"How did you find this place?" Zia asked the King, speaking for the first time since entering the tent. "I've been searching for the location of your Headquarters for months- years, really." Donathan admitted. "We only found it when we got wind that two new recruits would be coming here today. My men tailed them here this morning and sent for me as soon as they were certain of the location." The tent was silent. Finally Arch said thoughtfully, "You say you come to negotiate?" The King nodded. "Very well, then," Arch said, "I will oblige. If I do answer your plea, can I insure that this camp and all those who live in it will remain protected and untouched?" Donathan nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I believe you can." "And," he went on, "can I trust that this place will remain secret to the outside world?" "My men are sworn into secrecy," the King assured him. Arch fell silent once again. This quiet seemed to last longer than all the others. Zia wanted to know what he would say, and His Highness and Jay appeared to be in the same boat. "Very well, then," Arch said, stretching forth his hand for the King to shake. "When shall we sort out the details?" Cover made by the incredibly talented @italychick

They say the world used to turn. They say that night would follow day in an endless dance. They say that dawn rose, dusk fell, and we worshiped both sun and stars. That was a long time ago. The dance has died. The world has fallen still. We float through the heavens, one half always in light, one half always in shadow. Like the moth of our forests, one wing white and the other black, we are torn. My people are the fortunate. We live in daylight, blessed in the warmth of the sun. Yet across the line, the others lurk in eternal night, afraid... and alone in the dark. I was born in the light. I was sent into darkness. This is my story.

A complete fantasy book. Technically ... a weird western. Gunslingers, hex witches, dogmen, minotaur, trains that run further than you can imagine ... Mikeos Jones is a gunslinger, faster than thinking, part of the gunlaw, a man who can seldom afford the luxury of looking past the end of any given day. Jenna Crossard is a hex-witch, but her ambitions are larger than spells and charms - the need to understand the world consumes her. They say the gunlaw keeps men safe from the endless horror of the sect, but to Jenna it's a cage and she wants out. If that means breaking open the world and killing a few gods ... so be it.