Elsabeth's Dance: The Shoalman Chronicles

By Kira Decker

A dance through time will decide his fate
 

Rockshoalman believes his cursed immortal life dooms him to eternal loneliness until a fated encounter with an innocent young mortal. Elsabeth's beauty takes his breath away, but when they dance, she gives him something he thought lost centuries ago—hope.
 

Can the past restore an Immortal's future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: DreamRaven Press
• Release date: Oct 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9798215367315

Kira Decker

Who is Kira Decker? Alter Ego: Toni Decker - The Shoalman Chronicles Series Author of Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy with a Supernatural Twist Telling one Paranormal story after another about Young Adults/New Adults getting along in their own crazy, fantastical worlds. One-half of the brain is an avid reader of all things Paranormal, while the other half devours Fantasy for midnight snacks. Together, Kira’s stories are one part Paranormal, one part Fantasy, and two parts Supernatural. After taking over the writing of the Shoalman Chronicles (Published as Toni Decker), Kira enjoyed exploring the world she helped to create and bringing even more characters and their supernatural adventures to life in Book 3: Dark Ink Embrace and soon Book 4: White Ink Surrender.  In Elsabeth's Dance, Kira delves into one of Rockshoalman (otherwise known as Robert Shoalman from Book 2: Shoalman Immortal) past lives and connects it to his present and future. Who knows what's in store for him next. (SPOILER: Kira has plans!) As a kid, Kira loved reading books about the strange and unusual found in everyday life. The experiences you couldn't quite explain unless you got creative. One day she decided to give voice to all those characters in her head relating their supernatural adventures, all while laughing, crying, and cheering for a happy ending at the end of the journey. *I adore the ride my characters take me on and I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I love writing them.* You can follow my journey on: Twitter: @KiraDecker Instagram: KiraDecker FaceBook: Kira Decker, KiraDeckerBooks Goodreads: KiraDecker Always love to hear from readers! Email: AuthorKiraDecker (at) gmail (dot) com

Book preview

Part I

The Present

Death faced Rockshoalman . 

Others might recoil and flee in fear, but after five hundred years, death’s ability to intimidate him had lost its power.

Except here.

Darkness surrounded him, cold and unfeeling, the moon cowering behind the patchy clouds as if afraid to intrude. Only his breath leaving trails of silver vapor in the air proved life existed amongst the ruins. Nestled on the highest peak of the parish lands, the manse sat high on a cliff overlooking the local village in the valley below. Rockshoalman stepped gingerly toward the edge, careful in the lamplight not to lose his footing on the dew swept stone—although not even that fall could kill him.

Traditional wood and stone houses stretched out before him. Gas lamps lined the village streets, twinkles of light against a midnight black canvas. A hundred years ago it had been the same. The village and surrounding area—much like himself—remained ageless against time. Wisps of music floated on the air. The inhabitants celebrating in the local pub most likely; the day forgotten in drink and song. Forgotten like him.

The click of the caretaker’s gnarled wooden cane against the cobblestone paths turned Rockshoalman towards the two-story manse once more. No such life reached the stone manor house remnants before him. The multi-hued and speckled granite now dull and muddy in the tentative moonlight. Weathered and rotting boards covered the first-floor windows like haunted eyes peering across the expansive and overgrown front lawn, while withered ivy strangled the two Roman columns in a death grip. It could be the subject of one of his paintings—the kind his curse forced him to paint. The ones he despised.

Despair reached its insidious fingers around his heart, abrading the hope he clung to in desperation. Rockshoalman stared at the horse-drawn carriage, the only means of transportation to the manse he could procure, and the uncertain future it offered. Could he be free to live if the shadows of his past remained?

This is a mistake, he whispered to the icy wind tugging at his navy blue, wool overcoat. I should not have returned.

With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to a half-life. Before he took more than a step towards the carriage, the moon escaped past the clouds to cast a pale moonbeam on a splash of color. His breath caught.

A single pink bloom graced the otherwise barren flower garden that edged the cobblestone path leading towards the front entrance. Life challenged death.

She is here.

Kneeling, Rockshoalman picked the peony. Cradled within his palm, the floral scent swelled around him, edging the darkness away with happier thoughts. The layers of petals reminded him of the lace and ruffles of a time a hundred years past. He