From The Order of the Key:
In my dreams, I ran with my father.
Or at least I thought it was my father. I never had the chance to meet him before he took off and kept on running, right away from Mom, from me, from kissing away boo-boos, and sneaking me cookies from the cupboard when Mom wasn’t looking. Or whatever it was people did with their dads. I wouldn’t know.
But in the dream, we were together. His voice light and teasing, an Irish brogue, an accent unlike anyone else’s in my life. He prodded me to hurry, to run faster, to keep up with him.
The air was clear and we didn’t run on a track. Our feet snagged on fallen tree limbs and slick patches of wet leaves, through the clearing in a forest I didn’t recognize. We would take off, so fast it was like flying.
It wasn’t real. For one thing, nobody moved that way. I wasn’t The Flash, though that would be awesome. For another, I’d lived in Bronx, New York my entire life, and the only stretch of open green space like that in the Boogie Down was the Botanical Garden or the Zoo. They didn’t just let you blast through the trees there.
In The Bronx, there were track meets on asphalt schoolyards, or wood gym floors with bad polish jobs. Which was where I pressed my fingertips, my heels resting on the starting blocks, waiting impatiently for the whistle to blow.
Maybe that dream was why I loved this so much.
If I won this eight-hundred-meter race, I’d get the sweet spot in the first city-wide competition of the school year. I rocked up onto my toes and back down.
I could do this.

Refugees of an intergalactic war find asylum on the ancient home world system of the Amalakoori, race long retired from from Galactic affairs and long considered extinct.

Forced to forge new lives, civilisations and theologies, without the aid of high technology or magic, for millennia, lost in a remote corner of the Galaxy the refugee’s fight and war upon each other, reverting to Feudal states and the politics of Empires.

The prohibition against technology and magic, along with the protection offered by giant warded cities left by the Amalakoori, the peoples of these new Empires are safe from discovery by the Demons of the Cataclysm.

The old worlds are soon forgotten, left only as legends and myths. But a new force has emerged in the galaxy, a savage iron age race with mastery of the ancient World gate system and stolen magic is bent on revenge and galactic hegemony. Building a bloody Federation of colonised planets from the shattered remnants of a thousand lost and broken civilisations, the Tular overlords lust for expansion and an relentless genetic drive for revenge against the Demons that devastated their world, eventually leads them to the Obsidian Gate, the only link to the Amalakoori worlds, and as the Tular believe, the original source of the Demons.

But the refugee worlds are not like the other worlds, ten thousand years of war and empire building have prepared an enemy unlike the Tular, or their enslaved beast of war, have previously faced. New races, monsters, species and worlds.

Seven And An Eighth tells a story of the Pleiades Sisters that is personal, full of heart, and looks at patterns of energy created by their work throughout world history. We see their work upon this planet through their relationships as sisters, mothers, and lovers. Our vision of the spiritual master needs to leave the top of the mountain and be claimed as an integral part of our identity as human beings. Embedded in their story are practical spiritual tools and lessons for us all.