I spent this weekend writing and editing. I'm still working through the opening of Dolorosa and attempting to achieve the overall mood of the piece. Meanwhile, I polished an opening scene in the Garden's sequel, In Midnight's Silence. Just a snippet for today:
The voices of the Nephilim who died in the Garden murmur songs of sorrow in my dreams. I try to sing with them, but I can no longer recall the lyrics. I have forgotten my own song, and a Nephil without a song is but a ghost.
Or so said Ashmedai the Daimon King.
I do not remember my first-born life as Asaph; although Guillermo insists that my power was once almost as great as his. He swears that we both possessed the ability to prophecy through our dreams. He says that in the days of our first-born lives, we would compare our dreams to better understand the meanings.
I don’t doubt him; perhaps in my first-born life I dreamed and prophesied with him. I also trusted him as my friend and my king. In my first-born life, I swore my undying fealty to him. I did as he commanded, even when it meant my death.
Those oaths died with Asaph.
Now I am Diago.
I have no song, only whispers that follow me in the rain.