Vael seren (7 Ergebnisse)

PAP. Zustand: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. Established seller since 2000.

PAP. Zustand: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. Established seller since 2000.

Paperback. Zustand: new. Paperback. In the empire of Tessaly, the Harvesting is not theft.It is infrastructure. At sixteen, every citizen surrenders their Chord - the invisible frequency humming at the centre of the living soul - to the Weave. The Weave powers the empire's cities, warms its winters, runs its trains through the dark. You go on living after. You simply go on living more quietly. The people who've had it taken are called Nulls. They look like people. They move like people. If you didn't know what a soul looked like from the inside, you might never notice what's missing. Seraph Voss is five days from her Harvesting. Then she touches a dying Null in a street in Sector Pale - and something impossible happens. Every frequency she's ever carried, stacked inside her like an archive of every Chord ever stolen from every person who ever lived, reaches for his dying soul and says: no. Not yet. His eyes blaze. Four windows crack. A drone drops from the sky. Seraph runs. Because what she just discovered is this: she is an Achord - a soul that resonates on every frequency simultaneously, the first in four hundred years. Enough power to run the empire for a millennium. Or enough to return every stolen Chord to every hollow body the empire has ever quietly unmade. The empire finds out the same night she does. Now Seraph has three days to learn to be whole - to master a power she didn't know she had, inside a resistance organisation that has been building toward this moment for forty years, guided by a boy whose fractured, regrown soul heard her frequency from across the city and simply, without permission, began moving toward it. Caelum Rath is the High Conductor's son. He has been performing loyalty to an empire he despises since he was thirteen years old. He is made of broken music. He is the only one who understands what she needs to become. And his father is already coming. ACHORD is a breathtaking YA dystopian debut - for readers who loved the soul-deep romance of Shatter Me, the fierce stakes of The Hunger Games, and the lush world-building of A Court of Thorns and Roses. Perfect for readers who want: - A heroine who becomes something the empire built four centuries of infrastructure to prevent- A slow-burn romance between two people who are too much to be emptied- A resistance forty years in the making- A world where your soul is infrastructure - and taking it back is revolution Book One of The Achord Sequence. The story continues. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability. …

Paperback. Zustand: new. Paperback. I have been keeping records for two thousand years. I know the difference between a document that tells the truth and one that arranges itself around the truth while leaving the truth itself outside in the cold.This is the second kind, in places. I am telling you that at the outset.In October, a twenty-year-old hunter from Edinburgh walked into our mountain with one of our dead placed at the foot of the throne. Green eyes. No fear. A complete, structural absence of it - the kind that is not performed and cannot be manufactured and can only be the result of someone who has already done the interior work of this moment long before arriving at it.His name was Ian Calloway. His parents had been killed when he was fourteen. He had spent six years building toward the truth of why, with the methodical patience of someone who had started at the bottom of a structure and intended to arrive at the top.He arrived at us.My name is Seraphine. I have been the intelligence officer for the First Council - the governing body of the vampire world, which exists beneath the surface of the human one the way a river system exists beneath rock - for sixteen hundred years. I manage the records. I build the pictures. I know what a pattern looks like before it has finished forming, and I knew, from the moment I watched him from the doorway that October night, that something was beginning.I did not know yet that I was in it.This is the account of the year Ian Calloway changed the shape of what we were. It is also the account of Vanessa of the Old Blood - four thousand eight hundred years old, the founder of the First Council, the most extraordinary person I have known in two thousand years of knowing people - and what happened when something arrived that she had not prepared for.And it is the account of a bloodline that had been building toward a single generation for three centuries. Of a contact event on a frozen Finnish lake in November. Of an entity that has been watching the forming events for longer than our entire observational record. Of twelve letters from a mother who knew what her son was and spent her life building him the instrument to find it.And of me. Who kept the records. Who noted everything in the private account alongside the official one. Who managed the professional and the personal simultaneously and let neither consume the other.Who was in the story, in the end.I have tried to write it the way it happened. The places where I failed, where my own involvement bends the telling, I have left in rather than smoothed over.You deserve the distortion. It is part of the truth.Begin. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability.…

Zustand: New. Print on Demand.

Paperback. Zustand: new. Paperback. In the empire of Tessaly, the Harvesting is not theft.It is infrastructure. At sixteen, every citizen surrenders their Chord - the invisible frequency humming at the centre of the living soul - to the Weave. The Weave powers the empire's cities, warms its winters, runs its trains through the dark. You go on living after. You simply go on living more quietly. The people who've had it taken are called Nulls. They look like people. They move like people. If you didn't know what a soul looked like from the inside, you might never notice what's missing. Seraph Voss is five days from her Harvesting. Then she touches a dying Null in a street in Sector Pale - and something impossible happens. Every frequency she's ever carried, stacked inside her like an archive of every Chord ever stolen from every person who ever lived, reaches for his dying soul and says: no. Not yet. His eyes blaze. Four windows crack. A drone drops from the sky. Seraph runs. Because what she just discovered is this: she is an Achord - a soul that resonates on every frequency simultaneously, the first in four hundred years. Enough power to run the empire for a millennium. Or enough to return every stolen Chord to every hollow body the empire has ever quietly unmade. The empire finds out the same night she does. Now Seraph has three days to learn to be whole - to master a power she didn't know she had, inside a resistance organisation that has been building toward this moment for forty years, guided by a boy whose fractured, regrown soul heard her frequency from across the city and simply, without permission, began moving toward it. Caelum Rath is the High Conductor's son. He has been performing loyalty to an empire he despises since he was thirteen years old. He is made of broken music. He is the only one who understands what she needs to become. And his father is already coming. ACHORD is a breathtaking YA dystopian debut - for readers who loved the soul-deep romance of Shatter Me, the fierce stakes of The Hunger Games, and the lush world-building of A Court of Thorns and Roses. Perfect for readers who want: - A heroine who becomes something the empire built four centuries of infrastructure to prevent- A slow-burn romance between two people who are too much to be emptied- A resistance forty years in the making- A world where your soul is infrastructure - and taking it back is revolution Book One of The Achord Sequence. The story continues. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability. …

Paperback. Zustand: new. Paperback. I have been keeping records for two thousand years. I know the difference between a document that tells the truth and one that arranges itself around the truth while leaving the truth itself outside in the cold.This is the second kind, in places. I am telling you that at the outset.In October, a twenty-year-old hunter from Edinburgh walked into our mountain with one of our dead placed at the foot of the throne. Green eyes. No fear. A complete, structural absence of it - the kind that is not performed and cannot be manufactured and can only be the result of someone who has already done the interior work of this moment long before arriving at it.His name was Ian Calloway. His parents had been killed when he was fourteen. He had spent six years building toward the truth of why, with the methodical patience of someone who had started at the bottom of a structure and intended to arrive at the top.He arrived at us.My name is Seraphine. I have been the intelligence officer for the First Council - the governing body of the vampire world, which exists beneath the surface of the human one the way a river system exists beneath rock - for sixteen hundred years. I manage the records. I build the pictures. I know what a pattern looks like before it has finished forming, and I knew, from the moment I watched him from the doorway that October night, that something was beginning.I did not know yet that I was in it.This is the account of the year Ian Calloway changed the shape of what we were. It is also the account of Vanessa of the Old Blood - four thousand eight hundred years old, the founder of the First Council, the most extraordinary person I have known in two thousand years of knowing people - and what happened when something arrived that she had not prepared for.And it is the account of a bloodline that had been building toward a single generation for three centuries. Of a contact event on a frozen Finnish lake in November. Of an entity that has been watching the forming events for longer than our entire observational record. Of twelve letters from a mother who knew what her son was and spent her life building him the instrument to find it.And of me. Who kept the records. Who noted everything in the private account alongside the official one. Who managed the professional and the personal simultaneously and let neither consume the other.Who was in the story, in the end.I have tried to write it the way it happened. The places where I failed, where my own involvement bends the telling, I have left in rather than smoothed over.You deserve the distortion. It is part of the truth.Begin. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability.…