Chapter 13

Kane and Clara (Book Announcement)

Kane watched the rainfall outside his office window, admiring how the sea washed to and fro against the rocky cliff below. The nearby lighthouse shined its light upon the roaring ocean. If he squinted, Kane swore he could see a ship in the distance riding the rough waves, enduring the storm forming. With a glance towards the grandfather clock, Kane noted it was considerably late. But late nights had become common place over the years.

Clara refused to leave her room—her protest to leave the manor had only gotten stronger as the weeks went by. The more questions she asked, the less Kane found he could tell her. Would she even understand the predicament they were both in? What was to become of her mind if she knew the full truth about the manor by the sea?

With a yawn, Kane moved to his desk, figuring there was nothing he could do for her in the moment. She'd come around in due time, and perhaps take the time to listen to his warnings about attempting to leave. He hated telling her she was forbidden to leave the manor; it made Kane feel like some awful kidnapper. This couldn't be further from the truth—if only she knew just how much time and effort had gone into ensuring her happiness, despite the terrible injury she had sustained.

When Otto left, leaving her in the condition she was in, it had made his blood boil. Although it had been an unsung fact, both he and Rachel had been selfish in their decision on returning to the mundane world—their home world. However, a smile curled upon his face.

Matt had a wonderful solution to their lack of empathy that even made him feel as though the scales had been balanced. The best they could have been, anyway. Kane's mind wandered, mulling over this fact as paper and pen sat before him. To his left, on the edge of the desk, was a book with his name on it. His pride and joy—which had taken far too long to publish.

He grabbed the novel in his hand, admiring the simplistic, yet effective, cover. Once again he smiled, thinking about the months it took in order to have the finished product. Although it had been setback after setback, Kane managed to barrel his way through each and every brick wall presented to him, and would continue to do so.

Although, there was a stinging sadness in this fact. How many years sooner could he have had a published piece of work? His old publicist seemed more interested in their self image rather than actually publishing books. Rejection after rejection; put-down after put-down. A sort of sadistic means of "being the better writer", it seemed. Although Kane wished her well with her limited success, Kane was more concerned about actually writing rather than just talking about it.

That, and it probably didn't help that she had hired people to harm him due to her own insecurities and mental instability. It seemed that their friendship had only cost $300 and a television set.

It had been over a year since his publicist had called upon those who had absolutely no idea who they were messing with. To find the silver lining, Kane discovered writing wasn't his only passion that he was naturally inclined to excel at. With a laugh, he set the book down, leaning back in his office chair.

"Eat your heart out," he scoffed. Then, a sigh. "After years of abuse, manipulation, lies, the blackmailing, the ridiculously inflated debt, and hiring a bunch of morons to do your dirty work—turns out I had the last laugh. Despite the years of silence, I'm not afraid to confess that you were a terrible person."

Kane turned in his chair, watching the rain fall.

"And even then, I still helped you heal. Even if you never knew it."

Kane pulled himself together. He was happy his old publicist no longer had any access to his life, and was determined to keep it that way. He didn't want retribution. He didn't even want compensation for the years of damage she had caused. Frankly, her name wasn't even good enough to be in his mouth.

Kane grabbed the pen on his desk, beginning to scrawl out a letter.

Dear Readers,

I'm happy to announce that I FINALLY have a book for sale—one I'm insanely proud of. "The Magicians of Yeto-Ben" by Kane Hagwood is available on Amazon. Just be sure to use the "Books" filter to have an easier time finding it. Additionally, you can also find links to it on my Twitter profile. And yes, I'm back on Twitter again. So if you feel like following me, check out my Fan Fiction profile for details. I know this website likes to make things as physically hard as possible to interact with the community, but after years of idiocy, I've come to expect it from this platform. But what can you do, right?

To those of you who do buy the book, the fans who have been with me through thick and thin, I want to personally thank you for your support. In fact, the fans of Flame of Life are dedicated in my novel, as my way of saying 'thank you' for all the wonderful years you've given me.

Although there are many questions about the future, I'm going to stay focused on what I love most: writing. I've spent far too much time worrying about the affairs of things that truly have no pull over my life. Funny enough, it seems the more I set my focus on writing, the more my life falls into place. These past few years have been an eye-opener in many ways.

I would be honored if you were to buy my book, but if you're not in a position of being able to (or perhaps you could care less), no worries. The books isn't going anywhere. And who knows? Perhaps another book will be released in the next few months to come. Finger crossed, everyone.

Thank you for being here with me as Flame of Life continues to grow. I hope something good happens to you today, friend.

-Kane

Kane sat the letter down, once again looking out to the rainfall outside his office window.

What did the future have in store for him?

Be it high tides or green pastures—it didn't matter. Kane felt a wave of determination hit him, reminding himself of all the shit he crawled through just to get to where he was today. And although things weren't perfect, they were far better than they ever had been.

He instinctively found himself grabbing his paperback book once more, holding it with pride.

"I wrote a fucking book," he laughed to himself, still in disbelief of his accomplishment. To him, that was all that really mattered in the end. And although ideas for his next novel swarmed him, he was content with taking a moment to catch his breath, watching the rain come pouring down.