Scepter of the Gods: The Rod of Truth

Scepter of the Gods: The Rod of Truth

In The Rod of Truth , Book One of the Scepter of the Gods series, the world of Adamah teeters on the edge of illusion. Tekka’s gods rule through deception, rewriting history and burying truth beneath layers of control. When Alex discovers the Rod of Truth—a relic from humanity’s forgotten past—he is thrust into a quest that will test courage, loyalty, and the very meaning of power. Joined by Mila, whose gifts defy explanation, and Phelia, whose ambition may prove dangerous, Alex must navigate a web of lies, spiritual mysteries, and high-tech wonders. Each step uncovers secrets that raise harder questions: What does it mean to be free? And what price will they pay to reclaim it? Blending adventure, intrigue, and a thread of science fiction, The Rod of Truth is a story of discovery and destiny—where heroes aren’t born, but forged in the fires of persistence when everything seems lost. "I really enjoyed the use of friendship in this mystical setting. The characters were what I wanted and thought they felt like realistic characters. Mark Mills does a great job writing this and left me wanting more in this universe." - Kathryn McLeer, Reviewer, NetGalley, Kathryn's Book Review Thank you for reading my writing. This story, in particular, is a deep, passionate love affair between my brain, all things ancient astronaut, spirituality, and my imaginings of our prehistory. These stories are my thoughts about where we've come from and where we may someday go. That is all I will say to not spoil book one of Scepter of the Gods, but there will be more to say later and I hope you enjoy trying to figure out where this story is going to go. I can guarantee that you won't, at least not all of it. Thanks for coming along on the ride. This is going to be a great adventure! Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.   Mila wiped tears across her face, shifted off her knees, and crossed her legs. There was nothing else to do. Composing herself, she gave up to the Spirit around her the grief and agony and despair she set aside. She gave it up over and over again. She let it all flow away. She sought and attached herself to its presence within her and found its light. She let that light grow brighter until it consumed her consciousness. She asked it for the answer. She asked it for the power and help of her ancestors. Then she opened her mouth and let words come out.   "Ruach, hun' she WaKon Dah, tha' ke' ho'o ta-hay, geh-wahi-ni-kezho, i-ni-ke Ma-koh', i-ni-keku'da," she chanted over and over again in the language of the Ancients. "Ruach, Sacred Great Spirit, bless us with your Good and come here, bring back skin and flesh, bring back the Milk of the Mother, bring back my friend." She sat and chanted with her eyes closed so as to not be disheartened by the sight of Alex and Hushai laying in ruin. Her every hope relied on her ancestors and all the protective spirits that she knew were with her every moment of every day.   She emptied herself of the anxiety of wanting these two to be healed and simply pressed her prayers for bringing the right thing to happen. She felt a cool, swirling sensation around her, not like a wind, but more like a breath. She opened her eyes to look between her knees and saw a mist rising up out of the ground and fallen pine needles but she did not let her mind become fascinated by it. She just witnessed it.   She continued to chant. She lifted her eyes and looked toward the trees only steps to her left. More mist was lightly rising from the ground there and beginning to spill from between the trees into the clearing. She continued to chant, letting the scene around her exist as if in another reality and she was merely seeing it, but not letting it interfere with her connection to Spirit. The mist gathering just behind the trees rose higher, swirling, taking shape while she chanted. It gathered itself into a solid form resembling a large, white wolf, which strode from between the trees and sat at the edge of the clearing. She continued to chant, but was glad that she saw the wolf form from the mist instead of just walking out from the trees. Knowing that it manifested itself from the Ruach gave her comfort instead of fear.   Mila reached her thoughts outward, chanting toward the wolf's mind, and saw recognition in its eyes. In her own mind, she felt the word "Crutunga," and knew that to be the wolf's name. It lifted a front paw and extended it forward. It touched the ground lightly and all the mist around it spread away, then gathered back into the wolf's paw and turned to a white, silvery liquid. All of the mist around them was drawn to this one spot as a puddle grew into a pool until it overflowed on the edge nearest Mila and formed a small stream of light. It flowed to her and gathered into another pool just in front of her crossed legs.   "Use the Ma-koh'," she heard in her mind. She looked at the puddle in wonder that in front of her was a pool of the Milk of the Mother. She took