Driftwood: where worlds go to die.
After the apocalypse, after most of a world has crumbled into ruin, the last, shattered fragments float through the cosmos until they fetch up against the Edge of Driftwood. There the survivors discover they are not alone: there are other worlds, that have suffered other disasters, and here the remnants struggle to survive. But nothing in Driftwood lasts forever; in time, everything fades, everything crumbles, everything goes away.
From the earliest days of the eponymous story of this setting, before I ever sold it anywhere, Driftwood had fans. More than any other short fiction of mine, these stories have excited commentary, interest, queries as to whether I intend to write more — in particular, a Driftwood novel. The simple answer is, no: a novel is a large, coherent thing, which is antithetical to the entire concept of the setting.
But a collection? That’s a distinct possibility, someday.
The first of the Driftwood stories. A young woman seeks out a man who has survived the death of his world for centuries.
When nothing in the world can save the king, his people look outside the world for help.
At least they can take memories with them into the darkness.
Only a lunatic would try to make a map of Driftwood.
Not everyone faces the end the same way.