#aetherwar-chronicles

Vol. I: Hammer and Anvil Detroit, MI 2076 CE By Christopher Mitchell I. IGNITION Scott Ferriman awoke at his desk, bolting upright and guarding his neck. In his dream–or nightmare, really–long, slender claws had reached forward to tear into his throat. He remembered the howls of feral nightmares shift into cries of glee. They were joined by the rumbling of many legs, and Scott had been…

The Nine Shadows: Chapter Ten For Those We Love By Christoper Mitchell Type your email… Subscribe Ten Marcus’ breathing was deep, though unlabored. He looked as if he were resting peacefully, the images of Adrianople no longer clawing at his dreams. Peck placed his hand on Marcus’ forehead, not knowing what else to do. He had memories of his mother, so long ago, doing something similar to…

The Nine Shadows: Chapter Five The Maraughin Comes By Christopher Mitchell Five He slumbers, dear Tiberius. Tiberius dropped his sword, falling to Marcus’ side and shaking him. “Marcus! MARCUS!” Tiberius withdrew his dagger, holding it out to stave off the voice that cut into his mind like whispering knives. “Who are you?” He heard cackling in the air around him, of many voices clamoring…

By Christopher Mitchell Four Marcus worried. It was his nature to protect those around him; he’d been that way since he was a boy. He worried now, watching Peck toss stones as they walked northward, the boy keeping his mind occupied as the drudgery of marching dug itself into the marrow of his mind. Marcus couldn’t help but smile as he reminisced about his own boredom on campaign. “I remember…

By Christopher Mitchell HAKADOTE, JAPAN: 1873 ADE Chapter One Michael Mazure stood on the bow of the narrow clipper, relishing the sensation of ocean spray misting his face. He held his hand up, and the wind whipped playfully through his calloused fingers, danced and billowed through his clothes, filling the sails above him, delivering them at speed toward the harbors of Japan. He closed his…

The boy slept soundly beside the horses. He’d refused to stay by the fire for reasons he would not speak of. Tiberius didn’t blame him. He knew the shifting eyes and hunched posture of a whipped dog when he saw them. Marcus was the first to speak. “He can have half my rations.” Tiberius rubbed tired eyes. “We’ve been over this, Marcus; we cannot bring him.” “He’s coming, Tiberius; otherwise,…