RestitutionThe Lledumar have been devastated by war, again. But this time, they believe they have come out the clear winners. And a handful of Lledumarians, including Dr Ryndeel Drinns, attempt to restore sanity and security to those who survived. But the challenge to restore the Lledumar to its former glory days may be more than the new leaders can handle, and more taxing and dangerous than they imagine.

Dr Ryndeel Drinns has been waiting for an old friend and love of her life to regain consciousness, and pines away the hours waiting for the happy moment to arrive. She is under pressure from the new leadership to work hard to bring Clynne Raxxman back from the unconscious hell he descended into, thanks to the poison used in the war on humans everywhere.

When an old enemy appears on the horizon, the new leaders begin a slow panic. Some say the only person who can save them is the only person who is blissfully unaware of the impending threat: Clynne Raxxman. But what will Raxxman do when he regains consciousness thinking, at first, that he has woken in heaven, but in reality has woken to a new kind of hell and a new war on the horizon.

Read an excerpt below:

Raxxman said, ‘You have me at a disadvantage, um …’, and stopped talking when he couldn’t say her name. It was there, somewhere, in the recesses of his messy memory. ‘Help me out here. My memory is a little hazy.’

‘Do you remember the last thing you did?’ asked the siren with half-moon cascade of dark hair.

There was affection in her voice, and Raxxman wondered at it. She seemed to know him intimately, and embarrassment burned him slightly. He wished he remembered it the way she obviously did.

‘I … remember dreaming.’

‘Oh?’ she said, curious he could remember something like that but nothing else. ‘That’s a shame. But I’m sure it’ll all come back to you, in time.’

He wondered what come back in time really meant. Would he like what came back? Did he want to remember the past? If the present was as dreamy and idyllic as it now was.

‘Ryndeel,’ she said. ‘Ryndeel Drinns. That’s my name. Does that ring any bells?’

‘I know it should,’ he answered. ‘I feel it … somewhere.’

‘Hmm,’ Drinns responded.

‘What was I doing before … this?’ he asked. ‘I mean, if I was doing something before and don’t remember it, you must’ve been there. You were. Right?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded at him, and smiled.

‘I have flashes of things,’ he offered. ‘There is an image of you there, somewhere.’

‘Oh? Images? Images of what?’

‘You,’ he said. ‘And others. Tall people. Strange-looking people. A Riverbed. An explosion. And you again.’

‘Do I look happy in those images?’

‘Yes … and no.’

‘It’ll come back,’ Drinns said. ‘Be patient. Don’t force it.’

‘Can you tell me … what happened?’ he asked. ‘How did I come to be here?’

Drinns looked at him with an expression that took away what had been there before. She no longer looked happy and serene. Something pained her. Were the memories of whatever happened, painful? Why would they be painful memories?

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