Trapped Reality: A Gamelit Adventure (Corrupted Stream Saga Book 1)

When is a game still a game? When does it become more than that? When does it become reality?

For live streamer Axel Becker, he thought he understood the answer to that question when started making his money through playing video games. When terrorists took over and entrapped a million players in a shooter mmorpg, his answer changed.

The hit game, Escape from Valhalla, uses a next generation VR system which inserts a player’s consciousness into the game world. This system is corrupted and a death in the game world means a true death IRL.

Can Axel survive the game? Can he find out why they kidnapped all the gamers?

If you love gamelit novels such as Ready Player One where action, adventure, guns, and explosives are the norm, then you will love Trapped Reality. Book One of the Corrupted Stream Saga by Nathan Pedde.

Chapter One Preview

Axel Becker ran down the street. He was late again for his XFlux live stream. Over an hour late this time and he would never hear about it for the remainder of the stream. His viewers knew him for his handle: Breaker.

Rain plunged from the Seattle sky, pelting his clothes. In his rush he forgot to zip his rain jacket. His shoes splashed through the deep puddles. He was tall, over six feet tall, while he was scrawny in regard to his weight.

The tall buildings of the downtown core stretched up into the gray, murky sludge of a rain cloud. The torrent of water cascaded down into the street, washing away weeks of built-up filth.

A drunk, homeless man stumbled along the sidewalk, not paying attention to where he was going. One moment he was alongside the building, and the next, he was in front of him.

“Got any change today?” the man asked.

Breaker dodged around the homeless man, not wanting the delay.

“Not today,” Breaker said, stopping and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill from his jacket pocket. “Shit. Take this, get someplace dry.”

“Thank you. Wait. This is higher than you normally give me?”

“Then, I guess I won’t donate tomorrow.” Breaker handed the man the money.

“Asshole,” the Drunkard snarled but took the money.

Breaker ignored the man, leaving without giving him a response.

Half a block later, he ran up the steps of an older apartment building. The aged red bricks were chipped and damaged from years of misuse and neglect.

He sprinted through the lobby and up the staircase, neglecting to take the ancient rattling elevator. At the top of the stairs, he paused in the hallway and took a deep breath. Winded from his run, he calmed his breathing.

“Showtime,” Breaker said.

A moment later, he opened the door to his small two-bedroom apartment.

“And here he is,” his girlfriend’s voice said with a bubbly tone, “The man of the hour. Breaker himself.”

Diannah Demary stood in front of the door dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a crop top. Her long brown hair hung loose to her shoulders, covering her supple figure. She held a small camera attached to a selfie stick with the camera pointed at him. Diannah his fellow XFlux streamer partner, and for this stream, the host of the show. She used his gaming name as he kept his personal name private for obvious reasons.

“Shit, Fixer,” Breaker said, using her gaming tag, “am I that late?”

“Started the stream five minutes ago.”

Breaker shook his head, then stared into the camera lens. “Well, ladies and gents, I apologize for my tardiness. That’s what happens when you live in a busy city. I’ll blame traffic.”

He paused while he threw off his shoes and jacket into a closet.

“Traffic,” Diannah said. “Don’t you always blame traffic?”

“Usually only in racing games.”

Breaker walked past Diannah and into the small kitchen.

“Water bottles in the office,” Diannah said. “You’re ready to go. And once I get back to the chat, I’m sure the viewers are ready to see the new game.”

Breaker turned to face Diannah and the camera. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I did not,” Diannah said. “Though I suspect most of them have guessed the game as it goes live in thirty minutes.”

He grinned. “Today is a special stream. Special for one very good reason. The flagship game of the Verse is being released. You’ve seen me use the technology on my Thursday streams. But today is the day, Escape from Valhalla is going to be dropped. We’ll be playing it for eight hours.”

“Shall we get started?”

Breaker walked from the kitchen out into his small living room, which looked immaculate. Diannah had the habit of following him with the camera, so he kept his apartment clean.

He entered the small gaming room to the side of the living room. It was large enough for a couple desks with top-end computers, but today they only used one. Both machines shared a single T-shaped office with multiple cameras on the positions of the different players. Both systems also had a dual monitor set up, vital for streaming.

Bolted to the wall was a LED counter Breaker used it to keep an accurate viewer count as they streamed. Breaker glanced up at it, and it said, “11,545.”

That’s a new record, Breaker thought. My average daily viewership is around two thousand.

A small couch was the newest arrival in the space. In a typical game, they wouldn’t need the sofa. However, using the Verse Technology was different.

Breaker sat down on the fluffy cushion. A single tripod with another small camera stood beside him, the camera was aimed where his head would be.

Diannah sat on her computer chair, aiming the camera at him, giving a thumbs up.

“For those just tuning in,” he began, “my name is Breaker, and I’m about to log into EFV. What’s the time?”

“Ten minutes till launch.”

“Perfect. I think I’ve time to answer a question or two before I go in?”

Diannah turned in her chair, facing the monitor. The camera on a selfie stick drifted to the side due to her split attention. Breaker crossed his eyes and leaned in to be seen in the camera.

“I have a Felix-the-Dirk who asks, what do you think about the Verse? Is it worth the five hundred dollars?” Diannah read, then looked at the second monitor and Breaker’s funny face in the camera angle,

“Sorry.” Diannah aimed the camera at Breaker once more.

“So far,” Breaker said. “I’ve used it for two months now. At first, it had bugs and issues, like accessing certain controls would make the player glitch. Especially the security concern. However, now it’s well worth the money. They’ve patched it, and with the release of the update 1.15 for the Verse to go along with EFV, it’s only going to get better. If you have the money to drop on Verse, do it.”

Breaker looked past the camera at Diannah.

“We don’t have much time for any more questions,” she said. “But the common one from new viewers is, what is the Verse and EFV?”

He nodded, then turned back to the camera.

“For those who don’t know. The Verse or EFV is,” Breaker grinned, his white teeth glinted in the lights. “Where have you been? Living under a rock?”


“Yes, Fixer?”

“Stop patronizing the audience.”

“Yes, Fixer. As I was saying, the Verse is the newest form of Virtual Reality. Before, I would wear a headset and must wave my arms around like a fool. This technology takes my mind into the game. It allows me to sit in comfort as my mind plays the game. The Verse is the top-selling VR Headset.”

“Speaking of headsets,” Diannah said. “Two minutes.”

Breaker leaned forward in his seat. “Now EFV is Escape from Valhalla using the Verse VR system.”

He grabbed the helmet shaped headset and put it on. A single cable that ran from the left side to the computer. A visor was fixed over his eyes, but it wasn’t for seeing anything game related.

“You’re activated,” Diannah said.

He laid down on the couch and pressed a button on the side of his helmet. One moment he was in the room, and the next, he was in a sea of pure whiteness: the loading window to the Verse.

After five years of being an XFlux streamer, his instincts told him to fill the dead air while things loaded. It was time to read the chat and answer questions. Or to play music. He knew better to talk now, the system had taken control, and if he spoke, his lips wouldn’t move. Diannah wouldn’t hear his voice until after the system loaded.

In the distance, a faint light appeared brighter than the white area around Breaker. The light raced toward him, like a freight train barreling down a tunnel. The first time he experienced it, he got scared. The primitive part of his brain cautioning him it was something big, dangerous and could kill him. Breaker trained himself to realize it was a video game, and he was safe.

The lights changed from a bright white to softer pastel colors expanding around him, filling Breaker’s vision with the reds and yellows, greens, and blues. A moment later, the colors were gone, replaced by the Escape from Valhalla game title. The background was different scenes and situations of the game. Flashes of scenic landscapes of destroyed cities were spread across his vision.

To Breaker, it felt like he was in the images, yet they were far away. In amongst the images was a big and bold timer in the center of his view with a blaring red forty-five seconds on the clock.

“Breaker,” Diannah said from outside the game.” Can you hear me now?”

“Loud and clear,” Breaker confirmed.

“The first-person camera view is up. Third is still blank.”

“That’s cause I’ve no avatar yet, just wait till the counter hits zero.” Breaker turned his attention back to the counter; the time ticked to eleven seconds.

“Ten… nine…” Diannah counted.

“Eight… seven… six…” Breaker counted at the same time.

“Five… four…”

“Three… two… one…”

The images before him blurred, then shot by him as if he was flying past at warp speed.


More images of the game flashed by Breaker. Scenes of monsters attacking, and players fighting with different types of weapons ranging from primitive, to modern, to alien. A moment later, the main screen popped up. Letters flew by his head, bright red with speed and smoke. They slammed into the scene in front of him, cracking the images like rocks on a car window. One after another, the different letters went by until the words were complete. Written in large letters, Escape from Valhalla spread across his vision. Everywhere he turned his head, the letters moved with him.

“Are you seeing this?” Breaker said. “Please tell me you are.”

“I am,” Diannah replied. “I don’t think the full scale of it has taken hold.”

“Me neither. “Are you talking to the audience?”

“Yes, boss. No dead air here.”

Breaker turned around and his jaw dropped. “Good, because I don’t hear your banter.”

“EFV denied my external talk chat function. I have to use the third-party program to talk to you.”

“Support ticket?”

“Yes,” Diannah said, frustration in her voice, which quickly changed to a poorly done Scottish accent. “I’m a doctor, not a computer expert.”

“You’re not a doctor. Yet—”

“I’ve got a hundred-dollar donation and a question.”

“Spill it.”

“Starwarrior1899 asks, even though you aren’t in the game yet, is this game any good?”

“This is the main menu,” Breaker answered, “However. It’s better than Zombie Killer Elite and the Battle of the Nine Armies. I’ll reassess when I’m done today’s session, detailing a full report of my experience and thoughts.”


“I’m going to get started with character creation, go ahead and tell them about the draw.”

Breaker raised his left hand and saw he didn’t have one. He could feel his hand. His brain told him he had a hand, and he had just raised it up. He pointed his first two fingers out in front of him and swiped.

A menu of the standard game options appeared with the motion. He clicked on “New Game.” The images around him flashed, disappearing once more. This time surrounding him was pure, claustrophobic darkness.

This is just a game and only the opening cut scene, Breaker reminded himself.

In front of him, a large eight-by-six-foot screen appeared, not attached to his field of vision. On the screen was a series of images. A spring day with blooming flowers and cherry trees. People walking down a park path with a dog and stroller in tow. The congested city streets, full of people heading every which way, cars honking with the revving of engines.

“In the year 2035,” a womanly narrating voice began with a sweet and kind tone like a mother talking to a child, “The world was at peace. Wars were few and far between. Human beings experienced the widest range of freedom humanity had ever seen.”

The woman paused as the entire screen filled with flashing images, floating away from him. A new screen appeared, filled with pictures of alien spaceships, armed to the teeth with advanced weapons. A scene of battle emerged, encompassing all around him. Sounds of battle, bullets ricocheting, bombs exploding from all corners, even though they were only on the screen.

“In March of that year,” the narrator continued, “the aliens of Valhalla invaded and conquered humanity. The battle was swift and fatal, like stepping on ants under a boot.”

The scene swept away as quickly as it had come, bringing forth humans in orange jumpsuits and chains. All of them were being taken to a massive alien building. The purple humanoid aliens walked behind many of them, small red weapons in their hands.

“Humans didn’t face extinction,” the narrator said, “they were rounded up and used as slaves. After twenty-five years, the descendants of those captured were let loose upon the world. For what ends, only the Valhallians know, and they weren’t talking. Yet. Welcome young human, to Escape from Valhalla.”

The screens in front of him faded into a blurry mess, then refocused. Except, he was now dressed in an orange jumpsuit. He stood in front of a mirror in a spartan metal room.

The games, User Interface or UI was simple. A small digital clock sat in the upper right corner of his vision. No time was on it. However, that would change. On the top left was a small heart rate monitor, which Breaker guessed it was all the health monitor he would get.

“Fixer,” Breaker called, “Do you read still?”

“Of course,” Diannah said. “Chat is going nuts, and I can’t keep up with commentary and donations.”

“Do a poll, do they want me to go through character creation or use the preset I bought.”

“I haven’t shown off the preset system yet. And for another thing, this is really weird considering you’re lying on a couch next to me.”

“Has chat been asking you to fondle my body?”


“Resist,” Breaker said, trying not to laugh. “Think about the community guidelines.”

“Of course, I’ve banned a dozen people so far excessively asking for that. By the way, we’re at thirty-five thousand viewers.”

Breaker’s jaw dropped. “The poll?”

“Is up. It’s called multi-tasking.”


“Give me a minute,” Diannah said, her voice even.

Breaker stepped up to the mirror. No image appeared in the glass. Breaker touched a small circle on the right side. Text appeared on the window, “Would you like a random avatar, one generated based on your real-world feature, or a preset.”

“Are you not wanting the poll?” Diannah said.

“I’m playing with buttons,” Breaker said. “Results?”

“Survey says. Eighty percent against using character creator.”

Breaker clicked the button labeled, “Preset.” The buttons disappeared. The image of his avatar appeared. He was taller than he was in real life, his face was chiseled and roughed up with a scar through his eyebrows. He sported a bright red colored mohawk. Breaker looked at his body, the large gut stuck out. Breaker grimaced.

“Do you have to have the gut?” Diannah said.

“Yes Fixer,” Breaker said. “I can lose it by exercising in-game.”


The letters appeared in the window, “Accept the Preset? Yes. No.”

Breaker reached for the yes button. “Last chance. Go with this one?”

“Do it,” Diannah said. “Before the vocal ones demand a new hairstyle. They want you to have pink hair.”

He pushed the “Yes” button.

A door appeared behind him and clicked open. Behind it would be the optional tutorial and then the game.

“Fixer,” Breaker said. “This is it, on the other side of this door is the game. Once over there, I may not be able to respond by chat. Not until I’m done with the tutorial.”

“Roger,” Diannah said, “I’ve got this end. Do it.”

Liberation of Ghosts:Order of Ghosts Saga Book 3

War – Slavery – Revenge. Years hardened his resolve to end what he was thrust into. And end it will! 

The ship’s departure date is fast approaching, except Felix is nowhere near the port. A vast dry desert separates him and his rendezvous location.

Felix has other serious problems. Still a slave owned by the High-King, the Grand Master of the Order of Ghosts must negotiate his freedom while trying not to be pulled into the looming Civil War. However, there may not be a price too steep Felix is willing to pay for his freedom. 

Will Felix be able to end what was started or will the Civil War be the end of this Grand Master?

If you thirst for painful magic, gruelling fights, and revenge, then you will love this action-packed story written by Nathan Pedde.

Grab a copy of Liberation of Ghosts today.

Chapter One Preview


Felix the Swift sat on top of a dune in the middle of the Ta’arquan Desert. He wore nothing but a loincloth, ignoring the sun. His olive skin and bald head resembled a tomato. His tattoos glowed as he used a runic spell to help heal the damage.

He held a jewel in his hand, Felix used it to take away a fragment of his pain. With it, he used his increased senses spell to see farther than his eyes. He left his body and soared like a bird in the sky. The spell strained him as he searched along the water, watching the water rip and roar.

A hundred miles behind him was the city of Bogaren, called “The City of Bones.” Bogaren was a city built on a hill made from the bones of ancient giants. It was a city Felix had destroyed. It wasn’t by choice. The rulers had damned the city’s source of water for themselves. The resulting battle unblocked and set loose a torrent of water that cascaded through the streets. It poured away from the city and into the valley below.

Like a lost child, the new river hunted for its lost riverbank. The water roared across the landscape like a mad, hungry dragon, swallowing and spitting out anything it came across, hunting for the sea. The desert swallowed its old banks long ago. Water plowed through the land, pushing desert sand, rocks and any soul caught in its path.

Felix let out a breath and deactivated his runes. He came back to his body with a slam. Blackness engulfed him as he rested his increased senses spell. Felix was blind, and he scoffed at how close the analogy was to real life.

The spectral release spell was one spell he could use with his illusion, spectral and soul runic sequence. A single rune allowed one type of runic magic. If he activated the fire rune, he could cast fire magic. The spectral release spell used a series of three runes. It allowed him to travel outside of his body and scout far away or use echolocation to see the world around him. Both of which strained and caused him pain. Magic was his life, and magic was comprised of pain.

Only death would relieve Felix of it. The pain and the overuse of magic caused him to lose his eyesight. Felix desired a solution for getting his eyes back.

Felix stood up, pulling his robe on, the blistering wind attempted to blow it away like a sail. He slid down the sandy hill toward a small caravan sitting in a valley between multiple sand dunes.

Eslici stood in front of him, she was a merchant trader helping transport Felix and his ghosts across the desert to the coast. Her long black hair was pulled back into a braid. Eslici was shorter than Felix, but not by much, the owner of the caravan, she cut an imposing figure among the bald magic users.

The caravan was comprised of eight camels loaded with goods, the camel drivers, a dozen caravan guards, and the members of his order. She was a slave trader, except Felix thought it wasn’t by choice. The Kingdom of Ta’arqa, a desert nation far south from the temperate north of the Empire of Aurre, used slaves as a sizable portion of their labor.

Felix the Swift was the Grand Master of the Order of the Ghosts. A secret magical group with the goal of restoring magic to its former glory. A handful of magic users made up his group. All of them desired to flee Ta’arqa. The major issue was that himself and a few members of his order were slaves themselves.

“See anything?” Eslici asked.

“No,” Felix said. “The water is trying to work its way through these dunes, splintering as it goes.”

“What do you mean, splintering?” Eslici asked.

“It’s meandering and pushing debris every which way.”

“Shouldn’t it follow the path of least resistance?”

“Except these hills are giving the water a hard time finding its way,” Felix said.

“Same with us,” Eslici muttered. “We can’t seem to find our way.”

“I hope it’ll find a painless way through. Perhaps run lower so we can pass.”

The caravan attempted to find a ford through the torrent of water. The twin rivers of Ta’arqa and civilization, were three days walk once they crossed. The new river ran parallel to the old ones and was rough and wild. There was no direct path across because it was so deep. The only choice was to follow the river to where it’s junction to the old one. The problem was, they kept walking into dead end peninsulas because the river splintered around the sand dunes.

It had turned an eight day walk along the road to a three-week wander around the hills.

“At least we don’t have a problem finding water,” Felix said.

“Funny,” Eslici said.

Felix walked to the caravan and stood next to a camel.

“It would be better if we could find a way to hide from the blasted sun,” Eslici continued, as she raised her voice to him. “Travel at night when it’s cool.”

“I see no shelter out here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Obvious.” Eslici scoffed. “We leave in five minutes. Drink some water before you turn into an Aurrian raisin.”

Eslici spun on her heals and marched to the front of the line of camels.

Iratus walked up behind Felix and sat under the shade of a camel. His robes wrapped around his body, protecting his runes and olive skin from the harsh sun. A plain cloth was wrapped around his head and secured with a cord. Since the day the Duke of Draada captured and shipped Felix off into slavery, Iratus had been by his side.

“No luck with the sight?” Iratus asked.

“No,” Felix said. “The jewel has helped, but I need to find out how to get my eyesight back.”

“I meant the spectral release spell thingy,” Iratus said.

“I still haven’t recovered. My range is limited.”

“Oh,” Iratus said.

Iratus was silent, looking up at Felix. “We could build a raft and float down the river.”

“That would require wood,” Felix replied.

Thempta walked up to them and leaned behind the camel. She was Felix’s second and used to be his enemy. She stood as tall as Felix, with curves in all the right places. As a member of the Ghosts, she wore the same loose-fitting robes with the telltale bald head.

After living around bald women all the years, he had been in Ta’arqa, he was still not used to them. To Felix, a woman should have hair.

“I bet I can swim across,” Thempta said.

“I can jump across,” Felix said, “with a simple wind rune to push me forward. What do we do about those without magic?”

“Toss them?” Thempta asked.

Felix glared at her.

From the back of the line strode Alexis, Felix’s sister. She looked like his twin, she was older than Felix by a few years and she had the breasts and hips of a woman. She was also a magic user, with loose robes and a similar bald head.

“I can fly across,” Alexis said, mentioning her preferred runic sequence. “I can even transport the people one by one. But what do we do about the camels? I can’t carry a camel.”

Felix turned to her, a grin on his face.

“As the saying goes. Hit the nail on the head,” Felix said. “How do we get the camels across the river?”

Jaeger walked down the line of camel drivers and camels to Felix. He stood taller than Felix, with orange hair and loose-fitting clothes. He wasn’t from Aurre. Jaeger was the fool who transported him to this blasted land and sold him as a slave to the Talabaers.

For years Felix hated the man, now he understood his God, Mr. Magician, had nudged Jaeger to bring him to Ta’arqa. The God needed to use Felix and there was little he could do to stop what he needed to do. He didn’t feel like a Grand Master, instead he felt more like a pawn.

“If someone hadn’t created a new bloody river,” Jaeger said, “then we wouldn’t have this mess.”

Felix glared at the man. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t throw you into the river and see if you can swim?”

“We made a deal,” Jaeger said.

“That may be,” Felix said. “But don’t test me. I may leave you for dead.”

Jaeger narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

“All right, people,” Eslici yelled from the front. “Break over. Time to move.”


The camels trekked along the desert in the valley between the sand dunes. Tied behind them were a line of slaves. Some were men, but most of them were women. Two female slaves were soft, new, and the daughters of a nobleman. They were sold into slavery by their father for having an orgy with a servant, who had his throat slit for his troubles. Felix blotched their romp, knocking them unconscious in pursuit if a heist.

Felix caught up with Eslici, staying away from the slaves.

“What’s your plan with the slaves?” Felix asked.

“You want to buy them?” Eslici asked.

“No,” Felix said.

“You feel responsible?”

“I don’t like slavery.”

“Spoken like a former slave,” Eslici said. “Or are you still a slave?”

“I am. But I aim to change that,” Felix said.

“I can sell them to Muphaeso,” Eslici said. “But I might not with this lot.”

Felix kept his face neutral, not wanting to betray his emotions.

“To tell you the truth,” Eslici said. “I have no intention to stay in the country. I want to leave and never look back. I’m not suited to deal with mage battles.”

“I’ll do my best to get you out of the kingdom.”

He moved back along the line, taking up his place in the center.

The sun moved across the sky, dipping below the horizon. The caravan stopped between the dunes and set up make-shift tents. They were pieces of canvas draped over a rope attached to stakes.

The heat from the sun faded as quick as it had come. Felix had suggested they leave early before the sun rose again. Except, the sun wasn’t down for long and they needed rest.

He lay on the ground, looking up at the roof of the tent. He hoped sleep would come quick for him, but there was a howl echoed in the dark. A rock-hound in the hills, and from the sound of it, far in the distance.

A rock-hound was the scourge of the desert. It was a large gray canine with large, long poisonous claws. They had hard skin covered in fur, which made them hard to kill.

He used his increased senses spell to scan the surrounding area. After a moment, he slammed back into his body. There was nothing in the immediate area.

In the morning, with the sun still below the horizon, the first rays of the sun peeked above the land. Once the sun reached the sand, things would get hot once more.

He stood up and walked out of the tent. Thempta stood next to a camel, feeding it some grain.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Thempta asked.

“Rock-hounds,” Felix said. “I’ll be happy when I’m able to get away from this desert and get back home.”

“Tell me about your home,” Thempta said.

Felix frowned as he regretted his words.

“I…” Felix began.

“I’m sorry,” Thempta said. “Too bold of a question?”

“No,” Felix said. “It’s not.”

He paused, looking at the night sky.

“At least you have a town to call home,” Thempta said.

“That may be,” Felix said. “I have some memories that are good. But they are attached to people. Not the city.”

“That I understand,” Thempta said, “My family is—”

Felix remembered the cave back at the fort when they were enemies. How he had blown the fire back toward her.

“I’m sorry for that,” Felix said. “It’s just— I mean—”

Thempta placed her finger on Felix’s lips, shutting him up.

“That’s ancient history,” Thempta said.

“I know,” Felix said. “But had I known what would be happening now and how we would be—”

Felix stopped talking and looked down at his feet.

Thempta looked over and grabbed Felix’s robe, pulling him into her. She kissed him on the lips, Felix let her warmth fill him for a moment. After what seemed like an eternity, Thempta let go. It was only a few seconds.

“Sorry,” Thempta said. “I know we shouldn’t be doing that. But.”

“I never got a ruling about that.”

Thempta nodded and blushed.

“Were you going to tell me about Aurre?” Thempta said.

Felix glanced up at the sky.

The city of Draada, “Its walls, giant buildings — everything was made of stone and brick. I saw either the gutters, or alleys. Or the rooftops, and the bedchambers of the nobility.”

“Until you got caught,” Thempta said.

“Yeah,” Felix said as the camp stirred from their slumber. “But that’s a story for another day.”

The camp piled their tents onto camels, and they began walking along the path between the sand dunes. After two hours of walking with the blistering sun beating down on them. The land changed from sand dunes to hard packed earth.

Felix recognized the region. Not the exact landmarks, but the surrounding terrain The Ini River lay in a low valley weaving through the desert to the sea. The slight hills on the side of the river kept the new river to from flowing to the river. The new river had found a low valley to pour its water cascade through, cascading down the slight slope to the river valley below.

The valley was a sea of green where before it was shades of brown. Orchards, fields, and farms stretched along both sides of the river. It was an oasis of near paradise.

“I know this place,” Felix said.

Thempta turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

Below them, in the river’s path, was a small walled town, the city of Takala. It had stood on the banks of the river Ini along a hill. The water poured through the town, knocking down the mud-brick walls, shattering houses. The water battered its way through the city before joining the water of the old river.

“That’s where you tried to keep me locked from the city.” Felix said.

“I always wondered how you got past that,” Thempta said.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you about it,” Felix said.

The caravan walked down the hill along the side of the river and toward the town. Felix didn’t want to look at the wrecked buildings. Eslici stopped part way down the hill.

“Are we stopping here?” Eslici asked.

“Do we need to?” Felix replied.

“Not really,” Eslici said. “They have little to sell.”

“Let’s head down river,” Felix said. “Is there a better way to get down?”

Eslici smiled as she stepped in beside him. She leaned into him with her voice kept low. Felix grinned as he looked around at the caravan. The caravan had spread out over the space of fifty paces in single file.

“We can rent a barge,” Eslici said. “If we can find one. But is that the best way for us to go?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not Ta’arquan,” Eslici said, “and I’m not a Talabaer.”


“If I go into the capital,” Eslici said. “Either I risk enslavement or enlistment”

“Aren’t you a licensed merchant?”

“My documents are forged.”

“Forged? Faked?”

“Hey. Keep your voice down.”

“Are you even a slave trader?” Felix asked. “I’ve noticed you and your men aren’t as good with the camels as I would’ve expected.”

“Do you need—”

“I put you closer to Jaeger,” Felix said. “A sailor.”

Eslici crossed her arms and glared.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day. Right now. Don’t ask so many questions.”

Felix looked back at the caravan, to see if anyone was watching him. No one was, he turned back to Eslici.

“Didn’t you get orders from the High-Prince to find me?” Felix asked.

“Yes,” Eslici said. “But things were changing at the capital. Muphaeso is the High King now. He brought back the ban on foreigners. Told me to find you, then get out of the country and stay out of the capital.”

“Do you have a better plan?” Felix asked.

“Yes,” Eslici said. “I have a ship waiting for me and the caravanners.”

“What do you want to do?” Felix asked.

Eslici looked around at the people.

“Come with me,” Eslici said.

“Just me?”

“No,” Eslici said, “Idiot. Everyone.”

Felix glanced at the caravan once more.

“I’d like to,” Felix said. “But I have things to do at the Capital.”

“I’m sure you can do the things elsewhere,” Eslici said.

He shook his head.

“Can’t do that.”

“That means me and mine will—

“No,” Felix interrupted.

“Then what?”

“Take Thempta, the kid and Jaeger with you,” Felix said. “Make a run for the village.”

“What about you?”

“Iratus, Alexis, and I must go to the capital.”

Eslici bit her lip and fiddled with the hilt of a knife at her belt.

“Perhaps,” Eslici said. “The turn off isn’t for a while yet. We’ll travel together for a while.”

City of Bones: Order of Ghosts Saga Book 2

Once he was a thief, now a slave bent on revenge. 

Nothing is at it seems. Nothing happens the way he thought it would. Felix the Ghost is now the Grand Master of the Order of Ghosts. He is ordered to the City of Bones, to hunt down lost artifacts from the Chaos Times while being hunted by the Twins of Death. 

In order to gain the freedom he hungers for, Felix must complete this mission for his God. To go home and end the wrath of the vicious Duke who continues to enslave others, there is no such thing as failure. However, with the Twins of Death it leaves the question of—who is the hunter or the hunted? And can Felix survive this time? 

If you thirst for painful magic, gruelling fights, and revenge, then you will love this action-packed story written by Nathan Pedde. 

Grab a copy of City of Bones today.

Chapter One Preview


Thempta floated in nothingness. She looked to her left and to her right. Yet, she saw nothing but blackness. She tried to move and to swim through the vacuum. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t move. Thempta looked down, and she couldn’t see her arms. Worse yet, she couldn’t feel them.

Is this what it is like to be dead? Thempta thought. I was hoping the afterlife was going to be different than this.

She didn’t know how long she floated in the nothingness, running the thoughts of the past few weeks through her head. Her grandmother and family would all be dead. Either by the Talabaers or by High-Prince Maliok due to her own failure. It was the price of the contract that her grandmother made with Maliok. She was to serve him and be under his command. In exchange, she would get protection from their enemies.

It wasn’t until later did they find out the bastard wasn’t good on his word. However, it was too late. He had some psychopathic Malicros Mages working for him, which meant they could never betray him.

In the distance, a single white dot appeared. She looked at the growing white light and pondered what it was. It brought her attention back to her, bodiless, floating self. It grew more extensive as it filled her field of vision.

The pure white pushed back the endless nothingness she floated in, a stark contrast to the darkness which filled her vision a moment before.

Was it a moment? How long has it been? A minute? A year? If I’m dead, does it matter?

The black nothingness was pushed back and turned into a single dot that disappeared into the distance.

“Are you done feeling sorry for yourself,” a voice boomed behind her.

Thempta turned around, and a giant man stood upside down in front of her. His head was at her height, and his feet stretched out into the distance. He was taller than she could tell.

A God, Thempta thought. What do I do? Prostrate? Bow? Stand straight?

She attempted to prostrate herself but found she couldn’t move.

“Calm down,” the God said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“You are—”

“I’m a God, but not the one you think I am,” the God said. “You can call me Mr. Magician. A future friend of yours does.”

“Mr. Magician. Oh, Lord God,” Thempta said. “Am I dead?”

“No,” Mr. Magician said. “But you’re close to it.”

“Then what is this place?” Thempta said.

“You’re full of questions.”

“Apologies. Oh, Lord—”

“Shut it and listen.”

Thempta found she had lost the ability to speak.

“The darkness you saw was the corruption from the Evil One,” Mr. Magician said, “I’ve stolen you from him, and you’re now my servant. I’ve also taken your corrupted Rune away from you.”

She tried to speak, but still nothing came out.

“Right.” Mr. Magician waved his hand.

“Your servant?” Thempta said.

“Yes,” Mr. Magician said. “You do have free choice, but if you aren’t my servant, then you are his. Honestly, the term stealing is stretching it. He discarded you like an old shirt.”

Thempta took a deep breath as she controlled her thoughts. Do I have a choice?

“No,” Mr. Magician said.

“What am I?” Thempta asked.

“You’re no longer a mage of Malicros,” Mr. Magician said.

“Am I a Talabaer?”


Thempta was silent. If I am not a Malicros or a Talabaer, then what am I?

“You are a new thing,” Mr. Magician said.

“You can read my mind?”

“I’m a God.”

“What do you command of me?” Thempta asked.

Am image appeared in front of her, it was of the bastard Talabaer, the Ghost. The one who had defeated her not a moment before. Thempta involuntarily hissed at the image. If she had arms, she would be trying to strangle him.

“Good thing this is the space of time between two heartbeats,” Mr. Magician said. “Cause you’re going to stay here until you change your mind. The reasoning is that he’s now your boss, not that he knows it. Yet.”

“Boss? Wait. Time between two heartbeats?”

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Magician said. “You’ll remember every moment of this but won’t be able to speak a word about it to anyone.”

Thempta looked down, away from the image, but the image moved with her. It was like it was glued to her eyesight.

“Question for you,” Mr. Magician asked. “How long is it going to take to change your mind?”


Palma, the ex Talabaer, sat in the shade of a hillside, tired and hurt. She had no idea how Felix, the imbecile, had so much power. Even after she had managed to blind him. A stream of black smoke drifted into the sky above her.

Like all Talabaers and Malicros Mages, she was bald. Her olive-colored scalp was sunburnt and red. Her tattered, once white, robes lay by her feet. She wore nothing but a loincloth. Her tattoos glowed slightly in the shade.

She held a semi-clean shirt, which would be sleeveless and loose-fitting. She should be able to fit her arms inside her blouse to activate her runes.

Palma the Iron-Maiden. Or will the records call me as Palma the Traitor, Palma thought. If there’s anyone able to write it down.

She had betrayed her master, High-Prince Muphaeso. A few years before, she had been approached by her new master, High-Prince Maliok. She was offered money, power, and freedom if she served him for a year. She still had six years of servitude with Muphaeso.

For years she had been one of Muphaeso’s most-trusted Lieutenants. She was second only to him in the terms of Rank and Power. However, for all the years that she put in, she was never allowed to know the High-Prince’s mind and was kept at arm’s length.

Then the fool Felix came in and changed everything. She was still furious. She had been demoted to number three. Felix was given exclusive training with the High-Prince, and she was denied the same privilege. She was mad she wasn’t allowed into the inner circle.

Palma had betrayed her High-Prince and had let the Malicros Mages into the underground tunnels. Felix was blinded, but the fool was still able to fight. She had no idea how, but she had to admit that it was amazing to watch. If she wasn’t on the receiving end.

Around her were a dozen Mages of Malicros, some soldiers of Maliok, and her fellow Talabaer traitors. Not all could use magic, but of those who could, none of them were as powerful as she was.

There was a commotion from the top of a hill out of sight. A soldier, who wore Maliok’s garb and armor, slid down the path.

“Mistress Palma. Is this all who are left?” the woman asked.

“What does it look like?” Palma asked.

Palma didn’t let her answer the question. “Will you listen to me now?”

The woman opened her mouth to reply but was pushed aside by a bald Malicros. He stood shorter than the soldier, but he looked to be no older than fifteen. The kid was as tall as Palma and the muscles on his arms rippled. The boy was of the second rank.

“Why the hell should I listen to a Talabaer whore like you?” the kid yelled.

Before the boy could react, Palma activated her water rune.

“Fysalida-nerou,” Palma said, casting a spell.

A bucket’s worth of water flew at him and the fifteen-year-old was engulfed in the water bubble, which covered him from head to toe. Palma saw him thrash and kick in the water as he attempted to free himself.

“I’m now in charge,” Palma yelled. “You lot will listen to me. Do you agree?”

The soldier and mages nodded.

“Good,” Palma said before she looked at the boy in the bubble of water. “Puddles, will you listen to me, or shall I let you drown?”

The boy nodded.

“Are you sure?” Palma asked, “Because I can kill you by more violent means.”

The boy nodded with his hands clasped together in a prayer motion.

Palma deactivated the rune. The water poured from the boy to the ground and ran down the dry desert. Puddles, the boy, gasped for breath.

“Congratulations,” Palma said. “You get to live for another day.”

“Palma,” a familiar voice said from the side of the hill.

Palma turned and glanced at the person who spoke. Arlon stood by a large rock, in a dirty, ripped Talabaer robe.

Arlon had been the first recruit of Palma’s and the first to express interest in jumping ship. He was the one Talabaer who was trained to inscribe tattoos. As such, he knew the powers of each Talabaer.

“Do you have any word about what’s happening in the village?” Palma asked.

“The spies report they’re rebuilding the village,” Arlon replied.

“And the Fort?”

“It’s a crater,” Arlon said. “Whatever Felix did won’t be repaired anytime soon. If at all.”

Palma turned to the female Maliok soldier.

“You,” Palma said. “What’s your name?”

“Veroni,” she replied.

“Did you get a good look at the Fort?”

“No, Mistress,” Veroni said. “We’re too far away, and a hill blocks the view.”

“Just that cloud of black smoke,” Palma said. “Great.”

Palma looked at the soldiers and Mages who stood with her. The group looked beat up. The fight had been a close thing. Yet, they had lost, and they knew it. All of them had lost brothers and friends in the battle.

“Listen,” Palma said. “I know we’re hurting. It was supposed to be an easy fight, but it didn’t turn out that way. If you want to get revenge and kill those who killed your friends— our friends, to hold your heads high. Especially when we see High-Prince Maliok next, then you need to follow me. Cause I have a plan. Who’s with me?”

The soldiers nodded with agreement, even Puddles.


Primus Laelius Capito leaned against the mast of the quinquereme Imperial Legacy. The five rows of oars churned the water and pushed it rapidly through the water. The highly trained sailors of the Imperial Navy knew their job and knew it well.

He looked across the bay at the glittering city of Daedius, Ta’arqa capital city. The white limestone walls glowed in the sunlight, especially in the setting sun. It acted as a beacon to all ships passing by. They weren’t sailing to the city today but were sailing away from it.

Laelius wore his light tunic and pants which were especially well suited for time out of combat and at the sea. It was the uniform of an off-duty legionnaire. The shoulders of his tunic were marked with an eagle, a sign of his high rank. It separated him from the rank and file of his men.

The trip from Aurre had been long and stressful. The salt air had wreaked havoc on the state of his bronze armor. Within a week, it had turned a shade of green in places. Laelius had spent all his available free time to pick the corrosion from the nooks and crannies applying oil to protect the armor. He had to be the example for the rest of his men.

Below decks were two hundred legionnaires under his command, First Century. Double the strength of the standard hundred men unit of his cohort.

“Primus,” Ambassador Maximus Kaesear said, stepping on deck behind Laelius.

The ambassador was a larger man with broad shoulders built up from a lifetime leading his legions. However, a gut revealed he had spent the last half-decade avoiding anything physical. He wore a similar tunic and pants as Laelius did but wore a purple sash across his shoulder to signify his birth rank as a member of the royal family.

Kaesear carried two glasses of beer. As the ambassador approached, he handed Laelius a cup, slamming it into his chest.

“Drink,” Kaesear said. “You need to smile more. It’ll help.”

“Sir, may I ask a question?” Laelius asked.

“Of course. I’m always open to questions,” Kaesear replied.

“With the High-King—”

“He’s not the High-King,” Kaesear said. “Not yet, at least. He needs to hold onto the crown.”

“With him rejecting our offer,” Laelius said, “is it wise to go to his brother?”

“The question is not whether it is wise to go to his brother,” Kaesear said, “but is it wise not to. We need support and trade from the Ta’arqians. We need to keep their exotic goods flowing to Aurre. The coming civil war will be exactly what we need to do just that.”

Laelius realized he asked a question a mile higher than his rank allowed. He was glad he asked it in private over a cup of beer.

“Yes, sir,” Laelius said. “Forget that I said anything.”

Kaesear waved away Laelius’s comment, “There’s nothing to apologize about. You’re my right hand. You, dear boy, are going places. You have to stick with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Laelius said, a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Join me for an early supper,” Kaesear said, “and we can go over the plan. I have much to tell you.”

Felix the Fallen: Order of Ghosts Saga Book 1

When the mad Duke raged, Felix’s world changed.

Felix the Swift is the best thief in the city and the pimple on the Duke’s rear end. When his last, grandest job goes wrong, it costs him a steep price – his entire family, including himself are sold into slavery to pay for his crimes.

Felix is dragged across the globe, from slave owner to owner, and thrown into a world of magic. He must face High-Princes, assassins, traitorous brothers, Gods, and the scorching heat of the desert. With more at stake than Felix is aware of, he must overcome obstacles laid against him; to find a way back to his homeland and free his family.

If you thirst for painful magic, grueling fights, and revenge, then you will love this action-packed story written by Nathan Pedde.

Grab a copy of Felix the Fallen today and see the wonder.

Chapter One Preview

Dawn sluggishly broke over the ancient city of Draada. Gathered around the eastern gate were citizens, workers, tradesmen, and merchants. They all waited for the gates to open for the sole purpose of leaving the city. Some headed to the outer city, while others were headed father away in the Empire of Aurre.
The Aurrians weren’t waiting for the same reason as Felix the Swift. He stood at the gate of the city waiting for it open with the morning sun. Being awake this early wasn’t a typical activity for someone who made a living prowling rooftops for easy pulls.
Felix was not only a thief, but he considered himself an exceptional thief for a sixteen-year-old. Among the thieves of Draada, who Felix called his competition, sixteen was considered an old veteran. Most thieves in the city started as children, some would say sixteen was passed prime. Most thieves either ended up as slaves or in the Legions as punishment for their crimes.
Felix was tall and skinny, weighing only eight stones. He was dressed in the dirty, rough sewn clothes of the working class. Felix’s preference was to dress in dark trousers and long tunics, as it was easier to work in the shadows of the night.
The gate was rock-hard oak with a bronze alloy sheathing, which protected the wood from fire. The gatehouse and city walls were hundreds of years old with the walls built at a time of the last Aurrian civil war. The walls were as thick as three men lying in a line and as tall as seven men standing on each other’s shoulders — withstanding attacks from unwelcome people.
A couple guards looking bored on either side of the gate. They were dressed in bronze armor with the tabard of Draada over top. They held spears and carried sizable curved tower shields on their backs. All of it was in disrepair.
Felix stood to the side and studied the crowd. It was something he did without any thought. He could tell which merchant or tradesman was armed or if they had anything that could be stolen. Packs and packages were strapped to backs of slaves or piled high onto handcarts.
A figure in a dark corner caught his eye. The young woman wore a long dark cloak with a hood and watched the crowd like Felix. At least Felix guessed she was a woman. Felix could make out the shape of her hips and breasts underneath the cloak.
Felix wasn’t even sure why his eyes caught the woman. There were bound to be more important things to study. A light flashed in the corner, and then the woman was gone. Felix scanned the crowd and couldn’t find her.
Across the street Effie, his apprentice, weaved through the crowd. He watched her pick a pocket of a plump merchant as she sauntered her way across the road.
Effie was fourteen years old. She stood up to his chest, and Felix was sure he could pick her up one-handed to throw her across the street without any real effort on his part.
Not that he had ever tried. She always kept knives on her. He has seen the result of any male encounter with them, they were usually left behind in a gutter, in a pool of their own blood.
“You’re up early,” Effie said.
“You’re up late,” Felix replied. “Busy night?”
“Not bad. I’m waiting for a couple contacts to get in on a nice pull. You?”
“I’m working on a big one,” Felix replied. “I’ll need you in on this.”
“What’s the cut?” Effie said. “I want a fair share.”
“Eighty-twenty is not fair?”
“I’m not twelve anymore.”
Felix looked down at Effie, who had her hands on her hips. “Fine. Sixty-forty. Your part’s to be a distraction. Forty’s good, considering the pull.”
Effie groaned. “Not the Duke. Anything but the duke.”
“I’ll tell you later. Now, why are you up so late?”
“I’ve got some information that may interest you.”
“Please tell.”
Effie looked at Felix and then the gate. “Wait. Your brother’s coming to town, right?”
“That’s what his letter said, according to father.”
“That complicates things and confirms it too,” Effie said. “The Duke has it out for you. He wants your name in stone.”
“What does that even mean? Name in stone?”
“You’re such a moron sometimes. Gravestone. I thought it was clever.”
Felix grunted in response and let the subject drop, returning his attention to the large gate in the distance.
He hoped the sun took its sweet time rising today. He didn’t want the gate to open. On the other side of the gate was his older brother, whom Felix had no intention of seeing ever again.
Felix’s father had other plans. The old man had demanded Felix make sure his brother arrived, then to let him know where they were living. Felix’s large family moved around a lot, as his father was poor and continuously behind on rent.
It didn’t bother Felix. He had a small flat which he rented on his own. He only pretended to live at his father’s house, and no one asked how a young man his age could afford a flat by himself.
“I said you’re not listening,” Effie said.
“Sorry,” Felix said. “You were telling me that the Duke wants me gone. I heard you. He has a nice fat bounty on my head.”
“For a while at that, but that’s beside the point.”
Movement by the gate stole Felix’s attention from his apprentice. The two city guards looked at a sun signal, a device from olden times. It glowed blue when the day had started, which unlocked the massive gate.
Felix heard it used magic to glow, and the first Duke of Draada, an Arch-Mage, built the device himself. He thought the idea of magic being real was idiocy. It didn’t exist. Magic was something belonging to charlatans and liars. Yet as the sun peeked over the horizon, the sun signal glowed blue.
From the street, a Priest of Reaur walked around up to the wall in a slow, stately march. The man was dressed in dark blue robes with a hood covering his face. He chanted words Felix didn’t understand in a low grumble.
The priest reached the sun signal and stretched out his right hand, touching it. The magical device stopped glowing, and a loud click echoed around the city gate.
The city guards marched over to the city gate and unlatched it. As the gate was unlatched, it slowly cranked backward. The bottom of the gate lifting into the air away from Felix and the city. When the gate reached horizontal, a long wood post locked the gate in place.

Traitor: Agent O’Neal Saga Book Three

Here is book three of the saga up for your reading pleasure. At the moment, the Saga is complete.

Desperate times call for desperate measures – except what happens when those who are desperate is the enemy?

Rumors abound of a mole in his midst. Everywhere Des O’Neal turns, the enemy arises to thwart him. And with the enemy moving to dominate the station and kill civilians, Des is hard pressed to keep those he loves, safe.

The enemy is backed into a corner and nowhere near being defeated. Like a wounded lion, this aggressor is more dangerous than ever and this lion has an army.

Can Des rise to defeat the enemy or will he fail before he ever began? If you like Space Opera and Spy Thrillers, then you will love this action-packed adventure.

Grab a copy of Traitor today!

Chapter One Preview.

Amy Pond floated in the station-net of the Jov 1-H colony station. She wasn’t human, but a K class AI who had been gifted her freedom. Amy belonged to herself, allowing her to think about what she wanted to do and not just the task at hand.
She floated passed the avatars of different users. They were all humans sitting at a terminal in the real, non-Station-net world.
Amy sped past school-aged kids watching cat videos or talking with their friends. None of them saw the Station-net like she did. They saw the page and would hop from page to page. No human user saw the parts in between the different net-sites.
This was the boring parts either requiring a cybernetic implant on the human’s spine or a headset. It was also dull to the goldfish-attention-spanned humans.
Amy scanned through different channels and pages. She had access to a dozen different pages from around the net. Amy followed a few human avatars. They were people she had a specific interest in as she was spying on them.
Which was okay in her mind. She was a spy. It was her employment or task. She had permission to hunt through the private data of ordinary people if she had a logical reason to do so. The limit was severe in nature with the threat of deletion if she went against her limits.
If she could find the bad guy with the alias of Dr. Marcus Oraelius, then Des could go and get him. She wanted to stop anything terrible from happening to him or the station.
Two weeks had gone by since Des, Elsie, and herself thwarted but not stopped Oraelius’s plans. In the collapse of her old factory, they hadn’t caught anyone important. Those who were under the rubble of the ceiling had been killed.
Amy had no idea what the plans of this Oraelius person was or how to stop him. It’s like the station was infested with a virus with a multi-lateral hiding program. The infestation affected other parts of the system. She could cut and remove portions of the programming, but not find the core virus.
She tried to explain to Des how she saw things, except he hadn’t comprehended what she was talking about. Des’s older brother, Sheemo, understood.
Amy scanned the browsing history of a high school kid. He had been chatting a whole bunch about the entire long-range missile attack on the station. He was convinced it was a conspiracy by the station Commandant. She concluded the kid was harmless and bored.
She moved to another window. The woman was sixty years old and was searching for a cure to her arthritis that didn’t involve surgery or ingesting giant pills. She had stopped on a video of the market attack involving Des, Elsie, and the robots. Amy hacked all twelve of her windows closed.
Amy was pissed. It was the digital equivalent of throwing the tablet across the room. None of the leads she was watching panned out. They were ordinary people with no affiliation to anyone worth of note. Information on the Station-net was vast and led people’s attention to wander, usually when things said, “Conspiracy,” or “Cat video.”
Humans and their love of cats, Amy thought.
She knew talking to herself was a form of insanity, like trying the same thing repeatedly in the hopes of different results. However, it was in her nature to do so. Amy was confident being in sleep mode for a few hundred years had done some things to her programming.
Her consciousness was a mega-program loaded in a single piece of hardware. In her case, her chassis. Her surfing the Station-net was her loading her consciousness into the net. The act split her mind from her body. It reminded her of an ancient movie where an AI had taken over the planet earth and loaded all the human’s minds into a computer program. Except to make the example correct, she would have to be a human, which was a lousy pathway for an AI to follow.
The last thing an AI needed in her programming was cognitive dissonance or being of two minds about something. Amy understood humans did it all the time. Their programming was better than even hers and could handle the paradoxes.
Amy couldn’t handle the split. It’s what caused AIs to go crazy in the past. The history of humans in space was filled with AI disasters where some AI went mad and tried to kill all humans.
She scanned the different windows, seeing if any of the nearby human avatars was doing anything noteworthy to spy on. Then she saw it. Off to one side, she saw a faint glimmer. A single light of an avatar. It was one of many avatars streaming around, except this one was different. Most avatars zipped by to the next page. This one hovered in space as if whoever it was could see her. Thoughts whirled through her programming, none of them positive.
“Hello,” Amy said.
The avatar blinked out. The user either logged out or had gone incognito. Amy wasn’t sure which, but it left a faint coded afterimage.
Amy zipped through the space toward it. She needed to get closer to the image for her to see what or who it was. Amy neared the fading image, getting close to see the picture, but not the code. It was the code she was interested in. Images could be changed over and over. They meant nothing to her.
She neared the fading code, but most of it was illegible. She saw a faint portion of it, which she recognized the coding. It was of similar design to herself. Amy saved the image of it and logged out.
Ones and zeros flew past her vision as she zipped out of the net. There was always a chance a bug could trap her in the net. She had no intention of being lost in the Station-net. Being in sleep mode for a few hundred years was long enough.
Amy’s consciousness flew into her chassis with a digital thud.

Order of Ghosts Saga

With Agent O’Neal Saga Book 3 being released in 12 days, I am please to announce the release of my Order of Ghosts Saga. Set in my Agersolum Fantasy world, this story is about Felix the Swift, a thief, who is turned into a slave, the forced to become a mage — all out for revenge. Its packed with a hard magic system with real consequences and mayhem for all the characters involved.

All three of the books are out for pre-sale now with book 1 (Felix the Fallen) being release July 15th, book 2 (City of Bones) August 15th and book 3 (Liberation of Ghosts) September 15th. If this sounds interesting and you’d like to support my work, please make a purchase. They are on sale for 99 cents US, so buying a copy is cheaper than buying Starbucks. You won’t be disappointed.

For some reason the image is unavailable. I am working on resolving the issue. If the image is there when you see this… Disregard.

Kidnapped: Agent O’Neal Book Saga Two

With my the second book of my Agent O’Neal Saga going live, here is a post dedicated to that. I have the link below, as well as a the first chapter for you reading pleasure.

I hope you enjoy.

Not everything is as it seems – especially when it comes to Des.

Des O’Neal struggles to do what is right in defending the orbital colony station, Jov 1-H. Then the walls close in around him as his brother is kidnapped, Susan is captured, his safehouse is destroyed and no one can be trusted.

Des and Elsie must find a way to save his friends, family, and the station. Except he has no back up, no plan, and there is no one else to do what must be done. Failure is not an option.

Can Des rise to the challenge and save his brother and station? If you like Space Opera and Spy Thrillers, then you will love this action-packed adventure.

Sample Chapter One.

Sixteen-year-old Des O’Neal stood on a skinny ledge three stories off the ground. He contemplated the events which got him to this unpredictable point in his life. Dressed in black, he was tall and scrawny for his age, making it easy for him to stand on the eight-inch ledge. His fingers grasped at the red bricks to keep from splattering on the ground underneath.
This is a foolish idea, Des thought.
He considered himself lucky it was nighttime, and no one would see him prowling around. With his luck, he would be spotted by a station guard and arrested like a common thief.
Des snorted derisively. Working for a tyrannical taskmaster, Captain Kusheeno with station security, Des was forcefully recruited into being a spy. He screwed up and got caught exploring through the station’s undercroft. A short bit of blackmail later and he now worked for the Captain.
Being employed by the asshat, had gotten him beaten up, almost thrown out into space, and chased across the station multiple times before the year was out. He had nearly died a couple of times. Des had tried to get out. Except, he was informed he was involved deeper than he fully understood. He had to see it through to the logical conclusion, or no one else would.
Des shimmied along the ledge. His plan was to shimmy along the wall to a ninety-degree corner. If he could get past without falling to his death, he could get to the unlocked balcony door of the target apartment.
This is very stupid, Des thought.
His feet edged his way along the ledge. Each time Des moved he gripped the cracks in the bricks for dear life. The task felt like forever as his soft-soled shoes scrapped along the ledge. He shimmied six meters to the corner. He grasped onto the corner and pulled himself over to the other side.
Des looked back at the building where he had come up. A large oak tree grew from the park beside the apartment building. Its large, thick branches were a route to the third story of the building.
Climbing up the balcony railings would have saved me thirty minutes of tree-climbing followed by scrapping along the narrow ledge. But no, there is none, Des thought.
He continued to shimmy along the ledge, reaching the edge of the balcony. The rain in the sealed colony station was not enough to cause more than fart of wind. If there was wind, it would have blown him from the ledge.
The easy way over was partially blocked by a large potted plant, hanging from a hook on the side of the building. Des hopped over the railing, twisting himself around the potted plant. With both feet firmly on solid ground, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He cared his feet were on something substantial, and he took a moment to enjoy the feeling.
He knelt onto the balcony and listened. Des hunted for any sign he was caught where he wasn’t supposed to be. After waiting a minute, no alarm had rung, and no heavy-handed station guards were going to beat him to a pulp.
Des walked up to the balcony door, checking to see if it was locked. Being on the third floor, it slid open with the lock disabled. Des had it from a good source the owner felt no one would be stupid to climb to the third floor.
He slipped into the apartment, sliding the door closed behind him. The apartment was a three-bedroom flat, decorated with fancy pictures and paintings on canvases bought before the war when those goods were easy to find. After five years of conflict, they would only be on a second-hand market to discover anything as nice.
Des walked through the apartment’s great room toward the front door. The target he hunted for was a key card, something the owner would shed when he got home. He would’ve left the card at the front door, in the kitchen, his office, or bedside table. Des hoped that it would be the first one and not any of the later ones. The owners were currently at home and asleep.
A few weeks ago, his espionage professor, Mr. Smith, gave Des a disk to insert into the computer of a teacher at the school. It would alter his grades and raise them. He hoped it would lessen suspicion from his peers and teachers. If he didn’t do something, he would get in trouble.
At the start of the school year, he was at the top of his class. The school and his family considered him a genius and allowed him to be pushed ahead a year. Once being wrangled into being a spy with its long hours, his grades suffered, putting him mid-level, causing a plethora of suspicion.
Some teachers made accusations he was getting in with the wrong sort of people. It wasn’t all his fault, not entirely at least. The stress of living a secret life caused him to lose focus, and his grades had suffered as a result.
The apartment belonged to Des’s history teacher, Mr. Mixon. A dull man with a nasally monotonous voice. He felt terrible to steal from the man. However, if everything worked out, he would get the key card back when he got to school.
Des reached the front door, and the metal entry table. On top was a pile of keys, small denomination credit chips, a wallet, but no key card. Des searched it to see if it was in it, but it was not there. Only his Station Identification Card, a bank card, an old photo, and another credit chip. He put the wallet back on the table and walked away.
His next place would be the kitchen countertop. Judging from the man’s need for coffee, it may be beside the coffee maker. He walked through the apartment, being careful not to make any noise. The last thing he wanted was to be caught by his teacher. Breaking and entering would be the least of his problems.
Des checked the kitchen, and it was spotless. No specks of dust or food debris were seen. The key card was not in the kitchen. The last place to check was the office or the bedroom. Being closer to where the teacher was sleeping. Down the hallway toward the bedrooms, a single light clicked on from a bedroom.
He’s up to use the bathroom.
Des crab-walked his way back toward the glass door. Sliding the door open, he exited the apartment and closed the door shut behind him.
In the apartment, the flabby figure of Mr. Mixon, wearing nothing but his boxers, appeared from the hallway. He looked tired and rubbed at his face.
Des twisted himself over the railing and onto the ledge. The soft soles of his shoes slipped, his left foot flying away from the wall. He grabbed hold of a brick. He held on with his fingertips and his right foot.
The noise of the sliding glass door opening rang in the quiet of the night. The slap of bare feet on plastic decking vibrated out in the darkness. Des looked back at the patio. Mr. Mixon left his apartment and leaned against the railing. He stared out away from Des at the station in the distance.
Jov 1-H Colony Station was seventy-five kilometers in diameter built like a large pop can with all the people living on the inside surface of the can. Most of the twelve different sectors had the glowing light of buildings, while only four of them were darkened as they were for farming.
The interior was made out to be Earth-like. It had plants and trees, wild animals roamed the parks, and birds sang when the daylight was turned on. It was different, but the only difference Des knew was a cramped colony built on the terraformed moon of Europa. Where he and his older brother grew up until their mother disappeared, and father died.
A woman walked out of the apartment, dressed in a tank top and panties, except Des didn’t recognize her from anywhere but pictures. It was his wife, Reanna.
“Can’t sleep?” Reanna asked.
“Just stress,” Mr. Mixon replied.
“That and other stuff,” Mr. Mixon said.
“Well, come to bed,” Reanna said.
The two of them padded back into the apartment, the sliding glass door locking behind them with an audible click.

Agent O’Neal Saga

The next two Agent O’Neal books are out for pre-order. If you enjoyed the first book, pick up these two. You won’t be disappointed.

Pre-Orders by Nathan Pedde

Release Date: July 3, 2020

Desperate times call for desperate measures – except what happens when those who are desperate are the enemy?

Rumors abound of a mole in his midst. Everywhere Des O’Neal turns, the enemy arises to thwart him. And with the enemy moving to dominate the station and kill civilians, Des is hard pressed to keep those he loves, safe.

The enemy is backed into a corner and nowhere near being defeated. Like a wounded lion, this aggressor is more dangerous than ever and this lion has an army.

Can Des rise to defeat the enemy or will he fail before he ever began? If you like Space Opera and Spy Thrillers, then you will love this action-packed adventure.

Grab a copy of Traitor today!

Release Date: June 12, 2020

Not everything is as it seems – especially when it comes to Des.

Des O’Neal struggles to do what is right in defending the orbital colony station, Jov 1-H. Then the walls close in around him as his brother is kidnapped, Susan is captured, his safehouse is destroyed and no one can be trusted.

Des and Elsie must find a way to save his friends, family, and the station. Except he has no back up, no plan, and there is no one else to do what must be done. Failure is not an option.

Can Des rise to the challenge and save his brother and station? If you like Space Opera and Spy Thrillers, then you will love this action-packed adventure.

Grab a copy of Kidnapped today!

Enlisted: Agent O’Neal Saga Book One

War reaches every corner – even the far reaches of Jupiter.

The orbital colony station, Jov 1-H, fighting for independence and freedom from Earth, is home to thousands of people. Sixteen-year-old Des O’Neal is thrust into a world he desired not to be in – spies, plots and trickery abound when a saboteur attempts to destroy the station.

Enraged by the attack on his home, Des charges in head first. He fights an unknown enemy who knows more about him, than he knows. No one can be trusted – even Des’s own brother.

How far will Des go to save his brother and his own life? If you like Space Opera and Spy Thrillers, then you will love this action-packed adventure.

Grab a copy of Enlisted today!

Free Chapter

Please enjoy Chapter One for your reading pleasure. Remember to head over to Amazon to purchase your copy today.

Chapter 1

Des O’Neal walked through the darkened corridors of the Undercroft of the Jovian 1-H Space Station. The poorly lit metal corridors smelled like wet, dirty socks.

Even with the pungent odor, it reminded Des he was lucky to live where he did. He didn’t live in some habitat on some planet or moon. He didn’t breathe recycled air, nor was he being forced to stare at nothing but steel bulkheads and vidscreens showing images of greenery he would never experience. Des lived in the middle of a spinning space station, which had been compared to a giant spinning park. It was better than the moon of Europa.

Europa, being terraformed over a hundred years before, thawed with the thickening atmosphere. The settlements built into the ice sunk to the bottom of the sea. There was more liquid water on the tiny moon than on the planet Earth. Tall towers stretched up from the ocean floor to the surface on Europa. Only the rich, and influential managed to live anywhere near the surface. They were the only ones who had any chance of having any type of fresh air. Everything else on Europa was recycled.

Des’s family weren’t rich, nor influential. His brother and himself lived with their father, who had been a mechanic on Europa, while his mother was an engineer on an interplanetary cargo vessel. They lived under the surface of the moon-wide ocean. He hadn’t seen real sunlight until after his tenth birthday.

On this station, Des was happier, as happy as can be expected considering the events which facilitated his move. Some of the air was still recycled, and the daylight manufactured, but he had green grass to run in and fields to explore.

Of course, he spent most of his free time crawling underground in the Undercroft. It reminded him of Europa in some ways.

Des moved out of the tight space he squeezed himself into and put his recorder away in his pocket. He looked around to see if he had been seen by anyone.

“Des,” Elsie Dagg called out from a nearby corridor. “Where in the system have you gotten to now?”

Elsie walked out from the corridor. She was a girl from Des’s class in school and one of his better friends. Elsie was a year older than Des’s sixteen. Despite the age difference, Des was tall and skinny for his age. Most people didn’t know he was the younger of the pair. He swore he was taller than Elsie was, but the amount was less than a finger width and seemed to disappear depending on the shoes she wore.

He looked over to Elsie as she approached. She was still in her school uniform, a knee length skirt, standard white button-up shirt, a blue tie, and the blue colored school jacket. Her jacket fitted the curves of her teenage body. She had taken the time to adjust the jacket’s fit properly.

Des was dressed much the same. Instead of wearing a skirt, he wore a pair of blue pants. His jacket didn’t fit and was looser than he would’ve liked. Not that he thought a guy could get a jacket to fit him.

Elsie carried a flashlight, shining the light into his eyes. “There you are, you fool.”

“Stop that,” Des replied.

Elsie lowered her flashlight, “Sorry.”

“No worries,” Des said, his eyes adjusting back to the darkness. “I told you I was going this way.” He pointed a finger where she had walked from, “And that way was going to be harder to get through.”

“Harder?” Elsie said. “It wasn’t hard.”

“You ripped your jacket,” Des said, putting his finger in the hole, “Again.”

“Oh, no,” Elsie said. “My mom is going to space me.”

“No, she isn’t. She’ll scold you and maybe take away something, but she won’t force you out an airlock.”

“It’s a figure of speech.” Elsie rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”

“Where’s Fillip?” Des said, “I thought you were gonna bring him this time.”

“He’s cowering by the entrance. He said we shouldn’t be in here because it’s for ‘authorized personnel only.’”

“Flat Lander.”

“You shouldn’t call people that.”

“Why not?”

“Cause it’s rude and inaccurate,” Elsie said. “Planets and moons aren’t flat, and unlike a certain person who insists on breaking the rules. We were born here.”


“How much longer are we going to explore this blasted place” Elsie asked, “I’m getting hungry, we should get to the Diner. I could use a burger.”

“Doesn’t your family not eat meat?”

“They don’t, but I do.”

Des jumped. A red light flashed on in the middle of the corridor. The whine of a siren echoed down the dusty metallic hallway. To Des, the siren sounded weird, like something in the speaker was broken. For a moment, Des was unsure what the alarm was for.

“Ah… They’ve caught us. We need to get out of here.” Panic raising into her voice.

“Calm down,” Des said, “It’s an evacuation alarm.”

A voice echoed down the corridor from the alarm came.

“Level four alert,” the Emergency Voice said from the speakers, “All civilians please evacuate to the nearest shelter. All Emergency Personnel, please report to your duty stations.”

The voice then repeated itself endlessly.

“Calm down?” Elsie cried, “We are under attack. I don’t want to die.”

“We aren’t going to die,” Des said, attempting to reason.

“Where’s the closest exit?” Elsie panicked. “We need to get to a shelter, or we’ll get into even more trouble than just being in the Undercroft.”

Des grabbed her hand, bolting down the nearest corridor. “This way,” Des shouted.

He was sure it was the best way out. He had been through this area before. In the Undercroft, every sector was the same.

He bumped into a wall. A pile of dust and debris fell from the ceiling. Des ran down the corridor, dragging Elsie with him. He took little time to dodge the obstacles in his way, jumping over pieces of disconnected and abandoned pipes. His school shoes barely gripped on the steel floor.

“Slow down,” Elsie shouted. “I can’t keep up.”

The station shook violently. Des lost his footing, tumbling to the ground in a heap. Elsie, still holding onto his hand, tripped on Des’s flailing feet, landing on his chest.

Wind escaped from his lungs. He tried to suck air back in, finding it difficult.

“Are you okay?” Elsie asked.

“Yes,” Des choked, “but you’re heavier than you look.”

Elsie punched his shoulder. “Meany,” Elsie growled, getting off Des.

Des and Elsie followed the corridor to the nearby exit. The amount of debris in the passages increased the further they walked, forcing them to take a slower pace. Des felt confident this corridor was emptier the last time he had walked through it.

“Is this the same exit we came in at?” Elsie asked. “I’m completely turned around.”

“It is,” Des confirmed, “We should come out near the central market in the Teal Sector.”

Des slammed into the door. It was stiffer than he remembered. He shouldered the door a second time. It flew open. Des and Elsie bolted out into the station. The bright light of the station blinded them for a brief moment.


Des slid to a stop, exiting the door to the Undercroft. He wasn’t in the residential Teal Sector. He was in the middle of a farming sector. Fields stretched out around him. The golden wheat glowed in the artificial sunlight.

He looked to his left and his right. The inside of the station stretched up in a distinct curve. Des thought of the station as a giant, stretched-out donut with the center filled in. People lived inside the ‘donut,’ on its edge under the crust.

“Look who’s the flatlander that got us lost,” Elsie said.

“We’re not lost,” Des said. “We’re in the middle of the Ruby Sector.”

“We’re supposed to be in the Teal Sector, over there,” Elsie said, pointing up.

Along the inside curve of the station, Des could see the houses and businesses of the Teal Sector. Des thought he could make out his brother’s school in the very center of it. It was the tallest building in the sector.

The station shook violently. Des scrambled to keep his footing. He grabbed hold of Elsie.

“We need to get to the Teal Sector,” Elsie said. “If this station breaks apart, I don’t want to be with a bunch of strangers. I want to be with my family.”

“No time,” Des said. “We need to get to a shelter.”

Des and Elsie ran down the dirt road, passing trees and flowers. The birds in the trees sang without a care for the problems of humankind. Up ahead of them was a small group of buildings. Des assumed it must be the barns and storage buildings used by the farms.

“There will be a shelter in one of those buildings,” Des yelled.

Des ran ahead, and Elsie followed trying hard to keep up.

“Wait up,” Elsie called out from behind.

Des reached the buildings and turned a corner. High up on a wall, with its chipped paint was a sign with an arrow said: Crimson Sector Shelter 104-2A.

“Elsie,” Des called, “this way.”

Elsie caught up with him, heaving for breath, and leaned against the wall.

“This is ridiculous,” Elsie said exasperated.

“You should run more in Gym Class,” Des said. “Train more.”

“You be quiet.” Elsie said, then after a moment. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Des and Elsie ran down the dirt road along the different buildings. In a small corner was a big sign reading: Crimson Sector Shelter 104-2A. Full. Please go to Crimson Sector Shelter 104-2B.

“First you get us lost,” Elsie said, “then when the station is about to get blown up, the shelter is full.”

The voice echoed from a speaker on the top of a building.

“Level four alert,” the Emergency Voice said, “All civilians please evacuate to the nearest shelter. All Emergency Personnel, please report to your duty stations.”

Des looked around amongst the cluster of buildings. In between the different maintenance and support buildings for the farms, was a couple of small shops selling coffee and small lunch items.

He glanced around. The workers had abandoned the cluster in a hurry leaving tools and farm equipment scattered everywhere. One cow was eating some grass on the side of the road.

Over in a corner was a U-Ride station. Des grinned at the hover-scooter rental locker, making a dash for it. Des could rent a hover-scooter with the swipe of his ID-card.

“Can you afford a scooter?” Des yelled over his shoulder.

“No,” Elsie said, “My mom cut my allowance. Can you rent one for me?”

Des swiped the Auto-pad on the U-Ride. A small red light turned green, and a single hover-scooter of the correct size was released.

He swiped again. An ‘Insufficient Funds’ notification popped on the screen.

“Stupid Uncle Jacob,” Des muttered.

“What?” Elsie said.

“I don’t have enough for a second scooter. My uncle didn’t transfer my money like he said he was going to. We have to double up on the scooter.”

The station shook aggressively once more.

The Emergency Voice echoed from a speaker on the top of a building once again. “Level four alert.”

Des tuned it out. Hopping on the scooter, he motioned for Elsie to jump on behind him.

“Get on the best you can,” Des said. “We have to go.”

Elsie stuck her tongue out at him, climbing on. She wrapped her arms around Des’s chest.

“If I fall off and die, I will haunt you,” Elsie said.

Des struggled with the controls. He was used to the single person scooters. What he needed was a double. However, the way his luck ran, there were none at this rental. After a few moments, Des soared down the road with Elsie screaming behind him.

“You’re going too fast. You’re going too fast,” Elsie yelled.

A cluster of buildings stood in the distance. The size and amount of the buildings were similar to the ones they left behind. Everything was cut and paste. The needs of the workers were the same as one another. As such, each group of buildings was nearly identical.

Des flew into the farming cluster. He screeched to a stop near the heavy doors to the shelter, leaving the scooter laying on its side.

“We’re here,” Des said. “And we didn’t die.”

“Just barely,” Elsie replied.

Sprinting up to the door, the faded black lettering of the shelter announcing its vacancy.

The voice echoed from a speaker on the top of a building.

“Level one alert,” the Emergency Voice said, “Danger has passed. All civilians, please report to the nearest supervisor for debriefing.” There was a pause in the voice, “Des O’Neal and Elsie Dagg report to Captain Kusheeno.”

This ends the free preview chapter. 

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