Since 2022, I have been writing a character-driven gritty fantasy novel called The Book of Fentes.

The story follows a warrior named Fentes, who marches with his tribe in the light of a vengeful Sun God named Natun. A zealot for the new religion, Fentes must navigate tribal, religious, and family politics over the course of the bloody crusade. Can a future of light and life be wrought through blood and death?

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Sample:

His flesh prickled. The bodies of many men lay around him, some of whom he had taken for himself, others taken by his people, and others, still, stolen by the enemy. It was no matter, all were sacrifices to Natun, whose power welled with the spilling of blood, whose benevolence made the ground sweet with grain and runny with water. He felt the viscous heat about his face, the warm and wet air, the gift worth slaying an entire people for. He searched for his God in this air, in the leaf-strained light above, in the blood that seared his hands and the mud that cooled his knees. Where was He?

Where was His embrace? Where was His touch that set his skin afire, that burned away all that was earthly and miserable? He had experienced it so many times at home on the farm, sitting amongst the green stalks that were Natun’s greatest gifts. Now he kneeled amongst the most potent of sacrifices: the corpses of friends and enemies, the blood-memory of clans and tribes spilling out onto the unshackled ground.

And yet he felt nothing.