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A Song for the Future


A Song for the Future
Many thousand years ago seraphim ruled over the world as gods. They protected the lesser races against the demonic hordes of the Demon King Baelgoroth, ensuring peace and prosperity for all, but it was not to last. Betrayed by their own brother, two of the four Seraphim Gods are murdered, and the Demon King freed from his hell-born prison. Aura, the last of the seraphim enters the fray and faces Baelgoroth, once and for all putting an end to the demon's nefarious plans, but in his grief over the murder of his sisters, Aura shatters the world, causing what would come to be known as the Cataclysm of Light. Wishing for solitude to grieve for his loss, the angels and demons are separated from the lesser races by Aura's power, leaving them to fend for themselves without the guidance of their gods.

Years pass and plans are put in motion. New powers rise, and old ones fall, but one thing is for certain; there still remain traces of the demonic in the world. Only one girl holds the key to ensuring the safety of the world and restoring the seraphim to their proper place.

Emylynn Fallonside thought she was just an ordinary girl growing up on an ordinary farm, with an ordinary father, and an ordinary, annoying younger sister. But when Brandt Rowntree, an old friend of her father's turns up on her doorstep she is drawn into a war between two neighbouring nations, both fighting over a stolen artefact that only Brandt knows the secret to. She soon discovers her life is destined to be anything but ordinary.

Fighting to protect her sister from the clutches of a demonic emperor, she must learn to harness the hidden powers that lay dormant inside her and prevent the emperor from recovering the artefact and releasing his demon brethren upon the world.

A Song for the Future is the tale of one girl's battle against fate, and the sacrifices she must make to ensure the future of both mankind and seraphim.

Read on for an excerpt from the first book.

Emylynn Sample

The breeze trickled through the canopy of trees, casting its cold touch throughout the orchard. Emylynn smiled and pulled the hair back from her head, determined to enjoy every second of this blessed cool that relieved the heat of the spring sun. If only she didn’t have her shadow, then the day would be perfect. She glanced back, glaring at her sister.

Emylynn was sure the gods gave the world younger sisters to torture their siblings, and so far Alyce had been doing a more than satisfactory job.

‘Do you think Ben will be at the dance?’ Alyce asked her, for what must have been the hundredth time, which was ninety-nine times more than Emylynn felt like answering.

‘I hope so,’ Alyce said. ‘Then he can ask me to dance with him.’

A flurry of possible answers raced through her head, each one worse than the next, and no less true than the first. She bit her tongue. Emylynn couldn’t be sure their father’s stable hand had even looked Alyce’s way, let alone shown any desire to dance with her.

‘What should I wear?’ Alyce asked.

Try feathers, or maybe a blue gown with an apron, or pink with oversized white ribbons? Emylynn knew better than to say any of that out loud; Alyce was famous for her tantrums. She’d been dealing with them for ten years now, ever since Alyce had turned four and learnt how to wrap their father around her little finger.

‘Maybe I could wear Mother’s dress?’

Emylynn groaned. They’d had this conversation before, many times. She knew what was coming and knew better than to answer. She missed their mother too, more than Alyce would ever know, but Emylynn couldn’t do the impossible, no matter how much Alyce wished it – she wouldn’t ever be able to wear that dress.

She busied herself by plucking a lemon from the nearest tree and placing it in the basket that cheerfully motored along by her side, the casual swishing of its propellers keeping the contraption afloat.

Emylynn passed underneath a low hanging branch and proceeded to the next tree, but Alyce’s hand tugging on her sleeve brought Emylynn up short. She glanced down at it, then up at Alyce’s pleading face. She sighed. ‘I don’t think you’ll fit in it.’ Why don’t you ever listen to me? You’re too fat.

Alyce’s face darkened and she started to tremble as storm clouds brewed in her green eyes. ‘Oh, and I suppose it will fit you, won’t it?’

Another lemon went in the basket. Emylynn avoided making eye contact with her sister; that would be fatal. She wouldn’t be able to hide the annoyed scowl on her face. ‘I’ll help you make a nice dress to wear.’

‘I don’t want to make one, I want Mother’s dress!’ And I’d like to be left alone. We don’t always get what we want.

Emylynn breathed deeply, trying hopelessly to control her frustration, then tore another lemon from a branch and chucked it at the basket, which leaped forward to catch it when the lemon fell short of its rim.

‘Don’t you have jobs to do?’ Emylynn asked.

‘Matt’s doing them,’ Alyce answered, and followed along, evidently missing the hint, or deliberately ignoring it. Knowing Alyce it was likely the latter.

‘You need to stop encouraging him.’


Emylynn sighed. ‘Because it’s cruel.’ Because you’re a spoilt brat that should learn to do something for herself!

‘He doesn’t seem to mind.’

‘One day he will grow a brain and realise he’s barking up the wrong tree.’

‘As long as it’s not today, I’ve still got the chickens to feed.’

‘You know Brandt doesn’t like you taking advantage of him like that.’

‘Uncle Brandt isn’t here.’

Emylynn rounded on the girl. ‘That’s not the point.’

‘Then what is?’

Emylynn groaned, turned away, and tugged on another lemon; it held on to its branch. She glared at it and pulled harder. The lemon came loose and the branch quickly flicked up into the depths of the tree. Suddenly she was covered in a spattering of loose leaves.

Alyce laughed at her, and said, ‘You look like a Spring Tree,’

Emylynn shook off the leaves and glared at the girl. ‘And you look like Mistress Mertellie’s crock-pot.’

Alyce’s mouth fell open. ‘Did you just call me fat?

‘I take it you don’t look in the mirror much?’

Alyce’s face returned to a deep shade of red and her hands balled into fists. She glared furiously at Emylynn. Suddenly she turned away and stormed across the orchard, shoving aside a branch that got in her way. She stopped at the edge of the orchard and turned back towards Emylynn.

‘I hate you!’ she said, turned away again, and was soon lost from sight.

Emylynn watched her go, knowing she should follow her; she’d gone too far this time. Emylynn knew if she didn’t stop Alyce, there’d be a series of doors slamming shut in the girl’s wake, a frown from their father, and then he’d be telling her to go calm Alyce down, again! It would be so much easier if she just learnt how to grow up.

She sighed and ran after the girl. The basket raced to keep up with her, its engine revving madly. It made a loud screeching sound and suddenly there were lemons on runaway courses in all directions.

Emylynn stopped and looked back at it. The propeller had caught on the raised root of a tree and turned the basket upside down, before the mechanism had seized and it tumbled to the ground.

Her face gradually slid into a look of resignation. Sometimes I hate my life. A door slammed shut in the distance. Make that all the time.