I'm so excited to be part of Erin's cover reveal today!! I've personally been dying to see what this cover would turn out like since May :-) It came out to be the perfect cover! It's nice and dark which from what I have read is going to represent the book really well. I'm super excited that the Vanguard crest is the main focal point of the cover because it's gorgeous. Let me know what you think about the cover and leave Erin some love. ♥
Meet the Author:
Erin Albert is an author, editor, and fitness
trainer. Since she picked up Morris the Moose Goes to School at
age four, she has been infatuated with the written word. She went on to
work as a grammar and writing tutor in college and is still teased by
her family and friends for being a member of the "Grammar Police."
In her free time, Erin enjoys acting, running, kickboxing, and, of
course, reading and writing.
Find me online:
Twitter: @ErinAlbertBooks
The Cover:
Releases November 15, 2013
Blurb:
“Everything must be
taken down.” A rotund man, with beady
black eyes, surveyed the town, disdain in his expression. While he did not appear distinguishable from
the other black and purple clad men, he spoke with authority. “The First Ones
and their great Prophecy must be honored properly.” He sniffed, his actions
indicating the very existence of Medlin and its occupants offended him.
Layla wondered what
this man considered a “proper honoring” of the First Ones. The First Ones…they’d been dead for centuries,
and, as far as Layla could tell, hadn’t done much in life except start a
never-ending war. She knew nothing more
about them except that she was to thank them for good things, curse them for
bad, and celebrate them on this day.
“That’s Elder Werrick,
head of the Ecclesiastics,” whispered Samson, glancing back at Grant. Layla noticed the look that passed between
them.
Grant nodded his
assent. “Get her out of here, brother.”
Samson tried to
steer Layla away, but she held her position to get a closer look at the man
whom her family so feared. She knew they had good reason to worry—her black
hair and purple eyes marked her as a Fulfillment candidate, one with the
potential to bring about the long awaited peace. But she couldn’t quite bring
herself to believe Elder Werrick would notice her on the crowded streets,
especially with her eye drops and hood. Could he really be responsible for
dragging candidates from their homes, forcing them to undergo strenuous,
sometimes gruesome, testing for the sake of the Prophecy? To Layla, he looked like nothing more than a
short, fat, unhappy man. The very notion
that he could strike such fear into the hearts of her people seemed almost laughable…almost.
As his gaze swept over the crowd, she glimpsed a sinister undertone that made
her shiver.
Waving his pudgy
arms at the awaiting townspeople, Werrick commanded, “Take it down.”
Suddenly, his body
stilled and his tiny eyes grew wide.
They briefly connected with Layla’s, narrowing with calculation. The Elder turned to his nearest black clad
companion.
“Do you feel that?”
Layla heard Werrick ask.
The other man looked
skeptical. “Feel what, Elder?”
Werrick leaned in as
the two whispered, stealing furtive glances in her direction. When the Elder’s companion pointed at Layla,
Samson grabbed her arm. She heard his breathing change from rhythmic to jagged
as he pulled her away from the men.
“We have to go now.”
His urgency spurred her into action.
Grant moved to block
them from the Elder’s view. “Get her
away from here, Samson.”
The Elder looked up
to see everyone staring at him as if frozen. He repeated his demand, “I said
take everything down.”
The townspeople,
joined by the Elder’s minion, scampered to remove their decorations, anxious to
“properly” celebrate the First Ones.
Their flurry of activity concealed Layla as Samson and Grant escorted
her away. Layla scanned the streets,
horrified, as the people of Medlin stripped the town’s center barren. In no time, everything appeared as it always
had, devoid of any celebratory adornments.
She looked up at the sky with its gray clouds lingering overhead. A bad omen…
On the hill, a safe
distance away, Layla watched a group of Ecclesiastics erect a monstrous stage
where the donkey races should have occurred.
She heard the braying of the angry animals, harnessed and corralled on
the orders of the Elder to avoid interfering with the “true” Day of Dawning
celebration. Her ire rose. Who did they
think they were coming in and changing everything?
An icy, phantom
finger traced a frigid line down her spine.
After hearing warning after warning from the Mantars her whole life,
Layla knew exactly what the Ecclesiastics could do, what they had done to
others in the past. Maybe Samson and
Grant had been right. Maybe she should
never have come, especially today. Layla
turned her back on the town, resolved to go home, to safety.
“Layla!” Samson’s
alarmed tone sliced into her, and she swung around toward him.
To her horror, two
Vanguard soldiers forced Samson to the ground.
She knew just how much strength he possessed, yet he couldn’t free
himself. Her hands balled up into fists, shaking with their desire to unleash
the full force of their fury.
“Run!” Samson
screamed before a soldier’s fist smashed into his face.
His body
stilled. Panic, coupled with indecision,
crippled her. She should run like Samson
commanded, but she couldn’t leave him lying there. To her relief, Grant ambled toward them, his
eyes full of rage.
“Run!” Grant echoed
Samson’s warning.
With a final glance
at the two boys who’d been as close to her as brothers, Layla fled. She flew down the hill, swinging her head
from side to side in alarm.
Ecclesiastics swarmed throughout the city, making a clear escape route
difficult to discern.
Terror rose within
Layla. Why hadn’t she listened to her
family? She’d been foolish to believe
she could sneak around under the ever-watchful eyes of the Ecclesiastics, and
that hubris put Samson and Grant in danger as well. She choked back a sob.
“Run,” she whispered.
Willing her feet to
move forward, Layla darted toward the back of the baker’s shop, hoping to take
a shortcut through the back alleyway.
She swerved to miss a wooden box and stumbled, arms flailing to right
herself. Unfamiliar hands reached out to break her fall. Once stable, Layla looked up to find Elder
Werrick staring down at her. She
screamed but no sound came out of her open mouth.
“I’ve been looking for
you,” he said, a wicked smile on his face.
