Venture - The Crystal Series Book 2
The mournful hoot of an owl sounded from somewhere in the distance. Inside the darkened bedroom, all was still. Silence permeated the air. The ivory laced curtains, every now and then, fluttered, as a calm breeze wafted in from the half-open window. The curtain’s slight movement lengthened and then contracted the crescent moon’s attempt to illuminate the room. In the somber bedchamber, the dusty-rose painted walls, light oak furniture and frilly accessories were a stark contrast to the occupant of the room.
Liam would cringe if he found himself surrounded by such unmanly decor. The room was awash in pinks, lavenders and fuchsias. From the nightstand, the soft light given off by the Tiffany lamp barely reached him, as he lay unmoving on the bed. His six-foot frame, with its slack yet sinewy muscles concealed much of the frilliness under him on the double bed, but not all.
The fuchsia pillowcase under his head changed the color of his shoulder-length sandy blond hair making it appear pink under the dim light. Strands of his hair fanned out like a halo around his head. The effect gave his peaceful, relaxed face a somewhat pasty complexion. Pale, with weeks’ worth of stubble on his square jaw, his full lips were slightly parted, as he breathed steadily. The serenity of his features belied what was going on inside of him.
For his entire life, spanning centuries, Liam had lived under his brother’s shadow. Aidan was to be the savior of their people. His older brother had been raised and trained for that one purpose alone. Liam’s needs, his want of love and attention, were an afterthought to their mother, the queen of Eruva.
Harmony - The Crystal Series Book 3
Rhea, mother of all gods, defender of the earth, watched, listened and plotted. The serene, somewhat bored expression on her exquisitely ethereal face hid the calculated, surreptitious way with which she looked forward to outsmarting her husband. Cronus, as usual, gave no thought to anyone or anything but his own importance. He presided over the proceedings, lording his position, trying to undermine all she and her daughter, Meredith, were trying to accomplish. Meredith had been barred from attending the assembly.
In fact, Rhea had no idea where Cronus held her daughter. Cronus detained her somewhere, making sure she could not influence the other gods who were present. He would not dare mistreat my daughter! Rhea tried to brush aside her worry that he might harm Meredith in any way. She knew too much of his own indiscretions, and the multitude of offspring those had spawned. Harming one of her own children would lead to direct retaliation. Rhea was not above exacting her own pointed vengeance.
Her siblings, gods in their own right, were also, for their own purposes, biding their time. Cronus expects us all to bow to his whims. Rhea knew that more than a few of her brothers and sisters were eager to garner as much power as they could for themselves. The heavens were not as secure under his dominion as Cronus imagined.
Aside from those present, Rhea was aware of other gods who were patiently watching and waiting. Long forgotten to time, Zeus, her beloved son, hungered for his own return to power. Born from her union with Cronus, Zeus remembered well his father's attempt to end his life at birth. It was only through the actions of others that Zeus had managed to survive.
Zeus, for the longest time, believed his father remained imprisoned in Tartarus where he had placed him. Having tossed his father into the endless abyss to languish forever in torment, Zeus, unfortunately, had put him out of his mind. If only we had known. Rhea would have done everything in her power to stop her husband's return. Cronus escaped his prison having spent less than ten years in the abyss.
Elements - The Crystal Series Book 1
Alba, 997 AD
There had been a light rain falling for weeks over the northwestern coast of Alba. The fog from the low-lying clouds hindered visibility, covering the cliffs in a mist that swirled with the gale-force winds. On the highest peak of the ridge, a lone figure, a weathered- faced old woman, stood looking out at the turbulent sea. Waves thunderously pounded the rocky shore far below. The stone beneath her feet was wet, slippery and covered with sea foam. Wrapped in a woolen tartan, the old woman scanned the horizon. It had been two days since her message had been sent. There should have been a reply by now. The safety of her young apprentice was at the center of the worry gnawing away at her. The disappearance of the young woman had not gone unnoticed. Even now, at the inn housing the only tavern in town, rumors were taking on a life of their own. There was no way she could calm the growing unease taking hold of the inhabitants. She herself was anxious about what was to come.