It's Snippet Sunday, a Weekend Writing Warriors' blog hop!
My snippet this week is from Book 4, Fire of Beltane. Last time, Jorandil, god of Beltane, found himself in a room resembling a galaxy of stars when he entered the tower of the Fates.
We pick up a few sentences later. His surroundings have been revealed to be a room of mirrors. We meet the Fates at last...
I am jazzed to say I've got a series trailer done for Sons of Herne, and I'll be unveiling it here on the site soon. Possibly on a Snippet Sunday.
My snippet this week is from Book 4, Fire of Beltane. Last time, Jorandil, god of Beltane, found himself in a room resembling a galaxy of stars when he entered the tower of the Fates.
We pick up a few sentences later. His surroundings have been revealed to be a room of mirrors. We meet the Fates at last...
A shape materialized behind him, and Jorandil whipped around to see the Fates, all three bobbing up and down as they floated off the floor. Their skirts and hair were made of the mists of time, it was told, but they were not the usual black, amethyst, and emerald colors that were spoken of. Today, all of their hair and garments consisted of wispy vapors of reddish-gold, a shade too similar to Cadence’s locks to be coincidental. Again, they were toying with him, and he scowled in response.
There was Morta, tall and slender, her golden-red hair floating on an invisible wind. The winds of change, he thought to himself, the tides by which the Fates moved and flowed and worked their will. Decuna, short and squat, scratched at her cheek with a gnarled finger. In the center, with her hands folded and wearing a wanton, yet maternal expression, was Nona. All had large, round black eyes, which blinked occasionally as though Jorandil was a shock to behold.
“So, son of Herne,” Nona said, “why have you disturbed the acts of fate upon which so much of humanity rests?”
There was Morta, tall and slender, her golden-red hair floating on an invisible wind. The winds of change, he thought to himself, the tides by which the Fates moved and flowed and worked their will. Decuna, short and squat, scratched at her cheek with a gnarled finger. In the center, with her hands folded and wearing a wanton, yet maternal expression, was Nona. All had large, round black eyes, which blinked occasionally as though Jorandil was a shock to behold.
“So, son of Herne,” Nona said, “why have you disturbed the acts of fate upon which so much of humanity rests?”
What do you think?
About Fire of Beltane:
It is the time of Beltane, and Jorandil, son of Herne, secretly wishes his presence could be known, his touch felt, by the woman chosen as his sabbat partner. Then Cadence comes along, aware of her angel's visit, mesmerized by the beauty of his wings and the power of his touch. Even after the sealing of the veil between worlds divides them, neither can forget the other. And when their pursuit of answers reveals that dire trouble awaits Cadence, a trouble Jorandil was responsible for creating, he must defy his father and risk unleashing an even greater danger to save her.
About The Sons of Herne:
About The Sons of Herne:
The god Herne has appointed eight of his most virile, headstrong sons as keepers of the pagan holidays. To honor their sabbat, each must join with a mortal female in a ritual to maintain the balance between worlds.
It is the year of The Thousand Seasons, and the Fates have secretly conspired to mark the end of an era by granting the gods one thing they lack--a true union of male and female that will last beyond the passion of a sabbat joining.
Herne’s sons will wrestle with the conflict between sacred duty and their own yearnings, a struggle will not only challenge their beliefs, but may threaten the success of rituals that must be observed lest the mortal and immortal worlds collide in chaos.
Read Book 1 of the series, Season of Light, now available on Amazon!
Herne’s sons will wrestle with the conflict between sacred duty and their own yearnings, a struggle will not only challenge their beliefs, but may threaten the success of rituals that must be observed lest the mortal and immortal worlds collide in chaos.
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I'm J. Rose Allister, wife, working mom, and the author of over twenty-five books. Somewhere in between one and the next, I love hanging out here on my blog and over on Twitter. Give me a comment or follow-I love chatting with people!
