Tuesday, 18 March 2014

David Toft: Worlds End

Please help us welcome David Toft back to Heart of Fiction.

David is originally from West Yorkshire in England, but now calls Dublin home, where he lives with his lovely wife. He's a prolific writer -- see his Butterfly Series, for example -- who takes his craft seriously and voraciously.

Today, David is celebrating the release of the second book in The Kyklos Trilogy -- Worlds End, published by Tirgearr Publishing.

In book one, The Cycles Turn, we're introduced to an unlikely hero, Augustus Braithwaite, a boys' school headmaster. The discovery of a crucified cat in the chapel of his school plunges headmaster Augustus Braithwaite into a battle against forces, and worlds, he previously didn’t know existed. Augustus acquires an ally in Sharna, a young woman he rescued from execution in her own world, and they return to his school to confront the power head on. Only one of their enemies, teacher Edward Braine, horribly disfigured but still maliciously strong, survives. Together they track him across Ireland to a final confrontation on the island of Inishbofin.

In Worlds End, Augustus is thrown back into the fray. It's nineteen years after the cycle turned, and now it's changing again. His son is missing, and a brutal path of serial killings is stretching across Ireland. Augustus feels the pull back to Ireland . . . back to Inishbofin.

Wow-wow! If The Cycles Turn was edge of your seat reading, Worlds End will have you out of your seat and ready to join Augustus on his trek across Ireland to save the world. Sometimes, the most unlikely characters are the best heroes, and David proves that Augustus has what it takes. David has penned a believable character, even if the plot is fantastical. He makes us wonder if other realms exist, and if they do, what could be in them. And do we really want to know. In this case, when they cross dimensional lines, even the humblest of men, and women, must step up to the challenge. This is a great read, with something in it for horror readers, as well as dark fantasy and paranormal.

Readers -- David loves to getting to know his readers, AND is giving away a free digital copy of this book to one lucky winner today, so just leave a comment or question with your contact email address for your entry to be put in the hat.

• • •
It is nineteen years since Augustus and Sharna’s victory over Edward Braine’s coven on Inishbofin. Across England the renewal cycles of other covens should be under way, but Augustus and Sharna have not been summoned to thwart their expansion.
  Alrik, their nineteen-year-old son, is missing again.

A brutal serial killer leaves a gruesome trail of mutilated girls across Ireland.

Could the three be linked? Could Edward Braine still be alive? In striving to answer these questions, Augustus is tempted back to Ireland and into the most desperate struggle of his life.
Augustus tossed his book onto the floor beside his chair and let out a long sigh. He couldn’t concentrate. He never could when Alrik was missing. Sitting with her feet pulled up beneath her on the chair opposite his, Sharna appeared to be engrossed in whatever she’d loaded onto her Kindle, but Augustus was aware that her eyes flicked constantly in his direction. She was worried about him. He was worried about her. They were both worried about Alrik. 

The sight of her reading brought back memories of happier times. The written word had been unknown in the world from which he’d rescued her. Her initial dependence on him even for things as simple as reading a menu had perhaps made him love her even more. He’d taught her to read. The lessons had drawn them together. Happier times indeed. Pre-Alrik times. Where the hell was he this time? He glanced down at his hand. His fingers had clenched into a tight fist. More and more often his concern for Alrik turned to anger, then hatred, for the son who had turned their dreams of a family life into a living hell.

Where had they gone wrong? They’d asked that question so many times over the years that they no longer verbalised it. He couldn’t put it down to the hormonal chaos of adolescence. Alrik’s tantrums and inexplicable bursts of anger had started even before he could walk. They’d tried everything, read every childcare book they could find, trawled the internet for advice, nothing had made an ounce of difference.

Pet therapy—Augustus snorted. Something small and vulnerable to have to care for, something for which to be responsible, Alrik had been six years old. They’d bought him a golden Labrador puppy. He had disembowelled it on the kitchen floor. ‘To see how it works’, he told Augustus, when his father walked in on the scene of bloody carnage. More oft-visited memories formed an orderly queue in Augustus’s mind. He felt as if he were standing and looking back over the line of patiently waiting torment. He unclenched his fingers and pushed himself up from his chair.

Sharna glanced up from her reading and smiled.

He tried to smile back, but his lips only twitched. He walked around the back of her chair, ignoring the hand that reached toward him for contact.

His laptop lay open on a small desk against the back wall of the room. He brushed his finger over its touchpad and the screen flashed out of hibernation. An image of Dun Mor, the iron-age promontory fort on Inishbofin and scene of their last encounter with the Power, stood formidable and green against a bright blue sky. Centre-screen, the white square of the message box stood empty. The cursor in its top left-hand corner blinked mockingly.

Augustus clicked on ‘check for new messages’ more out of frustration than in the hope that anything would appear. The Cycles must be turning as they always turned. Covens across the world must still be regenerating. He couldn’t believe that their victory over Edward Braine had been the end of it, so why was he not needed? Why had he been chosen and then not used, not in almost twenty years?
 • • •
Born in Bradford England, David Toft gained a degree in Education before going on to work in London and Warwickshire. He now lives in South County Dublin, Ireland with his wife, Mary.

David has been writing adult fantasy and paranormal fiction for over twenty years.

Find David online at --

Tirgearr Publishing

• • •

Don't forget -- Tirgearr Publishing is giving away a copy of Worlds End today to one lucky commenter. Leave David a message or ask him a question and be automatically entered into the random drawing.


  1. Welcome to Heart of Fiction, David, and congrats on the release of the latest in the Kyklos trilogy -- Worlds End.

    Please, tell us what attracts you to Inishbofin and why you've set your story there.

    1. Thank you Kemberlee. I fell in love with Inishbofin when I first visited the island over twenty years ago. There are many beautiful places in the world and many spectacular ones, but few truly magical ones. Inishbofin, and especially Dun Mor, the site of an iron age fort at the tip of the island, is one of those magical places. Here I get the feeling that normal rules don't apply and anything is possible.

      There are also the ancient myths that surround the island. That it was anchored to no world, and shrouded by mist moved constantly between worlds. When I first read that, it felt as if some ancient sage had written a chapter of The Kyklos Trilogy for me. What else could I do than have my characters drawn back to its magic?

    2. Not sure what happened, but my reply yesterday disappeared. Will try again.

      I love it when I find a place like that . . . whee normal rules don't apply. Story possibilities are endless.

      There really is a lot of history revolving around Bofin. Did you ever read Walter Macken's book, Seek the Fair Land? Set during Cromwell's 'arrival' into Ireland. The story is from the POV of a father getting what's left of his family out of Drogheda and to 'the fair land' . . . a place Cromwell said would be free to live in for the Irish . . . like an Indian reservation of sorts. Bofin was used as a prison of sorts for priests.

      Irish myths and legends can be really incredible. Makes one wonder just when they started, who told the first tale, and if there really are mystical things afoot. There's so much fodder in Ireland for a writer's active imagination ;-)