We're less than a week away from the release of FROM BREATH AND RUIN by Carrie Ann, but you can read the first two chapters now!
About FROM BREATH AND RUIN
Available March 19, 2019
In her YA debut, New York Times bestselling author Carrie Ann Ryan dives into a world with magic and sacrifice with the Elements of Five.
Five hundred years ago, the Maison Realm was shattered, divided into warring kingdoms of elemental Wielders with fate and truth shadowed and uncertain. Now, factions of both the light and dark venture into the human realm in search of the prophesied Spirit Priestess who is said to Wield the Elements of Five and bring the two fractured kingdoms together.
Lyric has no idea that there’s a realm outside the human one she lives in. When fate and circumstances are pulled from her hands after an accident, and she finds out that nothing is at it seems.
There is a war surrounding her and when Lyric realizes that they are searching for her, she must rely on those she once trusted: a boy who isn’t who she thought, and a new realm of warriors who have come to protect her as she trains.
For the darkness is coming, and the Queen of Obscurité wants to ensure that the King of Lumière can’t get his hands on Lyric. And the only way to ensure that is if Lyric herself is no more…no matter the cost to prophecy.
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Read the first two chapters of FROM BREATH AND RUIN:
Chapter
1
The
dreams didn’t come often, but when they did, it usually took me far too long to
realize I could find my way out of them. At least, most of the time, I could make my way out. Other times, no matter
how hard I tried to shake myself awake or tear at the seams of what the dream
could be, I was forced to live within them, in the nightmares that felt far too
real.
My
heartbeat thudded in my ears as I tried to get my bearings once again. The
dreams were never the same in what happened or even where I was when they
occurred, but there was a thread that seemed familiar, as if it were calling to
me in a way I could never understand.
Sometimes,
I was on the fringe, watching the court of royals dance and hide their daggers
of both wit and steel. Then they’d bow and turn to smoke, the ashes of their
lies and hidden admissions blowing away like dust in the wind.
Other
times, I was in the middle of the action, hurtling from side to side as towers
fell, and water rushed by. Air blew through my hair, whipping it into my face,
the earth below me trembling as fire rained down on all of us.
Tonight,
however, the visions weren’t either of those. Yes, I was in the present, the
dream happening to me rather than me being a witness to an absolution I would
never understand.
But
I stood in a clearing, winter on my back, summer facing me down with wicked
heat. Spring danced along my right side with a cool warmth that didn’t make
sense, while fall brushed my left, its warming coolness confusing me even
further.
There
were two shadows in front of me, their arms outstretched, each calling my name
in whispers. I could only hear their breaths, not their voices, so I had no
idea who they were or what they represented in this dream that I knew would
linger long after I woke.
“Lyric,”
they called in unison.
“Lyric.”
And
though that was my name, it still didn’t sound as if they were truly calling to
me. Instead, it was as if they called to the person they needed me to be. I
wasn’t that person, though. Wasn’t what they needed, and I knew I may not ever
be.
And
while I still had the same body shape as I did when I was awake—my slightly
larger-than-average curves filling out my dress, and my height just below
average so the bottom of my hem slid along the mud—I wasn’t truly me in the dream.
My
blond hair blew in the wind, catching the light and making it look white at
times, gold at others. The shade was always changing depending on how much sun
I took in during the season, but in this dream, it changed with the direction I
turned.
It isn’t truly me, I told myself again. This wasn’t
my dress, this wasn’t my life.
Those
shadows couldn’t actually call to me because I wasn’t me.
“Lyric,”
the shadows called again.
“Wake
up,” the one nearest the spring side demanded.
“It’s
time,” the one closest to fall whispered.
And
though they were both whispers, they sounded like screams in my ear.
I
jolted awake, my sweat-slick skin clammy as I tried to catch my breath. My tank
was soaked, sticking to my body, and my shorts had ridden up as if I’d thrashed
in my sleep. Considering my comforter was on the floor, and my sheet was
currently a knot at the end of my bed, I would say that was probably exactly
what had happened.
I
swallowed hard, narrowing my eyes at the clock, trying to see what time it was.
The sun was already up, even though it wasn’t quite seven in the morning, but
it was summer in Denver, Colorado, and that meant blue skies, bright sun, and
the occasional rain that came out of nowhere.
I
had my white curtains drawn, but they didn’t really block out the light, so I’d
learned to sleep through the rays on my face long ago. I had to if I ever
wanted to sleep in. And since I was also a teenager, sleeping in was part of
life—especially during the summer.
I
might be eighteen, out of high school and ready to start college in the fall,
but I still felt like the teenager who wanted to sleep in and not have to wake
up early for classes. It didn’t help that my walls were still a light lilac
from when I’d been in my purple phase, and there was still lace on my curtains
and the skirt of my bed.
My
family made a decent income, but we were firmly in the middle of middle class,
and these days, that meant there wasn’t money to update my bedroom to something
a little less tween girl and a little more college-bound woman. I didn’t care
too much, however. I wasn’t staying here long. Soon, I’d be in a dorm at the
local university, an offshoot of the University of Colorado since there was no
way I could afford Boulder’s campus. Plus, this way, I could still be close to
home.
Because
as much as I might think I was ready to start my new life and be an adult, the
nightmares that had plagued me for as long as I could remember told me that I
wasn’t as grown-up as I thought.
Honestly,
what kind of teenager still needed a nightlight because she was scared of the
shadows?
Me,
apparently. Lyric Camaron, the walking embodiment of indecision and someone not
quite ready for anything.
I
ran a hand over my face, holding back a gag at how sweaty I was, and let out a
sigh. The dreams hadn’t happened so often before, but now they came almost
every other night, and I had no idea what they meant. I’d always had a vivid
imagination, but my dreams took that to a whole new level.
I
wasn’t a little girl anymore, and yet I still dreamed of princes and princesses,
of magic and might. I dreamed of courts and pretty dresses, and flowers and
rain. Still, I thought that was probably all just a front for what the dreams
actually carried. A veil across the hate and lies and mystery of everything
that came with them.
I’d
always secretly wanted to write them down, to make them into a book or just a
few stories, but for some reason, I’d held myself back. There was no use
documenting what never made sense. The dreams scared me even when they
shouldn’t, and writing them down would only make them more real.
And
it wasn’t like writing would help me in my real life outside of the dreams. I
needed to grow up, stop thinking about fairy tales that weren’t bright and
shiny, and figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. Because I wasn’t a
little kid anymore and, sadly, the time to make those choices had already
started to pass me by, and I was struggling to keep up.
“Shut
up, Lyric,” I mumbled to myself. It was far too early, and I still wasn’t awake
enough for my mind to be going down that path. I’d likely be getting a very
similar lecture from my parents over breakfast—and perhaps lunch and dinner—as
it was.
They
loved me, and I loved them.
And
that meant I needed to be a better daughter.
The
first step to doing that was getting out of bed and washing off the sweat that
coated my skin. Then, I’d wash my sheets, air out my comforter, and maybe even
go for a run so I could get the cobwebs out of my mind. I wasn’t a coffee fan
since I tended to need far too much sugar to even like it, so I couldn’t have a
cup of that to help. So, that meant chores and fresh air so I could get out of
my funk, let the dreams lie where they needed to be—far from my reality—and get
on with my day.
I
could do that. Totally. If only I could get the images from the dream out of my
mind.
Those
two shadows had been in more than one of my nightmares, and I couldn’t help but
think that they meant something. Who or what did they represent? Why were they
important? I didn’t know if they were male or female or if they were truly
people at all. If they were supposed to be love interests, then having them be
either a man or a woman would only mean that my dream-self represented my
real-self since I was attracted to both and had dated both in real life. But I still
didn’t know what the dreams or the shadows in them really meant.
In
a few, the apparitions had moved, and I could almost imagine them wanting to be
even closer. They always held out their hands, as if I had to make a decision
between them, to go to one or the other.
The
seasons coming at me all at once seemed like another symbol for choice and
change, as well. The same with the instances where I was covered in earth or
water, air or flame. All of it indicated choice.
So
maybe the dreams didn’t mean anything beyond what I already knew.
It
was time for me to make a choice.
A
choice regarding who I could be—who Lyric Camaron would be as an adult.
That
choice seemed the hardest of all, and yet I knew it was important. All
teenagers went through this, they all had to make decisions, no matter what
course outside forces wanted them to take.
I
knew there was a path laid out before me, one that would lead to a life not
unlike the one I held now, one made of decisions that made practical sense.
That was the one I knew I should take, the one that would be easier and yet far
more thought-out.
And
yet part of me wanted something different. I wanted to be a Lyric who wasn’t so
middle-of-the-road as I currently was as a bisexual teenager living in Denver,
Colorado.
There
were choices I had to make. Clear-cut ones that had nothing to do with royals
and elements, nothing to do with seasons and change.
I
would make the right choice.
I
had to.
And
I would ignore the dreams and the idea that there could be something more for
me. There hadn’t been before, and I wasn’t going to lie in wait for answers
that scared me, translations of dreams that challenged me.
I
would make my own way, make my own choices.
And
they would be the right ones because they would be mine.
The
dreams would go away eventually.
They
would fade just like the young girl I used to be. In its place would be the
future I needed, the one I craved.
I
told myself I wouldn’t dream again. I couldn’t.
Because
I didn’t want to know what those shadows meant. I didn’t want to know why they
knew my name.
I
didn’t want to know why it all felt so real. And, above all else, I didn’t want
to know why I saw those same shadows when I was awake. Because those were the
ones that scared me. The ones that were far too real.
I
was Lyric, the girl with everything to look forward to. I wasn’t the girl who
saw shadows, who had dreams.
I
couldn’t be.
Chapter
2
After
I’d put my sheets into the washer, I set the load, took a quick shower to rinse
off, and headed out for my jog. I’d decided to go with long, black leggings, a
hot pink sports bra under two black tanks, and a black jacket that had air
holes all through it and thumb holes in the sleeves. It was my favorite jacket
of all time, and I was seriously disappointed when I went to buy another one and
found out that they were no longer making them. There were already frayed edges
on the cuffs and, sometimes, the metal on my purse got caught in the mesh of
the body, making me wince.
The
fact that I had such an emotional attachment to my running gear told me I
needed to get out of the house more—and not just for jogging around the
neighborhood. I huffed a breath as I slowly ran up the steep hill at one of the
entrances to the sub-division, cursing the fact that I lived in a mountainous
city. Sure, once you got outside city lines to the east, it was all flat planes
and easy walking, but within the city limits and west toward the Rockies? Hills
galore that did nothing but make my side ache as I ran.
I’d
always been a runner, but never in an organized way when it came to school. I
hadn’t played sports or joined the cross-country team. While I played soccer
and T-ball as a kid, I hadn’t been particularly good at it, not enough to focus
so much of my time on it. I’d even tried gymnastics and ballet as a little girl
like most kids did, but it wasn’t my thing. And while I enjoyed running—still
do—doing it to compete took the fun out of it for me. I was always a little
jealous of people who could put in that effort and still have fun, but for me,
sports wasn’t where it was at. I did well in school, knowing I’d need any
academic scholarship I could get so I could go to college, but I’d had to work
at anything not English-related. Writing I could do. Writing, I loved to do.
Differentials?
Not so much.
I
held back a shiver at that thought and pushed myself into my second mile. I
wasn’t going to do any more than that today since I wanted breakfast, and I
figured that most of the strain from my dreams was now gone. But I thought I
might go out again later in the day after the hottest part of the afternoon for
another run. Increments worked best for me and my attention span.
I
thought I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye, but as I whipped my head
to look at it, nearly tripping over my own feet as I did, I figured it was just
my hair and a trick of the light. I wasn’t seeing shadows outside of dreams. I wasn’t.
I
just needed to get those weird thoughts and remnants out of my head and start
my day off better.
My
parents hadn’t been awake when I left for my jog, but thanks to the note I
placed by the coffee machine, they’d know I was out of the house. I might be an
adult, but I was still their child and living under their roof. There were
rules to be followed, a curfew to be kept, and manners to be upheld. I didn’t know
how I was going to handle living outside of their rules when I went to the
dorms, but I also didn’t think I’d be the type to go crazy like so many of the
stories I’d heard growing up. I didn’t want to flunk out of college when I
hadn’t even chosen my major yet. And I sure as heck didn’t want to end up
drinking the whole time and wind up with a minor in possession misdemeanor or
something that would forever stain my record.
No,
thank you, evil temptation and all.
By
the time I got home, my parents were off to work, but I knew I’d see them for
dinner. My best friend Braelynn, and my ex-girlfriend/friend Emory were coming
over to eat with us, and I knew my parents were excited to see what the other
two ladies planned for college. In Mom’s and Dad’s way of thinking, if I knew
what others were doing, it would push me to make a decision. The problem was,
the more they pressured me, the more I wanted to hide in my shell like a turtle
and not make a choice at all.
The
dream came back to me, and I tried not to frown as I poured myself some juice
and put two slices of bread into the toaster. Just because I was once again
having weird dreams that I tried to make sense of, didn’t mean they actually meant anything.
I
had more to do today than think about nightmares that didn’t mean anything more
than I needed to watch what I ate before bed. Sure, it was summer, and I was
between jobs since the coffee shop I had been working at shut down
unexpectedly, but I had other things in my life. Like that whole deciding what
I wanted to do with my life thing.
But
first, I would focus on my friends and the certain impending doom from the
conversation that would surely happen over mashed potatoes and roasted chicken
tonight.
Oddly
enough, I wasn’t lulled into a sense of security once my parents came home and
didn’t once mention school or my future. I knew the talk was coming, but they
were giving me time to drop my defenses so they could pounce.
I
didn’t know why I kept floundering whenever it came to making a decision about
majors and life choices, but the enormity of it just seemed overwhelming. I was
eighteen, an adult who could fight and die in wars, but I couldn’t drink. I
could buy cigarettes and vote, but I was still technically a teenager.
Having
to make a huge life choice when all I really wanted to do was explore and learn
and find out what suited me felt so far out of my depth, it wasn’t funny. I
knew thousands upon thousands of people did it every year, and many of them
even went in not knowing exactly what they wanted to do—but they still had an
idea.
Me?
I knew what I loved, but I also knew that love wouldn’t pay the bills. At least
that’s what I’d been told. And, frankly, I sort of believed it.
My
mind had always been full of dreams and layers upon layers of vivid imagery my
imagination would tumble over and over. I loved putting those visions into
work, at least in my mind. Picking a major that worked with that, wasn’t
something my parents were going to go for. The idea of doing it all on my own,
or choosing a major and finding out that I wasn’t really good at it or didn’t
like it anymore was just too much.
It
was all too much.
I
saw another shadow out of the corner of my eye, and I turned, trying to catch
it, only to see my father staring at me instead. His eyes were wide since I’d
moved so fast, clearly startled.
“Whoa
there, Lyric. Didn’t mean to scare you.” I looked like a perfect mix of my
parents, something that I’d never truly noticed until I got older. I had my
mom’s blond hair and height, but my dad’s light brown eyes. Everything else was
a complete mix of the two, and I’d always loved that I knew where I came from,
despite not knowing where I was going.
Dad
continued. “I was just wondering when Braelynn and Emory would be here.” Dad
didn’t particularly like Emory. Not because she was gay, and I was
bisexual—that part he was totally on board with, and I knew I had the best
parents for that part of my life—no, he didn’t like her because she was my ex.
He didn’t get how we could still be friends after she’d dumped me. Frankly, I
didn’t understand it either. Sometimes, I felt like our friendship was fraying
on the edges, but I didn’t think that had to do with our breakup. We were just
finding out we were two different people, and everyone was moving on to college
anyway. It sucked, and I didn’t know how I felt about it. I never did, really,
when it came to Emory.
That
explanation hadn’t been good enough for Dad. I still didn’t know how my mother
felt about it since she was so good at hiding it, but she at least put on a
better face.
“They’ll
be here soon.” The doorbell rang, and I grinned. “And there they are.”
Dad
nodded and moved out of the way so I could make it to the door before Mom did.
My parents were great, but they were parents and liked to know exactly what my
friends were doing at all times, even if it wasn’t their business. I was pretty
sure all parents were wired that way, and I’d learned to deal with it.
Braelynn
smiled widely at me, her shoulder-length black hair up in a ponytail so I could
see the honey highlights she’d put in on the lower layers. Her moms hated it,
and Emory called her a skunk, but I loved them.
“Yay
for dinner. I brought rolls.” Braelynn held up a basket, and I moved back to
let her in, knowing that Emory was right behind my friend.
“Yay
rolls! I know Mom will be happy since you and your moms make like the best
bread ever.”
“Totally
true. I do have the best moms.” Braelynn winked and handed over the basket as
Emory sauntered in. Why she had to saunter, I didn’t know, but whatever worked
for her.
“I’m
starving,” Emory said in way of greeting before leaning down to buss a kiss on
my cheek. She’d done that before we began dating and hadn’t stopped. Since I
didn’t care either way, I didn’t push her off. Once I started to care and put
up those boundaries, she’d stop. That was who she was.
“I’m
hungry, too,” I said. “Hi, Emory.”
Emory
studied my face and frowned. “You didn’t sleep.”
I
tried to school my features, but I knew I wasn’t good at it. “I’m fine. Let’s
go finish setting the table.”
“Hmm.”
That was all she said as she made her way into the dining room, saying hello to
my parents as if she hadn’t broken part of my heart and left me wondering what
I’d done.
And…I
had no idea where that thought had come from. Maybe I really needed more sleep
and fewer dreams about random shadows, seasons, and elements messing with my
head.
By
the time we were all seated at the table, Braelynn’s rolls like manna to us
all, I was on edge since Emory kept studying me. I didn’t know why, and it
bugged me because I knew this dinner would only get worse when my parents
brought up the dreaded subject of majors.
They
always did, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it other than choose
a freaking major. But I didn’t want to make the wrong choice.
I
couldn’t make the wrong choice.
“So,
Emory, what did you decide to study again?” Mom asked, not even trying to be
subtle.
Here we go.
Emory
shrugged. “Photography with a minor in history. I want to work for the AP or
something, going around the world, taking photos of the people left behind in
war and strife.”
My
parents nodded as if they totally understood and not just because they were
happy Emory had chosen a direction for her life. It didn’t matter that it was
dangerous and could end up being a career that didn’t keep her financially set,
Emory wasn’t their daughter.
“And,
Braelynn?”
My
best friend smiled sweetly. She was always so sweet, so gentle. I loved her to
the end of the world and back and knew I’d chosen well on that first day of
preschool when we shared our blocks.
“Vet
school, eventually. I know it’s going to be hard, but it’s my passion.”
I
winced at that word. Passion.
I
didn’t have that, not that I could tell anyway. How was I supposed to know what
to do when I still had so much to learn? I tried not to let any of those
thoughts cross my face, however, because my parents turned to me, expectant
looks on their faces.
They
loved me. They truly did.
But
they didn’t understand me.
And
the thing was, I wasn’t so sure I understood myself.
About the ELEMENTS OF FIVE series
One thousand years ago, there was one realm of magic. The Maison Realm. It held five kingdoms with five kings or queens, who worked together to keep the Maison people safe and ensure the balance of magic. Over the last five hundred years following the Fall, the great war that began the fracture, many of the kingdoms’ inhabitants intermated, and the magics soon became tied to one another in pairs. Except for the Spirit Wielders. The two remaining kingdoms are now converging, and the veil between the two is fading. Only the human realm lies between the two, and no one there knows there is a war surrounding them.
Over time, certain children of the Fall began to leave their respective kingdoms to venture into the human realm in search of the prophesied Spirit Priestess who is said to wield the Elements of Five and bring the two fractured kingdoms together. For the realms are dying without their sister magics. And soon, there will be no more power left to rule the kingdoms, for there will be no more kingdoms left to rule.
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