I felt a huge physical force slam into my back. I didn't have any time to think as I rocketed into the wall and felt the drywall dent beneath my body. Eyes wide, I groaned and began to push off the wall when, unceasingly relentless, my assailant backstabbed me with a knife to my gut. I gasped; being stabbed there is no laughing matter. Even today, with all the advances of science, a wound like that can easily be mortal. Most likely would be. I gasped for air with a snarl, funneling the wind into my lungs to help them expand after being pancaked into the wall. Nobody f***ing backstabs me and gets away with it.

If there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I love being alive. I love it more than anything else. It's something only a dead person can understand, and I feel myself forgetting all the time. But there's a secret to death, and I keep it with me. Always. It's never permanent, it's never peaceful, and it's always filled with regrets. But death, despite all of its shortfalls, can give a short respite from life, like a comfy afternoon nap. Death is Respite. It's a rest for the weary. And to all those people who wander in death lonesome and regretting their broken lives - always, without fail, cut too short - I beg them to take advantage of it. I tell everyone to take advantage of death, even when I can't bring myself to do so.

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Ciaran travels the world in pursuit of Glories, unfathomable, power-bestowing balls of golden light sequestered in difficult-to-reach places. A fun fantasy romp with a character with an unorthodox narrative voice trying to find his purpose in the world.