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Eos

Below, you’ll find the blurb, reviews, and first chapter of Eos.

Book One in the Eos Dawn Series

How far would you go for freedom?
After a world war left the country in ruins, the survivors regrouped, creating four cities. With the population lower than ever, the prison system became impossible to maintain, so the city officials developed the Exile Town System… Avid—a literal dump for the thieves, Bellicose—caverns for the violent, Clamorite—mountains for the unruly, Delaisse—factories for the addicts and vandals, and Equivox—a lake for the liars. When a young thief learns about the Skeleton Key, a device that can be used to unlock anything, she can’t help but to go after it. But there’s a catch—in order to unlock the box containing it, she needs a key from each of the exile towns, which turn out to be far more dangerous than she could have imagined.

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Chapter One of Eos

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After weeks of careful observation, I felt like I was actually going to get away with this. I moved out of my crouch for a moment and peered one more time over my shoulder, checking the dark barroom. I squatted and turned back to the ancient brass lock underneath the bar counter, once I was certain I was alone. Removing the lock carefully and silently, I placed it gingerly on the dingy red and white checkered tile floor beside me. The cabinet let out a quick squeak as I opened it, revealing a few palm-sized liquor bottles filled with caramel-colored liquid. Jackpot.

For the past few weeks, I had spent my nights watching this bar from across the street, studying when the barkeeper would typically lock up and leave for the day. I knew that every day during the earlier hours of the night, he would leave for a while to go home to his family. He would always return late at night to spend some time tipping back the bottle himself before he would eventually lock up. At this point, I was certain of when he would be gone for the night and I knew it was my chance. I have gone in the bar before—I’m an in-city messenger. Within my city, Rockhallow, I’m hired out, typically by government officials. They pay me to deliver letters, documents, packages, or whatever else throughout Rockhallow, wherever they need me to go. I’m too young to be a cross-city messenger; the roads to the other few remaining cities in our country have become fairly dangerous since the war. The last time I was sent to deliver a letter to this bar, I overheard some men discussing some very old, very expensive liquor. I immediately wanted it.

I’m underage, but only just. Rockhallow follows the laws of our country’s past in regards to alcohol, and we are not legally able to drink until we turn 21. I’m 20. I’ve only had a few drinks before, and always in secret. This time would be different—this liquor was special, from long before the war ever destroyed most of the country. These few bottles are some of the only remaining ones, and are said to be some of the sweetest rums that were ever made. I figured, if I snagged two bottles, I could drink one myself, and save the other for when I become a cross-city messenger at 25 to barter in one of the other cities. By then, no one should be looking for a little bottle of rum, but it could easily earn me a wad of cash.

I wrapped my fingers around the first bottle I saw—a short, round bottle with the shape similar to that of a clamshell. It was full about three quarters of the way, and the caramel liquid sloshed as I stuffed it in my coat pocket. Just as I was reaching for the second, I heard the crash of a door being thrown open.

“She’s behind the counter! I knew someone has been watching my shop for a long time now! I knew it was a thief!” a clumsy man with a red, bulbous nose shouted while stumbling into chairs as he made his way into the room—the barkeep.

I swore under my breath, unsure of what to do. As I tried to scramble behind some of the boxes concealed by the counter, I heard two more people enter the bar as the lights flickered on, illuminating the room in an amber light. One of the newcomers, a thick-set man with close cropped black hair and a crooked nose, stepped behind the bar just as I was trying to wedge my way between two crates. He grabbed my arm with a strong grip and dragged me out of my hiding place, sending the crates around me crashing to the ground as I flailed my legs. The other newcomer, an unusually muscular woman with frizzy brown hair and a wide jaw, joined the man at his side. She tugged at my other arm, causing me to slide significantly faster than I could scramble away. Once they got me out from behind the counter, the woman reached into a pocket on her security vest and pulled out a syringe, jabbing me in the neck with it before I could even utter a word, sending me into blurred darkness.

When I began to regain my vision, I could begin to make out the figures of my parents. They were talking to someone. Who are they talking to?

“Mom... Dad?” I grumbled quietly, blinking through the bright fluorescent lights of the room. How long was I out? There’s sunlight… Where am I?

My vision gradually grew clearer, and I could make out distinct voices. I was in a courtroom, that much I could tell. I could see the sparkle of white marble columns and floors, oak seats surrounding me. There were very few people in the room with us: me, my parents, the barkeep, and a handful of whom I could only assume were government officials. And then there was Redelle. Patrick Redelle, our city leader, was a man of average height, average weight, and above-average intelligence. His hair was a chestnut brown that grew no more than an inch above his head and was always styled and gelled without a hair out of place. He had a strong face, with what seemed to be a permanently stubbly goatee. Redelle was always fashionably dressed, and today was no exception. His brown suit was free of any blemishes or specks of dirt and was perfectly pressed as he stood stiff at the head of the room.

“You’ve obviously made a mistake!” my mom shouted at the barkeep, her green eyes wide and reddened, filled with tears. “My daughter would never steal from anyone! Especially not rum! She’s too young to drink!”

“We can reimburse you for any stolen or damaged goods, we just ask that you please give our daughter another chance,” my dad bartered, a stern but pleading look on his sharp face.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Redelle replied, from his position in the room. “She is no longer a minor, and therefore must be tried as an adult and unless substantial evidence is provided in her favor, she will be sentenced to exile to Avid.”

“Avid?” I spoke up, trying to prop myself up, only to jerk forwards and find out I was handcuffed to a bench. “You can’t do this!”

Ever since the four cities were built after the war, people began devising new ways to deal with criminals. It began with the old prison system, only to find out they couldn’t contain all the prisoners. Eventually, the exile system was put into place. Towns were developed for different crime groups, spread over a small region of the country, considering most of it was left in too much
of ruins for even the criminals to live. Because of this, criminals were exiled from their cities into the appropriate towns.

The thieves are sent to the junkyard town of Avid. Even though this was about to become my new home, there was very little I knew about it—people never really talked about what the exile towns were like.

Those with violent habits are sentenced to the caverns of Bellicose. These include your murderers and psychopaths, but it also includes those who pick a lot of physical fights with others. Their caverns are located the furthest from any of the cities because the people in them are considered the biggest threat to the safety of the citizens.

I knew a guy who used to be in my class when we were young who was fairly recently exiled to Delaisse because he was caught with a stash of drugs in his apartment. People who are vandals or drug abusers are lumped into the same group because of the statistical
links between the two at the time of the group’s creation, and these people are transported to the industrial fields called Delaisse.

Extreme liars even have their own exile group in the heart of a forest somewhere around a lake. It wasn’t as if the cities would banish a person for telling a few white lies, but when lies get out of hand and drastically disturb a city, these people are exiled to the town of Equivox. Few people live in Equivox, but those that do are some of the most coldhearted liars that ever walked.

As for the last exile group, there’s Clamorite. These “noise polluters”—rioters and general nuisances—are sent to live on a mountain. These people are treated the best of all the exile groups, with larger monthly rations delivered to them because their crimes are considered the most innocent—they simply caused too much public disturbance, often receiving complaints from citizens.

“You can’t send me to Avid!” I protested, struggling against the cuffs. “I’m your messenger! You know me better than that!”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have much of a choice—there were witnesses, and Mr. Cantrell has a solid case against you. He has spotted you watching him closing his bar for the last couple weeks, and he notified me when he saw you picking his lock. I sent some of my officers to check it out immediately, and when they came back with you sedated claiming you were resisting arrest…well, you can see where my hands are tied here,” Redelle eyed my cuffs apologetically.

A rail of a woman with short greying hair and spectacles grimaced at me before turning to Redelle.

“Can we please proceed with the trial, Mr. Redelle?” she croaked.

“Yes, yes, sorry Esther.”

“Daughter of Mira and Troy Dawn. Twenty years of age. Accused of theft by a Mr. Grod Cantrell,” Esther read from a file. She clicked a button on a tiny remote in her palm and a large projection flickered into the middle of the room. I was staring into my own pale green eyes on the image. My fair skin and countless dark freckles, framed by my long black and platinum blonde streaked hair, displayed in an emotionless photograph of me in front of the people that were undoubtedly going to cast me out of the city I had grown up in. As I stared at the projection, Esther continued to read off the details of my crime.

“Are there any council members or witnesses present who are able to provide evidence to prove the innocence of the accused?” questioned Esther.

Silence.

“Eos Dawn, you are hereby sentenced to exile to the town of Avid,” Redelle began, followed by the wailing cries of my mom as she threw herself at me, sobbing onto my shoulder as I squirmed uncomfortably, crushed by her but restrained by the handcuffs still. “Your exile is due to take place in three hours. You have this time to spend with your family and friends, as well as to pack five items you are permitted to bring with you to Avid. During this time, the same officers that took part in your arrest will accompany you. After your three hours have expired, you will be escorted to the city gate, where further information will be given to you before you depart.”

At the word “depart,” my mom slid back onto her knees and looked me in the eyes, covering her mouth and nose with both hands, a look of surprise, shame, and disbelief on her face.

“Mom, I’m so sorry,” I said.

“This isn’t you,” she sputtered through sobs. “My E would never do something so stupid…”

“Mom,” I started.

“Stop. Please, honey. Just…let me go on with the image of my sweet, innocent little girl. I can’t be around you… I can’t have my last memory of my daughter be of a thief,” she sighed shakily as she stood unsteadily to her feet, steadying herself with my free hand, allowing her grasp to linger for a second before she gently squeezed my hand and pulled away as she turned and walked out of the courtroom doors.

“Mom! Mom, come back!” I shouted in vain.

“You know we both love you, Eos,” my dad said calmly. “Your mother is just in shock. She’ll come around before you leave. I’m going to try to catch up with her and keep her around the house if you want to spend any of your three hours with us. Don’t forget to pack your things before you have to go.”

He walked out of the room without waiting for a response. City officials began filing slowly out of the room after the chitchat began to die down. When the two officers were the only other people left in the room, the woman who injected me with the tranquilizer pushed a miniature key into the lock of the cuffs chaining my arm to the bench.

Click.