Del Sol SFF Review

For the first time in nearly eighteen years, someone had seen the King. The resulting report lacked concrete details, riddled instead with superlatives and italics and phrases like, “if you   felt   it, if you were   there ,” concluding abruptly with a useless sentence: “if only there were words to describe the way the night itself bent around him, how the shadows gave into his touch, how my tongue grew heavy and too big for my mouth, and I had the strangest feeling I was in the presence of a god.” Maelona snorted. The King was not a god, not exactly. Any Protectorate worth their salt should know gods were a different category entirely. But, if the stories were true, she’d rather come face to face with a god than the King.   If  the stories were true. She snapped the report folder shut, placing it back on the table, avoiding the condensation ring her pint had left behind. Maelona swept her gaze through the small pub she sat inside. It was her local haunt, an old...

I’m called Guerra the BridgeMaker. I’ve accomplished something no other lost soul ever has. I’ve broken through the barriers that separate the Nine Rings of Hell. All it cost was the afterlife of the people who followed me. But this isn't that story. This story is about what happened next.  A thunderous boom echoes across the desert as the nighttime sky shatters. Ayala's limp body passes through one Ring of Hell and into another. Close behind her is what is left of our cohorts. Their torn and shredded bodies are now nothing more than a bloody slush. The half-eaten face of Whatever-His-Name-Is spins through the air like a flipping coin. Too bad he already lost the toss. I follow behind them all, careening through the air, still holding on to Whatever-Her-Name's hand and severed forearm.  As I soar across the splintered midnight sky, I watch it stitch itself back together. Turning my head, I see the soft mango-colored dunes getting closer. I can't help but smile at my acc...