Ayleen Torr was destined for greatness among the Knights of the Way until thirteen traitors destroyed it all and murdered her parents.
Having survived by a trick of the Fates, Ayleen hunts the darkest corners of the cosmos for the secret to killing her immortal enemies. The Thirteen know she’s coming for them and place an army in her path to stop her.
Armed with a crystal sword bound to her soul, Ayleen will learn just how far she's willing to compromise herself for revenge and that even in a galaxy where all is lost, there's still plenty left to lose.
"West of Apocalypse is a sci-fi grimdark action adventure that carries you kicking and screaming to the inevitable end. It's like The Dark Tower meets Revenge of the Sith, full of weird worlds, magical swords, and carnage. A fast-paced ride!" --Amanda J. McGee, Author of The Creation Saga
"An action-packed journey through unforgettable worlds" - Gwen Cole award-winning author of Cold Summer
!TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcohol Consumption and Abuse, Buried Alive, Confined Spaces, Death by Fire, Death of a Friend, Death of a Parent, Decapitation, Demons, Dismemberment, Drug Use, Gore, Knife and Sword Violence, Murder, Police Brutality, Possession, Sex, Suicidal Ideations, Terminal Illness
Genre: FICTION / Fantasy / Dark FantasyWest of Apocalypse was released in August 2023 ($17.99 for paperback and $8.99 for ebook). I've sold 128 copies in paperback and 24 copies in ebook.
Part I: The Town
1.
The knight stabbed her dagger into the dirt and watched the way its shadow fell. She’d planted the blade next to a leaf-barren husk of a tree. The dagger had a better chance of growing.
The two shadows didn’t line up right, a little off.
Summed up this world. Ayleen had sensed it the minute she emerged from the dark energy tunnel. Even fifty feet beneath the planet’s surface in the keyhole’s cave, that thin sense of wrong had marched up her legs and pricked at the length of her spine.
One of the Thirteen was here, and her sword whispered sweet promises to her from within its black wooden scabbard, eager to bathe in blood. Its hungry voice had lived in her thoughts ever since her forging ceremony.
She’d never visited Griffin, at least that was the name on the battered, metal sign back in the keyhole chamber. Couldn’t call it a “welcome” sign, because the planet’s name was all it offered in black text on what was once a white field. It hung at an angle. No one felt a desire to hammer out the dings or wipe off the layers of dirt. The only light to read it came from the yellow glow of the “keyhole,” the sphere that allowed entry and exit through an interstellar tunnel from one world to another.
Griffin matched its sign. The land beyond the mouth of the keyhole’s cave wore more cracks than blades of grass. Hot air baked Ayleen beneath her thin, pale green poncho. The frayed garment concealed most of her weather-worn uniform. Her brown, wool hat with its three-inch brim did nothing to shield her retinas from the harsh orange light of the sun, eager to drown in the horizon.
A narrow post fashioned from black steel stood in the direction her dagger’s shadow pointed. She pulled the blade free from the parched land, adding a fresh wrinkle to Griffin’s face.
