Novelas y relatos de Recruitment: A Dystopian Novel

DAHLIA : As I listened to the stranger’s stories one after one, I examined the torch. The fire would continue burning until the reserve of magic ran out. I didn’t have to worry about it running out and leaving me in the dark. I picked some juicy worms and put them next to me searching for a stick. I eyed a small bone I wished it belonged to an animal then prayed for the owner’s salvation. “And like that, Dotoria was born; a land for humans to rule, cursing other races within its borders into madness and cruelty, condemning them to relinquish all emotions and deny their selves. What are you doing? I smell something burning.”

The Recruitment Protocol The Assistant stepped onto the cedar deck of the blue ship, her boots leaving tiny, damp prints of clear salt-water that didn't stain the wood. She walked straight to the ledger-table where the stranger’s leather book had been replaced by the white piece of chalk and the slate block. "The Tenth Volume isn't a continuation, Seraphina," she said, looking down at the white chalk cylinder. "It’s a Recruitment. The Thirteen ran out of variables because they kept rounding every error to zero. They built the First District to standardise the remainder, but the standard didn't produce any interest. They need the virus. They need Xander's beast, and they need your ledger-scar

You can find me on Tw*tter at @michell76640823 I have a few other books in progress, I hope you'll take the time to check those out, too. The Praelia Chronicles: Hope's Despair is set in a dystopian fantasy world. Magical creatures were wiped out in a great war hundreds of years ago. Society has been structured into the upper, middle, and lower classes to keep the citizens in order. Every year, those of the lower classes wait in desperate anticipation hoping to be chosen during the reaping to be elevated to a higher class. What happens when the mate bond reappears after four hundred years of being dormant? Will Hope find her happily ever after, or will society crush her gilded dreams? This b

“Let’s call it . . . Terror of Survival. In that game, we needed to kill each other to survive and get the reward. So, they ruthlessly murdered each other in front of my eyes while I couldn’t do anything because I was doubting the bastards about the reward they were saying. Who knows if that reward was a deathless death? He shook his head. “As my hands were full of the blood of my comrades, I realized that I was the only one left. I looked at the culprits one by one while trembling, thinking that probably it was finally the end of the day. Some of them gave me a playful smirk while some of them looked like they were filled with remorse. Then, they gave me their so-called price. The price is

She glanced back down at the leather-bound book resting on the floorboards beside her. The empty pages seemed to stare up at her, daring her to turn them. With a trembling hand, she picked it up again, the leather warm against her palm. She knew she should get up, should finish unpacking, should do something practical, anything to distract herself from the throbbing between her legs. But she couldn't. She was hooked. The anonymous writer had become a guide, a seductress whispering secrets into her ear, and Pinky was a willing student, desperate to learn every lesson.

Surprisingly, Hussin did not argue and after one short curt nod, he spun on his heels and marched from the room. “I think Kiri wants to add something to this situation,” Rex said, seeing the tilted heads and confused looks on Cassius’s and Grub’s faces. * * * Godking Darius strode through the lower level of his castle, heading toward the commander’s barracks, occasionally snarling at the underlings that failed to move away quick enough. He hated having so many sycophants, but knew that he needed these lowly worms to push through General Christoher’s ridiculously well defended walled city that protected his only way out of the current shit hole he found himself in. During his previous incarna

of the city stood tall, his stone eyes watching the thousands of people eating his salt, drinking his recycled water, and breathing his filtered air. The world hadn't "sank" into disaster, Ressi realized. It had been pushed. The leaders had created the desert to create the need. They had destroyed the forest to become the only source of survival. He felt the heaviness in his own chest, a cold, chemical weight that sat right where his heart used to beat. He was a Creator, a Star from another world, but as he sat in the sterile light of the nourishment center, he felt the bars of the cage closing in—not on his body, but on his soul.

DAHLIA'S POV I wake up with a violent start, screaming as if I’ve just been dragged out of a river after drowning. My chest rises sharply as I struggle to breathe properly, my eyes flying around the unfamiliar room while panic grips me instantly. For a second, I don’t recognize where I am. Then the memories rush back all at once. There was a crash. The blood and gunshots… And a woman standing in front of Sunny's wrecked car… Has the organization finally kidnapped me? Is this what they wanted all along? What are they planning to do with me now?

“You’re hiring me, the most expensive freelancer in the galaxy, to find these people out there somewhere, and what? Kill ‘em? Don’t you have people for that?” “What?” Eris yelped. “No, hell no. I don’t want ‘em dead. I wanna recruit ‘em! They need to be in the Temple’s roster. Imagine how much damage they could do to the galaxy! I want their drugs everywhere! Their bullets everywhere! But with golden apples between their breasts. Hot, yeah?” “So send them a recruitment ad, damn. You don’t need to hire me for that. Offer a huge sign-on bonus and reap the rewards without spending a fortune.”

He didn’t touch me again, but his presence was a chain, pulling me along in his wake. The cold night air of the main courtyard was a shock, doing little to clear the scent of blood and sweat from my nostrils. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on keeping my breathing even and shallow, on not vomiting from the pain. My mind raced, a frantic animal in a trap. "Recruited". What did that mean? Into what? His personal circle of thugs? A deeper, more dangerous game within the academy?