Kara Swanson - Shadow

Acclaim for

DUST

A vibrant, mesmerizing storyteller and original voice in young adult fiction.

Tosca Lee , New York Times best-selling author

Dust sparkles with hope, magic, and a little bit of pixie dust. If you loved Peter Pan as a child, youll devour every gorgeous page of this romantic adventure! I cant wait to see what happens next!

Lorie Langdon , award-winning author of Olivia Twist and The Doon series

A whimsical imagining of the dark side of Neverland. Dust takes readers beyond the fairytale and, if possible, brings even more enchantment to the already beloved story.

Nadine Brandes , award-winning author of A Time To Die, Fawkes, and Romanov

Kara Swansons Dust will send you soaring above the bounds of this tired world to a Neverland youve never seen before and wont ever forget.

Wayne Thomas Batson , best-selling author of The Door Within Trilogy

Dust is pure magic! Fans of Peter Pan will be delighted to fly off on this journey sprinkled with faith, trust, and pixie dust! Kara Swanson is an author to watch. Her tale is a fantastical spin on a beloved classic.

Sara Ella , award-winning author of The Unblemished Trilogy and Coral

Dust is a soaring adventure that taps into the darker themes of J.M. Barries original tale while still giving the reader an entirely new and magical journey. If you loved Peter, this book is for you.

Shannon Dittemore , author of Winter, White and Wicked

With vivid descriptions, conflicted characters, and spirited pacing, Dust has it all. Swansons captivating sense of wonder makes this novel an immersive journey into a land youve visited in your dreamsand sometimes your nightmares.

Christopher Hopper , best-selling author of Ruins of the Galaxy

The Girl Who Could See

Dust

Shadow

Shadow

Copyright 2021 by Kara Swanson

EPUB Edition

Published by Enclave Publishing, an imprint of Third Day Books, LLC

Phoenix, Arizona, USA.

www.enclavepublishing.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, digitally stored, or transmitted in any form without written permission from Third Day Books, LLC.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-62184-173-9 (printed hardback)

ISBN: 978-1-62184-175-3 (printed softcover)

ISBN: 978-1-62184-174-6 (ebook)

Cover design by Kirk DouPonce, www.DogEaredDesign.com

Typesetting by Jamie Foley, www.JamieFoley.com

Printed in the United States of America.

To Orrie and RJ

For crawling into the darkest places with me,

lighting a spark, and showing me I could

ignite.

Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist.

Children already know that dragons exist.

Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.

G.K. Chesterton

Neverland

F alling out of the sky is far less fun than it sounds.

One minute Im soaring past the stars, barreling through a veil of color and magic and snatches of childrens voices and whispered dreamsand then there it is. It spreads out below me in familiar rugged curves that I know better than my own shadow.

Neverland.

I angle toward the island, trails of Jeremys packet of pixie dust lifting my body, when I start to stutter. My body wobbles midair, and I check the store of dust, only to find that its almost gone. I try to coast, treading late-afternoon air, but the last shred of dust flickers out.

I drop.

Spiraling toward the roiling, dark stretch of Neversea below like some rock shot from Slightlys slingshot, I flail in the air but cant seem to slow. All hints of airy pixie dust gone.

Blast it all!

When I had Tink, thered always be plenty of dust to make it to Neverland. To drift lightly down to perch on the trees and spy on Lilys tribeor kick one of Hooks cannonballs out of the air. But this time, without her, it took much longer to even to get a bead on the island. Neverland usually calls to me, like a sirens lure drawing me closerbut instead my Never Never Land pushed me away. Hid.

As I plummet past the stars, through the clouds and biting wind toward the thrashing Neversea below, I suddenly realize why.

This whole island is angry.

Its in the chilled air. The way the water kicks below me. The skeletal silhouette of the island.

I slam into the icy waves like a cannonball. They knock the breath from my lungs and batter my skin as I sink. Cold numbs my body before I can beat for the surface. The Neversea wrestles control, swallowing me up.

The island isnt just angryNeverland is afraid.

Its fear leaks through the water around me, weighted and churning with such panic it makes me nauseous. This is nothing like the crystal clear, warm depth Im used to.

I force myself to strike for the surface and break through. I shake wet hair out of my eyes as the water continues to swell and writhe around me, almost thick and slimy as it attempts to drag me away from the island. Neverlands craggy shores rise in the distance, not as far as Id thought, but even from this vantage point, something is off. The color is leached from the shore, the sand dark and the trees lifeless and charred.

Not very promising.

I wrestle with the Neversea, fighting to make it to that shore.

I almost crow out of habit, but of course my Lost Boys wont answer. Or if they did, it wouldnt be to help me. No one here would want to pull me out of this water. More likely theyd shove me back under.

As I get closer to the craggy shoreline, my body aching and creaking like a blithering ship, I see something fluid and glistening slide through the water a few paces ahead. And then the flash of a rippled, sharp fin. I halt, bobbing in the frigid water, not daring to breathe.

Good gad. I hope the sirens arent hungry.

Im only a few feet from shore, so I push down my uneasiness and continue swimming, trying to keep the dangerous undersea creatures well within view. Suddenly, an oily tail slides past my leg.

My skin crawls, and I wrench away. Oh no...

I angle around whatever clipped my leg and swim faster, desperate for that shoreline. Suddenly a sharp lance of pain tears across my side. Another cuts through my right shin. I grit my teeth.

Not good, not good, not good.

Thin streams of crimson fill the murky waters. The scaly creatures circle me, sharp talons protruding from thin fingers and tangled, oily hair obscuring pale faces. My chest caves in, too tight to breathe.

Dont just wait for them to add seasoning and take a bite!

My heavy and stinging limbs stir back into motion, legs pinwheeling as I swim as fast as I can through the thick water. But the sirens easily keep pace, taking their time as they try to tear me apart. A claw slices through my arm. Teeth puncture my leg. A webbed hand pulls at my hair.