Not everything is 100% up and running. Some of the free fics I used to have on my website aren't up here yet. Blogspot has a limit of 20 pages, and I had more pages than that for those fic. I'm going to backdate posts and then link them on the Free Reads page, but that'll take a few days (or weeks, depending on how easily I get distracted ;3). If there's anything you're clamoring to read, let me know and I'll expedite its posting.
The Published Works page is updated with my latest and greatest, though it was a sad few titles this year (three, saaaaaaaad ;_;). Hopefully next year will be more productive.
In honor of the new space (and shiny new layout!), have a snippet from The Heart of the Kingdom. (Not the start, since that's less... invigorating. ;3)
Cenric woke in the middle of the night after a fitful bit of sleep. A cold shiver ran down his spine, but Cenric didn't remember the dream he'd woken from. Shifting, he shoved his face further into his pillow, shutting his eyes tight against the dull glow emanating from the window across the bedroom.
Glow?
Cenric's eyes popped open, and he shoved himself out of bed so quickly he nearly tripped and fell. The curtains were cracked open and the sky was dark. The glow came from below, and as that registered, so did the smoke filtering up the stairs and the crackle of flames downstairs.
Fire. His house was on fire.
Terror froze him in place, and Cenric tried to remember if he'd banked the fire. He had, he distinctly remembered—
That wasn't important. Cenric grabbed for the jacket he'd draped over the bench to his mother's old dressing table. Draping it over his head, he pulled it across his mouth and headed for the stairs down. The fire was climbing the walls downstairs, burning through the chairs and furniture and Cenric's eyes stung with tears.
The stairs seemed untouched, and Cenric headed down them as quickly as he could. He didn't have much other choice—the windows in the loft weren't large enough to fit him, even if he could have handled jumping from that height.
The front door was still smoldering, a wave of flames slowly eating through it, so Cenric rushed towards the back. He could barely breathe through the heat and the smoke. He was lightheaded by the time he reached the kitchen doorway. Ducking through it, avoiding the licking flames somehow, he came to a complete stop when he realized the back door was blocked by a wall of flame as well.
It didn't look right. It cascaded strangely upwards, like a backwards waterfall of flame, and Cenric stood frozen, watching it.
There was no way out. He was going to die.
The back door crumbled, falling to the floor in a sudden explosion of ash and soot. The flames were gone from the doorway, giving him a clear path to the backyard. Cenric didn't stop to question it, stumbling forward and out. He tripped down the back stoop, barely catching his balance on the first two steps, but falling on the third.
Or, almost falling. Someone caught him up by the elbows, tugging him insistently away from his burning house. His mother's house, Cenric thought miserably, with the last of the things he had to preserve her memory. He pulled away from the man holding him up, turning back towards the house …
The flames were consuming the loft. Even if the town was roused, there would be no saving it or anything inside. Cenric dragged the jacket away from his face, numbly watching the fire climb higher.
"Do you have the necklace?"
Cenric whirled, startled out of his reverie. The strange man from the Davidsons' stoop stood there, looking much more disreputable in the dead of night. He backed away a step, the wild thought that maybe this man had set the fire and nearly killed him running through his head.
"What?" Cenric asked, his hand immediately reaching for his pocket. He wasn't wearing his jacket, he recalled belatedly, but he was holding it. What did this man want with the necklace he'd bought from Nick? Perhaps Nick had stolen it, and that was why he'd sold it to Cenric so cheaply. "Is it yours? You can have it—"
"No, it's yours," the man said, glancing past Cenric towards the burning house. "Do you have it?"
Cenric followed the man's gaze, his heart leaping into his throat when he caught sight of a shadowed figure lurking by the corner of his burning house. The flames were dying down, but despite being close to the shadowed figure, they cast no light upon it. It looked almost human, except for the way its limbs were too long and angled unnaturally.
"What is that?" Cenric asked hoarsely, the words tumbling from his mouth. It was all a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.
"Do you have it?" The man asked urgently, closing the distance between them. "Or is it still in there?"
Cenric fumbled for his jacket pocket, unable to keep from looking back at the shadowy figure. It wasn't moving, seemed only to be watching them. His fingers closed over the cool metal of the necklace, the familiar heart-shape pressing into his fingers.
"I have it," Cenric said faintly. The shadowy figure slinked forward, towards them, and Cenric wanted to throw up. Something about the figure was inconceivably wrong; there was a sensation of depth and darkness, like the figure would swallow him whole if it got close enough.
The man muttered something, but he sounded relieved. Cenric tore his gaze away from the approaching figure, but at least he could see the stranger. That had to count for something.
"Hold on," the man said, grabbing the front of Cenric's shirt. Cenric didn't have time to react to that before the man was throwing something to the ground at their feet.
The world exploded in a blaze of light. Cenric closed his eyes tight against it, hold on echoing in his ears. He reached out and grabbed the man's arm with the hand he wasn't holding onto the necklace with, gripping tightly enough to leave a bruise as the world slipped away beneath his feet.
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