The man stands uncertain before the precipice. He cannot trust, cannot take that leap of faith. It is dark below, black as eternal night, and he is afraid of what lies in those depths. She steps up to him, in the end the only one who truly knows, and takes his hand. His fingers are cold, deadly cold. Grey eyes, blue eyes.
Lowen’s vision, fourteen years after the Enchanter entered that other invisible realm
Caballa, standing in the shadows, wiped at her eyes, and then left as silently as she had entered.
Sabian, arms folded, rested in other shadows, watching, recalling moments when he and Michael laughed together, ate together. He missed his brother.
Lowen too watched, from a different vantage. From where she stood, Torrullin’s face and expressions were exposed to her. She watched the animation there, the release of tension, the genuine smiles and laughter. He was so bright, so very bright.
Tears coursed over cheeks.
There was the man she met in an amphitheatre on Valaris, with snow piling upon the rims. He was so bright then. How she loved him then.
How she loved him still.
I have to admit, I do not generally like people on book covers. I prefer allowing my imagination to paint the characters for me. And yet a part of me is ever searching for the perfect image, the someone who fits with how I ‘see’ my beloved book family.
I haven’t yet found even one 🙂
Still, the following galleries are for the three main characters in Lore of Sanctum. While no image is ‘quite right’, take a bit of each and maybe, just perhaps, you might have an idea of what they look and act like.
THE most important character!
My favourite character!
Teighlar’s hand whipped out and grabbed her neck. He squeezed hard. “Lowen. The truth will kill her.”
“I promise to protect her from them. And I swear she is safe from me.” She did not move under the hurtful grip.
“Not good enough.” He increased the strength of his hold.
“It will have to be,” she gargled. “Let go now.”
He responded by placing his other hand around the back of her neck and applying greater pressure. His eyes challenged.
Into that cavern of magic great shadows unfurled. Mighty wings soared out and only when he had marked their presence did he release her. He smiled, a predator’s grimace.
“Nice to meet you, Lowen Dalrish.” Teighlar stood, stretched, and strode from the chamber.
She swore. The man was too clever by far. She stared at the exit opposite, without seeing it. Once, in the city of Menllik, now destroyed, she told Torrullin of the dark wings inside her. Today she wore them on the outside as well.
Destiny was a bitch.
“My father always said that life hands us a riddle and we have no choice but to take it, and our goal is to ponder that riddle. Some never go beyond the superficial meaning and others go crazy trying to understand, and others realise there is no one answer and we must find the one thing that makes us go forward and live with ourselves.”
The LORE Series 