Archived – In The Foothills of Mt. Empyreal by Connor Titus

April 18, 2014 /

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In the Foothills of Mt. Empyreal by Connor Titus:

 

~ About The End is Now ~

 

The End is Now Cover

Title: In The Foothills of Mt. Empyreal: The End is Now

Author: Crystal Connor, writing as Connor Titus

To Be Published: May 26th, 2014

Word Count: approx. 81,000

Genre: Horror, Dark Fantasy, Apocalyptic

Content Warning: Adult content and violence

Age Recommendation: 17+

 

~ Synopsis ~

 

The Order of The Sentinels.

The Order of The Learned.

The Order of The Writs.

The Order of The Cloth.

Angels.

Demon.

In the foothills of Mt. Empyreal the most powerful forces in the world are drawn into combat.

And the fate of all the world hangs in the balance.

Amazon

 

~ Excerpt ~

 

For hours, she drove in silence, enjoying the beauty of the wintry landscape that seemed somehow amplified in the quiet of a planet without the noise of technology. The rumble of the engine against the backdrop of the stillness lured Khrystle into a state of calmness that she had never before achieved, but when the abomination wrapped its tail around her wrist, she was jerked back to reality by the sounds of her own screaming.

She slid to a screeching stop and jumped from the ATV. After a deep breath, she put the demonic spawn back in the cargo space and picked up her shotgun for comfort.

The reprieve was short-lived.

It was a military plane, a fighter jet, and its silent descent from the sky was nothing short of memorizing. There was an earth-shattering explosion. Moments later, she was blasted off her feet by the hot wind.

Standing, she watched the black smoke climb into the bright sky. How long she stood staring, she couldn’t remember, but after a while, she straddled the vehicle and started the engine.

It had taken her two days to

reach the …

… Devastation.

It took Khrystle a moment to realize that the dissemination before her was the result of the fighter jet slamming into an Amtrak.

The sickly sweet, acrid smell that seared her throat was so strong she could actually taste it. When it donned on her that it was the smell of burning flesh, she fell to her knees and soiled the pristine snow as her body violently emptied the meager contents of her stomach.

At that moment, she couldn’t remember a prayer, so she wept instead.

The dog’s growling was barely heard above the girl’s sobbing, but was loud enough to cease her tears.

Rising from the basin with the black smoke and red-orange flame was a man. She stood as she watched him stumble, fall, and struggle to his feet, only to fall again.

Blood poured from beneath his hair to fall across his swollen face like a cascade. The purple bruising around his right eye had caused it to close; his left eye stared at nothing.

The threads of his charred pants billowed in the winter breeze, exposing muscle and

bone from the rip in flesh above his right knee. Second and third degree burns covered

his skin and a book was clutched within his blistering

How was it, she asked herself, that this man would be able towalk away from a train wreck?

When he was mere feet from Khrystle, he collapsed. She ran to him. Kneeling, she unzipped her duffle bag, but was distracted as she reached in for her medical kit.

It was a feather, a large black feather from a crow. She looked up in time to watch the black bird land on the power line. Before she had the time to look away, another bird landed.

And then another, and yet another.

In just minutes hundreds of crows were assembled judiciously above her.

Their silence was alarming.

She dragged her attention from the birds to the man who lay injured. That simple act caused her vision to blacken along the edges.

Her question was answered when she saw the book he clutched. The storm that surged across her mind was as forceful and devastating as a category five hurricane, leaving

debilitating fear and biting goose bumps in its wake.

… And through the dark, he will come to shield the book.

The embossing on the book was written in Aramaic, but she knew what it said anyway.

This is the Book of the First.

 

~ About Crystal Connor ~

 

Crystal Connor

 

Crystal Y. Connor grew up telling spooky little campfire-style stories at slumber parties. Living on a steady literary diet of Stephen King, Robin Cook, Dean R. Koontz and healthy doses of cinema masterpieces such as The Birds, Friday the 13th, Hellraiser, The Outer Limits and The Twilight Zone it surprises no one that she ended up writing a horror novel! 

Crystal now living in Seattle has been writing poetry and short stories specializing in the Urban Fantasy, Science Fiction, and  Horror since before Jr. high School. The Darkness, her début novel and book I in The Spectrum Trilogy has been selected as a two time Award-Winning Finalist in the 2011International Book Awards in the fiction categories of Cross Genre Fiction and Multicultural Fiction.

Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Twitter | Shared Twitter | GoodReads | Blog | Google+

 

~ About The Guardians of Man ~

 

The Guardians of Man Cover

Title: The Guardians of Man: Black Feathers Fell in the Foothills of Mt. Empyreal

Author: Lori Titus, writing as Connor Titus

To Be Published: May 26th, 2014

Word Count: 68,000

Genre: Horror, Dark Fantasy, Apocalyptic

Content Warning: Adult content and violence

Age Recommendation: 17+

 

~ Synopsis ~

 

In the mountain community of Fate’s Keep, the battle for mankind had begun.

After a geometric storm plunges the world into darkness, destroying electronic communication, light, and power, residents living in the shadow of Mt. Empyreal struggle for survival. Terrified of what is yet to come, they hide in their homes, waiting for the first, overdue snowfall of the year to come.

Along with the snow comes an ancient evil, free after centuries of imprisonment. The birth of a child and the worldwide power outage are only the start of events that have been prophesied.

With time running out, and supernatural enemies surrounding them, will The Guardians of Man be able to save the Earth?

Amazon

 

~ Excerpt ~

 

If he’d not been half asleep, if he’d been thinking clearly, he’d not have answered that knock. Here he was in a strange country, where he knew no one who would visit him at such an unreasonable hour. Surely room service would not have come back at such a time to collect his tray of dinner scraps and half drunken wine.

Upon opening the door, seeing the deeply scarred face of the man that stared back at him, Len realized how wrong he was. By then it was too late.

The door slammed, and the man entered the room. He had long black hair, which fell around his face in soft waves, pretty as a girl’s. Though Len’s eyesight was growing hazy, he saw the man’s face clearly, as if illuminated by some light from within. His teeth were white and perfect, which made the swirling, black lines of his scars that much more horrific. They moved against his flesh like writhing snakes.

Another man followed behind the scarred man. He wore a hooded robe that obscured his face.

“Subdue him,” the hooded man said. The door closed behind him.

The scarred man motioned towards Len and he was sent flying backwards, hitting his head on the opposite wall as he did.

“My name is Jerrod,” the scarred man said. “And you’re going to be very quiet now,” he said, lifting Len to his feet, and holding him pinned against the wall. Len nodded, stricken mute by fear.

The hooded man pulled back the robe, revealing his face. He seemed nothing out of the ordinary; a brown haired man of average height and medium build, with skin that was beige gold enough to be that of a dark Caucasian or a fair Arab, a Latin, or a light skinned African. His mouth and lips were thin, but their shape and width gave no hint of his ancestry.

“I am Emerson,” he said. “And tonight you will hear secrets unknown to human kind.”

Emerson looked ordinary. Similar men were easily found on any street in any corner of the globe, until you looked into his eyes. They were twin obsidian pools, both darker and brighter than anything Len had seen before. Looking into them, Len felt his blood begin to slow like ice drifting through his veins.

Emerson lifted a hand. There was a silent form of communication between Jerrod and Emerson. Len saw it – a look of concern that flashed across Emerson’s face. Jerrod blinked and looked away, holding tighter to Len, who was immobile and only holding the edge of consciousness.

“I’m sorry, son,” Emerson said. “This is going to hurt.”

 

~ Lori Titus ~

 

Created with Nokia Smart Cam

 

Lori Titus is the author of Lazarus (September 2010) and Green Water Lullaby: A Collection of Short Stories (March 2011), and Hailey’s Shadow (June 2011).

Lori is also the Managing Editor of Flashes in the Dark, a website that features flash fiction, serials, and author interviews.

Lori splits her time between blogging, and working on several writing and editing projects.

Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Shared Twitter | Twitter | GoodReads | Blog | Google+

 

~ Book Trailer ~

 

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~ Giveaway ~

 

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Stay You & Happy Reading,

Jaidis

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