I am making progress, nervous progress. Nervous because I realize the end of Book 2 is approaching, and perhaps I do not wish to write this tense, frightening ending. But I must. All else that needed to be told about this chapter of the story, I have written. This is where the story is now, at the conclusion of Eruption. The prospect of it is filling me with the same dread our heroes must be feeling, looking at the enemy, approaching in the distance, between rock and ice, with the death of eternal slavery written on their faces.
It may take me a day or two to accept what I must now pen, but it will happen, as it always does: on its own terms, terms which fortunately drive the story where it is meant to go.