Title: Valhalla
Author: L.A. Ashton
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: December 31, 2018
Heat Level: 1 – No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 17900
Genre: Fantasy, Valkyrie, war, WWII, Norse Mythology, gay, historical fantasy
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Synopsis
Sakuma has served as a Valkyrie for centuries, smoothly escorting thousands of souls to the grand halls of Valhalla. While the world tears itself apart during WWII, he is summoned to retrieve the soul of a fallen Japanese soldier, Ishii Hiroshi. To Sakuma’s surprise, Ishii refuses his invitation to eternity.
The two meet again and again as the war repeatedly sends Ishii to death’s door, and what should have been a fleeting encounter becomes something much greater for the both of them.
Sakuma is determined to give Ishii the reward he so deserves, but Ishii’s stubbornness may condemn him to an eternity outside Valhalla.
When did you write your first story and what was the inspiration for it?
I used to hang upside on my bed and daydream about fantastical things. This was when I was very young, and I don’t think I ever put those specific ideas to paper. They were all very X-Men before I knew what X-Men was—powerful people all belonging to a single guild, each with their own special power. Most were good, some were not.
After I discovered X-Men (which I of course thought was the coolest thing ever), I started typing out a story about a girl who could control water with her mind. The story occupied massive amounts of my free time. I still think about it now and again… honestly, my tastes haven’t changed much.
Do you have a writing schedule or do you just write when you can find the time?
I write most days I’m free of the day job, and sometimes on those days as well. I have hyper-focus to a fault; I get very swept up in my current projects and can never tell myself to quit. It can be difficult for me to think outside my obsession, and that makes relaxation hard. I’m getting better at it with the support of my friends and partner.
Briefly describe the writing process. Do you create an outline first? Do you seek out inspirational pictures, videos or music? Do you just let the words flow and then go back and try and make some sense out it?
Inspiration can come from anywhere, and usually I’ll let the story and characters swim around in my head for a while before putting anything down. Then I’ll make vague bullet points of the ideas I have, and start thinking about how to get from one to the other. I outline A LOT, but I sometimes write prevalent scenes before the plot is concrete.
Where did the desire to write LGBT romance come from? (If applicable)
I was raised in a conservative family, and it took me a long time to realize who I was. LGBT+ themes had been creeping into my writing even before then, and eventually everything made sense. I realized that if I had had access to LGBT+ media when I was younger, I would have not only known myself sooner, but I wouldn’t have been ashamed of myself either. I want others to have that, and I want those of us who do know themselves to have access to the types of stories that make them feel understood.
How much research do you do when writing a story and what are the best sources you’ve found for giving an authentic voice to your characters?
I do a lot of research. The best source available is other human beings—ones that are closer to your novel’s experience than you are—but those aren’t always accessible. For Valhalla, I had to do a lot of research on the Japanese front of WWII. They don’t even bother to teach that part of the war in American high schools! I used a lot of sources and made sure their accounts aligned, and watched a few documentaries. I study Japanese culture as a hobby, but history is another animal.
Side note: if you ever want to be super depressed, read about WWII.
What’s harder, naming your characters, creating the title for your book or the cover design process?
I am notoriously bad at titles. I would rather name one hundred characters—and I don’t like doing that either.
“How do you answer the question “Oh, you’re an author…what do you write?”
Answer varies depending on how well I know them. If I don’t know them well? “Usually sci-fi and fantasy.” If I do? “Gay shit.”
Valhalla
L.A. Ashton © 2018
All Rights Reserved
Sakuma stared down through the floor, past his feet, through the crack in his dimension. Beyond the collisions and splits of galaxies, Earth’s thrumming pulse called to him. There lay his charges—the human souls he would collect so they might rest easy in Valhalla.
He felt the tug in his chest, the pull of someone destined for his collection, and spread his wings wide before plunging through the rift that linked their worlds. With wings tucked at his sides, stars became burning streaks of light. The universe blurred and twisted, an orb of hazy blue its only clear constant.
Earth had erupted into a time of war, and Sakuma and his fellow Valkyrie labored for the sake of human souls. They saw the hidden crevices and shadows of war no one wanted to see. The world wilted before their eyes, and the bloodstained present turned the future bleak, and dark. But they also saw triumph, and sunrise after sunrise starting the day anew. They saw the look on every soldier’s face as they realized death wasn’t the end.
It was worth it.
Sakuma punctured Earth’s atmosphere, and the smells of the lands and seas gusted against his face. His eyes softened at the reflective sparkle of the ocean; it was a beautiful sight, an unchanging thing that rose and fell under the press of the moon rather than the press of humanity.
The ground approached fast. Sakuma felt the tremble of the soul before his eyes could discern who it belonged to, but then—yes. Sakuma’s wings flared outward, body halting so immediately it dissolved the idea of impossibility.
Tanks, empty bullet shells, and discarded guns were strewn across the ground. Machines and bodies littered the battlefield as if they carried the same value. The acrid stench of gunpowder resisted the wind and hung in the air, a trail left in the wake of Axis and Allies. Sakuma looked down at his charge. The man stared up at him, eyes wide and unblinking. He was bleeding, his uniform more crimson than not, and he shook with such ferocity that Sakuma could hear it in his breaths.
Sakuma knelt down and offered his hand. The man blinked, his lashes coercing loose the tears still clinging to his eyes.
“You’ve done well,” Sakuma told him. He held his outstretched hand steady as his wings flapped at his back. “Let’s take you away from this.”
The soldier gawked at Sakuma’s wings before bringing his eyes down to the offered palm. He immediately grabbed hold, the sensation firm and warm against Sakuma’s skin. Good. He’s ready.
Sakuma curled his fingers around the man’s hand and lifted. As the soldier rose, the flesh of his hand fell away and lowered to the ground. What was left gripping Sakuma’s hand were tendrils of light in the purest, lightest blue.
Strings of energy knit together to form fingers, and arms and shoulders wound away from the confines of a body to become iridescent limbs. Sparkling light ghosted from the soldier, lifting past his body as his human form sighed its last breath. The human didn’t notice the transition. He only smiled, and that smile was lit with the radiant energy of life. Sakuma grabbed his other hand to steady him, and there was a discernible purr of peace.
Sakuma spread his wings, took a breath, and shot them into the air.
He kept his eyes up as they sailed through the Earth’s sky and broke through the seal of the atmosphere. But once they were careening through space, breaking apart time and dimensions, he liked to watch their faces.
Every man thought he knew true beauty. And then every man saw the infinite expanse of space, and they realized they’d been wrong.
Gas, dust, and rock were turned perfect and ethereal in the silence of space, backlit by millions of stars. Galaxies wound into spirals, blues warmed into reds around a sun, purple and green congealed in overheated leftovers of a supernova.
Sakuma watched the faces of the humans he brought, their newly transcendent form experiencing their first taste of eternity.
Eventually, he left them at the gates of Valhalla. There they could take the seat reserved for them—a place promised to true warriors for the rest of time.
Hands now freed, Sakuma turned to gaze into the black. Somewhere beyond that void, there was a pulse. Another life had found a heroic end. Sakuma smiled, spread his wings, and plunged back toward Earth.
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L.A. Ashton is an LGBT+ author writing LGBT+ fiction. They enjoy rock music, traveling, and anything else that adds color to their daydreams. They believe in the healing properties of art and of having a cat firmly stationed on one’s lap. Their official site can be found at www.LAAshton.com.
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