The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page, said Saint Augustine. Author Scribe I Am brings his readers to worlds unknown in his book Terrah Damnation. Read the rest of his Xlibris Author Advice on this sequel.
A journey to diverse worlds
The saga shall take the characters through a multitude of exotic locales, such as Terrah, the fortress world of Raptus, the vast Garden of the Forgotten, the alien homeworld of Doraana, the scorching world of Kalhasa, the twilight of planet Nightfall, the Rift of K’tesh, the Hraal Abyss, the ancient Cathedral of Kush, the Foundry of Life, the Khram Tabwuiq itself and many other breathtaking vistas charred and tormented by epic battles and millennial mysteries just waiting in the womb of time.
Yet, it would taste a bitter lie to say that the Terrah Saga revolves solely around humanity. And the words of the great Ahanoss Laa’lan Suq, one of the Galamarr race’s golden constellation of poets from the Epoch of Sin and Shackles describe some of the dilemmas of the mind and flesh prevalent in the saga.
The stellar winds in my ears do breathe
Tales of stars and races gone
Forgotten as they are in myth
And in space, where there are none
Frail and ignorant we are born
In the shadow of a vile age’s peak
Beneath veils of giggling stars
A destiny foretold to blindly seek
But what dreams, noble Scribe
Do you, ancestor to us all
Pen with unfathomed chide
Upon thy children to befall
Visions of wonders present seep
To my eyes soaked with salty tears
But what blood would a pardon reap
For the sins of all my yesteryears
Of wars and horrors fathers wrote
Ships tumbling in flame
A thousand worlds smote
In this wretched, pious game
I fear to dream of these in tears,
Visions of war that of blood do reek
Overwrought, my mind cries – Peace!
But then the Scribe begins to speak
Shattering stone and screaming flames
Enemy lands to bombardment succumbed
And in a mortal voice befit for salves
A generation laid reason on its deathbed
Having seen the past and history withal
On the blood of sons and daughters gone
In one eon of a billion titans’ fall
Raptus burned until the dawn
Its children basked in horror’s pledge
There were none to mourn or weep
For we were on savagery’s steel edge
Our reason lying in a mangled heap
A destiny of truth awaits, they say
Those who look beyond the searing stars
Gravity’s bonds to reverently defy
In search of winged gods on golden cars
Walk the lands in nature’s bosom
Bathe in starlight and love in life
For what awaited in cosmos’ home
Was no god, but bloody strife
We could not see the trick of fate
Through hyperspace’s gilded hue
Seeking fortune and purpose great
Our kind towards the heavens flew
The Scribe’s words rung clear
With the broken logic of a prophecy
Promising fore’er to banish fear
At the bloody cost of heresy
Broken are our dreams of frail peace
And ravenous nightmares of horrid strife
As our scattered children cry for justice
Or the promise of a peaceful life
Atop our kind’s great promise stride
A human offspring lost amidst the stars
To Her being our sacred hopes do bide
Beneath a nation’s quilt of millennial scars
Wonders may turn to horror
And every hope devolve to fear
Dare I ask thee, Scribe, Creator
Why dids’t thou place me here?
Those few so gifted by His pen
May, at last, reach this human ideal
And pierce the sinful skies and stars
To bring this, our kind, to heal
Serving no gods or spirits, angels
On mighty thrusters in woeful exile
Did our kind ring its mournful bells
And embrace survival’s horrid trial
Noble and proud we are, devoted
To loyalty and forewrit sacred sense
Serving naught ethereal, but iron Penned
Mad or just we are in this age and hence
The Scribe wrote to test reason’s plight
And from the butchers’ zealotry
Bid his children to take flight
On the path of Tabwuiq’s destiny
The last galleon stirred as dawn arrived
To mark the edges of a distant world
That home to call we all had strived
And in our hearts to priceless hold
For the children who grew in war to live
Our story tells the Scribe had promised us
That prophecy would make our children leave
And dice of wonders coming cast
Rapt, I behold the Scribe’s eternal mind
Through blood and cold of voids I see
And at once, I taste the essence of our kind
For The Scribe, He spoke to me
Read the first part of this Xlibris Author Advice here.
Get your free writing, editing, and book marketing advice from the Xlibris Blog, Xlibris Writer’s Workshop, and Xlibris Indie Authors Roundup.