Avoiding the Abyss: The Abyss Trilogy, #1

By A.C. Ward

She was a failure as a rebel. Too bad the same couldn't be said for starting an apocalypse.

 

Aubrey never realized there was a better life beyond being the rebel leader's disappointing teenage daughter. But when she's abducted by the government and taught the demonic truth behind the rebellion at their official academy, she is torn between two worlds.

 

Wielding a power she didn't know she had, Aubrey must decide who she can trust. The rebels want her to open a dark dimension that will destroy the government once and for all. It is the opportunity to earn the approval she's always yearned for. But if she goes through with it, Aubrey will lose the person she's beginning to love.

 

Can Aubrey master her power in time to prevent the end of the world?

 

Avoiding the Abyss is book 1 in a YA fantasy trilogy filled with complex characters and demonic powers, set in a dystopian world with a beautiful balance of hope and despair.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.C. Ward
• Release date: Aug 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201131449

A.C. Ward

A.C. Ward is a little worried that her internet search history is on some sort of watch list. For her writing she has researched demonic rituals, exorcism, and lethal stab wounds. Her next work in process is only making it worse. A.C, lives with her husband, daughter, and various pets – dog, cat, gecko, fish, and tarantula. When she’s not writing she’s watching Netflix or rereading her favorite manga. She’d love to hear from her fans. You can contact her at [e-mail].

Book preview

Chapter 1

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It wasn’t the first time her mother had punched her in the face, and Aubrey doubted it would be the last. The most frustrating part was that she saw the punch coming. Not because it was slow—her mother, the paragon of the rebels, didn’t do slow—but because it was her typical move. Aubrey had fallen for the same thing in prior training sessions. She had learned tactics to avoid it, blocking the punch or turning to the side or even ducking, but indecision led to her freezing up.

Her mother’s controlled swing hit Aubrey in the jaw. She tasted blood. Trying her best to ignore it, Aubrey kept her feet moving, managing to pull back in time to evade the second swing. She had never been able to keep up with her mother but wanted to put up a good enough fight to avoid being a complete disappointment. Again.

Sparring matches were one of the few times Aubrey interacted with her mother. It had become a form of communication between them. The way her mother’s green eyes hardened to stone, the deep crease that formed between her brows, the firming of her lips as they turned down in displeasure, Aubrey could read them all. Her mother treated only her that way. A ball of tension twisted in her stomach, the pain of it worse than a connected blow could ever be.

Aubrey swung out at her mother, the punch a surprise even to herself, and sloppy. Her mother caught it in her own fist, the crease between her brows deepening. She used Aubrey’s own momentum against her, pulling her into the next blow. Aubrey tried in vain to turn it into a glancing blow, but the force of the impact snapped her head back. Dots danced in front of her eyes as Aubrey fell. Her mother released her grip to let her.

There were ways to fall to keep in the fight. Aubrey tried to get her body to do it, to roll back to her feet, but she flopped onto the rock ground instead with a sickening thud. She blinked, and the dots whirled, creating arcs of white light. Her mother stepped forward into the glow, pressing her advantage, and behind her an image formed.

Aubrey blinked but the figure remained. It was a man, and it was not. The scowl on his face was even fiercer than her mother’s. When he crossed his arms, Aubrey thought she saw three pairs of limbs folding over his bare ridged chest. He towered above her mother at an impossible height.

Aubrey lost her breath even before her mother’s kick connected with her side. What little air was left whooshed out of her lungs and she squeezed her eyes shut, giving in to the pain. The next kick popped them open wide again. Behind her mother, the figure was gone, burst like the figment of imagination he must have been.

The third kick had her body screaming in protest. Aubrey tried to roll away, to not just sit there and be beaten. Her mother was intent on her prey. The next blow to Aubrey’s side drained the last of her resistance. She curled in on herself, covered her head as best she could, and waited for the punishment to be over.

Myra, a voice interjected, warm and unhurried like the man it had come from.

Aubrey’s arms tightened even further around herself, wondering just how much of her shame he had witnessed.

Her mother paused, looking back over her shoulder to where he stood.

"They are asking for you, mi alma," Tony said, the smile on his face one he reserved for Aubrey’s mother.

Myra frowned at him, her typical response to the pet name. I’ve told you not to call me that. She turned back to her daughter, her stance rigid. Not good enough.

Aubrey let the words pierce her, forcing her grip on herself to loosen. I know.

You’re already at a disadvantage with no powers. You should be putting every effort into becoming useful in the one area where you have any chance. Her mother stepped back and picked up a towel to wipe her face, though it wasn’t needed. Myra hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Aubrey’s own sweat ran in rivulets through her short-cropped hair. She used her trembling arms to push herself to a sitting position.

Myra tossed the towel, streaked with red dirt, into her lap. This performance was even worse than last time. 

Aubrey tensed as her mother stepped toward her, half expecting another kick.

Myra crouched, forcing her daughter to meet her sharp eyes. You’re becoming even more of a waste of time. If it gets any worse, we’ll end these sessions. She stood again, turning her back on Aubrey.

Tony moved to the side of the entrance as she passed through, staring after her silently. When she was out of sight, he let out a heavy sigh and glanced at Aubrey where she was still frozen in place. "Happy fifteenth birthday, nena," he said. Then he left to chase after her mother.

Aubrey stared at the rocky ground beneath her. Her hands curled into fists, the urge to hit something coming too late. She slammed them down hard enough to raise the dirt in plumes of red dust.

***

Aubrey’s torn knuckles burned as she rinsed the last soapy dish from dinner. She pulled the metal plate up, her face peering back at her despite the dull surface. The developing bruise was symmetrical to the faded scar on her opposite cheek, a remnant from a past sparring match with her mother. The dripping water on the metal gave the impression of tears running down her face. Aubrey frowned at the plate as she wiped it dry.

When she’d been younger, Aubrey had imagined her father drying her tears. She’d never known him. The one time she had worked up enough courage to ask her mother about him, she’d been told that he was dead, in those exact words, thrown back over a shoulder like tossed garbage.

That hadn’t stopped her from dreaming of the man. His face was always a hazy version of her own, though with a kinder smile. He smiled at her a lot in her mind, to balance the fact that her mother never did. Of course, like Aubrey herself, he would have no special abilities.

Aubrey pressed the towel into the plate. The daydreams had been a waste of time, just like her tears. 

The dish, it is dry now, yes?

Startled, Aubrey stared at the wrinkled hand the older woman held out to her. Known only as Abuela to all the rebels, Tony’s grandmother had helped in the kitchen less and less in recent days. Her health was beginning to catch up with her. It was a shame since Abuela was the only person who could still box Tony’s ears. That was a sight to behold, since the man was more charming than anyone had the right to be.

Aubrey released the plate, watching Abuela’s hand shake as she placed it on the rock shelf with the others. Almost everything was carved out of rock in the rebel base. Living in the old, abandoned mining tunnels lent itself to that, but the shelter had been the most stable home Aubrey had known. It had allowed the rebels to remain undiscovered for nearly two years.

"You should not wear such a troubled face, chica. Abuela patted her shoulder. Trust in the Maker, and your worries, she waved her hands in the air, poof, no more."

The Maker. Aubrey shook her head. That’s just an old fable from Earth That Was. You know I don’t believe in him.

I worry. The time of His return, it is coming. And for those that don’t believe, only evil awaits.

A chill ran up Aubrey’s spine, but she pushed it away. Thank you for helping, Abuela. You should go rest.

The older woman patted her shoulder again. Your food, it is always good. Make a good wife one day.

Aubrey let out a surprised laugh as Abuela shuffled from the room. She was too young to think about romance, but even her future prospects weren’t very promising. Few teenagers joined the rebel movement. There was only one other in their own group, and he was two years younger than she was.

Two generations before Aubrey’s, something had changed on the planet Amaranth. When children reached puberty, they developed special powers. The governing body, the Ganesh Group, refused to acknowledge the powers, instead insisting that the planet’s mining efforts had released a toxin that caused mental instability. To protect the rest of the population, special schools had been created and children were isolated into these facilities in order to cure them. Many families never saw their kids again.

The rebels hadn’t agreed with the Ganesh Group’s solution and tried to fight against it. They knew the powers were real and believed they could be used for the good of Amaranth. They were in the minority, though, and in each generation since the outbreak fewer children had been born, largely driven by the government enforced, single-child birthrate policy.

Aubrey was still surprised that her mother had followed through with her own pregnancy, especially since she had been only a little older than Aubrey’s current fifteen years at the time. That her mother was part of the rebels, and away from the use of any medical facilities, was probably the only reason Aubrey was alive at all.

Lost in her thoughts, the towel slipped from her hands, slithering to the ground below. Aubrey bent to retrieve it. Her ribs gave a sharp throb of warning. In fact, not much of her body didn’t ache. She tossed the towel on the counter, shuffling over to the small table in the corner of the kitchen to sit.

The room was her domain. Since they’d moved to the tunnels, she had taken care of the meal preparations. She’d become rather skilled at finding the balance between stretching their limited resources and filling the rebels’ bellies. It gave her pleasure when the few kids living there smiled as they ate. Aubrey remembered a time when their rations mainly consisted of cave spiders, one of the few living creatures that dwelled on Amaranth. She shuddered at the memory.

Aubrey curled her fingers, the dull throbbing in her knuckles turning into a sharper pain as the cuts stretched. Part of her wondered if fighting was the best thing she could offer the rebels. Somehow her mother’s threat to stop their training sessions didn’t feel like a punishment at all.

She laid her hands flat on the table. Just out of reach, on the dimmest corner of the table, blank paper and ink beckoned. Aubrey glanced back toward the entrance to the kitchen, but she didn’t expect anyone to be there. The faintest echo of voices sounded from a distance, too far away to prevent her from giving in to temptation.

She pulled the drawing instruments closer. Curling her fingers around the homemade quill brought back the ache in her hands, but it faded from her mind as the image formed. It wasn’t anything special, just the room around her, but the act of creating it soothed the tension that she had almost become used to carrying inside her. 

Her mother had caught her drawing a few times and had very clearly communicated her opinion on the hobby. Aubrey never kept the evidence, destroying her drawings as she completed them, but she hadn’t been able to stop creating them altogether.

The brief image she had seen during the sparring match rose to her mind. She wasn’t normally a fanciful person. She was tempted to recreate the man with six arms, and such an angry expression. The figure would be a challenge to capture just right, but Abuela would warn against the drawing, claiming that she was inviting el Diablo inside.

She carefully added Abuela to the scene instead, a sadness rising at the thought that the woman might not be with them much longer. If Aubrey believed in the afterlife that the Maker’s teachings described, she would see her in eternity, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around the everlasting love that was offered in those ancient texts. 

That’s one of your best ones yet.

Aubrey’s hand jerked, smearing the ink around the drawn woman, casting a shadow on her like the mark of death. She swallowed the lump in her throat, turning to face the owner of the voice. What are you doing here, Camren?

At thirteen, Camren was the only other teenager in their group. He leaned against the wall beside the table, one of his hands tucked awkwardly behind him. I knew you’d forgotten. We were going to spar together tonight, remember? You said you wanted the extra practice.

Aubrey ducked her head and turned her hands to hide her knuckles. Sorry, my mother suddenly found time for a session. I’m pretty sore.

"Lucky! You got to practice with the Myra Vale." He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as if imagining the chance.

Aubrey doubted his dream sparring match ended with being kicked across the room. It’s not as great as you think. I’m always seriously outclassed.

Well, of course. I mean, she’s a legend. There’s no way you’d beat her. Camren’s voice rose with his excitement. Did you hear about the latest raid she led? She took on twenty government soldiers to allow the other rebels to escape.

I’m sure her special ability helped. Aubrey couldn’t block the surge of envy. Controlling other people’s minds was a rare gift.  She had never hoped to have a power as great as her mother’s, but her total lack added to her list of failures, though at least it was outside her control.

Well, yeah, but using that power on twenty people is still impressive. Myra Vale is the most kickass rebel ever!

Aubrey didn’t respond. It wasn’t like she disagreed. Her mother was the driving force behind the rebels. She reached for her drawing, the first tear down the middle loud in the sudden silence.

That seems like a waste, you know. Camren winced as she continued to rip the sketch into even smaller pieces.

If you’re trying to be friends with me to get closer to my mother, you’re wasting your time. Aubrey tensed when she realized she’d said it out loud. She forced herself to look at him.

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers as his face flushed red through to his ears. It’s not about her. He bit his lip, both of them hearing the partial lie in the words. He leaned forward, shoving something into her hands. Here, I heard it was your birthday. He turned toward the door.

Aubrey fingered the package, her mouth falling open in shock. Camren, wait, I didn’t mean— She groaned to herself. He was already out of sight. Dammit. 

She turned the square-shaped gift in her hands, and her short nails picked at the edge until she could lift it and smoothly peel off the paper. Maybe she’d reuse it for one more drawing that night.

The wrapping fell away to reveal a small notebook, a little bigger than her hands. Pushed through the metal spiral holding it together was a pencil, something she could carry with her without worrying about spilled ink. Aubrey sucked in a breath, her fingers trembling as she lifted the cover and flipped through the white pages beneath. Her heart raced as she considered the possibility of concealing it and actually keeping her drawings.

I’m such a jerk, she muttered, wishing she had chased after Camren to apologize.

Hands gripped her under her arms, lifting her from the chair and twirling her in the air. She twisted her head back to see Tony grinning at her. Why the glum face, nena? You should be soaring high today. He set her on her feet, tweaking her nose as he released her.

Aubrey ran a hand through her cropped hair, her cheeks heating. She didn’t like being treated like a kid by him, but she couldn’t suppress the smile that formed in response to his antics. "What’s gotten into you, Tony? Normally you’d use your powers to do something