’Twas the night before book launch, when all through Amblem,
Not a creature was stirring—not even a sandworm.
Which is weird.
Those things are always doing something.
The edits were edited. The pages were done.
We’d somehow survived this. Every single one.
The Resistance was nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of overthrowing tyrants danced in their heads.
And Lux at her computer, water in hand,
Had finally decided, Okay. This is planned.
She shut down her laptop. She turned off the light.
She was going to sleep.
For once.
At night.
When out in Amblem there arose such a clatter,
She grabbed pen and paper to see what was the matter.
Now, normally, this is where St. Michael appears.
Wings. Light. Celestial nonsense.
Very dramatic.
Unfortunately, this is Amblem.
And Boon was outside.
Just—
prowling.
Like a leopard with absolutely no direction
and apparently no adult supervision.
“Is somebody going to do something about him?”
No.
Of course not.
And with the book launching, there was no way to tame the beast.
Believe me.
People have tried.
So Lux considered her options.
She could fight him.
She could reason with him.
Or—
And this is where I think she made the correct decision—
she could make him everybody else’s problem.
So she opened the Tome
and released him upon the literary world.
Which feels irresponsible.
But whatever.
It’s too late now.
So as we near the dreaded end, be warned:
This story is not for everyone.
There are demons. There are angels. There are vampyrs.
There are several people who desperately need therapy
and, somehow, I am not the biggest problem here.
Hold on tight.
The Tome opens October 6.
And I heard Boon exclaim, ere he stalked out of sight—
“Happy book launch to all.”
…
That’s it.
He didn’t say good night.
He’s still out there.
