When I first started reading Drakon I was apprehensive. Like I would be if I had to jump off a plane, or walk on hot coals. There was a knot in my stomach. I felt that I had to surpass something within myself. Can I read through the blood, the battles, the maniacal lust for power? By the third chapter the knot was gone. By the sixth not only had I abandoned my apprehensiveness but I was embracing the age and times of Drakon, enchanted, carried away. Page after page I felt provoked, thirsting for the story until, much to my sad surprise, I came upon the final page with a sigh. But what an intoxicating journey it was.
Molly Bloom
Review: Intoxicating journey
September 2, 2016