Indie Book Promo is happy to welcome Susan Faw to the blog. She’s here to share about her book, Soul Survivor. If this book sounds like something you would be interested in reading, please find a buy link below and pick up a copy or two.
Survival is highly overrated…
When sibling rivalry spills over into the land of mortals, the mortals lose. Great evil, spawn of the underworld, is poised to sweep all life from the planet, and only the twins can stop it.
Jealousy, love, hatred and magic battle for the ultimate control of the souls of the world. Only one will be left standing, and if it is the wrong one, how will the world survive? Especially if that survival must be entrusted to a six year old wizard…
Soul Survivor is the prequel novella to Seer of Souls. Buy it today and discover how it all began!
Susan’s love of stories began before she could read or write. Her earliest childhood memories are of a make believe game she played with her sister, creating and telling an epic story inspired by a picture chosen at random from a National Geographic magazine. Susan spent her summers reading and writing sometimes serious, sometimes humorous works of fiction, imagining the worlds beyond her bedroom walls. Susan is an avid reader of literature, especially science fiction and fantasy. She loves to bring new worlds and fantasy adventures to young adults and inspire them to join her on her make believe journeys. You can find Susan at www.susanfaw.com, on twitter @susandfaw or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/SusanFaw.
Helga strode along the narrow path that ran along the sheer cliff face with an ease of long practice. The midday sun shone directly down, and she pulled the hood of her cloak forward on her head to cut the glare.
She hated the sun. It blinded her to all that moved and made the shadowy reaches of her sanctuary retreat beneath the blazing onslaught. If I had my way, I would never leave my home. But Artio had begged her to come see her latest experiment with the moon. Acch! Who cares about planetary bodies? Cold and remote and eternally boring, like the gods who formed them. For that matter, what good was their useless father, outcast of the gods? She had long since stopped praying to them.
And then there were the useless twins, the honoured siblings. Favoured by their outcast father and useless mother and pampered by the gods, they were the “golden children” who could do no wrong, at least in their father’s eyes. Even in banishment, Morpheus had seen fit to give them the prime real estate on the earth. They were given dominion over the living. But she? She was stuck with the dead, those unredeemable souls, the castaways. She was also cast out for the smallest of crimes. What was the loss when the transformed soul had been banished in the first place? When thousands had been dumped at her rocky doorstep to rot?
She was ashamed of their father, if truth be known. How could a god lower himself to rut with a mortal woman? Was he insane? I would have banished him too. She skirted a large bolder and then swerved off to a descending path that led into the shade of some scrubby pines with half their branches missing. Thinking of their father wound her up, her anger bubbling to the surface of her skin and blistering the stone she trod on, leaving a blackened outline of her boot where she stepped.
Flame leapt to her fingertips and the trailing grasses ignited with the heat of her anger. The smell of fresh burn made her withdraw from her introspection and she tamped down her hatred, realizing she was leaving a literal blazing trail of her passing.
Helga glanced at the blue sky overhead, peaking through the tree tops. She could just make out the pale shadow of the moon in the sky. Somewhere beyond it, in the celestial realm, was the home of the gods. Their home wandered across the sky, the nightly reminder of their presence now obscured by the brightness of daylight. The home of the gods. Helga snorted. The gods never visit. They ignore us, their half-mortal half-immortal children, preferring to keep themselves pure and untouched by the bastard offspring of one of their own. Helga tossed a wet blanket over her thoughts, her temperature rising once again.
Now is not the time to dwell on family history, she thought. But there will come a time. Oh yes…