Amos Keppler

Afterglow Rain Amos Keppler

She has died a million times...

Someone or something is stalking her.



Stalking her from one world to the next, from day to night, from night to day. Wherever she walks it is there. Turn one way and it is ahead. Turn another and there it is. In branches moving in the wind. In old houses where every step on the dusty floor brings a creak from the wood.

Afterglow is haunted and hunted, no matter where she goes.



Janet Kathryn Caldwell is traveling the nine realms, all the nine realms and even beyond, in search of meaning, of anything tangible that might make her life make sense. What she finds is more mystery, more dark corners waiting for her. One revelation opens up nine more closed boxes slapping her in the face, grinning to her like banshees in the night, in the mists and twilights of the world. The nine lands in the nine realms are different, they are the same. Afterglow brushes them like the wind, and sometimes like the storm, making a brief stop, before moving on, leaving ruins in its wake.

The Storm is coming. She knows this, beyond knowing, beyond certainty. Dark blades are cutting air, cutting flesh. An army of them is awaiting Afterglow, and she finds revelations, horrors and terrors aplenty, out there, on her way to nowhere. She does not know where she is going, only that she is going there, no matter what it takes, no matter where it may take her.

Lightning strikes deep below the ground in Afterglow's path.