Whispers of Eden Book #1 Progress
Synopsis
Behind the Veil follows a fledgling prophetess as she competes to join the ruling elite, but whose visions lead her to uncover their secrets instead.
Layden Prier, a timid yet determined girl from the Outlayers, has always believed in the Council’s mission. To her, they are humanity’s lifeboat, and joining their ranks is her only chance at a life worth living. All she has to do is pass the Generational Trials—an elite competition where her mind is transferred into the body of a Host, and her goal, to prove her worth at any cost.
However, as strange visions haunt her, everything she thought she knew about the Council begins to change. Guided by her enigmatic Guardian and a quiet voice within, Layden must wrestle with truths she wasn’t prepared for, and make choices that affect those she loves, and the future of their world.
Layden Prier has been given visions. But when all is revealed, will she truly see?
Layden Prier, a timid yet determined girl from the Outlayers, has always believed in the Council’s mission. To her, they are humanity’s lifeboat, and joining their ranks is her only chance at a life worth living. All she has to do is pass the Generational Trials—an elite competition where her mind is transferred into the body of a Host, and her goal, to prove her worth at any cost.
However, as strange visions haunt her, everything she thought she knew about the Council begins to change. Guided by her enigmatic Guardian and a quiet voice within, Layden must wrestle with truths she wasn’t prepared for, and make choices that affect those she loves, and the future of their world.
Layden Prier has been given visions. But when all is revealed, will she truly see?
First 300...
Layden Prier was crawling out of her skin, and she hadn’t even left her body yet.
For the past thirty minutes, she had watched her peers rise from the wooden pews when called, anxiously counting the minutes between their disappearance behind the towering oak door and the Guardian's reappearance, the next candidate’s name ready on his lips.
The entire process seemed to take mere minutes.
And yet, when it had come to her turn, those minutes passed and then some. For some reason—some unknowable reason—the door remained closed, her name uncalled.
The Grand Hall stood in a hush all around, its golden dome soaring upward and light shining in through honey-colored window panes set in dark-stained walls. Row upon row of watchful eyes reminded Layden every second why she was there and that she could no longer turn back. Whatever awaited her behind that door was now as inevitable as the rains that flooded their world.
And yet, apparently, inevitability could be delayed.
In the back of Layden’s mind, she knew she should be grateful for her stolen time—a few more minutes to draw her own breath, to feel her own heartbeat—but she couldn’t keep her thoughts from running to the room beyond. What could have happened to make them stop like this? Surely it wasn’t planned…
The crowd watched her with wary eyes, as though the delay were somehow her fault. And maybe it was. Maybe she’d given the Council a reason to doubt her candidacy. Maybe they’d seen her on the ledge outside her window that morning, which now that she thought about it, could have looked suspicious. Uncommitted. Or worse.
Only…it wasn’t what it looked like. She’d only wanted to get one more glimpse of the sea as the sun rose, the vast expanse of water stretching beyond the horizon, never-ending and unbroken all around, punctuated only by the glistening buildings of Nyine City. To her, they looked like monsters rising from the sea; no hard angle to catch the eye, only curves and smoothness and movement. Beautiful. Her childish heart sometimes pretended to see land, eyes squinting so tight that the hard line of the horizon fooled her for the briefest of moments. Exhilarating.
But that morning, Layden hadn’t wanted land. She hadn’t wanted myths and legends, just the world she’d always known. Unchanged and familiar. She needed to feel her toes go stiff against the metal in the chilly morning air, and relish that they were still hers. She needed to study them carefully, every pockmark, scar, and line that made them unique. The stories behind each.
They’d served her well as far as lesser appendages go...
For the past thirty minutes, she had watched her peers rise from the wooden pews when called, anxiously counting the minutes between their disappearance behind the towering oak door and the Guardian's reappearance, the next candidate’s name ready on his lips.
The entire process seemed to take mere minutes.
And yet, when it had come to her turn, those minutes passed and then some. For some reason—some unknowable reason—the door remained closed, her name uncalled.
The Grand Hall stood in a hush all around, its golden dome soaring upward and light shining in through honey-colored window panes set in dark-stained walls. Row upon row of watchful eyes reminded Layden every second why she was there and that she could no longer turn back. Whatever awaited her behind that door was now as inevitable as the rains that flooded their world.
And yet, apparently, inevitability could be delayed.
In the back of Layden’s mind, she knew she should be grateful for her stolen time—a few more minutes to draw her own breath, to feel her own heartbeat—but she couldn’t keep her thoughts from running to the room beyond. What could have happened to make them stop like this? Surely it wasn’t planned…
The crowd watched her with wary eyes, as though the delay were somehow her fault. And maybe it was. Maybe she’d given the Council a reason to doubt her candidacy. Maybe they’d seen her on the ledge outside her window that morning, which now that she thought about it, could have looked suspicious. Uncommitted. Or worse.
Only…it wasn’t what it looked like. She’d only wanted to get one more glimpse of the sea as the sun rose, the vast expanse of water stretching beyond the horizon, never-ending and unbroken all around, punctuated only by the glistening buildings of Nyine City. To her, they looked like monsters rising from the sea; no hard angle to catch the eye, only curves and smoothness and movement. Beautiful. Her childish heart sometimes pretended to see land, eyes squinting so tight that the hard line of the horizon fooled her for the briefest of moments. Exhilarating.
But that morning, Layden hadn’t wanted land. She hadn’t wanted myths and legends, just the world she’d always known. Unchanged and familiar. She needed to feel her toes go stiff against the metal in the chilly morning air, and relish that they were still hers. She needed to study them carefully, every pockmark, scar, and line that made them unique. The stories behind each.
They’d served her well as far as lesser appendages go...