Story Notes

Hello, dear readers and fellow writers. Welcome to my literary world. I’ve spent many years working on this story, carefully refining every detail. This first book, titled Chronicles of the Tides, serves as an introduction to a future saga. My goal is to offer a glimpse into the setting, the magic, and the mysteries that surround this world.

If it catches your interest, give it a try—you might end up enjoying it. ;)

“A book is not paper and ink; it’s a pact between author and reader to share a dream.”

Summary

A thousand years ago, the Tidalus changed everything—a cataclysmic event that swept the world beneath the oceans, drowning it beneath the waves. Since then, what remains of humanity has forgotten almost everything... except fear. Each time the silver moon rises, the tides surge forward. And with them come things no one dares to name. But now, something is changing. And what approaches may shake the world even more than the Tidalus did. These are standalone chronicles from a broken world, where ordinary people struggle to survive in the shadow of a forgotten past. Each is part of a larger universe—one whose future has yet to be told. Prepare to delve into the roots of a saga that is only just beginning.

Genre: Fantasy/Mystery

Author: Antonio de Avery

Status: Ongoing

Chapters: 6

Rating: n/a

Age Rating: 16+

Prologue

IN THE STONE VILLAGES, the wooden hamlets and the settlements scattered across the sand—those at the mercy of the tides, where rock endures and water intrudes; others perched high, where the wind brushes pale stones of white and gray; and still others forever on the move—all, unaware of each other’s existence, witnessed beneath a silver moon and winds that chilled to the bone, a fleeting, inexplicable, invisible phenomenon.

Black-scaled birds took flight, vanishing into the distance. Brown crabs emerged from their holes and scurried back to the sea. Insects gathered in hives, nestled into crevices among the rocks, or hovered in humming flight. Across the stone continent, people slept. They dreamed. They rested. Furthermore, they drifted into a realm where no tide stirred.

At dawn, life stirred once more in the villages, hamlets, and scattered communities. Fires crackled to life. Spears were gripped by calloused hands. Dust rose on the dirt roads as footsteps filled them. A disheveled man, a mother of two, a young fisherman, a devout thinker, a fair-eyed farmer, a girl who dreamed of distant lands, a meticulous and refined woman, a man consumed by idleness—and many others—cried out, trembled, and wept.

Each had forgotten who they were—their names, their very selves. They stepped into daylight seeking answers from others, only to find that when someone addressed them, their names came distorted. Garbled syllables. Nonsensical utterances. Unnamable murmurs.

In their dreams, they had seen what was unfolding in the world. Those living in western villages, where towering waves struck even the stone and strange lights danced above the ocean, had glimpsed the coming devastation. Others, along the eastern coasts, where the tides grew more violent, had seen it only in dreams: the impending ruin.

The Unnamed had spoken—shouting, whispering, pleading, and conversing until their voices gave out.

But it was all in vain.

Days later, almost as one, the Unnamed left. They abandoned their villages, their kin, and the comfort of familiarity. They began a journey into the unknown. Toward an uncertain future. For the first time, they ventured into the heart of a continent that had once turned them away.