The Glory Box

Claudine Marcin

Description

Award-winning author of the short story The Stairs concludes her stunning quadrilogy with a bombshell ending you won’t see coming!
In the wake of spring, new life begins …
Everything they feared about the Confederation is true: if they want to save Dara, they will have to do it themselves. Vytas and Hanita risk everything to fulfill the prophecy but will it be enough? And will they ever see Liam again?
Set upon a dystopian landscape, The Glory Box is a four-part romantic sci-fi mystery that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Each book features interesting, complex characters that must overcome tragedy and loss to save humanity, but someone will have to make the ultimate sacrifice.
In the Wake of Spring delivers enough twists and turns to give you whiplash! Every family has a story … Are you ready to see how this one ends?

Sujets

• Science Fiction
• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Suspenso
• Spring
• Suspense
• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 03 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665571685
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

The Glory Box
In the Wake of Spring
Claudine Marcin


AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2022 Claudine Marcin. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse  09/29/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7169-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7168-5 (e)
 
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022917826
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24

SERIES
 
The Glory Box
PINEAPPLE IN WINTER
THE CHILDREN OF AUTUMN
IF SUMMER WERE A PLACE
IN THE WAKE OF SPRING
 
 
ANTHOLOGIES
CAPTION THIS!
 
 
SHORT STORIES
THE COLD
THE STAIRS

To my mother …
Thank you for encouraging me to finish and
for helping through the plot holes.
Spring
While the air is still crisp,
the violet sky fades to sweet creamsicle
and awakens a memory ‘neath a layer of grey frost.
Warmed by dawn’s golden chorus,
nature erupts and blooms.
For it is spring …
And the world is new
Prologue
“C ome on now,” Saira said. “It’s time for bed.”
Her knuckles were the size of chestnuts; her fingers crooked and stiff and covered in wrinkled skin, weathered by time. But Hanita didn’t mind. She latched on to the older woman’s outstretched hand and shuffled her feet as they walked toward her bedroom.
Once at the threshold, Hanita ran in front of her teacher and leaped onto her bed, landing on bent knees. Then she tugged at her pink and white bedcovers, quickly tucking her tiny legs under the sheet and blanket before laying her head on the ruffle-trimmed pillow.
Hanita’s big brown eyes were miles from sleep when she said, “Tell me a story.”
Saira eventually reached the girl’s bedside as quickly as her old bones would allow, sat heavily on the mattress and then began tucking the covers around the girl as she caught her breath. “And what story would you like to hear tonight?”
“The Prophecy,” she whispered, cupping her hand around her mouth.
“You like that one, do you?”
She nodded and smiled wide, proudly displaying the gap where yet another baby tooth had been lost to a fleeting childhood.
“All right then.” Saira straightened her back and tucked a lock of white hair behind her ear, then she began. “Once upon a time … the world was reborn. The air was so fresh and sweet you could taste it in your mouth.”
Hanita squeezed her eyes closed, lips still turned up into a smile, listening as her teacher brought this foreign world to life with her dulcet words.
“Blue oceans reached from east to west … north to south. They were miles deep and so clear you could see all the way to the bottom … And the land was cluttered with trees—tall and short; bushy and thin; soft and prickly—trees of all kinds, coating the land as far as the eye could see.
“And the stars,” she gasped. “On a clear night, you could see all the stars in the sky that had ever lived and ever will live. And from the highest mountain peak you could reach up through the clouds, snatch a star from the sky, and put it in your pocket,” Saira said, touching her fingers lightly to the girl’s torso like one would play piano keys.
Hanita opened her eyes and giggled, squirming under the covers as she tried to escape the tickle monster. Saira laughed and pulled her hands away then waited for Hanita to settle down before continuing.
“And in this new world, creatures of all shapes and sizes roamed free, basking in the beauty around them. Until one day, a great enemy descended upon them. This enemy was clever, resilient … and cruel.
“Ruled by greed and power, he cut down the trees that obstructed his view. The air didn’t satisfy his hunger, so he stole its sweetness. Next, he began to hunt the creatures, wiping them out, one by one … And when he found that he couldn’t reach the stars, he blackened the sky so he no longer saw them twinkle.”
The smile faded from Hanita’s lips; her eyes were wide as she clutched her bedcovers up to her neck, waiting for the storyteller to move beyond the part of the story she feared the most.
“Do you know the enemy I’m speaking of?”
“Man,” Hanita answered.
“That’s right. But the Earth fought back. Waging her final assault, she unleashed storms and sickness onto man, but he was cunning … and he survived. And when there was nothing left to conquer, man turned his war upon himself.
“And then one day, a hero emerged. He tried to negotiate peace between man and Earth, but they were both tired, angry, and hurt. They didn’t know how to make peace. So, this hero showed them the way—Do you remember the name of the hero?”
Hanita crinkled her nose as she thought before answering, “The Architect?”
“That’s right,” Saira said, touching her index finger to the tip of the girl’s nose.
Hanita giggled and wrapped her tiny fingers around her teacher’s hand. “Saira, is this story true?”
“What do you think?”
The girl pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow as she pondered her own question. Then with excitement she answered, “Yes!”
“Well, there you have it.”
“Saira … Who told you the story?”
“The Architect himself.”
“No,” Hanita giggled, dragging out the ‘oh’ sound. “That’s not true.”
“You don’t believe me?”
Hanita stared back at her teacher, searching her face for signs of deception before finally shaking her head left and right on the frill-trimmed pillow.
“All right, you got me there,” Saira said with a wink. “I learned the story from my mother—but I did meet the Architect once when I was a girl not much older than you … I’m ancient now,” she added under her breath.
“Where does he live?”
“In Dara. And one day, you will go there and meet him yourself.”
Hanita’s eyes sparkled as she yipped, “Really?”
“Shh,” Saira hissed, glancing over her shoulder to listen for any hint that Marco or Dianna had heard them talking. Then she looked back at Hanita and whispered, “Yes, if you’re a very good girl.”
“When?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“If I told you, it might not come true.”
“Will you go with me?”
“Oh, so many questions,” Saira groaned, feigning exhaustion. Then she stood up from the bed, straightened the mussed bedcovers and retucked them tight around Hanita’s sides. “Do you remember what’s most important?”
The girl thought for a moment then answered, “That all—”
“Tsk-tsk,” Saira interrupted, wagging her finger. “In the old language.”
“Umm… Vse življenje je dragoceno .”
“ Popoln !” she whispered, clasping her hands together. “Perfect. Oh, you’re such a smart girl,” Saira gushed as she pinched Hanita’s round cheeks. “All life is precious. Always remember that.”
“I will … Goodnight, Saira.”
The older woman leaned over and kissed Hanita on the forehead then walked to the doorway where she switched off the light. “Goodnight, my sweet Hanita.”
Chapter 1
H er son’s name is Liam.
She knew because he told her.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump
With her arms cradled around her belly, Hanita heard his heart beating from within her body and felt his soul. For the first time, she felt her son. Really felt him as if he’d already been born; as if she’d already spent a lifetime with him.
Somehow, impossibly, with her newfound gift she was able to glimpse into the future and see herself holding him on the day he’s born. A summer baby, just like his mother, he will be eight pounds exactly with warm, golden-brown eyes, like two melting caramels, and sandy blonde hair—like his father.
He won’t fuss; he will be a quiet, calm baby with a sense of peace as if he already knows and understands the strange world around him. He will grow tall, strong, and intelligent with a kind heart. And he will be a scientist—also just like his father.
Autumn was right—Liam is unique.
Dobra zemlja runs through him already and through her. She could feel it passing between them like a current. This gift that had been within her all along, lying dormant, waiting to be awakened, was powerful, like a drug. And now that she’d found it, she felt herself being consumed by it.
She saw herself playing with her baby, feeding and twirling him in the sunlight. A flash of light and she was holding his hands while he took his first steps; another flash and she was teaching him to read and then giving him his first taste of pineapple. She was picking and choosing which special moment to visit, bouncing forward and backward within his lifetime.
Am I in control of the vision—or is it the baby?
With each flash she felt herself slipping further away from reality. It didn’t feel like the unpleasant trip down memory lane she took with Caris, nauseating and cold