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The Death of a Madman: Book Three Zenjir, the Emperor’s own spymaster sat on a large wooden desk, breathing heavily. Around him large stacks of parchment paper threatened to topple over from their sheer size. In the center of the desk however, under the nose of the spymaster, sat a lone piece. The spymaster glared at it, as if wishing it to burst into flame. It was written in a strange code; one the spymaster had already broken, but now he wished he hadn’t done so. Rebels have taken Zerre. Co...

Chapter 1: [what happened] The day that it happened was so perfectly normal that nothing could have prepared me for it. It was one of those days when you feel deep down something is going to happen, but somehow you don’t understand the feeling up until it happens. For me, it was up until I found her. My usual routine had gone smoothly, no wrinkles had upset my day so far. The sun was shining, and my CD player hadn’t run out of battery for once. Homework had been kept to a minimum, and a beaut...

My soul is darker than oblivion, thats what most would say. The greater struggles of life, have taken their toll on me. My life has crumbled, My thoughts have strayed, I sit on the brink of destruction, waiting for my final day. Madness comes and i wait, ushering for it to come quicker. I sit in darkness, blacker than a starless night, wishing for a brighter life. But it will not come, and so i wait, Till one day i am taken or saved.

Chapter One: In the Beginning A boy sat silently on a mat of straw and tattered cloth, his face hidden by his hair. If you could see through the tangled mess, you would see he was staring at apparently nothing; daydreaming. It was his fifteenth birthday; he had just turned a man. Nothing could have spoiled this day, except the harsh labors of a slave, which could not be ignored this day as much as any day. The other slaves passed him, nodding to him, but he didn’t notice. Yes, he had just bec...

Chapter One: In the Beginning A boy sat silently on a mat of straw and tattered cloth, his face hidden by his hair. If you could see through the tangled mess, you would see he was staring at apparently nothing; daydreaming. It was his fifteenth birthday; he had just turned a man. Nothing could have spoiled this day, except the harsh labors of a slave, which could not be ignored this day as much as any day. The other slaves passed him, nodding to him, but he didn’t notice. Yes, he had just bec...