Assassin Reaper

By Jessaca Willis

A deadly female assassin. A mysterious stranger. And the secrets they’re about to uncover about the mortal realm.

Aulow is one of many Reapers of Veltuur. She was born from the underrealm itself, designed to serve out the will of the Councilspirits and kill anyone—or anything—they instruct her to slay.

But when a stranger from Aulow's mortal past shows up during one of her assignments, Aulow’s left wondering what else the Councilspirits have kept from her, and just how far they’re willing to go to protect their secrets,

Assassin Reaper is the prequel to the Reapers of Veltuur series, a dark high fantasy adventure with reapers/assassins, bandits, prophets, and enough death magic to keep the entire mortal realm quaking with fear. If you loved Throne of Glass, The Nevernight Chronicles, The Shadows Between Us, Reign of the Fallen, or books by Kel Carpenter, Jenna Moreci and Laura Thalassa, you will devour this gothic saga.

Books in the series:
Soul of the Crow- releases August 26th, 2020
Heart of the Sungem- releases September 20th, 2020
Fate of the Vulture- releases October 26th, 2020

What are readers saying:
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★★★★★ "Jessaca Willis has created a full new fantasy world, rich, dark, [and] gothic."

★★★★★ “Eager to see where the author will take us!”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessaca Willis
• Release date: Jul 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781953072009

Jessaca Willis

Growing up in the 90's and early 2000's, Jessaca spent her free time heavily immersed in books and shows such as Harry Potter, True Blood, The Sword of Truth/Legend of the Seeker, and Merlin, so much so that at one point she truly believed fantasy worlds were real (maybe she still does). Her passion for the unimaginable and the magnificent grew, leading Jessaca to a career in fantasy writing, with an inclination toward the dark, horror, paranormal, and dystopian/apocalyptic sub-genres.Jessaca is a self-proclaimed nerd who loves cosplay, video games, and comics. She grew up and still lives in Portland, Oregon, where she resides with her partner and their fur- and human-babies.

Book preview

1

The Kill

Veltuur, The Underrealm

While I lean against the base of the black tree, banging my head as I wait for the Councilspirits to give me my next orders, I play the game I often do whilst bored. The object is to pick a letter and list the things in my surroundings that begin with it, until I can think of no more.

Darkness.

Decay.

Death.

For an extra bonus, sometimes I try to come up with things I’ve never noticed here before. Of course, I rarely succeed in that challenge. Seeing as I’ve lived in this ethereal forest for a decade now, it’s no surprise that no matter which letter I choose, the words that come to mind are always the same.

Dullness.

Dreary.

Dejected.

Every day it is the same here: I wake up, I kill, I collect the souls of the departed so that they might return to the mortal realm anew, and I return to Veltuur a dutiful servant, awaiting the lives I’ll be told to take next.

Dusk.

Dirt.

Dampness.

For years and years I’ve done nothing but serve as a Reaper, and every night, as I lay my head on the mossy roots and stare through the black web of branches above, I can’t help but feel like I was meant to be doing something else, something more.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that there is no greater responsibility than to serve the underrealm. Without Reapers and our crows, the souls of the dead would just wander aimlessly, never finding their release.

I just… I’m not so sure I was supposed to be one of the ones helping them.

A bundle of dark, oily feathers glides down from the tree behind me, landing in the fog beside my crossed ankles.

Caw-caw, it screeches.

Finally, I sigh, and hop to me feet.

Once I’m up, once I’ve wiped the flakes of moss and soil from my backside, I turn around to face the tree. Like all of the others in the underrealm’s woods, it’s bark is as dark as death, its branches striking through the grey sky like black lightning. And yet, no matter how dark the tree is, the hollow is somehow darker, an abyss that leads into oblivion.

Staring into the hole, I reach inside.

My hand disappears, digging deep into the tree’s cavity. There’s nothing but cool air here, and the rough inside of the tree-bark’s flesh. I wait, palm open, and in an instant, a chunk of wood appears in my hand, as it always does.

I pull my arm back and hold the splintered wood chip out in my palm. To the untrained eye, it looks like a normal chunk of wood, the uneven splinterings of a branch snapped by a bear, or a tree knocked down by a rampaging magrok.

But, upon closer inspection, embers sizzle along the edge. They burn like liquid gold is seeping through every crack, like lava is trapped inside just waiting to ooze out. Then, like steel to flint, the wood ignites. Flames dance atop it, burning and devouring. They spark and