Nest Pitch JK2: SONGS OF CHANGE
Category/Genre: Adult Fantasy
Word Count: 87,000
Pitch: A millennium ago a technology-driven Cataclysm shattered the continent. Now Erissa and Radha must bridge distrust between wielders of living magic and seekers of ancient technology to stop an invading army from a forgotten realm.
If the MC was an Easter egg…
Peppermint for her frozen heart, Chocolate for her daughter, Serrano pepper for her warrior’s spirit.
Excerpt: 300 words.
Legend says, powerful mechanisms protected ancient Galdor until the Cataclysm shattered the land a thousand years ago, creating a hundred islands. My mother’s vision showed an invasion force sweeping across the Isles. Then she saw a weapon that could stop it. Is it ancient technology?
– Erissa Filidh, 899 years After Cataclysm (yAC)
When I was fifteen and still learning the bard’s craft, I believed my future held no surprises. That was before I learned that the old tales about lost technologies understated the truth.
– Radha Darkstone, 1046 yAC
I. Song of Silence
Erissa Filidh glided through the pattern of her sword exercise. After four centuries, each movement was precise, automatic. She finished the sequence, her sword in a guard position, ready to transition to the next. Her muscular curves dripped with sweat despite the winter chill pervading her practice room. A frown crossed her sun-bronzed face. Radha’s harp should fill the house this time of day.
She relaxed as the first notes wafted through the doorway, then froze when she realized they were not from her daughter’s harp, but hers. Her lips flattened. She marched up the stairway to the sunroom, halting a foot from the harp. Her leaf-colored eyes looked like they could cut through flesh.
Radha’s hands fell from the crystalline strings. Her eyes locked with her mother’s as she rose, nearly toppling her stool. She preempted the expected lecture.
“Yes, I touched your precious harp. Someone should.” She’d inherited Erissa’s pointed ears and compact form, but her human father’s dark skin and fiery temper.
Erissa froze. She required every ounce of the self-control gained during centuries of practice to keep her sword at her side.
“You know my rule.” Her words flew like lances of ice to penetrate her target. “Nobody. Touches. That. Harp.”