Hey , quick check in.

I meant to send this out last week, but had some technical difficulties, so here we go.

Updates:

First, Dawning of Darkness is on Royal Road in its entirety! You can find the link [here], and if you enjoy it, please leave a follow / like and a comment or two, and I'll reply to it directly.

Second, Mr. Nick Russ has been sending quite a few updates over my way for Afterworld's audiobook. This means production on my end is looking more and more likely to take place in early 2026, and we’re looking at a Fall 2026 release if all goes as planned (crosses fingers).

Third, The Dream Herald is progressing well! I'm working on Chapter 12, and honestly, I think it's one of the strongest chapters I've written to date. If you're curious, you can find a bit of its intro at the bottom of this newsletter (keep in mind it's still pre-beta, so things could still change!).

But before that, look at a few books I picked out for your viewing pleasure.

Trail of the Betrayer (Parthenian Legends) — Luna Fox

Dreams of greatness can lead to dangerous choices. For Dermina Minander, they’ve led to betrayal.

Born into a stifling life of rules and expectations alongside her sister, Dermina longs for a chance to prove herself. But when she falls under the influence of a dangerous mentor, her desire for power threatens everything she holds dear.

Now, haunted by her past, Dermina must find a way to move forward, if redemption is even possible.

The Volcan Council — Laurie Bowler

Five ordinary lives. One extraordinary transformation. A world hanging in the balance.

Deep in an ancient mountain range, a mysterious power awakens within Benedict Tourus, transforming him into something beyond human. As four others join him, each sprouting wings and developing supernatural abilities, they discover they're part of an ancient order known as the Volcan Knights. Under the guidance of the enigmatic Victor, they begin to master their newfound powers and uncover the weight of their sacred duty. But as visions of burning cities and shadowy threats plague their minds, the group must confront an impossible choice. Cities will fall, and humanity faces an unseen enemy that only they can defeat. Yet something about Victor's teachings feels wrong. If they choose the wrong path, could they become the very threat they're meant to fight?

The Volcan Council launches an epic Contemporary Fantasy Adventure series that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Combining supernatural transformation, brotherhood, and heart-stopping action, this gripping story delivers an unforgettable journey.

The Monster of Grug — Richie Billing

It wasn't uncommon for people to disappear in the woodland named The Fingers. But when twelve people vanish in a week, questions get asked and answers sought. Gregor has been tasked to find those answers, and his worst fears are coming to the surface. A gripping, fast-paced high fantasy story featuring a truly hideous monster.

And finally... an excerpt from The Dream Herald!

In a rickety old building whose entrance showed no welcome, a dusty neon sign of a woman singing into a microphone, lit by the words “live music,” hung sideways, catching the attention of wandering bugs and patrons alike. Through the inner working’s haze of tobacco and sharp sting of liquor, the silky sound of a saxophone drifted within the small jazz room, spreading through the backwoods joint like a plague—pulling at heart strings and heels of those who’d stumbled in to forget their woes. Some tapped their feet to its melancholy rhythm while others laughed too loudly, the toasting of glasses dulling the sorrow beneath the song.

The heat outside pressed against the shaded windows, and inside, women thick with makeup fanned themselves, the paper fans hiding half their faces. One tipped a beer bottle, releasing a faint sweetness onto the wood table as beads of perspiration rolled down temples and the ice in every glass surrendered to puddles.

“Pocket aces!” a man declared from the center of the room, throwing his cards onto a table of Texas Hold'em.

Two others groaned, sliding their cards over to the discard pile face down in defeat, as an overhead ceiling fan labored above. The fan stirred the smoke and purple light of the jazz bar over a pile of clattering poker chips while keeping the stifling air just shy of unbearable as Mr. Aces collected his winnings.

Near the back corner, another fan, dusty and wobbling above a flickering bulb, pushed at the same heavy air with a weary sigh. At the table beneath it, two men sat quietly. The first wore a cowboy hat bent at the brim, his studded white boots tapping the floorboards in time with the music. The other, dressed in leather riding pants and a plaid pullover, carried the smell of gas and grease on his clothes, setting him apart from the crowd that seemed to belong here far more than he ever could.

“How’s you and that little chillen of yours doing, Waya?” the man in the hat asked, his voice warm but cautious. “Must be somethin’ bad, I reckon, to bring you all the way back down here to the Bayou. Last I saw you in these parts was what… a year after we first met at that ol’ jazz bar in Oklahoma City?”

Waya nodded, swirling whiskey and his melting ice around a glass. “Yeah, something like that. And Ayita’s doing fine, thanks for asking, Sammy. I’m actually here to make sure she continues to be fine. Last time you visited, you mentioned something about a curse or bad luck in your family. You never told me what that meant. How have you been dealing with it?”

Samuel alighted with a thin smile. He struck a match on the table and held the flame against a cigarette he pulled from his shirt pocket. With a puff full of embers, he shook the match’s flame cool, and it drifted smoke before falling still in the ashtray.

“The Devil has a hold on this world, Waya, has for centuries. I think he usually leaves folks alone who mind to themselves, but my family didn’t exactly do that. My estranged pops, a guy you might know by the name of Robert Johnson, made a deal with one of his witches at the crossroads for musical talent. He did pretty well for himself, better than this ol’ jazz man. The problem being that after things started going well, he tried to renege on the deal. That’s the one thing you don’t wanna do. 

“Ol’ Robert still lost his soul, and in the process left me and mine with a bloodline curse. Luckily, Ma practiced Hoodoo, so that’s what I’ve been using over the years to deal with my problem. Not sure if that’ll be enough for you Waya, might not fit your… needs. But in any case, there’s a whole slew of other juices out there if you know where to look—things beyond Devil magic and Louisiana Hoodoo that can help protect your little chillen.”

“And I expect you’d be the one to know where to look, Sammy. You’ve always been a man with his hand in different pies—not counting those of the apple variety. My question is, how much is whatever you know gonna cost me?”

Samuel stopped tapping his foot and took a long drag before answering.

“All depends on what you’re lookin’ for. I’m not gonna charge you for the information. Wouldn’t do that to you, brother. Now if you’re just looking for magic to protect her, keep her off their radar, that probably won’t cost you too much. Ma’s Hoodoo might even be enough for that. But if you’re still lookin’ for a way to challenge Nick, to erase that Compact altogether…”

Thanks for reading and for the patience while I wrestled with the internet gremlins. More info coming soon, and as always, stay posted!

— James G. Robertson