Avalon, a terraformed machine designed for bio-environmental warfare testing.
Five Kingdoms separated by magnetic fields.
A forgotten people.
Until Rune Marren crashes on the uncharted moon and restarts Avalon’s program for permanent destruction during impact. A collision prophesied by woodland sibyls, the seers hunted and killed for heralding Avalon’s whispers. An event feared by one Kingdom, its ruler willing to annihilate all other Kingdoms to protect its secret.
Sentenced by the warrior clan who found her, Rune follows an appointed hunter into untamed lands to track down Avalon’s computer origins. If she fails to locate the power source, everyone will die. If she refuses this quest, she’ll be executed.
On an engineered moon with biologically enhanced people time has forgotten, reality is both a dream and a nightmare. Rune must survive the wilds of each Forest Kingdom and the war waged by one man to stop her, if Avalon doesn’t stop her first.
The Last Forest Kingdoms is a sweeping eco-dystopian far-future fantasy inspired by Celtic and Greek pagan tales.
CURRENT WORK IN PROGRESS
Release dates to be announced.
Death cradled me. My coffin—the black star-flecked sky and curling flames. And then, I was falling.
Falling toward an alien world that would eat my flesh and bury my bones.
Falling away from the automated life programming my very existence.
Falling into a fate designed at my birth and sealed since the Orpheus Virus killed my family.
I would die in mere seconds.
And, with me, an archaic contract over five hundred years old.
I waited for memories and regrets to flood my mind instead of the information I already knew. To see flashes of faces and beloved places. This wasn’t the first time I had faced death, oddly enough. But my mind remained curiously empty.
Frenzied blue strands of my hair wildly lashed at the bitter wind, as if furiously seeking purchase. For anything solid and real. Darkness edged my vision as a near-frozen tear crusted on my cheek. But I forced my eyes to remain open. I would see Avalon before my vitals shattered on her machine’s terraformed surface.
With that latter thought, something primal roared within me. Fingers shaking, I clawed at the straps across my chest. For what seemed like the hundredth time, I pressed the button to activate the life pack strapped to my back. A blue light flashed and then blared red before winking out.
I stared in horror, yet again. “Shit!”
A garbled error message filled the void nearby just as my co-pilot’s body barreled passed me, his limbs and head lolling from unconsciousness. I opened my mouth to scream, my gut keening with terror. But nothing emerged.
“. . . remain calm. Triskele Industries has been alerted of your life pack’s malfunction.”
I forced my head to move toward the voice. Just out of reach, a mere arm’s length away, my helmet floated in tandem with my descent.
“At the beep, please rate your experience. Honest feedback will help improve product satisfaction in every emergency situati—”
The AI’s voice cut off when a jagged, charred piece of the ship careened into my helmet.
Laughter exploded from my lungs, loosening the knot of emotion crushing my windpipe. Feral sounds that grew more maniacal. Oh, dark irony, I couldn’t have worded my review better. What a fucking joke. A snort escaped through my gasping tears, another rumble of laughter breaking free just before my feet collided with something solid.
And then everything went black.