The Language of the Wind
Publication date: July 22nd 2022
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Romance, Young Adult
There aren’t enough bodies to harbor the demons of Olenore Allas.
One demon —a nameless and star-skinned creature—is plagued by the search for a perfect body, every day of their wispy life. Guided by nothing but the winds, they know they want nothing more than to be themself: mortal, beautiful, and loved. And who better to grant them that, than Junovere Krauss? A thief, a witch, hungry for a perfect demon to strike a deal with, to create a bond that will grant her the magic she’s longed for all her life. And in exchange, Juno promises her demon everything. A name, a voice, sight, hearing…and, of course, beauty.
The vain creature fights their devouring insecurities as Juno guards her secrets: that she needs this completed demon for her aunt, who has threatened to destroy her reputation before it’s even started. Complete the demon’s body, and their deal is complete, their bond broken. But Juno loses her magic forever. As Juno’s bond with her demon manifests into something more powerful than magic itself, she has to choose: magic, or freedom? Follow the demon and witch as they adventure over the bewitching Olenore Allas, a land that thrives on the law of balance. As they outsmart mortals, demons, and witches alike, they may slowly understand how willing they are to break the laws of balance for one another.
A dark fairytale rich with romance and a diverse cast that dives into the meaning of identity, and the relationship between a body and a soul, THE LANGUAGE OF THE WIND is the first installment of the BROKEN CHIMERA duology.
It was painful, not being able to breathe.
The demon screamed. They had never felt such pain. They weren’t even sure they were supposed to feel pain, not until a body had been granted to them. But the way they felt — as though something was being ripped from them, like they were vanishing from this very world, dispersing back into the arms of the winds as dust —it must be pain. They tried to scream again, to call for the winds to save them, but the winds were nowhere. The winds had finally abandoned them after one too many failures.
What a horrible thought, to die without a body to be remembered by. The demon knew they would simply cease and never know any other mortal emotion except pain and burning.
There was no sound, no sight, without the winds. Just the overwhelming scent of blood and bones. They knew it was too good to be true, to follow something so close to the witch homes, the city built on stolen power. But after losing the small and frail child to that large demon, after wandering and growing bored of the company of the winds, the demon was desperate.
Too good to be true. Too good.
Then, another feeling—something being pressed into the demon’s shriveling form, like seeds being shoved beneath the earth, planting something new. More pieces found the demon, like rocks grinding between one another, trying to make a perfect fit, to mold the demon into shape.
Fear suddenly grasped the demon. This was not someone mourning a death; this was not an accident. The demon was being bound by a witch. They could feel their long fingers, the foreign additions being given, pieces of a body that their form was claiming…all the stories were true, then.
Witches were the true monsters of this world.
Breathe, the witch commanded in the language of the wind.
Instant relief flooded the demon as they obeyed. A cavity opened, and the winds were back, flooding their being. They could feel themself rush back into place, fluid and fluctuating…and yet not.
Something is very wrong with them. Something very wrong, indeed.
Open your eye, demon, commanded the witch. See what I have given you.
Eye? An eye? The demon did feel as though they were blind, like there was more to behold than what the winds whispered to them. Taking orders from a witch, however, was not ideal. Not after nearly choking into nothingness, after having to figure out exactly what state they were in.
Their form felt split—like limbs—except there is no skin; they know that. Something is tied around the lower half of them, like a chain of some sort. The demon did not like this. Not one bit. The winds now flowed through the cavity the witch gave them—something like clay resting inside—and then the grinding rocks.
Open. Your. Eye.
At last, the demon obeyed.
The world was bright. It burned and was much smaller in such a windowed space. Their breath quickened, the cavity—mouth —opening and closing as they braced the ground, the winds tickling their form as if apologizing. And then, the demon faced their captor, the monster who bound them so deceitfully.
A woman—yes, a woman—of young age. Her skin was dark, but not nearly as dark as her voided eyes. Her hair brushed her chin in waved kissed by the winds, the color like the sheen of crows. Her strong brows are lowered, her dress like deep green petals of the forests, laid against a full and curved figure. And her ears—just as the stories had said—were butterfly wings that granted them the language of the wind, wings of purple and silver, flared in challenge.
“You — ” the demon breathed, testing their voice for the very first time. “You are — hideous.”
M.R. Grand is the author of The Language of the Wind, her first novel (that she actually finished.) She grew up on classic DreamWorks, barbie films, and a lot of comics. With those being her foundation, she wanted nothing more than to make stories and art that took people to places where fairytales felt real. She currently lives somewhere in the mountains as a full-time creator. You can find her on Instagram @emargrand and hopefully other places soon. She’s not very good at the whole website thing yet.
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