All Fools in the Inferno (Vos Draemar Book 4)

A Land Haunted by War, Bound by Legacy

The scorched sands of Clan Silverclaw have long been a crucible for holy wars, civil strife, and ancestral vendettas. In this uneasy calm after rebellion, power still shifts like the dunes—restless, unforgiving. What was once a cradle of revolution now groans under the weight of unhealed wounds and fading ideals. And yet, for the feline clans of Vos Draemar, it remains home—a place of history, survival, and sacred identity.

Following the siege of Saint Gaspard, House Vigilance moves swiftly to Silverclaw’s fractured coastline, where Corsair and Ragnar Sedrid must confront the scars left by their lineage. In a land that curses their family name, they press forward with a vision for reform that threatens to ignite old resentments and draw new enemies from the shadows. As violent piety and authoritarian might reassert themselves, Corsair begins to sense a deeper presence stirring beneath the surface—an ancient force that transcends politics, faith, and even blood.

What lies buried in the sands may change everything.

Start reading now and uncover the truths hidden beneath Silverclaw’s sun-scorched legacy.

Excerpt from the book

Nothing could reach him there.

The soft sheets cocooned his body in an impenetrable shell of comfort, imprisoned the warmth between the folds of the fabric and sealed him away in a realm where nothing sought to do him harm. The mattress yielded to his weight yet did not let him sink, allowed for an indent of his figure to form without absconding its duty to support him. Stretching his arms out across it sent a delightful chill along his spine. No matter how far he’d reach, the comfort of that bed would be there for him.

With a few blinks, he emerged from the darkness of slumber and acquainted himself with the world. The bed he lay upon resided within a chamber furnished with signs of life; an open wardrobe full of clothes, a book upon a nightstand, a shelf that displayed its neatly-arranged contents of scrolls and literature, a standing mirror in the corner of the room. Everywhere his eyes ventured he was met only with familiarity. Beams of gold crept through the gap in the curtains, eased along the dark wooden floor, and rested upon the mess of white sheets enveloping his being. Light entered the room yet did not infringe upon the life within with blinding harshness. The world beyond the bedchamber bid him hello in a soft tone, enticed him with the prospects of a new day yet encouraged him to take it slow. He needed to enjoy the minutia, relish the mundane. He focused on how his chest rose and fell, how his muscles contracted and expanded with every flex of his arms and legs, how the eternal rhythm of his heart maintained its steady pace.

Movement beside him. The sheets shifted and a soft groan, the sound of another soul resurfacing once more from the many dreams of their respite, beckoned his attention. He rolled onto his side, one arm resting on his waist while the other fell against the bed, and spied the second person accompanying them. There, similarly entrenched in bliss, lay solid black interceded by bouts of white. It ran along the bridge of her snout and gloved her paws that poked out from beneath the pillow she hugged. His gaze traced out her lean figure beneath the tight cocoon, felt that steady drum beat in his chest accelerate ever so slightly. Her eyes opened enough for him to see those two brown orbs so charged with devotion. She smiled and squeezed the pillow.

“Good morning, stranger.”

Those coy words, simple yet sweet. That low tone, deep yet excited. Apart they meant nothing but in conjunction they coalesced into a beckoning affection. An invisible force compelled him forth as he reached out and eased his arms around her. His paws rested upon the small of her back. Pulling her into him invited a sensation like no other. It was not just the warmth of their flesh but, instead, the resonant ardor of their souls. It was the reassurance that there was another just an arm’s reach away, that all it took was a knowing look to bring both into the safety of the other. She eased her head against his and locked eyes. She looked so exhausted, weighed down by the bliss of sleep he was similarly addicted to, yet her tail flicked with great fervor. An even rhythm thumped in both their chests as she pressed into him.