In the Shadows of Montmartre

 

Karl in the Shadows of Montmartre

Welcome back, my lovelies. If you joined me last week, you caught a glimpse of Paris through my eyes… and of Rémy, fleeting as a shadow in the snow.

Montmartre! The very name conjures ghosts of genius: Hemingway, Man Ray, Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein. Toulouse-Lautrec, Van Gogh, dreamers with canvases tucked beneath their arms and just enough francs in their pockets for a bottle of red wine.

The air was fragrant with bread and coffee and laughter. I wandered, my Mary Janes clicking along the cobblestones, looking every inch the dark academic misplaced from the 1920s.

Bistros buzzed with conversation and clinking glasses. The city pulsed with life. I was seeing Paris as if for the first time and I loved it.

My small silver Kodak camera, and yes, it is the same one I still carry with me today, was poised for everything: a street sign, a bicycle, a flowerpot. I photograph anything that catches light or memory.

That night, it was two nights before I was to leave, and I felt content. My notebook was full, (I had to buy a new one) but my heart full. Paris had bewitched me. Yes, you read that right.

I took a seat at an empty table and ordered a glass of Provençal rosé. The jazz hummed softly. I looked up….

And there he was.

A man who commanded the street. His long blond hair moved like a perfectly conducted symphony. His face was sculpted by the gods themselves…too exquisite for ordinary mortals.

When he smirked, I knew I would never be the same again.

Was he real? Oh yes. He had stepped through the portal, the doorway to the Militiverse.

I had just met Karl.

The waitress set down my wine with a knowing smile. My new book was beginning to take shape.

 Tempus Lunae Sanguinis Unveiled 

From one city’s spell, a story was born. Tempus Lunae Sanguinis …The Time of the Blood Moon… Was shaped by the enchantment of Paris itself.

I wanted it to mirror how I met my characters: fleetingly, fatefully, as though the city whispered them into being. A city that breathes. A world that lives. A Militiverse that commands.

Welcome, my friends, to the European branch of the Tempus Militibus:
Lutetiae Division.

Of Time, Blood, and Becoming

The Tempus Militibus series is a vast tapestry, of time, of blood, of becoming. It lives not only in my imagination, but in yours, my dear readers.

These characters feel real because they are. They breathe through ink of my quill and with a heartbeat.

The series is everything I adore: history, heroism, and the irresistible pull of shadow.

So, join me. Step through the portal.
Welcome to the Militiverse.

Until next time,
Anna