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Lorekeeper's Saga: Daemon Lost

From sketches yet to be colored to quick paints lacking refinement, artists often share their works in progress in varying levels of rawness. The art of creation can be a lengthy grueling process and these WIP's allow friends, fans, and loved ones to see the evolution of the artist's long gestating endeavors. Otherwise there would be extended periods of silence within which their daily efforts may be forgotten. With that in mind I'd like to offer to you a WIP of book one in the Lorekeeper's Saga. This is an excerpt from the first draft of "Daemon Lost". The names and title are subject to change, yet here you'll find a glimpse into the world of Aerlon.

    As the man closed the thick red curtain behind him, she recognized her client by his silhouette alone. He was a regular here. The din of the tavern beyond was muffled as the curtain fell into place and the man took a seat across from her. 
    “Welcome Hellsdreamer,” she greeted, reverently shuffling a deck of over sized cards while her numerous beaded bracelets clattered against the wooden table of the private room. 
    “Jezzine. I sniff a swell of fear in the streets. Something is coming. Tell me what enemies lie in wait before the day's end.” His broad hand brushed the clinging rain from his mustache line down to his chin as he watched the slender fortune teller’s nimble hands at work. 
    The fortune teller sat eerily quiet as the thick card faintly slapped the table in front of her client. Candles flickered on the wall animating the colorful painted card with illusionary life. Perhaps it was a trick of light or perhaps a result of the thick incense burning behind her in its bronze censor. “Representing your past is the hanged man. There will be a great awakening that comes from the sacred mystery of death.” Giving him time to view the image it displayed, she looked up to study the reaction of the rough hewn man across the table from her. He tried to stifle a laugh, but as his eyes caught hers, he erupted into a deep guffaw. His expression hinted at both disbelief and child like guilt.   
    "Or perhaps”, he paused, ”it represents something more literal." Dabok Hellsdreamer intimated as a mischievous smirk crawled across his disfigured lips. The previous day’s events were still fresh and heated in his memory.

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