Ren Garcia is a Science Fiction/Fantasy author and Texas native who grew up in western Ohio. He has been writing since before he could write, often scribbling alien lingo on any available wall or floor with assorted crayons. He attended The Ohio State University and majored in English Literature.
Ren has been an avid lover of anything surreal since childhood. He also has a passion for caving, urban archeology, taking pictures of clouds, and architecture. He currently lives in Columbus, Ohio with his wife, and their four dogs.
Three books in one:
The Dead Held Hands
The Temple of the Exploding Head
Starfarers and explorers, the League settled on Kana thousands of years ago. They found it to be a paradise, a perfect, virtually uninhabited planet waiting just for them in the cradle of space.
Lovely Kana … it was too good to be true …
But, all was not as it seemed. Simmering beneath the ground was a demented god who had soaked Kana in blood for untold ages, luring in victims, lying to them, and rejoicing in their suffering as they died at the hands of his dark angels.
And there will be blood again … From his Temple in the ground, the Horned God stirs.
When Lord Kabyl of Blanchefort, a young man troubled by the weight of the world, dares give his heart to a girl from a mysterious ancient household, one that pre-dates the League itself, he comes to know the shadows of the past that hover over her.
He comes to know of the Horned God, and for love he is destined to face him. All roads lead to the Temple of the Exploding Head, a place of evil and death, rooted in the ancient past, but also tied to the distant future.
“We were evil once,” she said, “and the gods are still punishing us…”
She began having visions when she was five years old. All of her kind had visions, and hers were especially vivid. She could see the future, and she didn’t want to. Many of her family saw their deaths in their visions, at the hands of the demons, and they crumpled up in sadness and waited for it to happen—waited for the end to come. She watched one of her brothers waste away in such a state. She went to her grandmother and pleaded
“Why, why does this have to be?”
And her grandmother calmed her as only she could and said: “Nothing has to be. Nothing is indelibly etched. If you see bad future, or you see a darkness coming, then make it better. Keep your head clear and fight for what you want, as I have done. How do you think I’ve lasted so long?”
Her aunts and uncles didn’t like that sort of talk. What sort of thing was that to tell a child? Filling her head with dreams and impossibilities. Their motto was simpler and much more stark: Live your life while you can and hope for the best, and, when the end comes, let your head swarm and take you to places where there is no pain and sadness, where the demons can’t hurt you.
As if such a place could exist.
–Lady Sammidoran learning the brutality of the world.