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Aethos -- A love/adventure/war novel exploring belief and skepticism.

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Aethos -- A love/adventure/war novel exploring belief and skepticism.

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Hi all,

My recently-published novel is a semi-futuristic science-fiction adventure with a philosophical nature.

Plus it features treachery, magic, epic battles, and a love story.

It's up on Amazon, but I'd be more interested to hear what anyone thinks about the concept. I'll post the prologue below, and feel free to post any comments.

https://www.amazon.com/City-God-Aethos-1/dp/1519316860

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01HU7GSL0
breddles
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Re: Aethos -- A love/adventure/war novel exploring belief and skepticism.

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Prologue

“The illustrious city of God,
whether in this temporal stage on its pilgrim’s progress
among the wicked, and living by faith,
or established in yonder eternal habitation
which it now patiently awaits...”
-Saint Augustine, Treatise on the city of God


The City had been a shimmering jewel in the bleak desert.
Its finely manicured features contrasted starkly with the desolate landscape. Behind austere, sand-weathered walls, skyscrapers erupted into the sky, dotted with rows of tiny squares which shone day and night. Endless towers of glass and steel reached for the heavens, interspersed with sombre, oppressive buildings with dark walls and small windows, as well as light, architectural constructions that rose above open courtyards. The City’s universities—towers of learning and research—encouraged new generations to continue, and to improve upon, the works of the old. Lush, green grass covered the many parks and gardens. Crystal clear water rushed from every fountain. Ancient churches and cathedrals stood solemn and proud, carefully restored and lovingly maintained.
From a distance, the City appeared only as a gentle white glow, like the full moon rising over a clear horizon, but this was a sight witnessed by few. There was no reason to leave. Every citizen was employed, and in return for their dedication and diligence the City sustained them. Unemployment, homelessness, poverty, disease… these were nothing but long-distant memories, of interest only to historians and scholars.
The people had good reason to be proud of what they had made for themselves, but they also had good reason to be thankful. Within the walls of the City they were not just given protection and prosperity; they were the beneficiaries of something far greater. They were, in fact, living under the greatest kind of care and protection possible: they were watched over by God. From a source deep within the City, a powerful energy continuously emanated. This energy was imperceptible to the naked eye, but everyone knew of its existence. It was mysterious, sublime. It resisted almost all of their attempts to understand it, but through perseverance they had learned to tap into it, and it now powered all of the technology on which they depended, from the smallest light bulb to the heaviest machines of industry. In the cloudless desert winters, it warmed them; in the long summers, it staved off the relentless heat. It had become such an integral part of their lives that they could no longer live without it. Their very existence had come to depend on it completely, but this dependence was far from their thoughts. To them, this energy was a sign of their elevated position in God’s eyes, and it was a symbol of God’s grace; which is why they had come to refer to it as Aether, the Breath of God.
The Aether came into the world in the Great Square, at the very heart of the City. It was a grand place, paved with stone, filled with divine sculpture and fountains, with deep history etched into every surface. It was a place for people to sit in contemplation of their faith; it was a place of serene beauty. The Square sat in front of the City’s tallest building, the Ecumenical Centre, which was the religious and legislative heart of the City and the meeting place of the Council of Priests. Beneath the Square, deep underground, a power station worked tirelessly to harness the energy released by the Aether. If people listened hard enough, anytime day or night, they could hear the reassuring hum of the power station’s workings.
At the centre of the Square was a forty-foot-tall white soapstone statue of a man wearing simple robes, his arms outstretched as though to embrace the world. This was the people’s most sacred Symbol; an image of the Prophet, whose life of struggle and salvation had brought faith to the new world and reconnected the estranged people to God. He looked down upon the City as a silent guardian, benevolent and watchful.
The statue had stood for hundreds of years, but it was not until the discovery of the Aether that the people’s faith had been made visible. At thousands of locations throughout the City, windows that faced towards the statue had been fitted with high-tech overlays that made visible the miracle of the Aether pouring out like a fountain of light. It was a constant reminder that God was always with them, in every part of their lives. It brought meaning and reassurance. Their survival depended on vigilance, keeping their faith strong, keeping the City free from disbelief; but there was no doubt in anyone’s heart that this city was the most sacred place in the world. They were watched over, cared for, protected, day after day, night after night. They were safe from the godless peoples of the world—those who lived beyond the City walls, those who might wish them harm, and those who might seek to abuse the power of the Aether for their own ends. Here, they were safe from everything, for this City was the final refuge of hope and of faith.
On this particular night, a massive crowd of people had gathered in the Great Square—the rest of the City would be watching from the comfort of their own homes—to witness a momentous event. The aged High Priest, after a long and prosperous career, had recently announced his decision to step down. Somewhere inside the Centre, the Council had convened to vote for a successor.
The people looked towards a wide stone balcony high above the Centre’s main entrance, where a heavy cast-iron lantern was hanging beside two large wooden doors. Soon, the lantern would come to life with a bright orange flame, indicating that a decision had been made. Shortly after, the doors on the balcony would open and the High Priest would emerge to announce the Council’s decision. The air was heavy with anticipation, as the people waited with hushed reverence to find out who would be chosen to lead them into a new era.
The quiet anticipation was building to a clamour. Something was happening—the lantern was not yet lit, but the people could feel a change in the air. They became aware of a low rumble, like the sound of rolling thunder.
The rumble grew into a loud roar. Waves of uncertainty rippled amongst the crowd. The roar became deafening. The ground beneath their feet began to shake. Windows smashed all around the Square. Chaos erupted as people began pushing against one another, desperately trying to get to safety. The ground warped and cracked. Sections of the Square fell several feet in an instant. Chunks of masonry started to fall from nearby buildings. People scrambled desperately for cover as the rubble rained down, while those who had already fallen were trampled, their screams inaudible over the sound of the mayhem.
The roar ceased. There was a moment of deathly silence, the people looked about, bewildered and horrified, and then a terrific flash erupted from the main entrance of the Centre. The steel doors flew outwards like cards, followed by a roaring flood of orange flames that exploded into a blinding ball of fire, knocking every last person to the ground. As the fire curled upwards into a ball of black smoke, the lights all around the Square went out.
Then there was darkness.
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