Sandra Fernandez Rhoads with #FantasyforChristmas20

Mortal Sight

(The Colliding Line #1)

By Sandra Fernandez Rhoads

YA Contemporary Fantasy, Paranormal Paperback & ebook, 270 Pages April 14, 2020 by Enclave Escape

When Worlds Collide, Shadow Wrestles Light

Seventeen-year-old Cera Marlowe wants a normal life; one where she and her mom can stop skipping town every time a disturbing vision strikes. But when a girl she knows is murdered by a monster she can’t explain, Cera’s world turns upside down.

Suddenly thrown into an ancient supernatural battle, Cera discovers she’s not alone in her gifting and vows to use her visions to save lives. But why does John Milton’s poem Paradise Lost keep interrupting her thoughts?

In a race against time and a war against unearthly creatures, will decoding messages embedded in the works of classic literature be enough to stop the bloodshed and protect those she loves?

(Affiliate links included.)

Goodreads | Amazon | B&N | Bookshop | Book Depository | Target | Christianbook

Excerpt

I slip the copy of Paradise Lost out of my bag. The poem helps me feel . . . well, not so crazy and alone. Sure, it’s archaic, written roughly five hundred years ago and isn’t some scientific article or case study, but strangely enough, the words describe exactly what I’m going through.

Flipping through a few pages, I imagine John Milton standing with quiet authority, patiently waiting for me to pick up on the meaning, the same way my old English teacher would do when I’d stare out the window. I stop on a page where I’ve circled and highlighted the verses:

Shine inward and the mind through all her powers Irradiate; there plant eyes; all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight.

No doubt, Milton, you describe what happens in my panic attacks in a way that no one else seems to understand…I see misty shadows out of the corner of my eye every now and then, but I’ve only had a hallucination one time…

Then, like a slap in the back of the head, Milton hurls a random verse through my brain, as he often does. “Thou hast seen one world begin and end . . .” Yes, my world always begins and ends every year when I move to a new town, I know. I flip through the poem to match his voice with the words on the page. I read on, hoping there’s something to quell the lingering rawness in my gut. “Much thou hast yet to see . . .”

The wind howls through the cracked glass as heavy raindrops splatter on the roof. I peer out the window through the sheets of rain. Seeing. That’s the answer isn’t it, Milton? My heart races with certainty. But what am I supposed to see?