Chronicle of Life
Book two of Chronicles of the Horsemen

With the Horsemen liberated, the Ensouled take the next step in their fight for justice: to raise an army to stand against the Archangels. As mankind struggles to cope with a horde of angelic invaders, new coalitions are born and old allies revisited. With battle lines being drawn across Creation, Alexander, Breanna and Koen face an uncomfortable question: after all that the Last Judgement has forced them to become, can they return to who they were before?

While championing the dead, can they still be truly alive?

Vincent Cédric Poinet (Leuven, 1991) has been fascinated with literature since he was very young. He especially admires the work of English fantasy writers like Brandon Sanderson, Robert Jordan and Dan Simmons. He began writing when he was 15, and spent the next years refining his style, to pursue his life-long dream of seeing his work published. After secondary school he studied Philosophy, History and Theology at the Catholic University of Leuven. He lives in Kessel-Lo and spends most of his waking hours reading, playing music and teaching Catholicism to third graders.

Breanna flew across the fields, her feet barely touching the ground as she led her small party into the cauldron of war. The sounds of battle became distant, from the high-pitched shrieks of foes to the clanging of metal to the mines exploding at irregular intervals. The noise still set her blood afire though, her whole being occupied with the new energies that sang in her veins, harvested from her angelic victims by way of her adamas knife. Her newfound vitality was egging her on, whispering at her to take more, kill more.
It took all her focus to keep those seductive voices from overwhelming her. She felt she was teetering on a precipice, and every angel she killed pushed her closer to the edge. The only things that kept her from falling outright were the twin thoughts of Lex and her mother: the best parts of herself, imploring her not to give up, not to give in. So she gritted her teeth and kept moving, fighting the enemy within and without as she flowed across the battlefield with a ballerina’s grace.
Arrows rained down around her. None of them managed to pierce her Soliditas armour, but they hurt the troops that followed in her wake. So she marshalled her souls and sent out another pulse of Gravitas that shattered the arrows and knocked the archers back. The soldiers stumbled beneath the angels’ attack, but quickly recovered and kept going, carrying their handful of wounded along. Breanna admired their stubborn, relentless loyalty to each other. When was the last time she had felt such singular devotion to anything but pain and suffering?
When was the last time she had truly felt human?