Libros publicados

Night of the werewolf

The city was a symphony of artificiality, a jarring, neon-lit landscape that should have been the ultimate sanctuary. Arlo stood on the balcony of his eleventh-floor apartment, the hum of the traffic below a constant, droning companion. It had been six months since the Black Ridge, six months since they had walked out of the clinic in Oakhaven and left the silence behind.

The female lawyer

The morning mist over the Atlantic was a soft, impenetrable curtain of grey, blurring the line between the sky and the sea. Elena stood on the balcony of her small cottage—a real cottage, with weathered shingles and a garden that smelled of salt and rosemary. It was miles away from Blackwood Cove, and even further from the glass towers of the city.

The castle in a far away land

The mountain air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and the distant, melodic chime of the castle bells. It had been many years since the day Elias and Sienna had first crossed the threshold of Castle Valerius, and the world below had changed in ways they could only observe from their high, gilded perch. Empires had fallen, new cities had risen from the soot of the old, and the very maps Elias had once studied were now relics of a forgotten age.