Since my last update, I’ve been working hard on promoting Aubade Rising. We’ve had a cover release, over 40+ applications for ARC readers and over 12,000 profile views on social media!
Now, the manuscript is with the typesetter and I will be able to send out ebook ARCs later in August - creeping towards that September 26th launch date! So exciting
The most gorgeous cover by the wonderful Aby:
As a special thank you for following along my journey so far, for this update, I’m going to share a sneak peak of the opening chapter of Aubade Rising… I hope you enjoy!
Please note, this scene is from the final draft which still has to go through proof-reading. Any typo’s or errors are not intentional and if you spot any, please do get in touch!
Excerpt from AUBADE RISING:
Irrevocably changing the world is a fool’s dream. For most people anyway. But not for me. I’m teetering on the edge of something incredible. The sun flickers out from behind heavy clouds, coating my face with a weak winter warmth. My meagre magic stirs. It knows what’s coming. Waiting any longer is impossible. I promised Dervla I wouldn’t do this without her. But as the sun vanishes, leaving me cold, I falter. If this experiment doesn’t work, if my theory doesn’t hold, then I don’t want a witness to my failure. I straighten my spine. It will work, it has to.
A small lump of quartz, veined with copper, weighs heavily in my palm. I place it on my workbench and retreat across the laboratory. My theory is simple, I’ve been searching for a material that can absorb magic; to hold it in stasis until it’s called upon to be used. For Aubades like me, with such little magic, succeeding means we will be able to stand on equal footing with the Mordros, our rulers, and demand they lift the many restrictions which keep us bound to poverty. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Magic is forbidden in Trevesiga and it’s critical I keep this research secret. I steady myself with a deep breath and lock the laboratory door. I turn back towards the workbench, failing to quiet the bubbling excitement from my magic as it fizzes in my chest. It’s been years since I’ve dared to let it out.
My hands rise, twisting in shapes learnt in secret from my mother before she died and I call my magic forward. It comes gladly, filling my palms with white light. I shove it towards the worktop, aiming for the stone sat on it. The magic sizzles through the air and into the quartz. The bright light vanishes and I hear my heartbeat loudly in my ears. Smoke starts seeping through the copper veins towards me and I dart behind a large storage cabinet. The room shudders and I’m thrown against the wall.
The fall-out from the blast leaves me covered in a fine metallic dust. Eyes watering, head throbbing, ears ringing, I flex each of my fingers in turn and flinch at the numb hollowing in my chest where my magic is housed. It’s completely empty. I’ve failed.
The workbench, at the epicentre of the destruction, suffered the most. Its top has disintegrated along with one of the legs. The three remaining legs smoulder, covered in dark ash, an awkward triangle of kindling. The storage cupboard behind leans unsteadily to the left, threatening to fall over. Its doors have been ripped away and measuring instruments warped by the heat spill onto the floor. Vast swathes of scorch marks radiate across the stone walls. Every window has been blown out, shards of glass sprinkled on the floor. I feel grateful to be alive.
My hand presses against my sternum, grounding me, my lungs push against it while adrenaline washes through me. Deep breaths. I inhale the metallic dust and struggle to suppress a coughing fit. It’s important to focus, to be certain nothing else will catch fire. I stumble towards the workbench legs, grabbing my cloak from the cabinet to smother the embers. My throat burns as ash billows at the movement.
I need a cover story for the destruction. Some disturbance is expected in a research laboratory but I can’t get away with such a substantial explosion, the broken glass windows alone will draw attention. Thankfully, it’s late enough in the day that the neighbouring labs are empty; no-one bangs on the door to check on me but the smell of smoke will raise questions in the morning.
I peer blearily out of the empty window frame. The last few rays of sunlight are disappearing over the domed roof and towering spires of the Academy. My hands move in repetitive, practised motions. summoning the last few seconds of sunlight to me to replenish my magic for the night ahead. A warmth spreads through my chest, my magic hums contentedly, happy to have been utilised for the experiment instead of being suppressed as usual. My magic doesn’t care about failure, it only cares about escaping the tight leash of control I’m forced to maintain.
My legs shake as I attempt to sweep the shattered glass into a corner, cleaning up feels over-whelming. I wrap myself in my spare cloak, leaving the one covering the workbench legs well alone, and turn the collar up to protect against the winter gales.
The laboratory is a chaotic mess, very little is salvageable. Tomorrow I’ll make a note of what needs to be replaced and how much it will cost. It won’t be cheap and I’ll need approval from my sponsor, Dervla. Once the door is closed on the destruction, I check it’s firmly locked before leaving.
To say today was unsuccessful is an understatement. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an experiment fail and even then, they don’t blow up half the room…
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