QSFer JD Rivers has a new queer fantasy book out(Bi, Gay, Non-Binary, Poly, Trans FTM): The Edge of a World.
A monster lurks under Otar’s skin.
It has destroyed lives and Otar lives in fear when it will escape his grasp again. But he isn’t the only thing that seems out of place in this world: a mysterious ancestor, the Ancients, left behind nothing but ruins and questions.
After the monster causes a tragic accident, Otar chooses to travel the Seven Lands to find answers instead of being executed. But time is running out.
When the summon for a newly discovered ruin comes, it’s his last chance to clear his name. On his journey he faces down slavers looking for easy money, and his former lover – who still makes his heart beat faster.
Then the excavation site finally reveals the truths about the Ancients, and it becomes clear that something bigger lurks in the shadows.
Otar’s connection to his monster could save them all from a catastrophe – but will he be willing to sacrifice it all?
The Edge of a World is a Fantasy Sci-Fi story about self-discovery, destiny, and paving your own path.
Warnings: attempted SA, murder (self-defence, see first), serious injury, mentions of blood, implied genocide (past), crisis of identity (not related to LGBTQ+ identity)
Get It At Amazon | B&N | Kobo
Excerpt
BLACKNESS STRETCHED AROUND him, with no end in sight. He was just a speck, without thought, without agenda, floating through something too vast to comprehend.
A heartbeat flickered, the darkness shifting from gray to white, flooding his senses. Otar tried to squeeze his eyes shut, but he couldn’t because he was nothing. He was …
You have come …
The light hurt him. He wanted to run away from it, hide his head and his eyes between his arms and escape the brightness.
With you, we finally can go. Bring the last piece.
No, he hadn’t, this wasn’t …
HIS EYES SPRANG open into blissful darkness. He shifted and found that he wasn’t able to move. His body refused to obey him—his hands, his arms, and his legs, no muscle twitched.
The slavers must have captured and sedated him, waiting for him to wake up so they could take revenge.
No, no, no, no, no … panic thundered through him, his pulse a staccato beat, his breathing … he wasn’t getting enough air … he opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came, no sound, the world swam around him.
He was—
He—
“Shhh,” a voice close to his ear cooed. One breath, another. He flicked his gaze to the side—a shadow crouched beside him.
Had they—
The specter shifted, holding up a witch light. Blink by blink the face next to him sharpened. He could see dark eyes, a wicked scar down one cheek—the result of a fight with a thunderbeast—and a tangle of braids encrusted with beads and ornaments tied back and slung over one shoulder.
“Andres?” Otar croaked. Was he a figment of his imagination? And even if so, it was a lovely one. The panic rescinded, and his breathing eased.
“You are safe now,” the Andres-mirage said.
Otar smacked his lips. His throat was parched.
“Water?”
Otar nodded and winced when pain laced through his skull. He remembered the unchecked tumble to the ground, and before that, whatever Berat used to knock him out. The Andres-mirage curled his lips in a teasing smile and bend to the side to grab something out of Otar’s line of sight.
There was the trickle of water.
Andres turned back, carefully wriggled a hand under Otar’s head and neck, and lifted him up, as if he was nothing more than a puppet. Then he pressed a shallow bowl to his lips.
“Slowly,” Andres said gently. He only allowed Otar a few tiny sips.
It was heaven. The cool water was soothing. How many turns had he been out there? After Otar emptied the dish, Andres laid him down again, still achingly gentle.
“What happened?” He asked when Otar found a comfortable position.
Memories danced through his mind. Sand and water. Stone and darkness. Panic. Shadows that flowed in the night. The empty eyes of Berat. He was sure he wasn’t able to explain anything right, so one word needed to be enough.
“Slavers.”
Andres’ eyes narrowed. “Where?”
In what direction had he run? His thoughts were sluggish, sleep tugging at the edges of his awareness. The sun had risen to his side, and then moved in front of him. Golden and deadly. That meant …
“North.” And then, “River underground. Many caves.” He coughed, his throat hurt, he was thirsty, he wanted more water, but also sleep. Sweet slumber.
Andres touched his face, caressing Otar’s cheek with his thumb. His eyes were half-hidden in the night shadows, but they felt like burning coals. “Sleep now. No more harm will come.”
Otar wanted to say more, wanted to ask—
Sleep claimed him once more.
Author Bio
JD writes queer speculative fiction where they fall deeply and madly in love while figuring out the world around them. She collects hobbies as others collect books and has an unhealthy addiction to watching competitive cooking shows. JD lives close to the woods with her husband and the cutest dog in the world.
Website: https://jd-rivers.com