Friday, May 1, 2015

Holding Sand in my Palm

Closer, closer, drawing ever closer.

I have in my hands a proof copy of Sand into Glass. It's a mess because my PDF conversion decided to take a block of about 50 pages and change the formatting so the first character of each paragraph was a different font. I've fixed that error and now I'm reading through to make sure all other errors are corrected. Once that is done, I'll try again with the PDF upload and hopefully I can do that one little thing I've been waiting three years to do -- hit the "publish" button.

I am going to die here. The rage in my soul has finally defeated my mind and now I'm on trial for a crime I'm not certain I committed. Atalor is a festering pit of a city and it has declared me its most reprehensible victim.

My name is Arden Masiona. Yes, those Masionas, the perpetually magical family headed by the immortal Time Child, Bethel Masiona. I am mundane, however. I'm the only non-mage in a family of extraordinary people and they've never let me forget it. No... I can't acknowledge my heritage anymore. I am no longer part of my own family. Rage has rendered me an exile.

Time wants to claim me, but I am not hers to claim. I am an apprentice of the Desert, a child of eternity, a prisoner of my own soul. I am the Glassmaker, and Atalor is where my story ends.

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