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What really happens once in a blue moon? Libby Halstead is about to find out.
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A Pen and Fire - Fiction
Centuries ago, Merlin realized that magic and technology could not co-exist, and so he cast one last great spell, sundering the two worlds. For us, the only reminders of the world that once was is a handful of faery tales and myth.
In our time, Libby is the protector of the stone, and she keeps it and herself locked away. When the stone is stolen, she must find a way to retrieve it before it is used to reunite the worlds.
Fortunately, she has help-Alex, a man with no memory of his past; Zorovin, a dragon who has crossed over from the twilight lands in search of his son; and Sierra, a woman who has forsaken this world and longs for magic. Will they defeat Sabin and his mother, creatures so horrible that knowledge of their existence were removed from the hearts and memories of mankind?
The blue moon is rising like a baleful sapphire eye. Magic will return to the earth for one brief night, flowing like a river while good and evil struggle for the stone. A slag pile will become a castle, dead sisters will come back to life. It is a tale filled with magic and wonder, love and myth.
Excerpt
On the other side of the world - not the other side of the globe, but the other side of existence, a dragon took flight.
He was silver and brown, and seemed to meld with the mist that wreathed the steep, sharp crags. The mountain he circled was one of strange myths, so tall that no man or elf or four footed beast had ever climbed its height, no dwarf had ever dug its depths. Some thought God lived at the peak, some considered it the domicile of husband sun and wife moon, and some believed it a barren wasteland were no life could ever survive.
The dragons know the truth. Only dragons have breath enough and will enough to reach the highest of peaks. And this dragon was testing his breath and strength and will, his magnificent wings with membranes so fine and clear they seemed like a net meant to capture the stars strove hard, cleaving the wind, pushing just a little bit further. He seemed to be tiring, and he, a prince of the north frost dragons, felt the cold like an ache in his bones.
He heaved himself forward, breaking free of the last of the clouds, his scales glittering like frost in the pale moonlight. The peak still seemed so far away, but he continued on, straining, for he had no choice.
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