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This story has gradually unfolded over a long time. Kye, my partner, and I are writing it together. She takes a chapter, and then I do. I do all the formatting and editing, as well as the cover design and blurb. It takes a long time between books because she has her business to run, and I've got a ton of other writing projects to get to.
We had a tremendous amount of fun writing Book Two. We both love the characters and feel this is a strong introduction into the challenges each is facing--together.
Just read it. You'll know what I mean.
Queen Walmar Seburbia is determined to kill six heroes she has foreseen can destroy her. Three are in one universe; three are in another. Her weapon is a powerful Vortex Cannon, and her ammunition is none other than the Muse itself, who goes by the name Zappee. She has weaponized Zappee, filling the Conductor of Dreams with so much energy that Zappee will spawn fatal heart attacks in the heroes once fired at them.
Zappee tries to warn her not to go through with such a dangerous and cruel plan, but the queen isn't listening. She lights the Cannon and fires the Muse into the sky. The Conductor of Dreams splits into two universes, striking six unfortunate chests a moment later.
The rest is just history waiting to be made.
“YOUR HIGHNESS, wait! Please wait! Please!”
Queen Walmar Seburbia hissed, “What is it now? You do as I say, you little bit of static, or I’ll dowse you in the dungeon toilets!”
I waited for her to pull the trigger and send me into the Multiverse, and had readied myself for it, but she yanked me out of the barrel and threw me through the large double doors and across the room. I somersaulted painfully into the wall, where I breathlessly righted myself, staring back at her in terror.
The queen was wearing insulated gloves; with her black gown on, she looked quite ridiculous. The Vortex Cannon, mounted on a wide stone deck and angled skyward, looked like a large, spindly black wasp tail with a large black metal ball at the other end. I glanced down at myself, checking for injuries.
Picture a lightning bolt with “arms” and “legs.” The Luminous Spark of Being and Imagination (BAM) rapidly fired up and down my person. Sometimes the potential between the ground and my head would build and spark, and I’d “flash.” All this was normal. What wasn’t normal was the power inside me: it was far too great—so great, in fact, that if it struck the heroes they would die of cardiac arrest. Which, of course, was exactly what she wanted.
The problem was, I knew that once fired I wouldn’t be able to control that power—or myself, for that matter. I might strike the heroes, yes; or I might be torn to pieces before I ever got to them. Or I might strike completely random individuals. I had warned her of these potential outcomes many times, and repeated them now, hoping she’d finally realize the danger she was putting everyone, including herself, in.
She stood beneath the double doors with her hands on her hips and a hate-filled grimace sucking ever more light from the room. She was a tall, slender woman with a flawless cream-colored countenance and arcing eyebrows. Her dark eyes regarded me with impatient contempt.
“Are you telling me that after all this time and after all my work that you’re basically useless? Is that what you’re telling me? Answer me!”
“Your Majesty,” I begged, “yes. That is what I’m telling you. Please don’t make me do this.”
She strode towards me. It was obvious she was angry enough to destroy me. Whimpering, I scurried around her and back outside to the Cannon. I hopped onto the barrel and pushed myself inside.
She loomed up behind me. “That’s better,” she growled, and slammed the heavy bolt closed. The light from my body illuminated my tight surroundings with a shifting ghostly white glow. I closed my eyes and fervently prayed for my continued existence. There was a good chance the enhanced power in my being would tear me apart once she fired the Cannon, and long before I got to the heroes she wanted destroyed.
I’m not a coward, and so I set my chin and vowed to make it, and, if I could, help the poor souls she was ostensibly aiming me at. I heard her finish the incantation that would send me to them, and I heard her furiously work the crank that would ignite the Cannon.
I fired into the Polarizer at the end of the muzzle with crushing force and split six ways. The universe flew apart; the next second I was barreling towards six different people, three each in two separate realities. I had no idea or not if they were the heroes she wanted to destroy.
It hardly mattered now.
I slammed into six chests.
I slammed into six chests.