Tag Archives: A Silvery Moon

A Silvery Moon 

A short notice, today: my first novel in English is finally available on Amazon. 

It’s called “A Silvery Moon”, and I would be grateful if you follow the link to learn more about it.

Should you do me the honor of buying it, I would appreciate an Amazon review – that helps more than anything else. Of course, sharing the linked page and talking about the book on social media is good, too.

Thank you,

P.S: I originally only planned to launch it as an e-book, but as luck would have it, it’s eligible for print-on-demand. That version should be available starting next week.

A Legend of Three Roses

Danilo was wise beyond his years. He had been one of the youngest in the history of his order to be ordained priest, in no small part due to his learnings during extensive travels across the civilized – and not so civilized – regions of Elessia. His former master, a diplomat, had traveled from the mighty Tower, the northernmost fortress in the known world, to the tropical forests in the lost isles of the south, where warriors with skin dark as midnight worshipped colossal trees.

But his master had not, in truth, been a diplomat. His sacred mission was to hunt the supernatural, monsters left behind from a bygone age where magic had ruled the world, magic which had since vanished, ages ago.

As magic dried up from the world, echoes remained – and thanks to the tutelage of his master, Danilo was one of the few people in the world who knew anything about such echoes, beyond whatever fireside tales were passed among the common-folk to scare their children.

When their travels led master and apprentice to the Holy Kingdom of Lohander, Danilo took great interest in the pantheon of the Sun-God and studied it thoroughly, especially where it intertwined with the kingdom’s imperial family. The women born to the family were fated to be priestesses, and each generation, one of them had the doom of being especially blessed by the Sun-God: she would perform a miracle. This miracle would mark her as the next empress, the one bearing the responsibility of selecting the next emperor, by way of marriage.

This, said the men of Lohan, was proof that their god was the One True God. For who could argue against the existence of such a being, when by his grace, a miracle was performed every generation?

But as far as Danilo was concerned, the implications were far more significant than proof of divinity. To him, such tales proved the existence of magic. The beasts his master hunted were but remnants of a bygone age; such miracles, were he to be able to confirm them, would allow him to stand on firm ground and say that magic was still lurking about the land, not wholly depleted. If a chosen child of the imperial bloodline could wield such powers, then what to say of many other, improbable tales?

One such tale, whispered by all in Lohan – but never within earshot of foreigners – was one concerning the Roses.

The Roses. There were always three of them. Three women, raised in monasteries near each of the Holy Kingdom’s borders – North, West, and South. Trained with utmost discipline until such a time when they were called to succeed their predecessors, taking the mantle of Holy Rose of the North, West or South. Three holy champions of the Sun-God, blessed with his power, the power to merge dream and reality, to open a small window into that which might have been, to transpose a portion of it into that which is.

The people of Lohan, as has been told, were not amenable to discussing such matters with foreigners, and soon, other issues took hold of young Danilo’s attention.

His interest in the legend of the Roses faded, the story archived and forgotten in a dusty corner of the repository of wisdom that he was steadily crafting inside his mind.

Until now.

Photo Credit: chiaralily Flickr via Compfight cc

A Tale From the Forging of The World

Oh once, oh once,
Was this world so young,
And riders in the sky,
Fought the world-dragon’s spawn.
 
They rode winged steeds,
While shielded by golden scales.
And each wielded the magics,
That would determine their fates.
 
One bathed in sunlight,
Reflected on the moon,
To wield blade, bright.
Hers was the power of life.
 
The second clad in midnight,
Frost and death she wielded,
Magic of unparalleled might.
Matter shifting as willed.
 
The man came third, so says the Word.
Wielding neither the magic nor the sacred.
Striking with naught but sword,
Fuelled by boiling blood, so enraged.
 
Three stars fell, all entangled with their prey.
Two stars rose, bearing the world’s weight.
The third was vanished,
His blood-crazy spawn, banished.
 
Naught did his companions find of him,
But for his horned, devilish mask,
Softly singing a maddening hymn.
 
“The Mystery Of The Blood-God,” as translated by Silas Magnus, Scholar and Explorer, “Tales and Songs On The Forging Of The Heavenly Sphere of Elessia, Volume I”


This text is an excerpt from my next book. This is still the first draft; no revisions have been made for spelling, formatting or even basic Q&A.

Painting by Surya Prasetya