#AuThorsday with William Lloyd

Well I have one interview down about me lol hope you guys enjoy!

Sunshine Somerville

61VnhSSGqGL._UX250_Today I’d like to welcome William Lloyd, author of the soon-to-be re-released, Horizon.

Can you give us your quickest description of your books?

I am currently pulling together a series of books that are being written in five separate trilogies, but a dimensional overlap sends all of the worlds into one dimension.  This leads to a war of the worlds and survival of the fittest.  Science Fiction/Fantasy/Romance/Psychological

Sounds ambitious!  So is that what you’re working on currently?

I am currently working on my novel Horizon which is the start of the Amniwar Trilogy.  I’m also doing multiple segments on my blog called “Interview with the Awethors” where I discuss their interests in their personal life, as well as, feedback about their current novels.

Authors interviewing authors is so much fun. (wink.)  So what is your favorite scene you’ve written?  

My favorite scene would have to be an interrogation…

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Horizon (Relaunched) Chapter Reveal


Chapter 1

May 26, 2113

Sydney, Australia


Engines roared beneath the surface of the water as fishermen departed to the Pacific blue. One boat remained though at the far end of the wharf. The Chanda II bumped against the wharf as it lifted and fell against the wakes of the water.

The captain of the boat, Aaron Lambright, wrestled underneath the sheets. He groaned shielding his blue eyes from the Sun’s light. Aaron threw the sheets off of him with annoyance and rose from the bed. His shaggy brown hair matted against the side of his head in a jumbled mess, while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and reached for his alarm clock.

“7:30 am….” He yawned as he stretched his arms above his head feeling his bones crack from his knuckles to the middle of his spine. Aaron twisted the face of the alarm towards him again and slapped his palm against his forehead. “Damn, Abi’s going to kill me.”

He slung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked to the porthole. All of the other boats already set out for sea for the day. He walked away from the window and stumbled on an obstacle of beer cans underneath his dirty clothes. The odor of fish and sweat reeked in the cabin. He opened the bathroom door and leaned his head against the doorframe to balance him, while his hangover pounded at his temples. A bottle of Captain Morgan: Spiced Rum smiled at him from the countertop like a satanic jackal eager to tear into his liver.

“You really tore me up last night,” he said, tilting the bottle to his face. The amber liquid rolled up the side of the glass away from the label. “Mm….” He turned the label away from him as his throat gurgled with vomit. He clenched the toilet pressing his forehead against the wooden lid. His back arched as he puked profusely into the toilet.

He grabbed the edge of the counter pulling him back to the mirror. His bloodshot eyes were swollen and watery at the rims of his eyelids. Sweat beaded across face and trickled off of his soaked brown beard. He flung the medicine cabinet closed and pulled down the small white bottle of Advil.

“Thank God man made you,” he said, tossing two maroon tablets into his mouth. He reached for the bottle of rum and washed them down his throat. “Woo!” he cringed while shaking his head. “That’s rough.”

He set the liquor bottle back on the counter and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his dry face. His cellular phone rattled on the end table in his room, but he shut the door to ignore the call.

“I am currently too inebriated to take your call. Please leave me the hell alone,” he said, flipping over the knob in the shower to hot.

*       *      *

Aaron sat on the side of his bed after his shower with a white towel wrapped around his waist. He cupped his palms and relaxed his head in them pressing his elbows against his knees. He reached for his phone on the end table and saw the name Abigail scroll down his missed calls list six times.

“Nah, I’m not ready to call her back yet.” He tossed the phone to the foot of the bed and laid down.


He shot back up and tensed his posture when he heard the heels outside on the aft. He ran to the cabin door and locked it.

“I know you’re down there, Aaron!” Abigail yelled from the top of the stairs. He heard her stomp down the stairs clapping her heels on the wood like a horse’s hooves. The door rattled and she wrapped her fist against the wood with rage. “Open this door! Where the hell were you last night?”

“Shit!” he mouthed in silence. The towel fell from his waist as he ran to the dresser to find a pair of red swim trunks and white tank top. He quickly slipped the clothes on and dug into his top drawer, where he tossed balled up white and black socks onto the floor. “Just wait at the top of the stairs, Abi! I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Wait? Wait! You want me to wait? That’s just perfect. Two years, Aaron, and you still tell me to wait on your sorry ass! If you respected me, you would at least give me a courteous phone call telling me you weren’t going to show up last night.”

Aaron shook his head and pulled the black box from inside the sock drawer. The suede texture was soft against his fingertips as he flipped it open to find his mother’s wedding ring nestled in the crease of the fabric inside.

“Please save me,” he said, snapping the lid shut. He turned his head to the porthole, where Abigail’s face was peering into the cabin. “What the-?” Aaron gasped, falling back to the floor.

“I see you, Aaron! Open the door now and face me like a man!”

“Okay, I’ll meet you at the top of the stairs,” he said annoyed. He shook his head and walked over to the door, when he face disappeared from the window. He jammed the black box into his pocket and opened the door to meet her on the aft.

When he reached the top of the stairs, Abigail had her hands clenched to her hips like a boiling tea kettle. He watched her tap her toe with a menacingly constant beat. Her narrow jade eyes and tensed cheeks intimidated him.

“Abi, I can explain,” he said with his arms raised and palms out in front of him.

“Where is she?” She glared at him with contempt.

“What are you talking about?” Aaron walked to her with a sly grin. “How can you even think that? I mean… I’m appalled!” He stumbled with his words as he walked to her, but she pushed passed him and marched down the stairs. He chased after her but could not help but admire her black work attire that hugged against her curves tastefully. He slid down the rail of the stairs and entered the cabin behind her. “Now, Abi, you know this isn’t healthy. A strong relationship is built on trust. Accusing me of….

Abigail whirled around with her arm outstretched stopping Aaron from flapping his lips. “Don’t talk to me about healthy relationships, Aaron. I’m not in the mood for you back peddling so that the tramp you were with last night can escape.”

“Oh really? A tramp? Do you really think I’d open the door for you if another woman were here?”

She marched to the bathroom and slammed the door open. She came out with the half consumed bottle of rum. Captain Morgan’s grin sickened Aaron as he rolled his eyes and ripped it from her hands.

“So this is what you were doing last night?”

She stepped on an aluminum can and heard it crunch beneath her heel. She fell forward into Aaron’s arms. He smelled the fragrance of her melon shampoo enter his nostrils. His free hand grazed the curve of her hip which flooded fantasies of sex with her in his bed. She pushed him back and peeled the dirty clothes from the floor to discover a smashed beer can on the floor.

“I swear, I only had a few last night. The rest of those were from other nights,” he lied. He slicked back his hair with irritation. Glancing towards the bed, another surprise made his heart sink into his belly. A pair of red laced panties poked out from underneath his pillow.

“I thought you were over this stage of your life. You even went to rehab.” She dropped her arms letting the can bounce across the floor. “What did you tell me? Two years since your last drop?”

Aaron shrugged without a word from his mouth.

“I’m tired of all the excuses, Aaron.” She whipped her hair back and wandered to the porthole where the sun was peeking through. “You told me when we met that you wanted to stop. You wanted to build a better future for us. Now you’re starting again?”

Aaron rolled over the bed, while she looked away, and shoved the panties in the crevice between the headboard and mattress.

“You said that you wanted me to be sober. You even tricked me into thinking I was the reason you wanted to change.” She turned to Aaron with widened and moist eyes. “Has it all been a lie?”

“You’re making this out to be more than it is, baby,” he answered, reaching for her hands. She rejected him quickly pulling her hands away.

“Never call me baby again. I am no one’s baby.” She trembled with rage. “You can keep drinking if that’s what brings you closure, but I can’t be a part of this anymore. It’s not worth the pain anymore.”

“I’m overloaded with work, Abi. I don’t know what to tell you!”

“Ha! Overloaded with work? You sit in a damn boat all day and watch fish. If that makes you turn to drinking, you really have no control at all.” She rolled her eyes and walked passed him.

Aaron stood in the cabin alone, circling his room with guilt. “Wait, don’t go!” he yelled, chasing after her. He gently grabbed her wrist at the top of the stairs.

“Leave me alone!” She whipped her hand back and ran across the aft to escape Aaron’s attempts to mend what is already broken.

“Abigail Marie Thomas, will you marry me?” His hands trembled as he pulled the black box from his swim trunks. He flipped back the lid and the diamond sparkled in the sunlight.

Abigail lowered her head and glanced over her shoulder at Aaron. She hesitantly walked back to him.

“Are you serious?”

The diamond left her breathless as he slid it onto her ring finger. It was a perfect fit. A tear streamed down her cheek and dropped from her chin. She twisted her hand mesmerized by the beauty of the rock. She pulled it off of her finger though and placed it back into the box.

“I can’t say yes this way, Aaron.”

Aaron heard a woman’s hum echo from the wharf as they stood their alone. Abigail looked over to the ramp and saw a young woman with curled blond hair hop onto the boat. Aaron glanced at the woman’s white bikini top pressing against her breasts and her ripped jean shorts which came down mid-thigh. He closed his eyes knowing he lost Abigail.

“Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, startled to see Abigail glaring at her.

Abigail shook her head and pushed the woman out of her way. Aaron dropped his arms and walked to the rail to watch Abigail storm up the wharf back to the parking lot. He crossed his arms over the rail and tucked his head down, pressing his forehead against the chipped wood.

“What was that about?” the woman asked.

He lifted his head up and stared at the black box. He shoved it into his pocket and looked at his assistant.

“It’s fine, Sandy, you probably just saved me from a lifetime of frustration.” He walked to the stairs to his cabin. “C’mon, let’s get out to sea. We have a long day ahead of us.”

He entered his cabin, where he pulled open the sock drawer and shoved the box back in. The bottle of rum rolled into the heel of his foot as a wave lifted the boat. He picked up the bottle, returning it to the counter in the bathroom. His palms pressed against the sink as he watched the disappointment pull from his eyes. Captain Morgan remained joyful with his charming smile like a serpent tempting him to have a sip. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and stared into the mirror.

“Fuck it,” he said, tilting the lip of the bottle against his mouth. The liquor burned as it flowed down his esophagus. He wiped his lips with his naked arm, but the heartbreak faded as the drunken spell grasped him once again.


Amni Publishing


Hey, guys! We have finally pushed through months of preparation to put together an awesome team of people that want to help publish your stories! We are currently shopping for Romance/Science Fiction/Nonfiction/Fantasy/Horror/Action Adventure/Mystery. If you are interested in publishing with us, send all information to lloyd.jr@aol.com. Leave your query letter about you as an author and your story. Please leave three chapters for us to review and we will respond back to you if we are interested in your manuscript.

Also, please do not send multiple submissions. We have a 6-9 week waiting period.

Thank you all for making this possible. Share, Like, Reblog. Let all of your author friends know that Amni Publishing is officially open!

Author FB Page



Here’s the link to my author facebook page. This is where you will find more interesting details about my novel, “Awaken Within the Darkness”, the first installment to The Temperament Scepter Series.

I will also keep you guys updated on any upcoming events/ book releases. Also, if you have any questions for me, or any of the amazing artists, editors, or readers, please feel free to ask. We welcome all and anything that you guys are curious about. Thanks again for your support and love.

And did I mention a possible Book trailer for Horizon soon?


There are going to be many writers that post on here about how to write fiction. I wanted to go through the process in my head when I start writing my own fiction novels. Now, you can follow my lead on what I do if you’d like, but there is no true way to writing fiction. We all have our own minds and creative worlds. This is what runs through my mind when I start writing:

1. Where to freaking start? I’m sitting in bed with Doritos crunched beneath my armpit playing Destiny or Battlefield. My fingers are tapping the controller and my eyes are engulfed in the world before me. Did I just have an idea that involved Warlocks, Titans, and Hunters? Maybe a military idea where my character is on a Black Ops mission and continuously dies and wakes up to another mission? I may be losing my mind and my time wasting it on games, but hell, it’s fun try an lose myself in a world I didn’t create. Sometimes it’s the best way to start a world that I want to create.

2. These behind the scenes options on Lord of the Rings are really making me break down my ideas into time slots? If I treated my novel like some directors do with a movie, I would write all the exciting scenes that would put myself at the edge of my seat, while those boring scenes that connect the dots resonate in the air. Why do I call them boring scenes? I call them this because it’s the back story that leads to this massive battles, crazy twists, or erotic romances. Do you really think your work doesn’t have at least two- three boring chapters in it?

I remember one chapter took me almost two days to write because I just couldn’t stomach myself to write it. It was one of those chapters that helped build on the story, but I just wanted the excitement and the tragedies. Is it because my head is filled with hatred towards a few of my characters? Sometimes. Is it because I want to get on with the story and see what happens to the main character that I love? Definitely.

3. Epic Music is a plus. Rock/Pop/Rap/Country is a no. Not trying to discriminate against all music but when I write I have to listen to music without words. Every time I hear music with lyrics, I end up singing them in my head. I go from writing about soldiers tearing through a battlefield of demons to Taylor Swift Shaking in the middle of a climatic death. How this works for anyone one else, I don’t know. I like to listen to the beefy brass music with the chimes of violins teetering in the background. My imagery has to be pumped with musical steroids for me to see explosions and men fighting behemoths that have the upper hand.

4. Facebook, WordPress, Twitter, and email. You fools are the enemy to my creativity. Eventually I have to actually type this crap up and you four continuously take a few hours from my time. It’s not your fault, it’s my own. That’s why I disconnect my phone and internet for a few weeks to avoid the temptation. Yes, I may not be able to talk to people that act like they care about me, but at least I can live in my made up world where my invisible friends like to play with me. Did I mention I may be crazy?

5. Alcohol does not boost the process, it only dumbs it up. I remember my hand was cramping up so I had a few shots of Captain Morgan to help numb up my pain. Then, I found out drinking numbs up more than just pain and it numbs up my intellect. If I write while drinking, I will find myself having a tough time understanding what the hell I wrote the night before. Also, it could lead to realizations about myself that I wished would have stayed locked up in those chambers of my mind. Then again, sometimes writing while drinking will create an idea that’ll actually have me wondering, how the hell did we go from New York to the Pacific Ocean in only a page?

These are just a few situations I run into while writing fiction. Some I try to avoid, others I embrace. If you’d like to add your unique writing style, you can add ti in the comments. Maybe we will have something in common.

Announcements For My Upcoming Projects

Horizon Series

Genre: Science Fiction/ Action Adventure

Currently the first novel to this series is out in all formats. I am currently working on the next novel for this series on and off. It will be called Eversoul.

Story: Aaron Lambright is a Marine Biologist that lives in his sailboat at Sydney Harbor in Australia. He is pulled into a government conspiracy that has been ongoing for the last five years. He is approached by the U.S. military outside of his boat, where he is told that his father has fallen to an unknown cause. All of the questions continue to spiral through his head, while his relationship with his current girlfriend, Abigail, is crumbling everyday. His colleague Sandy is the only other human being that can actually connect to him, but how much longer can that last?

The United States government and president have become allies with a company corrupt with greed and power. Amnicore is where artifacts and specimens from an alien planet are being extracted and contracted into the military. Will earth stand a chance against this super army, or will it fall into a apocalyptic end that will wield an upper hand for the man in control of these beings… Our president.

Ebook: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00MD4U3YE

Paperback and Hardback: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/williamlloydjr

The Temperament Scepter Series

Genre: Young Adult/ Epic/ Fantasy

First Novel: Awaken Within The Darkness

Anticipated Release: September 1, 2015

Story: A world ruled by Kings and Queens has been threatened by three entities that command the icy north of Illiad. The Dragon Lords have summoned their draiks to Alabass, where war has ignited between the regions of Illiad and Salcedine. With the resurrection of the Soulless and the dragons terrorizing the central plains of Alabass, Daghen has banned his sorcerers together to fight back. He has pulled together the assistance of Wolf Bloods and Man as well.

The war leads to a draw on both sides and Daghen has been banished from Salcedine for his desertion from his fellow sorcerers. The Dragon Lords now rebuild their army and create a child within the womb of the king’s daughter. The birth of Aldoras comes and with his birth is the struggle to be normal, but fate pulls him to his lineage; a powerful Dragon Lord.

Phantom Force Trilogy

Genre: Science Fiction/ Action Adventure

First Novel: Phantom Force

Anticipated Release: TBA

Story: Murdoch Jones commands a small crew of misfits who are currently the remaining survivors of their planets. He is curious to know what has happened to Earth since the Zethorax took his daughter, his home, and his planet. He travels to the Milky Way system to discover chunks of earth have been pulled from the core and all of its energy has been drained by the Zethorax. The crew continues towards Mars, where possible colonization may have been effective, but there’s only so many places to run within a glass dome and now oxygen outside of it.

A Villain’s Tale

I was writing the first installment of my series The Temperament Scepter a few weeks ago when I realized one of my characters was time jumping way too much in the first ten chapters. I have been extremely interested in knowing more about this character only because I was viewing the story as a reader. Now that I’m working on this characters story, I’ve come to realize that this book is about him, his family, his upbringings, and his downfall to become the villain he is in the second installment of the series.

Now, I’ve always been intrigued by the villain’s background because every villain has a reason for falling into the darkness. Whether it is because they were abused as a child, bullied by their peers, or they simply just want to change something about the world. It all boils down to why is this person acting like this?

Always remember to create a lovable villain. If their is a reason for their madness, then some readers will relate to them and want to know who will fare at the end of the novel.

The Temperament Scepter (Sample)

This is part of one of the chapters in my upcoming book, The Temperament Scepter. It is still a work in progress. Hope you guys enjoy!

Sample Chapter
King without a Throne

The walls of the Argonian tunnels were jagged and black as coal. The path of steps winded deep into the mountain like a labyrinth filled with puzzles and dead ends. At the center of the mountain, a deep pit dropped infinitely into the depths of darkness, where the smell of smoldering coals rose from the lower tunnels. A place where the Forn forged tools and weapons for the army. In the western realms of the mountain, a cool breeze could be felt from the vented areas where the ocean breeze would cool the chambers. Most of the Forn have lived most of their lives in the tunnels. The paler their skin and the brighter their eyes, the longer they have inhabited the tunnels.
King Gruil Thaylor, son of Oir Thaylor was the only Forn who looked more human than the others. He would trek the tunnels of the Argonian Mountain Range once every other day to watch the operation. His thirst for gold, silver, and metals clouded his mind and heart, making him an empathetic ruler. He inherited the Thaylor curse of being blinded by the riches that rest within the stone walls of the mountain. Every Forn would glare at him with their yellowed eyes that had red slits burning with rage. Their intimidation never bothered him as long as his mighty sword remained in his possession.
His maroon robe wrapped around his body. It was embroidered in leopard skin down the seams of the buttons and around the collar. His brown beard rounded at the tip of his chin, while his dark hair dropped below his ears. The tip of his nose pointed over his mustache, while his hazel eyes pierced the darkness with its brightness.
“Lord Thaylor, production has slowed each week since your father’s…” His right hand, Aradorn cut his sentence short. “Forgive me, my lord.”
Aradorn was a slender man with gaunt limbs and pale skin. He was bald and kept his chin clean of hair. The middle of his nose had a large knot, while the end was rounded. His eyes were squinted with emerald irises. The green robes he wore were thinner than Thaylor’s but had many markings across the seams. Most of the markings were tree limbs branching upwards, while others were shapes of gemstones.
“No need for apologies, Aradorn. Finish what you were saying,” Thaylor answered, stepping down the stone steps to the hollowed out center of Mount Argon.
“My suggestion would be to give some of these men a holiday. Let them go home to their families and have their pigment return to them.”
“So your suggestion to increase production is to send a portion of the men on vacation? To let them rest and become fat; better yet lazy?” Thaylor asked with a spiteful tone.
“Well, not to become lazy, but…”
“Let me remind you, Aradorn, that rest will be had at death. These men work hard to protect their families and to keep the flow of wealth immense throughout our kingdom. If any of them would like to address their complaints, they can meet me at the block in my court. I’m sure their weary head will receive plenty of rest as my blade cuts through their throat!” His voice raised for all the Forn to hear.
“You speak as though these men’s lives do no matter to you. Are you so blind now that you have lost the will of your father?” Aradorn asked with a quiver.
Thaylor rubbed the handle of his father’s sword. “We are in an age where survival is no longer enough. We must have the upper hand in this world to keep what is rightfully ours.”
“These men are not slaves, but you treat them as such. I thought we banished those dark times long ago?” Aradorn scorned his king.
“I would suggest you bite your tongue, Aradorn.” Thaylor reached for the door behind him. “I need to meditate in my father’s shrine. Return to the castle, I must speak to the mountain alone.”
“Yes, my lord. I will not bother you of these petty matters anymore.”
“Good,” he answered, slamming the steel door behind him. He turned to the towering statue of his father, Oir. He reached for the torch at the side of the door and lit the stream of oil that wrapped around the room to the top of his father’s statue. The stone beard waved against his father’s chest. The resemblance was uncanny between Thaylor and his father.
He stepped forward across the black marble floors that looked like a fiery river from the flames in the oil. Thaylor stared at the sheathed sword in his father’s belt that he now possesses. His attention was drawn to the crown atop Oir’s head, which Thaylor has inherited as well. He knelt before the statue and pressed his forward onto the stone foot.
“It has been a decade since your final breath,” Thaylor said, looking up at the towering statue. “I do miss you dearly, my king. My rule has seen troubled times recently, and I only wish to find the strength you had during your reign.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have lost my way and the mountain has blinded me of its blunders. I do not know how your heart was able to bear the burden of your peoples’ well-being.”
He stood to his feet, feeling the tears well up in his eyelids. His eyes burned and his head ached for a resolution.
“Show me the way, father!” he begged, but silence would be the only answer. The door rumbled behind him as stone and steel rubbed against each other. “What?” His shock was heard throughout the room as he turned to see one of his messengers at the door.
“My lord, a messenger from Alabass awaits your prompt appearance in the courtyard,” the man’s voice cracked in fear.
“I’ll be there in a moment. Thank you,” he answered, looking back towards the statue.
The door moaned shut as the noises echoed off all the walls. Thaylor wiped his eye and smiled at his father.
“Let’s hope the news you have sent is good for once.”
He left the shrine and closed the door behind him. The tunnels to the surface were long and narrow. Every step felt like a dagger digging into Thaylor’s heels, until he finally reached the exit. The air was fresh and a light breeze caressed his cheeks. He felt refreshed and ready to hear the messenger in his courtyard.
“Father, let this day be a blessing for my people and myself,” he said, looking up towards the sky.
He reached the courtyard, where a man remained hidden within the hood of his white cloak. The man remained seated at the stone bench, where the pedals of the roses behind him blackened. An eerie presence passed over Thaylor as he walked towards the man. His peace transpired into depression. He was suffocating from an evil lingering in the air, one that sat near his dead roses. One that cowered inside the white hood.
“What business do you bring to my court, messenger?” The annoyance in his voice shook the ground.
“Now, is that anyway to greet a guest?” the sinister voice hissed from the vacant opening of the hood.
“Joy was with me before I walked into this damned courtyard. It seems your presence kills more than just my queen’s bushes. It has glowered the very spirits that beckoned me to your call.” Thaylor walked passed him, standing tall at the wooden arch. “Now, on with your message so I can enjoy the rest of my day!” His beard flailed in the air as a gust of wind collided with his face.
“He-he, he said you would be ill tempered like your ancestors,” the messenger responded with a slight cackle.
“You do not refer to my ancestors without consulting the meaning of this meeting!” His thunderous roar could be heard across the valley.
“As you wish, King Thaylor, son of Oir. I have come with a message from my Lord Sargon. You may have heard his name before?”
“Sargon? A name like that would never reach my doors.”
“Do you not think his name is worthy of your time? Are you that ignorant with arrogance and stupidity that you do not realize a divine being when you hear and see it?” The messenger’s agitation echoed within a chuckle.
“Divine, you say? The only divine beings of this world are the dead. The ones’ whose names are scrolled in history and never forgotten. A man could never claim himself divine.”
“Oh, but you do not know Sargon then. He is divine and his reign will come crashing down on your walls soon enough, King.”
“Ha! Are you threating my reign as king? I would choose your words wisely, peasant!” He reached for his sword and clenched the handle as hate filled his heart.
“My life has just as much worth as these flowers. You cannot kill me, and you will not kill Sargon. Like I said, I am a mere messenger that has been sent to speak to all the tarnished kings of Eliptica,” the slither of his voice is ghostly in Thaylor’s ears.
“Tarnished, you say? Well, I think our meeting is over, swine. Guards take this filth and send him back to where he came from!” He demanded.
“I would not nod off my warning so quickly. Your reign will be surrendered or taken from you. Lord Sargon means to overthrow all kings. He just was courteous enough to warn all of you first.”
“You are more evil than the enchantment you have casted upon my garden. I tell you now your head will be the only message your king receives!” He ripped his father’s sword from his belt and let the sun beat its rays against its steel face. His blade cut into the neck of the hood, but no one was inside of the material. It was whisked off into the wind. “What sorcery is this?” he asked, looking back at the entrance of his courtyard.
“You fail to learn that you can’t kill what is already dead, Thaylor. You can only remain haunted by it until your own demise!” the messenger’s bone chilling laughter echoed a heavy gust of wind, tossing Thaylor on his back.
Thaylor looked around him in fright as he was helped back to his feet by his guards. A chill ran up his spine when he felt the wind run up his back like cold fingertips.
“Guards, report to your posts and sound the bell. War will be at our walls soon enough.”
Thaylor turned his attention to Aradorn, who appeared at the entrance of the courtyard.
“My lord, are you okay?” Aradorn’s concern was unnoticed by the king.
“Aradorn, let the council know I am on my way.”
“Yes, my lord. At once!” Aradorn ran back up Mount Argon to report to the five that counsel the king before a battle.

The Temperament Scepter

Here is a breakdown of my current work of YA, epic fantasy, fiction.

Alexandria Roe has been abandoned in Saldon Forest by her estranged mother. She is attacked by a pack of wolves and is saved by a man, Thomas Eires, who adopts her into his family.

Nine years later, she develops unnatural changes in her body and discovers she has inherited two different genes, one of a sorceress and one of a wolf.

She learns the origins of her new family, but a dark sorcerer has come to Eliptica to find the final piece to the Temperament Scepter. An amethyst that was passed down to Alexandria by her mother.

Will man be able to overcome the greed of riches, or will they help Alexandria on her quest? A life of struggles, lose, and lies wait beyond Eliptica’s borders, where Alexandria will discover the secret of the amethyst and herself…