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Another one from #SandsofHazzan !

If you're a fan of That Scene from Interstellar and also political epic fantasy that features Faustian bargains, you can find the first book here: steve-westenra.itch.io/the-wings-of...

And here: books2read.com/u/49dn8Y

#booksky #writesky #transauthor

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Meri had never heard of a culture so determined to turn everything ugly, but the bleakness of the skyline compared with what it had been in her youth seemed so deliberately crafted. Nothing was painted—despite that from what she understood Lorar itself had no objection to colour when it came to its own walls—and when city works were undertaken to repair old buildings the vibrant fittings removed for mending always returned that much duller. Olive and citron trees that had stood hundreds of years were torn from the earth and replaced by outposts for soldiers. The aqueducts that fed the public fountains were rerouted so the people had to walk further to fill their jugs, and Luqiferus’s lover could enjoy a private baths with a view of the Helit Sea.

It was as if Luqiferus believed that if he stole Lera’s beauty, her people would forget how to dream.

Meri had never heard of a culture so determined to turn everything ugly, but the bleakness of the skyline compared with what it had been in her youth seemed so deliberately crafted. Nothing was painted—despite that from what she understood Lorar itself had no objection to colour when it came to its own walls—and when city works were undertaken to repair old buildings the vibrant fittings removed for mending always returned that much duller. Olive and citron trees that had stood hundreds of years were torn from the earth and replaced by outposts for soldiers. The aqueducts that fed the public fountains were rerouted so the people had to walk further to fill their jugs, and Luqiferus’s lover could enjoy a private baths with a view of the Helit Sea. It was as if Luqiferus believed that if he stole Lera’s beauty, her people would forget how to dream.

From a bonus chapter I wrote for #SandsofHazzan that falls between The Wings of Ashtaroth and The Crown of Asmodeus!

I think this whole chapter is still one of my favourite things I've written

Links if you like the writing!

books2read.com/u/49dn8Y

steve-westenra.itch.io/the-wings-of...

#booksky

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“In the riad below the tower the gardens lay untended, vines choking the stagnant pool at the complex’s centre, clawing weeds trapping hard stone beneath their softness. It was the way of weak things, to suffocate and kill with time and patience.”
-The Crown of Asmodeus

“In the riad below the tower the gardens lay untended, vines choking the stagnant pool at the complex’s centre, clawing weeds trapping hard stone beneath their softness. It was the way of weak things, to suffocate and kill with time and patience.” -The Crown of Asmodeus

#SandsofHazzan

Rereading bits of The Crown of Asmodeus in preparation for editing

Lots of bits in this particular chapter that I thought about sharing, but mostly they were either disturbing or spoilery (or both!) for anyone who hasn't read TWoA

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 “What is it a man like Liberio eq-Hadrianus needs?”
Wine. Sleep. Roewyn’s arms and an end to this conversation. But he said none of those things. When a word did come, it seemed to speak itself into being without the force of Liberio’s will behind it. “Justice.”

“What is it a man like Liberio eq-Hadrianus needs?” Wine. Sleep. Roewyn’s arms and an end to this conversation. But he said none of those things. When a word did come, it seemed to speak itself into being without the force of Liberio’s will behind it. “Justice.”

Another one from The Crown of Asmodeus this time! #SandsofHazzan

If you've always longed to read a political epic fantasy set in a world based on Ancient Carthage + Rome & with a Faustian bargain . . . 👀

books2read.com/u/49dn8Y

steve-westenra.itch.io/the-wings-of...

#Booksky #Writesky

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In the palace corridor with her tray, the clip of her shoes hitting the tiled floor beat a pleasing rhythm. She was tall and she was proud and when she walked it was other people who parted for her and not she who scurried out of their path. She did what she did not for pettiness, but because it was what was necessary.
When a dog turned rabid you slit its throat.
Yet a cold rage brewed in her as the qarqada stewed in its poison broth. Not a fatal dose, no. Just enough to eat at him from the inside. Just enough to consume him, day by day, to waste his muscle to the bone the way he had tried to whittle his wife and his children and his counselors to slim spindles he could crush inside his hands.
Just enough to let it be vengeance.

In the palace corridor with her tray, the clip of her shoes hitting the tiled floor beat a pleasing rhythm. She was tall and she was proud and when she walked it was other people who parted for her and not she who scurried out of their path. She did what she did not for pettiness, but because it was what was necessary. When a dog turned rabid you slit its throat. Yet a cold rage brewed in her as the qarqada stewed in its poison broth. Not a fatal dose, no. Just enough to eat at him from the inside. Just enough to consume him, day by day, to waste his muscle to the bone the way he had tried to whittle his wife and his children and his counselors to slim spindles he could crush inside his hands. Just enough to let it be vengeance.

Sharing another quote from my political epic fantasy, The Wings of Ashtaroth!

This part was a lot of fun to write--lots of delicious emotional/character stuff on the go. D :

Available here!:
books2read.com/b/49dn8Y
steve-westenra.itch.io/the-wings-of...

#SandsofHazzan #Booksky #Writesky

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The world was moving.
Bree jolted upright, brow sticky with sweat, a clammy chill wreathing her skin, a feverish wrongness spreading outwards from her bones.
Where was she? Who was she? A princess in her palace. A queen on her throne. A thief and a liar travelling the sands with Darron’s caravan—
a scared little girl at the bottom of a pit, watching as monsters stole her little sister away. Waiting, now, for the gods to strike her down for her inaction.

The world was moving. Bree jolted upright, brow sticky with sweat, a clammy chill wreathing her skin, a feverish wrongness spreading outwards from her bones. Where was she? Who was she? A princess in her palace. A queen on her throne. A thief and a liar travelling the sands with Darron’s caravan— a scared little girl at the bottom of a pit, watching as monsters stole her little sister away. Waiting, now, for the gods to strike her down for her inaction.

Having a bit of fun revitalizing my interest in my work & feeling more positive about it than I have in a while (knock on wood)

I thought I'd try sharing a quote a day with the hashtag #SandsofHazzan (just so I can find the posts myself)

This one's from The Crown of Asmodeus!

#Booksky #Writesky

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