Through war, flames, dragons, and utter hell. This is my tale. This is my legacy. I invite you to peer into my past to learn of my pain, my legend, and my triumph. Join me if you are willing to hear the stories of an old man's youth.
Abby is a normal, young woman in her late-twenties. She has a wonderful husband, a beautiful home and a normal life except for one thing. The dreams that are taking over her life. Her dreams of a woman named Laylan and the beautiful, exotic world in which she lives. As Abby shares the details of her dreams with her husband, Josh, they become more frequent and more extreme. And then one day tragedy strikes and her whole world is turned upside down and she begins to see visions of another woman. A woman named Drusilla. As her dreams of Laylan become even more redundant and her visions of Drusilla become painfully realistic, she begins to wonder. Are these women indeed just characters from her imagination? Or do they actually exist? Are these dreams and visions? Or are they memories of these incredibly different women’s lives? And if so, why is Abby seeing them? Could there possibly be more than she realizes?
❝Jack be Nimble, Jack be Quick, Jack be Felled. Upon The Candlestick.❞ He was supposed to have saved the world. He failed, drowned, betrayed by the very beings who summoned him. Given another chance by the Gods in another world, He finds himself in the renewed arms of the Pagan Saint, Jeanne D'arc. Her hair was black with split ends, cut short by a dull blade. Her eyes were hollowed emeralds, fit for a Saint, glossy with tears. Her skin distinctively tan, like that of a farmers, and dirtied by soil. Her form petite, her face commonly pretty, dressed in uniform.