PREVIEW

... red castle that held half of the structure was now a raging pile of dust and ash. Morpheus, the shaper of dreams and reality – held his palm open. Like the exuberant force from Igna, his strength, the dust, rivaled a faceless monster – the shadows.

‘I don’t feel anger,’ the imprisonment gradually shattered, ‘-I don’t feel hate,’ he watched as the tornadoesque aura further unleashed, ‘-I feel neutral, I’m neutral. I saw Persephone’s death, I witnessed Syhton’s last act. How foolish the mo ...

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