At Water's Edge
The Water Rushes Book 1
by S. McPherson
Genre: YA Fantasy 393 pages
Magic. Romance. Portals. And war. Perfect for fans of The Mortal Instruments, Red Queen and Twilight.
What if there was another you, living in another world?
Seventeen year old, Dezaray Storm is blamed for the death of her parents, hated by her brother and secluded from her friends, but that doesn't stop her from believing in magic.
Visions of the future, mysterious cloaked figures and a handsome stranger with the ability to teleport, lead to Dezaray tumbling through a portal and into another world where she is mistaken for its most powerful sorceress and saviour.
But in a twisted turn of events, the true sorceress ends up lost in our world, wandering the streets of England with a broken device and the whisper of forgotten magic to guide her. The realm of Coldivor is on the brink of war, its enemies grow restless and its shadows have eyes. Only the true sorceress can help tip the scales in their favour and the two girls must trade back before their 18th birthday when the war that could shatter both realities, will rage.
For a tale of misguided and powerful heroines, finding yourself in the midst of chaos and discovering secrets laid to rest, read AT WATER'S EDGE, a young adult epic fantasy that readers are comparing to Cassandra Clare, Sarah J Maas and Victoria Aveyard.
I look up. It is that unusual lad from class, the one who speaks just as oddly as he lurks, and lurks just as eerily as he strolls. The laughter in response does not faze him as he saunters over and offers me his hand. His coat is much too large for him and the hood from his jumper, as always, hides his face. Though ordinarily I would refuse his hand, and anyone else’s for that matter, today, what he said has left me somewhat intrigued. I accept and allow him to pull me to my feet. We make our way to the doors of Sanifud in silence.
‘If it offers any comfort, I believe you,’ he says at last.
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘I often see and feel things I too cannot explain. I imagine you encountered a Spee’ad a moment ago.’
‘Why ever didn’t I jump to that conclusion?’ Though I feign sarcasm and disinterest I am itching for him to go on; perhaps explain what exactly a Spee’ad is.
‘You are right to say nothing. I’ve learned it’s best to keep those sorts of far-stretched truths to oneself.’
‘Well, thank you, but I never did say I saw or felt a thing.’
‘Aye. So, when you fell, whom did you seek if not one who none can see?’ He opens the door and walks through, allowing it to shut gently in my face. I push it open and follow after him, unable to shake what he’s said from my mind. What is a ‘Spee’ad’? What exactly does he see or feel? Could it be the shimmer or the people in hooded cloaks? And what exactly did knock me over, as I am sure it was not the wind.
+ + +
‘Stunning!’ Professor Moxy beams at me. I am not even paying attention and somehow still receive praise. Perhaps that’s the real reason Annabelle doesn’t like me.
‘Thank you, sir.’ I smile and continue hammering the nails into the base of my rocking chair, trying to pay attention this time. A scrunched-up ball of paper lands on my desk. I look around the class and can vaguely make out the eyes of Peculiar Lad from under his hood. He is staring right at me. I discretely unroll the note and read: Look outside. I do so and struggle to conceal my amazement. By Beatrice Brook, the lake in the distance, I see the shimmer. Only it is much more than a shimmer now. From here I can tell that it is in fact a portal. Through it, I can no longer see the snow but instead am plainly staring into another dimension. The sun is shining there, not hidden behind clouds, and I can vaguely make out a mudded terrain and a line of trees. Suddenly, the shimmer is gone. I glance at Peculiar Lad. He is no longer looking in my direction, but one thing is certain, he saw it too.
USA Today Bestselling Author & a citizen of the world; S. McPherson was born in England, moved to Saudi Arabia when she was five then on to Dubai at the age of seven. S. McPherson briefly lived in Scotland, she is originally from Jamaica and her mind is often far, far away in lands people have never heard of.
S. McPherson has always loved writing in all its forms and at the tender age of eight, she dreamt of being a member of the next big pop group where she could sing and write songs all day. When that inexplicably fell through (how could she not be the next Beyonce??), she moved on to poems, scripts and eventually novels.
Having met many different people - imaginary and real - along her travels, S. McPherson has a vast array of characters buzzing in her head bursting to be let loose on a page or two of fantasy.