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About The Bloodstained Shade:
In the third book of the Aven Cycle, a trio of sisters and an ambitious senator use charm, wit, and magic to protect their city from ruin.
Latona of the Vitelliae, mage of Spirit and Fire, lies still as death. Her fate rests in the hands of her allies, who must redeem her soul from the churning void where Corinna, leader of a banished Discordian cult, has trapped it.
Protected by a cabal of corrupt priests and politicians, Corinna plans her most daring assault yet: a ritual striking at the ancient heart of Aven, with the power to swallow the city in a maw of chaos and strife. Her success would be Aven's doom, and the greatest violence would fall upon the most vulnerable.
Before Sempronius Tarren can join Aven's defense-and his beloved Latona-at home, he must end the war abroad, outwitting the blood-soaked machinations of his Iberian opponents. His own magical talents remain hidden, but dire circumstances tempt him to succumb to ambition and use forbidden tactics to hasten the way to victory.
To defeat Corinna, Aven's devoted protectors will need to perform extraordinary magic, rally support from unexpected quarters, and face the shadows on their own souls.
Excerpt:
Corinna bowed her head respectfully as she entered the Temple of Janus. The priests knew her face, and she wore the black-bordered tunic and mantle of a mage. In the public eye, she was a humble devotee, pledged to Fortuna and Janus. Some few might have heard more of her story, one they would deem sad. A tragedy. A broken bird.
They had no idea.
Corinna had broken herself, not been broken. She self-shattered, over and over, taking power from every rip and tear and crack in her soul. The priests of Janus, they liked their orderly divides, their doorways, their gates. Either open or closed, so simple. Either forward or back, so clear. They forgot or else they willfully ignored the true potency of Fracture, bestowed in the full-flood-blessings of its strongest and truest patron deity: not Janus or Fortuna, but the Lady Discordia.
No temples to her, not here, and no priests. No worshipers known to the world. Her cult had been banished more than once in Aven’s history, most recently by Dictator Ocella. ‘She may not be welcome, but there is no keeping her out.’
Aven sought control, regulation, order, forgetting that its past and its future were written in the jagged lines of chaos.
Corinna carried a basket full of offerings, though she kept a cloth tucked over her goods. The priests of Janus would not understand. Fruits of the harvest, they expected, bright and colorful and fresh. The first citrons, the last grapes, soft persimmons and sweet pears, and—most blessed of all—the jewels of pomegranates.
What Corinna offered cost her more than any peasant’s toil or patrician’s coin. Blighted stalks of wheat and blistered fruits, white and powdery and crisping. This, the harvest of her soul, the proof of her efforts on Discordia’s behalf.
The air went from crisp to cold as she descended beneath the temple, surrounded by stones which had not seen the sunlight since they had been laid. Had anyone thought to harness the power when they were cut from whatever mountain quarry gave them birth?
Likely not. Corinna sometimes felt no one but she saw the glorious potential in every day. Everything in the world broke, eventually; everything decayed and went to the realm of Shadow, but first it must dissolve in some fashion: splitting apart or sloughing off or with a grand sudden snap. So much power, for those willing to grasp it.
She reached out, shifting the weight of her basket to one hip and trailing her fingers over the stones and mortar. Her skin snagged, so gently, on the bumpy surface. Corinna relished the tug of rough stone against her softness, a reminder. ‘You can build from broken things, yes, but they will always still be broken. Temples, mosaics, entire cities. They are made of jagged pieces, and even if you smooth them down, they know what they are, in their depths, and that they will never be the same again. A thing once shattered cannot be made whole.’
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About Cass Morris:
Cass Morris is a writer and research editor living in central Virginia. Her debut series, The Aven Cycle, is Roman-flavored historical fantasy. She is also one-third of the team behind the Hugo Award Finalist podcast Worldbuilding for Masochists. She currently holds the position of Research Editor and Worldbuilding Specialist at Plato Learning, a company which runs mythology-themed summer camps and other educational programming. Cass provides dramaturgical research and developmental editing for the camps' immersive, interactive theatrical experiences. Previously, she worked as Academic Resources Manager at the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, VA. She holds a Master of Letters in Shakespeare studies from Mary Baldwin University and a BA in English and History from the College of William and Mary. She reads voraciously, wears corsets voluntarily, and will beat you at Mario Kart.
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