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The third part of What Thrives in the Dark will come out eventually. Here's a bit of it.
The sun is crimson slash along the horizon when Azriel steps out into the silent temple square. Rooftops that should be bathed in gold are soaked with scarlet instead. The streets are empty of its people, and every shutter is drawn, leaving no light to spill onto the cobblestones. Wilting flower petals flutter weakly in the crevices between the stones, their white flesh browning with decay. Velaris grieves tonight. Shadows swirl around his boots, dancing in the long shadows cast by the dark lampposts as he walks on silent feet towards the alabaster steps. Azriel’s last conversation with the High Lord turns over and over in his mind, like a symphonia left to play in an empty room. He can see each report he presented as clear as day, each one a warning left unheeded. He remembers the way pale, ink stained fingers tapped the corner of the final report from his spies in Spring and the cruel twist to the High Lord’s mouth as he crooned, “let’s see how far they’ll go.”