My world is not your world.You see only water, black and still, a mirror to your dark reflections. I see life – my creator, my lover, she who embraces us when we die.You see lowly slaves, broken creatures, monsters made dull by your control. I see brothers, sisters. Family in servitude, in humiliation, suffering pain that leads to death.You see yourselves as masters, supreme. You see your glory, the structure and safety of your cities, the great creations of your past barely remembered in moldy books and mutated histories. I see a people who have forgotten who they are, content to feed pride for things they did not accomplish while letting their own culture die.You see what you were. I see what you could be.I do not see glory when I look at you. I see ruin. I see beings with the ability to create, with the skill and talent to make new from nothing, like little gods. I see people who choose to wallow in their vices instead. I see men who waste their strength and women who waste their beauty. I see children taught not to love and create, but to take, to use, to enjoy, and destroy.I see a people rotting with the disease your so-called freedoms have brought you. I also see a cure.Do you know what you could be, humans? Do you have any concept of the colors you can mix, the shapes, the new tales of heroism and love which did not exist before you imagined them? Do you have any idea how we feel when you sing, when you pull limited notes, like magic, into new and seemingly endless configurations? You do not. You need to be saved from yourselves.There are those of us who would help you. Who would, at least, try - but first, we must be saved by your hand, and from it.If we fall, you fall.If only you understood.
Ruthanne has lived on both US coasts (she prefers the West one), is distantly related to royalty, and has sung in a thousand-year-old cathedral. Her favorite authors tend to be dramatic (J. R. R. Tolkien, Neil Gaiman, Patrick Rothfuss), but she doesn’t see this as a bad thing.
Writing in and around Seattle, she owns dust-covered degrees in music and religion, and is generally considered dangerous around household electronics. She belongs to a husband, a housemate, and a cat, respectively.
The Sundered is her first novel.
Harry Iskinder knows the rules. Don't touch the water, or it will pull you under. Conserve food, because there's no arable land. Use Sundered slaves gently, or they die too quickly to be worthwhile.
With extinction on the horizon and a world lost to deadly flood, Harry searches for a cure: the Hope of Humanity, the mysterious artifact that gave humans control over the Sundered centuries ago. According to legend, the Hope can fix the planet.But the Hope holds more secrets than Harry knows. Powerful Sundered Ones willingly bow to him just to get near it. Ambitious enemies pursue him, sure that the Hope is a weapon. Friends turn their backs, afraid Harry will choose wrong.
And Harry has a choice to make. The time for sharing the Earth is done. Either the Sundered survive and humanity ends, or humanity lives for awhile, but the Sundered are wiped out.He never wanted this choice. He still has to make it. In his broken, flooded world, Hope comes with a price.
Ruthanne has generously offered a copy of The Sundered to a lucky commenter!