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A Mischief in the Woodwork
In a land rife with unnamed terrors and untold danger...
A generation ago, something began to fail in the foundations of our country. Devoid of a culprit, our cities began to crumble, becoming a derangement of ruin and decay. No one could put a name to what began to happen in the nation, that day, and thus was born the term 'mischief' for the dark things that began to creep through the woodwork.
I, Avante, am a slave of this dark time. But for all its terrors, it's a good time to be a slave. The Masters, fragile and loathe to be surrounded by anything crude or horrific, have retreated upstairs, and locked themselves away. They don't come out.
As such, we're as good as free, now. Free to take the ruined land for ourselves. The only pitfall, really, is the challenge of surviving in such a forsaken place.
The Masters are not the only ones afraid to set foot out of their cowering domains. Even the angels, it seems, have to be charged with standing their ground - lest they run from this place.
Lest they run headlong from our beloved, forsaken Dar'on.
...is there anyone who can rise above the grueling task of survival to fight for greater things, and put a name to the mischief haunting the age?
A generation ago, something began to fail in the foundations of our country. Devoid of a culprit, our cities began to crumble, becoming a derangement of ruin and decay. No one could put a name to what began to happen in the nation, that day, and thus was born the term 'mischief' for the dark things that began to creep through the woodwork.
I, Avante, am a slave of this dark time. But for all its terrors, it's a good time to be a slave. The Masters, fragile and loathe to be surrounded by anything crude or horrific, have retreated upstairs, and locked themselves away. They don't come out.
As such, we're as good as free, now. Free to take the ruined land for ourselves. The only pitfall, really, is the challenge of surviving in such a forsaken place.
The Masters are not the only ones afraid to set foot out of their cowering domains. Even the angels, it seems, have to be charged with standing their ground - lest they run from this place.
Lest they run headlong from our beloved, forsaken Dar'on.
...is there anyone who can rise above the grueling task of survival to fight for greater things, and put a name to the mischief haunting the age?
- GenresFantasy
528 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 28, 2012
3 people are currently reading
22 people want to read
About the author
Harper Alexander
28 books11 followersHarper Alexander is a writer of young adult, fantasy, paranormal romance and dystopian novels, as well as the occasional short story when there isn't time to make everything into a full-fledged book or series. She lives in paradise (Southern California) with her husband Chad and their feline companions Moo, Charlie, and Wolf, and the more questionable voices that whisper to her on a daily basis. In another life, she would have loved to pursue a career as a horse-back stunt double, supported by a past as a competitive gymnast and her lifelong love affair with horses. She danced as a Spanish Dancer in “Ramona” (California's longest-running, official outdoor state play) for 8 years. Some of her favorite authors include Laini Taylor, Dawn Cook, Patrick Rothfuss, Tamora Pierce, Kristen Britain, and Cornelia Funke. She is currently hard at work on half a dozen sequels and half a million new ideas. Some of her favorite obsessions aside from books include peacocks, dandelion seeds, gargoyles, watercolor tattoos, and thrift store shopping. Visit her on the web at www.hubofharper.wordpress.com, or follow her on Twitter: @harperpages
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April 9, 2013
"Weird" only begins to describe this story.
Displaying 1 of 1 review