Volume Two: White Fire ~ Coming in 2016
Volume Three: White Stars ~ Coming in 2017
Sometimes he would imagine a girl sitting with him by the fire, walking beside him on his way to and from the station, or standing next to him when all the other young people were together, laughing. He couldn’t see her clearly in his mind; she had to be unlike anyone else. But he knew her face was soft and round, like the face of a little girl he’d played with often and seen die from the Fever when he was eight. And he knew her eyes were a bright sky blue. But her hair—her hair was black, like his own. It had to be, or she wouldn’t be with him. Yet, just as it was difficult to picture his blood mother, it was hard to put together in one image what he knew she must be like—this girl who would actually choose him. Mostly he imagined her presence, and she was like a faint shadow cast only when the light of his secret wish shone through the clouds for a brief moment.
The Heart of Elebfar
Rhauw saw now that the rope had already been slightly frayed, but in his unsteady, awkward efforts, Bolnar was missing the spot more often than hitting it. Just when it looked like he might be weakening the rope, Bolnar’s hand slipped on the shaft of the ax and it fell through his fingers.
It dropped, and kept falling. Rhauw watched and listened in horror, as the ax seemed to fall in slow motion, disappearing into the blue canyon below them, and sending back the sound of a splash some seconds later. The crevasse was much deeper than Rhauw had thought; because it angled slightly, the bottom, where the water they could hear had to be flowing, was not visible.
But the way the ax had fallen and the echoing sound it had made gave the impression that the crevasse was bottomless. To Rhauw’s amazement he felt suddenly dizzy. Growing up as he had, climbing immense rocks and cliff walls ever since he could recall, Rhauw had never feared heights. The feeling that flashed through him now was alien to him; vertigo was not a part of his experience until that moment. But there was something about this world of ice–this deathly cold, eerie, shining blue cavern–that did not seem any part of the world of height and space that he knew, full of sunlight and moving air.
How to Steal a Demigod (Editing third draft)
Crea shuddered, and tried not to imagine the Chala chained in a dark hole in the depths of the terrible fortress in front of them. She had seen His Holiness the Chala Kiva just once, several years ago, when she had watched a big parade during the Festival of Dertes. Climbing to a lofty perch on a rooftop few others could have reached, she had had a splendid, unobstructed view. At the end of the parade came the Chala himself in his great ebony chair, carried on the shoulders of a dozen brawny Palace guards. The brocade curtains had been drawn back far enough for her to catch a glimpse of the small figure inside: a dark-haired boy with a white face and solemn eyes, swathed in blue and silver satin. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a real person, a real child—whatever else he was said to be.