Excerpt from his first book:
Pilgrimage of Angels
The endless fields of heaven burned for days on end, blades of grass stubbornly refusing to turn to ash, fires fed by the boundless energies locked within the celestial plain. At one time, a great many spirits had populated the heavens. Spirits of fire and water, of earth and trees, of the wind and the sky. Then, all was consumed by the wrath of the lesser gods. Monsters and giants had driven the spirits away, leaving nothing but grassy fields behind, where great forests and seas and mountains had once dwelt. The heavens were abandoned, and what little life was left behind now burned in a fire unquenchable.
I know this, because I watched God try to put the fires out, and fail.
The lesser gods, the Titans and their Olympian children, had turned their full thought on the destruction of God and his heavenly home. I was among them, a foolish child hoping to please her parents, not realizing the weight her actions carried. Power flowed out of us in boundless waves of unchecked and unchallenged energy, blazing the earth black and the sky red. Yet for all our efforts, still the grass held its form. The essence of life was still protected by the might of the Father, a God who could do little else to stop the destruction his own creations were bringing against him.
I marched with the Titans across the whole length of heaven, burning everything in my sight and coming finally before the great throne of God, which lay protected inside a tower of marble and light that rose high above our heads. My eyes glistened with youthful pride as Cronus, leader of the Titans, and Zeus, his Olympian offspring, hammered on the doors of the great tower themselves, calling the so-called King of Kings to come forward and answer for his crimes. He’d withheld the Earth from us, denied us the birthright of the world we’d helped create. He would pay for his selfishness and pride. We would have what was ours.