Tag Archives: Love

Book Review: Trajelon By Alyssa Marie Bethancourt

Front cover of Trajelon – The Way Of The Falling Star Book 2

Disclaimer: I received a copy of Trajelon in exchange for a review. While I attempt to keep my reviews as fair and unbiased as possible, it is important to note that I received this copy as a gift and read it in two sittings while traveling to/from Seattle while planning our upcoming move. Also, I have known the author since 2011, though I was unaware of her writing endeavors at the time.

Summary (Low Spoiler)

Before you proceed reader, I insist you go back and read the first book in this series: Mornnovin – you can buy it here. The digital version is currently on sale through 7 January 2021.

Welcome back to the world of Asrellion where, over 3,000 years later, the elves and humans are finally signing a peace treaty to officially end the genocide that sent all elves into hiding to the extent they were assumed extinct. Our Míyahídéna is still waiting for her prince of Grenlec to return from his quest to seek out the Elven god Vaian in the sea, and her coronation day is quickly approaching. But what will happen if he doesn’t arrive? And what evil forces lurking beyond the sea could be involved in preventing his return? As the ruler of Elvédíen becomes more erratic in her behavior and eventually disappears, what will her kingdom do?

Response (Spoilers & Content Warning)

Driven mad by the absence of the one other being to which her soul is magically bound, Loralíenasa descends into the depths of despair, bringing the reader along for the ride.

Dear reader, if you have never experienced a major depressive episode, dissociative episodes, personality changes due to severe trauma, or have first hand knowledge of various types of emotional, sexual, and physical abuse… you will. For readers that have experienced these abuses first hand, be assured that Bethancourt has taken great care in her writing on these topics. Chapter breaks, perspective changes, and timeline retrospectives are all used as mechanisms for grounding the reader when the scenes become too intense.

On the bright side, you won’t have to go through years of therapy after the fact to be able to recognize the warning signs for these traumatic experiences. Plus, you will enjoy the educational ride along the way through the incredible story telling mechanics, much like all of the Magic School Bus kids with their super secret Stockholm Syndrome.

If Mornnovin was the book to introduce us to Asrellion and the universe’s clashing cultures, Trajelon is the book that introduces us to the wide cast of characters. With this cast of a new and old characters, we explore the Elven world with new depth and breadth. With no character fully innocent, it’s easier to see these characters as flawed when put under duress. One thing is certain: every character has a unique perspective on events driven by their own motivations and this influences their actions accordingly. We also gain better understanding of how hard they work to appear as a singular presentation of their choosing on the surface as per their training with the Qíarnos – the “Seven Principles of Wisdom” and how these principles impact the culture we’ve come to expect from our cold, pointy eared companions.

With expansions on language and trade relations intermixed with customs, history, and a powerful storyline that will leave a reader emotionally scarred, but begging for more, Trajelon is the sequel we needed.

Yet another brilliant work of art by Bethancourt, Trajelon reveals that she can write epic adventures of the mind and spirit in addition to the sword.

LGBTQA

Major and minor characters represent all potential combinations and it is revealed that elves are very sexual creatures in ways that tend to be left to the imagination. While there are many questions I still have as a reader (re: Galvanos), I’m sure these will be answered in upcoming sequels. So many details have been slow, subtle reveals that are delightful puzzles in this series and I highly recommend readers paying attention to the uses of coding by the author.

Grammar+

This book meets or exceeds the 1/10,000 word error industry standard.

Twilight Zone Moment

What happened to the wedding ring? I know this is a very small and minor question, but I had to wonder.

About The Author And The First Book

You can read more about Alyssa Marie Bethancourt in her interview from last year here or on her website. Follow her on social media via Twitter. You can purchase a copy of Trajelon for yourself here or through amazon here (the digital versions of Mornnovin and Trajelon are on sale for $1.99 through 7 January 2021).

How To Shop For A Sextant Online During A Global Pandemic

Or… Shopping For My Spouse’s Birthday Gift

I shake my head and stare at the screen.

“I want to feel the brass and hold it. Feel the movement of each piece and know I’ll be able to calibrate it for him,” I whine to the cat. The autumn winds blowing down from Alaska drown out my words as they wind their way over the Rockies.

Staring at the pictures, I imagine the heavy brass of my family’s sextant balanced in my clumsy hands as my father lets me look at it. His calloused palms poised to catch the instrument should I falter.

“This one won’t do.” I toss it into the mental pile of surveying and mapping equipment I look at; never purchase.

Who can afford to spend over a thousand dollars on something like this over the internet? I mentally discard another with a fancier, more modern black finish.

I call my parents. “I want to buy Jacob a sextant for his birthday. What’s the story behind ours? Does Dad have any advice?”

Thousands of miles of static and telephone lines crackle. “The one your dad has was your great grandfather’s from the maritime academy. Why do you want one for Jacob?”

I pause and shrug into the phone. “To record our locations for dark sky photography. GPS can’t be trusted out here.” I grasp my forehead and castigate my own thoughts. But I’m the one that knows how to use one for surveying, navigation, and astronomy – that would be a terrible gift.

I stare out at the horizon hidden by mountains and try to find the ocean beneath the curvature of the earth. Jacob doesn’t care about the difference between a mile and a nautical mile. What does he care about?

I catch him and ask about his feelings around flying and clouds pass over the sun – visibility down to less than 5 miles and he gives me a look that says VFR ain’t going to fly. He never got a seaplane rating and this dream is about to try a water landing without pontoons. “I don’t know when the next time I’m going to fly is. Please don’t get me anything that could be related to flying.”

I decide against getting him a sextant and reminisce about when we spent hours talking about the intersection of history where airplanes and ships used the same navigation systems and why. I stare at the stormy sea of sky lapping against the mountain sides and remember our last aerial photography trip. I order his birthday cake and continue to brainstorm better gifts.

Montana now has the highest rate of transmission of any state. Distracted, I stare at the news and try to process how dangerous it is to step outside. This was all predictable based on the behavior patterns of 1918.

Birthdays have to remain special in the face of COVID, so I order wine and check our reservation for the weekend. I check that his favorite decaf pop and breakfast cereal are in the pantry. I try and decide what else we should do to make it a special day about him.

While most of the United States has been living with this since March, Jacob has been living with COVID since it first hit obscure global news last autumn and I brought it home by explaining how diseases follow human behavior patterns. In February I set up forecasting models and told him how to prepare before the preppers drained the stores of paper products, resulting in channeled anxiety and full isolation.

My incredible husband and love of my life sits with me in my mind while I wonder how to celebrate someone as amazing as him. I think of bonfires, quality time, adventures, and our daily lives. I think about these acts of preparation and foresight and how they are gifts and acts of love in themselves.

I buy Jacob 2 books and 2 glass vessels for his birthday following the theme: Scientific Magic. I write a blog post about not buying a sextant and realizing that was a dumb gift idea. I refuse to spoil the surprise while I continue further preparations and celebrate his existence everyday.


Happy Birthday to my amazing partner and best friend, Jacob. I have many best friends, but you are the one I married and the one I celebrate today. My forever partner in adventure 💕

Dealing With The Past – a poem

Dealing With The Past

Others hold against you–
Are hurt by and bring down wrath
Upon your pain –
Childhood never ending
Swirling inside the mind drain;
Decisions of survival
During exploration of the self–
These ghosts will haunt
Until end of time–
Their whispers paranoia sells.
There is no such thing
As kindness or compassion
Not even from the ones we love
We will always be alone
But we will always rise above.


Thank you for taking the time to read my poem today. If you would like to see more poetry, please like, comment on, or share this poem. It helps me know which types of posts my readers like best.

A Draft Excerpt From “Little Earthquakes In The Sea”: Time For Goodbye

Content Warning: this piece discusses the death of a child and is based on a true story that took place almost a hundred years ago. For those wishing for a soundtrack while reading, I recommend this.


It rained that day in Bonaventure. The men in linen raincoats slicked with wet wax pried her blue and purple infant from her arms with kind eyes as they stood by the gravesite. He never cried. His eyes scrunched shut and mouth hung open to reveal white gums and a tiny receding purple tongue that never knew her breast. His little hands balled into stiff rigor mortis – the same little hands that once pressed through her skin to feel his parents’ palms. The wood and hammered metal wheelchair creaked beneath her in the gusting wisps of distant thunder carried on harried fat dollops of weather.

It was time to say goodbye.

Having never taken a breath of the sweet earthy air, she knew he only ever lived inside her. Her eyes hesitated on his blue lips. A different blue than the eyes she knew he must have beneath those unopened angelic lids. She imagined how if they had fluttered open she could have seen…

“Anna, it’s time to go.” The captain clasped a firm hand on her shoulder. “You have to say goodbye.” His body trembled, but his feet remained firm in the soggy ground.

Ever the polite grave diggers at Bonaventure – their patient spades waited for the captain’s call. To have her baby’s birth documented at all was a luxury. In the eyes of the state of Georgia and the city of Savannah, he never existed. At least Bonaventure gave her and her husband the dignity of recognizing the agony of her feverish labor after carrying her child for all those months; the right to mourn after knowing him all that time only to lose him before ever hearing his scream of life or giving him a name on paper.

In the distance, a bird flew into a patch of blue sky over the ocean on the blue-gold horizon beyond the mouth of the Wilmington River. Another drop of water hit her as she gazed over her child’s face once more. Her hand grazed the place on her stomach where she felt his final kick before the labor began – where she saw his little foot press through her skin. She let go – her tears hidden by the rain.

The men wrapped his little form in a thin damp cloth dusted with perfumed talc from a pouch on one of the digger’s belts. Smudging dirt on his forehead, the digger knelt and placed her unknown son as if asleep into the soft soil of the small pit. Beneath the morning clouds, the scene took on a light blue glowing hue. She closed her eyes and began to hum the lullaby she’d sung to him every night since she’d first felt his presence as the captain’s jerk of the chair indicated him turning away and processing along the ground. The exhaustion hit her again with a wave of nausea. Her baby boy gone forever as if he was never there at all.

In Bonaventure’s records they added:

1929 – Baby B— – Stillborn


If you want to read more, keep an eye out for future additional updates and excerpts from ‘Little Earthquakes In The Sea’. Liking, commenting, and sharing all helps me know which posts my readers prefer. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this today!