Two sisters born of stars. One destined to burn the world.
Edith and Bethany were once celestial kin-daughters of Par, a realm twisted by war and the ambitions of gods. Fugitives from a decaying kingdom, they fled to Earth, seeking peace among mortals. But centuries apart, secrets unspoken, and the stain of a father's sins have turned sister against sister.
Edith hides among humankind, her divine nature buried beneath compassion and humility. She heals. She protects. She believes redemption is possible.
Bethany, cast aside and cursed with a mutation born of ancient vengeance, knows better. Her skin bears the wrath of a forgotten people. Her wings blot out the light. Her love has soured into rage, and Earth's sins now mirror the cruelty of the realm they escaped.
When a horde of otherworldly creatures ravages the last outposts of the Par bloodline, the sisters are thrust into a reckoning. What was once sacred becomes profane. What was once love becomes war. And in the ashes of their father's empire, a new apocalypse begins.
As the Halphobs rise to reclaim their stolen kin, and the Kelxsiar hunt through dying red skies, Edith and Bethany must confront the horror of their origins-and the truth behind the curse that turned Bethany into something monstrous.
But love is not so easily extinguished. And even among ruin, some flames still burn.
EXCERPT
"You knew, didn't you?" Kore snarled, her voice dripping venom as she pressed Edith's face into the cratered earth, black wings spread wide with wrath.
"Not until recently-" Edith groaned. "I swear it."
Kore's eyes pulsed with crimson light. "You brought a Nerl to our home. You let the curse walk through our door."
A silence fell, and for a moment, only the wind dared to speak. Then Kore whispered, "I'll finish what Father began."
Cataclysm Kin is a dark fantasy epic drenched in cosmic horror, sisterhood, betrayal, and war. A saga of shattered realms, divine rage, and the haunting cost of survival. For readers of V.E. Schwab, Tamsyn Muir, and N.K. Jemisin-prepare to descend.
