From the seed of a dream, a host of brilliant worlds grow.

Clinton J. Boomer and Jonathan McAnulty\\\\\\\'s acclaimed Coliseum Morpheuon set the stage and the standard for epic adventure past the bleeding edge of reality - and now that legacy of glorious dreams and terrifying nightmares continues. Inspired authors of game and fantasy including Steven E. Schend Blackstaff, Blackstaff Tower) , L. Jagi Lamplighter (Prospero\\\\\\\'s Daughter Trilogy), Tim Hitchcock (Pathfinder Adventure Path #31: Stolen Land [Kingmaker 1 of 6]), Neil Spicer (Realm of the Fellnight Queen), and many more, reveal the myriad facets of this creative jewel and herein spin tales of haunting nightmares, dauntless dreamers, and the limitless possibilities of the world that is born and breathes anew each time we close our eyes.

Open these pages and dare to leave the waking world behind.

You can find out more, or get the print or kindle editions HERE

I am posting the first page of each short story in the anthology first up is Living Legend by Jonathan McAnulty:

I never back down, I never run, and I never leave them alive,” boasted Tarl Dron, hero of a thousand battles and master of the Stolen Blade. His listeners, a tavern full of soldiers, fishermen, dockhands and assorted riff-raff, roared their approval. The serving girl at his feet giggled demurely and reached forth to refill his cup.

He grinned at her as he lifted the rice wine to his lips and swallowed it down. “Ah, that hits the spot. Many\'s the time I faced death and wished for a quick swallow of courage. Now then, where was I...? Ah that’s right. The crazed Administrator\'s skeletal legion was vanquished, and there I was, facing the ghoulish man himself. I was bleeding from a hundred wounds and he was offering to let me live if I but flee. But as I said, I never back down and though I was weary, I had the gods on my side and a stout blade in my hand. I closed in with him to do battle...,” Tarl paused and took measure of his audience. To a man they were leaning forward in anxious anticipation of the tale\'s climax, though they had heard the story before. Tarl, relishing the moment, could not help but feel pleased. This was what he lived for: a captive audience and free food and drink.

Tarl continued, his voice rising dramatically, “The Administrator of the Ebon Halls was old, a husk of a man, but his frame was held together by dark magics. I struck him once and my sword bounced away. I struck again and it bounced away again. I could not injure him. He waved his hand, a flick, and I sailed away into the air, striking hard the wall of his palace. He waved his hand a second time and I ...

Today we have the first page from:

The Sleeper Awakened
by T. H. Gulliver

By the outer shores of Somniterrum, the imaginations of languorous gods ooze delusions strange and fierce, and night-trippers from the waking world wander and mewl in their soporific stupor. On an island in these shrouded shallows, two royal refugees sought sanctum beyond the ken of the Khan. But, these amorphous harbors hold dangers for all who anchor so close to the waking world. Even mighty dreamweavers such as these would-be monarchs soon confuse the dreamer for the dream and wonder if they themselves are but an intangible fantasy that will vanish upon waking.

*****

A girl sang softly,

\"In the ever dwindling light of far-off Slumber\'s Gate
a forlorn castle steeps in a roseate hue
encircled by wooded gardens where long-rooted dreamers wait
for the hoped-for princeling to slumber true.\"

The sleeper awakened to the sound of muffled voices seeping through the wall. How long had they been there?
\"Had only you not ...,\" warned the woman.
\"... did not ...,\" replied the man.
\"... I could have ...\"
\"... nothing you could do ...\"