Tuesday, April 15, 2025

RELEASE DAY: THE THIRD RING Book One of the Sanctum Series by A.N. Horton

 



The Third Ring
The Sanctum Series
Book One
A. N. Horton

Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Veil and Valor Books
Date of Publication: April 15, 2025
ISBN: 979-8-9911249-6-6 
ASIN: B0DY949XBH
Number of pages: 404 Pages
Word Count: 112,000
Cover Artist: Adrian Păsărin

Tagline: Ten Trials. Two Oaths. One Chance.

Book Description: 

To Adrian, the gods were never anything to be worshipped, just tolerated. But in the walled city of Sanctuary, whether through the religious fervor of the elite or the quaking fear of the poor, the Geist have always been served. And now it's Adrian's turn.

Born into power and raised for greatness, Dante stands for everything Adrian has come to despise, but he may be her only hope of survival. When the two of them are bonded against their will and forced to compete together in the Trials, the god's ancient gauntlet of physical brutality and psychological torture, they have no choice but to set aside old prejudices and work together. Navigating religious zealots, a patriarch intent on breeding the pair for power, and the increasingly obvious cruelty of the gods, Adrian must come to terms with the fact that, whether Culled or Championed, we all serve the gods in the end. And, for her, betrayal has always been waiting just around the corner.

Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcZCgrRLlGQ

 

 

Excerpt:

 

I was in a vast, open chamber. The walls were made of solid, smooth gray stone, almost the color of charcoal, with thin veins of white running through them at odd angles. That singular, faint light shone down on a massive hunk of porous stone which took up most of the room. I approached it slowly, in awe of the size. I’d always thought the Oath Stone was small, something you held in both hands while reciting some vow the attendants guided you through or had written on the walls.

I glanced around. There were no words. Not on the walls, not on the floors, not even on the stone itself. There were no words written anywhere, no instructions, no Oath. I spun around again and again, searching in vain as my panic rose to the surface.

How do I know what to say?

How pathetic. Utterly, depressingly pathetic. How was I ever to make it past a single Trial if I couldn’t even figure out how to take my Oath?

My palms itched. I scratched them with my fingernails as I walked toward one of the walls. I narrowed my gaze, trying to discern a pattern in the white lines running through them. There was nothing.

I huffed, my nails continuously running back and forth on the sensitive skin of my palms. But the more I scratched them, the more they burned. I switched to rubbing them as I approached the stone. I leaned down, staring at the hunk of porous stone, tilting my head side to side as I inspected the bumps and crevices until I hissed—the burning in my palms had become an inferno.

Frantic, I held up my hands, expecting to see inflamed skin, a rash even, but they weren’t even red.

Still, they burned.

Flooded with an overwhelming compulsion to find relief from the cool surface of the Oathstone, I reached out and pressed my palms flat against the massive rock. The burning stopped, the itching soothed. I closed my eyes and took a breath.

Then I heard it. A faint voice in the back of my mind getting louder and louder…

I jerked back in surprise, but the moment my hands left the stone, they began to burn even worse than before. I hissed and stared at them again. I still saw nothing but my own skin. Shaking, I reached for the stone again.

The moment flesh met rock, the voice returned. I twitched, uneasy, but concentrated, frowning and pressing my eyes shut tight as if that would help me hear it. It spoke in a whisper and cycled through its message before I could finally make out the words.

“Repeat after me.”

I again startled. The words echoing around in my head were coming from my own voice. I tried to pull my hands from the stone, but I couldn’t. My palms were fused to the rock.

“I vow to obey the tenets of the Trials.”

I hesitated. Did I truly want to go through with this? As confident as I’d been this morning, as resigned to follow through with Darius’s last wish of me, this was…something else entirely. Something I hadn’t expected.

“Make your Oath,” my own voice hissed at me.

“I-I vow…to obey the tenets of the Trials,” I repeated. It seemed to be my only way out of here.

“I shall not speak of my experiences in the Trials, neither now nor upon their completion,” my voice whispered, then waited for me to repeat before continuing. “I shall use my blessings in service to the Geist. I shall seek to keep all knowledge and capability given as a result of my success between myself and my partner. I shall train my body, mind, and soul to be a proper reflection of the holiness of the Geist. For the duration of my candidacy in the Trials, I forfeit all worldly obsessions and submit myself to the will of my gods.”

Again, I hesitated. It seemed a lofty price to pay in honor of a friend I’d never see again. A friend the Geist had stolen from me. The thought of Darius, in this moment of all things, was like a punch to the gut. But it was a reminder as well: I wouldn’t be swearing it for them. So I took a deep breath and made my Oath. The words turned bitter on my tongue.

 

About the Author:

A. N. Horton is a two-time award-winning author living in Nashville, TN with her husband, children, and moderately chunky Corgi. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, baking more cookies than her family can eat, and plotting crimes against her characters. Best known for crafting characters that steal her readers’ hearts as much as they shatter them, A. N. Horton is a cross-genre writer focused mainly on fantasy and romance.


 
 

 
 






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