An IN THE AIR Excerpt: “Carried Away” by Jean Roberta

Zephyr would never tire of flying, and she teased Avis by flitting over and under her. The more experienced falcon threatened to drop the silken ribbon from her beak, and this prompted Zephyr to try beaming a thought into her companion’s mind. Don’t drop it. Those pearls were a wedding present. Thank you for them,…

An IN THE AIR Excerpt: “Promethia” by Kelly J. Massey

Fine gossamer wings fluttered in shades of lavender, storm gray, and sea glass green around Promethia as they flew back to their home on the mountainside. Only gentle breezes blew about them at the end of the day. Many would have spent their energies gathering rain into storm clouds or generating the flashing lightning and…

An IN THE AIR Excerpt: “The Cult of the Hyalad” by Adrik Kemp

The sisters stared into the flames, fingers clasped around their matching glass pendants, threaded with small beads of different smoky hues. Mina’s pale blue, and Winnie’s pink. The colours reflected firelight, sending patterns dancing over their skin. Behind them, Penny and Edith strung together branches and felled palm leaves to form a shelter large enough…

An IN THE AIR Excerpt: “The Treasure of the Wind-Walker” by Bryan Dyke

The sea around him turned choppy. The palm trees convulsed. The shallows blossomed with odd waterspouts and turbulence. Even closer, an unnatural twister formed across the beach dunes and rushed toward him and his claim, the air charged and alive. Within the tumult, the outline of a human figure formed: tall and muscled, garbed with a…

An IN THE AIR Excerpt: “Just Another Word For” by Deanna Smith

“This world was a wild and turbulent place when I was your age. Younger than you. I wanted all of it, body and soul. So I threw myself to the wind.” “Throwing to the wind noted.” His voice was almost pious, letting his cloak briefly flutter open for a brief glimpse of his skin. “You…

Transcendence by Brendan Foley

“My name was Cornelius Stack, and I have been lost to the wind for over a hundred years. Or so I think. I suppose I was once like you. I can remember the feel of skin, of my fingertips as they brushed against pieces of paper, played against the bark of a tree. I can…