Life Passed

A Transgender Paranormal Fantasy

From the Paranormal Visitor Universe

Preface to the Completed Novel

By Sasha Zarya Nexus

Can Marcus cope with yet another of his clients slipping the bonds of Earth?

Copyright 2008, 2025 by Sasha Zarya Nexus.
All Rights Reserved.

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The Ancient Altar

Deep in the shadow of Whispering Pine Mountain, where mist clings to granite faces like forgotten prayers, stands an altar older than memory. Carved from a single block of black stone veined with silver, it bears the weathered marks of Celtic spirals and triquetra knots that seem to shift in the changing light. For centuries, it slumbered beneath a canopy of ancient oaks, its power dormant, its purpose lost to time.

The altar remembers when the first Celtic settlers brought their sacred knowledge to these peaks, when druids and wise women gathered beneath the stars to weave protection into the very bedrock of the mountain. It remembers the binding rituals that contained elemental forces within its stone heart, keeping the balance between the seen and unseen worlds.

But memory, like stone, can crack.

Three months ago, when the autumn leaves blazed red as fire, a woman named Tabitha approached the altar with her circle sisters. She was loud, boisterous, overconfident in her abilities—everything a practitioner should not be when dealing with forces beyond mortal comprehension. Her laughter echoed off the stone as she traced the ancient symbols with careless fingers, speaking words of awakening that should have been whispered with reverence.

The altar stirred.

Silver veins pulsed with sudden light, and the triquetra carvings began to glow with an inner fire. The binding spells, weakened by centuries of neglect, cracked like ice in spring. Something vast and hungry pressed against the thinning barriers—a fire elemental that had been contained since the first rituals were performed on this sacred ground.

Tabitha felt the power surge beneath her hands and laughed with delight, never realizing she had torn a hole in the fabric between worlds. The elemental tasted freedom for the first time in generations, its essence seeping into the mountain's heart like molten gold through fractured stone.

When the wildfire came weeks later, racing through the dry timber with unnatural hunger, it was no accident. The fire elemental had found its moment, and when a man named Elias Vire stumbled into the flames seeking to save what he thought was a trapped child, the ancient force found its vessel.

The altar stands silent now, its silver veins dim but not dark. It waits, patient as stone, for the cycle to complete itself. For in awakening the fire, Tabitha had set in motion events that would transform not just one man, but an entire community—and three women whose Celtic necklaces would prove to be more than mere jewelry.

The mountain remembers. The altar remembers. And soon, all debts will be paid.

Welcome to Cedar Hollow

Nestled in a valley where Whispering Pine Mountain meets the rolling foothills of the Appalachian range, Cedar Hollow appears to be nothing more than a quiet mountain town where time moves slowly and neighbors still wave from their front porches. Main Street stretches for exactly six blocks, lined with businesses that have served the same families for generations: Murphy's General Store, the Copper Kettle Diner, Hartwell's Hardware, and the Cedar Hollow Community Bank.

The town's 3,200 residents live in a mixture of Victorian houses built during the logging boom, modest ranch homes from the 1960s, and newer constructions that climb the hillsides like hopeful prayers. Three churches serve the spiritual needs of the community: Cedar Hollow Methodist, St. Mary's Catholic, and the newer Eternal Light Baptist Church, whose Sunday sermons have grown increasingly fervent in recent months.

What visitors don't see—what the tourist brochures don't mention—is that Cedar Hollow sits at the convergence of ancient ley lines, where Celtic settlers once found the spiritual energy so strong they built their most sacred altar deep in the mountain's embrace. The town has always attracted those who walk between worlds: healers, wise women, and practitioners of the old ways who understand that some places hold power that transcends ordinary understanding.

Lately, that power has been stirring.

In Cedar Hollow, the line between the sacred and the mundane has always been thin. Now, as ancient powers stir and modern conflicts ignite, that line is about to disappear entirely. What follows is the story of transformation—of individuals, of community, and of the very nature of what it means to live authentically in a world where love and fear wage eternal war for the human soul.

The mountain watches. The altar waits. And in a small house on Maple Street, a conversation is about to begin that will change everything.