Eleventh Cycle Novels & Stories

The silver hand on the clock in my mind didn't just stop; it dissolved. The Eleventh Cycle was truly dead. The Twelfth was judging. And the Thirteenth was waiting in the dark.

“Horizontal.” He frowned faintly. “It felt level,” I clarified. “As if we were standing on the same ground.” The elder went very still. “And what did it want?” “Nothing.” “That is not possible.” “I don’t think it wants,” I whispered. “I think it remembers.” Cian studied me for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he bowed his head slightly. “There are records,” he said quietly, “that predate the current doctrine. Fragments. Stories of cycles before the established order.”

"What specific data are you referencing?" "Across all these historical solar cycles, my internal wolf assumed alternative males simply lacked interest in my presence, overlooked my form entirely, only to recently uncover the file that they existed in absolute terror of Lucas and the severe physical beating his hands would deploy if they so much as oriented their vision toward my coordinates the wrong way."