Tower Of Souls: Inklet, #50

By Amy Laurens

Every year, the tower fills with the souls of the dead.

Every year, the city throws someone living in to lead the dead to the afterlife.

Few succeed. Most join the dead.

This year, it's Freya's turn.

A very short story about confronting your fears—and discovering hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkprint Press
• Release date: Jan 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393381051

Amy Laurens

AMY LAURENS is an Australian author of fantasy fiction for all ages. Her story Bones Of The Sea, about creepy carnivorous mist and bone curses, won the 2021 Aurealis Award for Best Fantasy Novella. Amy has also written the award-winning portal-fantasy Sanctuary series about Edge, a 13-year-old girl forced to move to a small country town because of witness protection (the first book is Where Shadows Rise), the humorous fantasy Kaditeos series, following newly graduated Evil Overlord Mercury as she attempts to acquire a castle, the young adult series Storm Foxes, about love and magic and family in small town Australia, and a whole host of non-fiction, both for writers AND for people who don’t live with constant voices in their heads. Other interesting details? Let’s see. Amy lives with her husband and two kids in suburban Canberra. She used to be a high-school English teacher, and she was once chewed on by a lion. (The two are unrelated. It was her right thumb.) Amy loves chocolate but her body despises it; she has a vegetable garden that mostly thrives on neglect; and owns enough books to be considered a library. Of course. Oh, and she also makes rather fancy cakes in her spare time. She’s on all the usual social media channels as @ByAmyLaurens, but you’ve got the best chance of actually getting a response on Instagram or the contact form on her website. <3

Book preview

Tower Of Souls

INKLET #50

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AMY LAURENS

www.InkprintPress.com

Tower Of Souls

Adrenalin frissoned from stomach to fingertips as I landed on a cold, cobbled floor, the foot-thick door slamming shut behind me, blocking out the festival sounds as suddenly as if I’d died. I hadn’t, though; my panting gasps echoed in the absolute darkness of the Tower—until I stopped to wet dry lips and realised someone else was breathing too.

My heart leapt. I scrabbled backward against the door; the long, rattling breaths drew closer.

Something touched my foot. I screamed, flinging myself at the spelled wood that separated me from life. Long splinters tore off in my fingertips and blood soaked my nail beds—and something touched my shoulder.

I froze. I screwed my eyes closed, little panicked breaths my only movement.

Greetings, Wreath-Bearer.

The whispered voice scraped over me like bones rattling in the wind, and I huddled my face against the door. Please, I whispered, chest heaving. Don’t hurt me.

Cold fingers trailed down my spine. "We will not hurt you, so long as you bear