THE LOST CODEX (The Collectors’ Society, #4) is LIVE!
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Allies, once inseparable, splinter until they break apart.
An insidiousness carves its way through Wonderland, challenging the land’s very existence.
Battle lines will be drawn as pages, long languishing in darkness, are finally illuminated.
Swords will clash, blood will be spilled, and lives will be lost.
For what is written can still be erased.
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EXCERPT
THE LOST CODEX EXCERPT #1
My window is opened, tiny as it may be, and I do not waste it. I dart forward, the vorpal blade firm in my hand as I mentally count down seconds. The beast releases a mournful gurgle of frustration, its elongated whiskers and scaly jowls limply sagging around massive teeth. When I skid to a stop, the tips of my leather boots collide with its tail.
My window is opened, tiny as it may be, and I do not waste it. I dart forward, the vorpal blade firm in my hand as I mentally count down seconds. The beast releases a mournful gurgle of frustration, its elongated whiskers and scaly jowls limply sagging around massive teeth. When I skid to a stop, the tips of my leather boots collide with its tail.
Another gurgle sounds, one ripe with helpless fury.
A satchel is thrown to the ground before I pry thick scales off with the end of my blade. “My apologies.” I gasp as I wrench off bits of its tough hide. “I promise, I’ll depart momentarily.”
Its body shudders, as if allowed, it would quake with indignation. Once I reach the count of ten, I shove my treasure into the satchel and sprint out of the jabberwocky’s lair.
Seven.
The earth beneath my feet rumbles.
Six.
Jubjub birds explode from the trees at the sheer intensity of the beast’s wrath.
Five.
Rumbling turns to assured quaking.
Four. Three.
I barrel over broken branches and bushes, my hair snagging upon greedy twigs.
Two.
I shift my sword, lifting up a free arm.
One.
Jace grabs hold, lifting me up to settle between his chest and his stallion’s withers. I take hold of the reigns, laughter burbling from the both of us as we gallop through the remaining thicket. Bursting into the Dark Meadows, sunlight warms my face. My smile is so wide, my cheeks hurt. My lungs sting, the breath from them comes in exhilarated bursts.
The Caterpillar often accuses me of enjoying life on the edge of my blade. His point holds validity, because goodness, do I feel alive right now.
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