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Copyright 2021 Catherine LaCroix Isla prepared tea for Lynx and Ryock while they seated themselves outside in the courtyard. The church served multiple purposes for Analyn, including hosting wedding celebrations and baptisms of faith. Stone tables and chairs were surrounded by a garden of blossoming flowers and fresh foliage. The fragrant scent of lilies, roses, hyacinth, and lavender was a welcome reprieve from the stagnant air of the church. Lynx allowed her hands to wander the blooms until her fingertips brushed the petals of a lily in full bloom. She carefully plucked it from its stem and twirled it in her hand. “Do you take care of the garden?” Ryock asked. Lynx blushed; she hadn’t realized he’d been watching her. “I do what I can.” “It’s peaceful.” She nodded, reaching for the bench. She’d lost count of her steps from the church door but was certain they should have come far enough. “I come here whenever I need time alone to think. Or to discuss matters of the church with my

Copyright 2021 Catherine LaCroix The Healing Church of Analyn was a small, modest building in the heart of the quiet village bearing the same name. It had stood the test of time for hundreds of years, run only by a handful of skilled alchemists and physicians deemed worthy of the task. However, there wasn’t a person alive that could remember the last time the church had housed a user of the arcane. Lynx Anjali perched on a stool beside a girl of barely nine, holding her hand and singing a lullaby Lynx’s parents had saved exclusively for nights riddled with nightmares. Even if Lynx couldn’t see her face, she understood that Saara’s pain was severe. It emanated through her small body and consumed every nerve, lashing back at every attempt Lynx made to subdue it. They’d spent nearly a fortnight together in the farthest room of the church, trying every tincture, herb, and magical remedy Lynx held at her disposal. Very little seemed to ease the young girl’s pain. Though, to Lynx’s

© Catherine LaCroix & Twisted Key Publishing 2020 Asher stared at the dry bottom of the wooden mug. He was three drinks deep and running out of coin. He needed stories. Good stories. And the night was not promising. Henry, the local farmer, had been thrown from the second floor by his wife. Again. Cedric, a captain promoted from royal blood alone, had lost the most recent jousting tournament, bringing shame to both king and country. That one could almost make a song, but it was to no one’s surprise that he couldn’t sit astride a horse any better than he could command a troupe of men. No, Asher needed something sensational. His crude ditties about the three princesses had gone stale and barely earned him enough to pay for his booze. Most nights, the bard slept in a pile of hay amidst cows and pigs. Henry’s sudden landing in a hay bale beside him was a rude awakening indeed. And so, he spent the last of his pennies that evening at the Twisted Key, a pub that had withstood tests of

A/N: Hi everyone, Apologies for the length of time it has taken for another chapter for Roanapur Connection to be done. It has been quite a hectic 14 months that is for sure from work having gotten much busier during this period, to moving homes myself and Blackmanaburning. Personal struggles that have impacted our ability to write the next planned main chapter 9 months after we started it. Along with also recruitment for RC not having gone as planned that has led to jumbling of chapters and rewrites etc. that’s still ongoing and another reason why there has been no update for ages. And our whole way of life being disrupted by the ongoing Convid-19 virus has not helped either with the anxiety, stress and uncertainly of it all stopped myself from writing while I am on furlough from work. Again I wish there was more updates more often, but everyone working on RC as part of DeadlyViperQuill team that I mentioned in wanting to set up in my last A/N note which I had a logo done for it

© 2020 Catherine LaCroix Four “Let’s hear the stats on Wisdom, Clay,” Phil said as the Ultimate Impact pair appeared in the arena. “He’s their leader, it seems, and richer than the gods. His IQ score is out of this world and he relies on high-tech armor and machinery in his fighting technique.” “The ‘Batman’ of the Ultimate Impact Universe?” “The what, Phil?” “Never mind. It seems he’s teamed up with our third blonde of the fight—Paragon Fever.” “I don’t think the three of their IQs combined would come close to Wisdom’s 300 score.” “On that we can agree. Paragon Fever’s powers lie within the realm of the electromagnetic spectrum.” “This is a battle to the death, Clay, not a science fair project. Can you put that into terms the rest of us would understand?” “She uses electricity to her advantage, you insufferable twat.” “We don’t all have Wisdom’s IQ, Clay. What we do have is a lot of cleavage on this field.” “Those get-ups are far from battle-ready if you ask me, Phil.” “That’s