Transgression Sneak Peek: FrostbeardCandles, and the Inspiration Behind Them

It’s no secret I am kind of obsessed with Frostbeard Studios candles… But how did Transgression get its own? Why did we choose that scent, that color? What inspired the name “Safe House”. Well, let me share with you!

 

After Achaia’s father disappears, the Nephilim send Achaia off to their safe house in Russia. Along the way Achaia and her friends get into accidents, are stranded, and re-routed before eventually getting to the safe house. Since a good chunk of the story is the group trying to get to the safe house, it made sense to name the candles after it!

Transgression starts in January, and goes through the rest of the winter, so it only made since for the candle to smell cold. So we chose a base scent of Aspen Winter. The book is run through with ice and snow. So I wanted you to feel that when you smelled the candles.

Achaia is a huge fan of coffee, and anything hot to drink (save for Russian tea). So it made sense to have a hint of roasted coffee in there too. Achaia drinks hers black. How do you take yours? I’ll take mine in a candle, thank you! 😉

With Russia being a freezing sort of country, the safe house having grand fireplaces, and Noland’s spiritual gift being fire, it only made sense to throw in the smell of firewood. The result smells just like sitting around a campfire drinking coffee in the snow.

 

I hope the candles help readers to feel even closer to the action, and like they are even more a part of the story. For more perspective, here is a sneak peek scene of Achaia and her friends finally ariving to the safe house.

 

To purchase a 2oz candle go to the contact page and send me a message. Payments accepted through Paypal of $5 plus a small shipping fee depending on where you’re located. Due to limited supply, 8oz candles are only available for purchase at live events such as book signings. 

 

 Sneak Peek Scene:

The lamp posts lining the street had flags of ice frozen mid-wave from where they had succumbed to the freezing wind. Walls of snow lined the streets, building trenches through which numbed pedestrians trudged. Even with her thick new clothes layered, and the snow boots Yellaina had picked out for her, Achaia couldn’t feel her toes. Her nose, on the other hand, actually hurt, and her cheeks burned in the wind.

Noland had said it wasn’t a long walk to the safe house from the station. Achaia followed him, bitterly watching the steam rise from his shoulders. She would have bet it didn’t seem long, when you weren’t getting frost bite.

As if feeling the knives she was stabbing through his back with her eyes, he turned to look at her. She could tell he was doing a quick head count to make sure no one had fallen behind.

“It’s just around the corner.” He said reassuringly.

Achaia thought that even if they were walking through the doorway it wouldn’t have been close enough. She didn’t understand how the people in Russia could live like this.

Noland slowed his pace until he was next to her. Without a word he slipped his hand up her sleeve and under her glove to her wrist. The warmth spread through her arm and into her chest, then to the rest of her. Though she could breathe again, more easily, her feet were still unbearably heavy. The thought of a nice warm bed, in a quiet room, sounded beyond perfect; and yet the feeling that the place lay just out of reach, was torture. “It’s just around the corner.” He said flatly.

Achaia looked forward and saw the corner he was referring to. It was mostly hidden in the snow, and with the wind whipping that snow through the air, it was too far away to really make it out.

She remembered a day when she was a little girl and her father had taken her to the zoo. She had run from one exhibit to the next, thrilled at the sight of the animals. She could remember the smell, of earth and waste, of adventure. She had day-dreamed of safaris, and of living in a rainforest—yet, at the end of the day, she had grown so tired and fussy that her father had had to carry her back to the car. Before they had even reached it, she had fallen asleep.

Achaia remembered everything about that day, except the ride home. She remembered it more vividly now that the same exhaustion had taken hold. She had burnt through all of her sense of adventure long before, and now only felt the weary drain the adrenalin-rush-hangover had left behind. She almost wished someone would just pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. She couldn’t bear anything else standing between her and heat.

Finally, Noland led them around the corner. Ahead, was one of the most magnificent buildings Achaia had ever seen. A cathedral composed of towers. Atop each tower was a dome which came to a point, each one painted ornately in an array of colors. They reminded her of Christmas ornaments. The walls were covered in arched windows, trimmed with yet more colors. She couldn’t help but think it looked like an incredibly-intricate gingerbread house. Though undeniably beautiful, the building looked like a playhouse.

Noland marched up to the enormous front doors and knocked. The sound rang through, sounding like an empty tomb. The doors opened. The inside looked black, a stark contrast to its exuberant exterior.