food or anything before I give this to you? It can make your tummy a bit upset…”

“No,” Terralysa said shortly. “No. I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep for a while. My leg is killing me.”

Grace’s face folded into a look of sad compassion. She had been on the ward since Terralysa had first been admitted, and she had looked after her as if the injured woman were her own child. Terralysa was grateful for her careful attentions, but it could be trying at times. She felt the cool wipe of the alcohol pad on her arm, then the sharp stick of the needle as Grace inserted the painkiller. Terralysa leaned her head back on the cool white pillows and waited for the chilling pulse of the medicine in her veins.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” Grace asked her quietly as she discarded the used syringe. “Any more pillows or blankets or anything?”

“No,” Terralysa said, closing her eyes and letting the empty darkness creep over her. “No, I’m alright.”

“Okay then,” Grace said sweetly. “Well, when you wake up, it will be Jillian on the ward. Don’t be too mean to her, now.”

Terralysa did not open her eyes, but she smiled. “That’s lovely. Thank you, Grace.”

“You’re welcome, Terra.”

Terralysa heard her slink quietly from the room, the door clicking locked loudly behind her. They always locked the door on her when she was resting now. No one wanted to take any chances. Terralysa was grateful for it. It gave her some tiny measure of security. She inhaled deeply, and let the stillness of the room wash over her.

That was the thing that she loved most about this ward. The quiet. The clean and the quiet. Everything was spotless, peaceful. There was no screaming in the night, no lurkers; no one waiting to gobble you up behind the shadows. She felt more at peace here than she ever had since the incident. Terralysa felt a sudden warmth spreading in her jaw, and felt her muscles melt and relax beneath the ardent attentions of the IV drug. Her eyes became heavy as lead beneath her drawn lids, her heart slowing to a dull thud in her ears.

Terralysa could feel the darkness sliding over her, and felt the peace of nothingness unfolding around her. She breathed deeply in the quiet, peaceful solitude of the moment. The horror of her life began to ebb slowly away from her.

“Hello, pretty girl,” a voice whispered suddenly in her ear. “Hello, pretty sergeant.”

Terralysa screamed.  

House Martin Book 1, Page 12.

The twelfth page of Heston’s singular used house martin notebook contained the following:

A description of Anabelle Glass:

1. She has shoulder-length black hair. Her hair is almost straight. Sometimes it looks glossy, sometimes it looks greasy.

2. She wears turtleneck jumpers almost exclusively.

3. Her favourite turtleneck jumper is a dark green colour, there is a rip in it at the back.

4. She has a red scarf.

5. She has a black leather jacket (Question: real or fake leather? Does Anabelle Glass care about the leather trade?)

6. She wears jeans. I have never seen her wear a dress or a skirt.

7. I have never seen her wear a hat.

8. She bites her nails.

The rest of the notebook page was empty. Sometimes, Heston flicked to that page and read its contents, memorising the already-memorised details of the woman across the hall. Other times, when he had the notebook in his hands, he avoided it with single-mindedness, not wanting to think about the fact that he would never meet the woman he’d so painstakingly brought to life on his pages.

They say a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.

So too can a single soul defy and define a world.

Across the maze of space and time lies the City of the Seven Holy Stations. Here, the remnants of a people, banished from their homes, have raised a new land - a city of light and purity. Here, castles of ivory and gold soar into a vermillion sky, and women float in painted gardens in gowns of silk and silver. Everyone lives in peace, content with their rules and their duties, happy with their station in life. But there is more to be found in this sparkling land than simple piety. Below the surface of this white-washed utopia lies a cancer; a darkness that is spreading. It is a darkness that will threaten to destroy them all.

It is up to Jahavis Dragutin to stop this darkness.

Orphaned at an early age, Jahavis grew up on the streets of Sixth Holy Station. Learning quickly of the cruelty of man, she raised a rebellion, and begins to lead the fight against the darkness of the Holy Mother Church. But there is more to Jahavis than meets the eye. Somewhere, in the blood and the black of battle of the Seven Stations, she seeks answers to the questions of her past. She will test it all, her love, her life and dreams for the answer. But will it be enough?

Far away, across the Seretti Plains, lies an ancient people. They are untouched and unbroken by the land of the gold men and light - but separated by their own delusions. Tribes, each more different than the last, are battling it out for freedom and dominance. Each seeks to reign supreme but it will take more than a battle to heal their wounds. There is one among them that can save them all. A hero prophesied before the landing of the White Lord. But, can this hero lead their people to freedom and victory, or are they simply a myth, a legend of the ages?

*********************

"Titan Shift" is an epic fantasy thriller set far away in a not-so-foreign world. Here, a gargantuan city lies sprawled beneath a burning sky of vermillion; on a planet covered with sprawling forests, scorching deserts, cold barren mountains and deep, dark seas. You will follow the journey and trials of heroes and villains alike, as they seek to find the one thing that will save or destroy them all- truth.

This fantasy thriller is one that will force you to the edge of your seat, bringing you eye-to-eye with the demons and inner turmoil of man. As you follow your favorite characters on their journey and learn more about their pasts, a truth deeper than any other will be revealed. Come along on a story that is sure to captivate and ensnare even the boldest of readers, leading you along on a quest like no other. Come and fall between the pages of "Titan Shift".