Architects of Illusion (Echoes of Olympus, #1): Joan of Arc

Castle in the Mountains by Gray Artus

Castle in the Mountains by Gray Artus

Welcome to Olympus, where the Muses of Greek Mythology are charged with the responsibility of discovering, inspiring, and guiding the young incarnations of legends past until they once again take the form of greatness.

Embark on an enchanting journey through Architects of Illusion (Echoes of Olympus, #1), a YA fantasy novel series inspired by my backyard neighbors, Biltmore Estate, in honor of George Vanderbilt‘s extraordinary legacy. 

Join me, and a cast of brilliant film composers, as we awaken your imagination to the magic of the mountains during this year’s international A to Z Challenge (representing #TeamDamyanti).

For a detailed PHOTO TOUR of Biltmore Estate, including the life-sized limestone figure of St. Joan of Arc carved by Viennese sculptor, Karl Bitter, that adorns the exterior grand staircase tower, click HERE!  Want to read more? Visit my A to Z “Sneak Peeks” page!

Joan of Arc

IT WAS nearing midnight, when nothing but the fingers of moonlight grazed the grand staircase. The staff had long since retired, the students slumbered, but the house, though silent, never slept.

Even now, I sensed a shift in the air that slipped between the seams of Olympus. The scraping of stone against metal drew me to the window. I peered through the spider web of leaded glass to the ground below, where a solitary figure stood watch.

The boy’s head was tilted, his intense gaze trained on something above me. I recognized the wild-eyes and tousled hair of Conrí.

A cloud of limestone dust fell from the ledge overhead, followed by the falling of a body. Someone had jumped from the third floor of the spiraling tower.

I watched, horrified, as the ashen shape dropped. The shattering of rocks echoed off the walls, the moment their feet shattered the concrete.

It wasn’t human.

The impact cracked the statue’s stone skin, which crumbled and fell away from the shining armor and blood red cloak beneath.

The knight removed its shimmering helmet, running a gloved hand across its cropped hair. The moon kissed its flushed face, illuminating the stunning features of a woman.

A grin played upon Conrí’s lips as he reached to embrace her.

© 2014 Samantha Redstreake Geary



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