I was eighteen when I died.

I was mere moments from throwing down a full house and declaring victory against my elder sister, Nathalie, in the backseat of our family's town car. Ah, how eager I was for her delicious frustration as I finally bested her. I'd waited the whole ride for it.

Disaster happened awfully fast. Crunch of metal. Hissing engine. Wheels spinning. The fleeting, noxious aromas of fetid swamp water and sultry summer air.

In that moment, I was fully conscious of my own coming death. I could feel it, smell it, taste it. There was no guiding light or angels or whatever. Nothing flashed before my eyes. No treasured memories or life review.

My mind was not wired to look back. Only forward. My fight-or-flight? Set firmly to war.

So, yes, I was eighteen when I died.

But then, at eighteen, I was reborn.

The Saga of Crimson & Clover: A sprawling dynasty. An ancient bloodline. A world of magic and mayhem. Welcome to the Saga of Crimson & Clover, where all series within are linked but can be equally enjoyed on their own.