The next arc of Geadhain’s great saga is officially underway. This week, on Wednesday, for no particular reason and without any celestial alignments of importance: I finally wrote.
Creativity comes from a well, which I’ve found can be exhaustible, though not permanently drained. After finishing Four Feasts till Darkness—a project that went well beyond my scope or imagining—I had to collect my thoughts, my dreams, my visions of Geadhain and her future. I had to allow myself to recharge all of the energy that I’d spent. And now I have, seemingly, and I’ve returned to the craft as prolific as I was before and with a passion for the series that’s stronger than ever. There are themes of hope and despair, and realms of mythic horror and wonder I have yet to explore.
I can’t say much else about the content I’ve written without treading dangerously close to spoiling the ending to FFTD, so I’ll leave you with the opening poem, as is the series’ tradition (caveat: all of this is strictly first draft material and subject to change).
When comes the rain, then storm, then fire
When comes the pain, the screams, the pyres
Hold hands, hold hope
Give ye not into woe
For He will ascend
—from earthen vault
And miracles bestow
Let us praise him
Let us raise him
Our fallen prince, our frozen Lord
The slumbering drakagor of tales olde
Though beware the waking king
For his other brings
with him,
the Forgotten
the scorned
A shadow, twice born
—from beyond the shores of time
This last, most Hungering Lord
Borne of the gibbering void
Whence stars and light and gloom,
Were made
To be consumed
By the Oldest of the Olde
We walk blindly to our doom
Dazzled by the Golden Age
Ignorant
As the Hungering Lord
Looks on
Waiting
— Cant of the Sisters of Celcita
