Name: Autumn Augustus Race: Human Sex: Female Age: 45 years old Occupation: Empress of the Eioda Nation States (ENS) & Supreme Marshal of the Allied Forces Weight: 120lbs Height: 5 feet 9 inches Hair color & style: Dirty blonde Eye color: Grey Clothing: ENS military grade light weight armor Piercings/Tattoos/Markings (if any): N/A Personality: Straight forward and down to business when necessary. She loves her small family and will do anything to protect it. Habits: One drink is never enough Likes: Using the Rietsu martial arts in live combat and likes to know what the left and right hand of her government is doing Dislikes: Busy work AKA paper work Social background: Former Secretary of State and Commander in the ENS Navy Bad experiences: Watching her best friend and step-brother murdered Best memory: Watching the child of prophecy being born Skills: Speaks multiple languages including: dwarf and elf native tongues; proficient in several martial arts styles including: Rietsu and multiple weapons including: hand gun, assault rifle, sniper rifle, stave, bow & arrow, long-sword, curved sword Things they find difficult: Coming to grip with a predetermined fate
Brief description: After witnessing the murder and betrayal of Alexander Elliot by their former classmate, she goes into hiding. Whisking away the child of prophecy, Thame Elliot, at the age of eleven, they train in secret.
Almost a decade later...
When the human population of Eioda saw that the legendary Autumn Augustus was running for public office, it was a landslide victory to elect the first female ruler of the human nation. Her perch atop the political pinnacle is precarious at best, considering pockets of resistance, dangerously close to treason, coming from the religious and military camps.
THE FATE OF THE HEAVEN'S WILL BE IN THE PALM OF A HAND - 2012.06.26
I sat up and followed
Calixta’s gaze upward. I rubbed my eyes. I didn’t know what I was seeing at
first. A statue? My brain refused to snap together coherent thoughts. I didn’t realize I’d fallen so close to one
of the garden benches until I stared up at the boy that sat on one. He was
strikingly beautiful. His tumble of blonde hair curled just above his sculpted
cheekbones. He wore a silk shirt and a loosened cravat, like he’d become bored
while dressing and decided to leave himself in disarray. His ivory skin and
frozen position was what had me mistaking him for something carved from marble
by Michelangelo. Then he sighed—a lonely, breathy proof of life. If I had to
imagine what Lucifer looked like before he fell from heaven, the boy on the
bench would certainly fulfill that image. My brain told me I had to look away,
but I couldn’t.
“Luka,” Calixta said again,
her voice unsure, almost nervous. It no longer contained the steel and bite she
had threatened me with, which made me wonder who the boy was.
He leaned on his hands and
crossed his legs, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the night sky. His
movements spoke of elegance and control. I’d encountered many people with
breeding before, but his took on the air of arrogance and self-assuredness of
someone used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it.
I only realized I’d been
holding my breath when my lungs protested. I exhaled. My heart sputtered and
restarted with a vengeance. Luka tore his gaze away from the stars and settled
it on me. I’d expected pitch-black irises, like the other Night Students, but
blue ice stared back at me.
“Human,” he whispered.
He reached out, and with a
finger, followed an invisible trail down my cheek. I stiffened. His touch,
cooler than Demitri’s, caused warm sparks to blossom on my face. He lifted his
finger to his lips and licked its tip. He might as well have licked me from the way my body shivered.
Luka’s curious gaze held
mine. “Leave us,” he said, but not to me.
“But—” Calixta protested like
a spoiled child.
He spoke in a language I
hadn’t heard before, remaining calm yet firm. The words had a rolling cadence I
couldn’t quite follow, like rumbling thunder in the distance. They contained a
harsh sensuality. The consonants were hard and the vowels were long and
lilting.
Footsteps retreated behind
me.
Luka reached out again.
It took me a minute to
realize he wanted to help me up. I hesitated. He smiled. I smiled back timidly
and took his hand, completely dazzled. Even with my uniform soaked from melted
snow, I didn’t feel cold—all my attention was on him and the way his callused
hand felt on mine. Without moving much from his seated position, he helped me
stand.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
He had a voice like a familiar lullaby. It filled my heart to the brim with
comfort.
I swallowed and tried to stop
gawking. “Phoenix.”
“The bird that rose from the
ashes.” Luka bent his head and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s a pleasure
meeting you.”
My cheeks warmed. My head
reeled, not knowing what to think. I couldn’t understand why I felt drawn to
him. And the strange connection frightened me.
From behind, someone gripped
my arms and yanked me away before I could sort out the feelings Luka inspired
in me. I found myself behind a towering figure yet again. Recognizing the
blue-black silk for hair tied at the nape, relief washed over me. Calixta
hadn’t come back to finish me off.
Demitri’s large hand wrapped
around my wrist. Unlike the night before, no calm existed in his demeanor. He
trembled like a junky in need of a fix. The coiled power in his tense muscles
vibrated into me.
“What are you doing here?”
Demitri asked.
I didn’t know he’d spoken to
me until I saw his expressionless profile. I sighed.
“Phoenix.”
I flinched. The ruthless way
he said my name punched all the air out of me. “You owe me answers,” I said
with as much bravado as I could muster.
“I owe you nothing.” He glared. “In fact, you owe me your life.”
“I don’t think so.”
Ignoring my indignation, he
faced Luka, who’d remained seated on the bench during my exchange with Demitri.
“Why is she with you, Luka?”
“I wasn’t going to taste her,
if that’s what you’re implying,” Luka said. “Although, she is simply delicious. I wouldn’t mind if you left us alone.”
There it was again. Taste.
The word that kept coming up between these Night Students and I was connected
to it in an increasingly uncomfortable way. To taste meant to sample, but what?
My flesh? They had to be joking because the alternative wasn’t funny.
“The sins of the father …”
Demitri left his sentence unfinished.
Luka’s smile shifted into a
snarl. “Obey my command.” His chin lifted. “Kneel.”
Demitri’s stance went rigid.
His grip tightened around my wrist.
Okay, weird just got weirder.
Why would Luka want Demitri to kneel before him? I thought back to Eli and the
others bowing to Demitri when he questioned them, but they didn’t kneel.
Seriously? Were they all living on a different planet or something?
“Kneel.” Luka’s
detestable smirk made his features sinister rather than angelic. The real Lucifer:
a fallen angel.
Without letting go of my
wrist, Demitri knelt down on one knee and bowed his head, his free hand flat at
the center of his chest. “Your command has been obeyed,” he said formally.
Luka nodded once.
Demitri stood up and pulled
me toward the school without telling me where we were going. Not having the
time to thank Luka for saving me from Calixta, I risked a glance back. Luka
smiled at me. His smile spoke of whispers, secrets, and promises to be shared
on a later date.
At Barinkoff
Academy, there's only one rule: no students on campus after curfew. Phoenix
McKay soon finds out why when she is left behind at sunset. A group calling
themselves night students threaten to taste her flesh until she is saved by a
mysterious, alluring boy. With his pale skin, dark eyes, and mesmerizing voice,
Demitri is both irresistible and impenetrable. He warns her to stay away from
his dangerous world of flesh eaters. Unfortunately, the gorgeous and playful
Luka has other plans.
When Phoenix is caught between her physical and her emotional attraction, she
becomes the keeper of a deadly secret that will rock the foundations of an
ancient civilization living beneath Barinkoff Academy. Phoenix doesn’t realize
until it is too late that the closer she gets to both Demitri and Luka the more
she is plunging them all into a centuries old feud.
Author Bio:
When Kate
Evangelista was told she had a knack for writing stories, she did the next best
thing: entered medical school. After realizing she wasn't going to be the next
Doogie Howser, M.D., Kate wandered into the Literature department of her
university and never looked back. Today, she is in possession of a piece of
paper that says to the world she owns a Literature degree. To make matters
worse, she took Master's courses in creative writing. In the end, she realized
to be a writer, none of what she had mattered. What really mattered? Writing.
Plain and simple, honest to God, sitting in front of her computer, writing.
Today, she has four completed Young Adult novels.
When you have wronged someone, it is tough to accept your
actions. To ask for forgiveness means a swallowing of pride and a humbling of
self. It means reflection upon ones inner being.
When you have been wronged, it is even harder to turn the
other cheek and forgive. Hate is an easy emotion to grab ahold to which can
take a person to thoughts unimaginable.
I believe that the first step down the path of healing is forgiviness;
not just of other people but forgiviness of self. But I think that in order to forgive,
you must accept and recognize your true self.
After all the associates, allies, comrades, friends, and
lovers are gone, what is left of the man in the mirror. Do you look at your
reflection and see different people staring back or do you see nothing at all.
Can a person even stand to look at themselves for ten minutes and answer the
questions that naturally arise from human curiosity.
To have a conversation with your inner self and really
listen to what is said in response is vitally important to human wellbeing.
Otherwise, howelse can others listen and heed your advice if the man in the
mirror cannot stand to listen to the reflection of self.
Description: When the evil one’s power was strong enough to touch the world, he left behind a remnant of himself, which eventually evolved into the Ura. The height of the wretched demons can range from five feet to eight feet (which is very rare). The (for lack of a better term call it ‘race’ of) dark, evil creatures’ tale is passed down through children stories, legends, and mythology. The twisted beings were created by the evil one at the dawn of time. Over several millennia, before humans and before even elves walked Threa’s blue and green surface, these demons existed.
In order to survive they drink the blood of humans. They have no weakness to sunlight and can see ten times better than a human during the day and twenty times better than humans at night which is their preferred time to hunt. Some obtain the ability to grow a tail. The longer an Ura lives the longer and more grotesque their horns grow which is seen as a status of power in the Ura community. They can communicate through telepathy as well as through various humanoid spoken languages. Their skin can be hard as diamonds and one of the only ways to kill them is…,
{The remainder of the text is lost to severe fire damage.}
~ Torn from the pages of the Great Demonology Tomb
Close your eyes and imagine yourself on the beach with close friends and loved ones. Standing on the lip of the shore, waves cascading against your feet and retreating. Your mother makes a joke barely on the edge of hearing and your father laughs aloud. You notice your sisters playing in the water and a smile comes across your face despite trying to hide it. You walk over to the towel laying in the warm sand and lay down under the bright mid day sun. The rays of sunshine beaming down upon you like a thousand light bulbs gently pressed against your skin. You close your eyes and revel in this moment of complete and utter happiness. You are at peace.
A wind gently blows across your exposed belly and you sit up. Looking left then right, slowly scanning the area, no one is around; getting up slowly you walk along the beach. The moon is high in the night sky shining bright, sparkling like a million fireflies above a lake. You notice a light tower, and a beam shines in front of you and slowly moves on its predetermined coarse, clockwise then out to see. Walking towards the light house as if the tower was your beckon, your sanctuary; the same way the light guides boats to shore it guides you to a palace where you are the light that everyone turns to when they are lost. Walking slowly, the feeling of soft grains of sands gently caressing your bare feet, sliding between your toes with every step.
Inside the tower it is utterly dark with only the light at the top. Climbing the stairs slowly you here music playing a soft tune in the background, a welcoming sound harmonizing with the waves colliding far out to sea. As you reach the top, candles lit the room in a dim glow leading you along rose petals. As feet and flower petal unite, relaxation overwhelms you in waves shooting vibrations through your spine. The petals disappear behind you but the soft bed in the shape of a heart calls out to you. Lying upon the bed covered in red rose petals. Gently you collide with the mattress, it sinks in under your weight and petals go up all around in a wisp of steam. It holds you close and the tendrils of smoke that permeate the room slowly caress every crevice or your body. You loosen the knot of muscles in your back that you were not aware of and visibly relax. The mist that surrounds you releases moisture and your body glistens in the moonlight. A sparkling sheen covers your naked figure glowing as if you were born of light; a compassionate touch along the small of your back, a kiss from a love long lost brings a shiver of delight.
After reading the ‘Autobiography of Malcolm X’ many of you may think that I have converted to the nation of Islam, or become a ‘Black Muslim’ or have simply just become a black man that hates white people. Let me say now that that is far from the truth. I am a Christian, who still believes in Jesus Christ (who of course was a black man) and I am devout in my faith…, no book could change that except for the Bible.
Although, I must say that the autobiography of brother Malcolm has forever changed my point of view on not only America but on the world.
I will be the first afro-american to say that I honestly do love America. This is the land where I was born, where I grew up, this is all I know…, but at the same time I am fully well aware of the struggle that every child with dark complexioned skin is born with. It does not matter if you are black, brown, red, or yellow; if you are not white then the deck is stacked against you, especially if you reside within the United States of America; the land where the native american’s were destroyed, the land where Asian immigrants where exploited, the land where people with white skin were welcomed openly ‘Give us your sick, your tired, your poor…, blah, blah, blah…, this is the land where dreams come true.
But do not get me wrong; although I respect the brother Malcolm and wish I could have gotten a chance to sit down and meet this strong black man, I am not against white people or for black separatism. I am for the unity of the human race. The bible teaches that we are all brothers and sisters, regardless of race, creed, color or religious belief. So even though a person may be a different religion from myself, that does not mean that people who worship different religions do not have something that they can learn from one another. Just because a person is different from you on the outside, does not mean that you do not share common traits on the inside.
One of my major take-aways from this book was the sad fact that the brother Malcolm was so fully entrenched within the Nation of Islam to the point of being a puppet; after reading about this mans journey through life, from a small town in Michigan to the Big Apple then to prison and lastly rising to the heights of international sensation. There are major forces in this world that are both good and evil. We as human beings need to open our eyes and think critically before it is too late.
It seems like as I get older the more I find myself wondering about the concept of time
The application of time
The How, Who, and the Why of time
I find myself thinking in terms of time being more valuable than any other asset
Evaluating what my time is spent doing
Perhaps it is the evolution of time
That as we evolve as humans, time flows around us
What if time is an illusion?
Would it be safe to say that time is what we make it?
Instead maybe we should focus on doing the most with the time that we are given
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