Title: Odriel's Heirs
Category and Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 90,000
As the Dragon Heir, seventeen-year-old Kaia inherited the power of flame to protect her homeland from a demon Necromancer’s resurrected army of Lost. But after centuries of peace, the ancient Necromancer has faded to myth, and the Dragon Heir’s formidable power is feared by normal folk. Persecuted as a child and cast out by paranoid villagers, Kaia struggles to embrace and control her seemingly useless gift while confined to her family’s secluded sheep farm.
When the Necromancer’s Lost terrorize the land once again, the elder Dragon Heir, Kaia’s father and mentor, calls for her to join him in battle. Kaia leaps at the chance to escape exile and seek adventure. It doesn’t take long though before Kaia learns just how unprepared she is to battle not only demons, but the prejudiced Okarrians she's sworn to protect. When Kaia’s father sacrifices himself to his sadistic nemesis for Kaia’s freedom, Kaia is sucked into a downward spiral of despair and doubt.
With her father dead, the handsome but unsympathetic Shadow Heir and a snarky, cursed cat offer their aid. The three reluctant companions cross the land to intercept the Necromancer’s impending army before he engulfs the land in darkness. On the way, Kaia must figure out how to regain control of both her confidence and her fire in time to save Okarria. If Kaia is to protect her home, she will have to embrace the gift that has always tormented her. If she fails, she will sacrifice her family, her new friends, and the enchanting world she has only just begun to see.
First 250 Words:
The brave, empowered with fire,
Raged like a dragon.
The cunning, veiled from the world,
Walked like a shadow.
The gentle, blessed with life,
Healed like time itself.
Burning rivulets of blood and sweat stung his eyes. Torn boots sunk deep into loose sand. Muscles cramped with ruthless intensity. Legs buckled in near collapse. Deep in a fugue of despair, Guardian Jago Brigg was only dimly aware of these difficulties as he grunted under the load of his father's broken body. With grim determination, he lurched forward in a wobbling trot to flee the carnage behind him.
Dirty smoke, stinking of charred flesh, billowed into the desert night. Cackling flames towered in searing pillars that cast an orange pall across the sky. Amid the fire and smoke, a cacophony of agonized screams, panicked shouts, and desperate pleas rose above it all.
Jago shifted the body on his shoulder and glanced back at the chaotic ruin of Moorvale. In truth, the Lost had taken the village before the Time Heirs had even arrived. Nonetheless, the Heirs had fought alongside the townsfolk, healing as many as possible in a futile bid to forestall the inevitable. When the Lost breached the hall in a savage rush, Jago's father was caught with his yanaa completely spent. Surrounded by a horde of howling Lost, his father held them off for only a few moments before disappearing under their frenzied attack. When Jago finally fought his way to his father’s aid, the horde had moved on.