Era of Echoes
Age and Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 114 000
When Tristan’s father abandoned him, he thought, good riddance. He often blamed his father for his own lack of wealth, low confidence, and disability. However, in order for the soul of his adoptive mother to escape the body of a living ragdoll, Tristan must search for the parent that cut ties with him almost ten years ago and trapped her.
This beckons fifteen year-old Tristan to join the prestigious High Guild, ShiningSaber, to seek evidence of his father’s recent whereabouts. However, his weakness in battle and kind mannerisms spiral his reputation downwards. The finishing blow: he loses a fight against a wimpy girl and is branded Flimsy Whimsy, the loser and laughing stock.
In a misguided attempt to improve his reputation, Tristan accidentally injures the one friend who stood up for him, but learns of a life-changing revelation: He is the holder of the Light Angel’s Legacy, soul bounded with her spirit and host of her legendary power, but wanted by an evil organization collecting these war tools for political power. With the help of squadmates Cedric and Saroza, Tristan embarks on a quest to stop the organization from gaining might. Throughout his journey he must face the dark truth about guilds, the oppression of minority groups, and a futile war boiling between dragonriders and equiriders.
Tristan knows completing this journey will prove his worth and turnaround his loser reputation. But first he must defeat the organization if he wants any chance to find his father and save his guardian, not to mention stop the organization from tearing the world apart.
First 250 Words:
With polish smeared on his face and the stench of it clinging to his clothes, Tristan placed the last of the gleaming boots on the counter, surrounded by the other two hundred shoes he had polished that day. He looked for acknowledgment in Mr. Ackley’s face, the owner of the small pseudo-sophisticated shoe store, The Swanky Boot. However, Mr. Ackley’s wrinkled frown only slightly brightened, recognizing not Tristan’s efforts, but a more significant matter, an enticing woman entering his store.
“Welcome,” Tristan said as he bowed to the woman before addressing Mr. Ackley. “Sir?”
Mr. Ackley took no notice of Tristan’s gentle tone. Instead, he saved that concentration in a struggle to predict the woman’s age.
“Mr. Ackley?” Tristan stepped into his line of sight.
“Bollocks!” the owner hissed. “Shut your trap!” He pushed Tristan aside as the woman sauntered towards the counter.
Tristan slammed against the wall. As the sole worker of the shop and the only labourer that had to suffer through Mr. Ackley’s judgements and orders, there came a time he used to think he deserved it. He’d almost begged the man to take him in, to rid himself of his old duty of cleaning toilets. Other employers rejected him for his clumsiness or his deference towards customers. “Be firm. Don’t let them haggle!” he was once told during a probationary period at a fruit booth. However, even though Mr. Ackley would rather eat mice than admit it, Tristan’s hardworking ethic had brought in more customers than the owner anticipated.