Mary Emma Sivils (Author)

ALT An image of a woman, face partially obscured with a textured red veil. Her dark mournful eyes look away from the reader; her face is closed off and impassive. In the corner, partially transparent so it bleeding into her veil is a gothic cathedral. In opposite corners of the image there is decorative golden edging. The whole image is dark in color, a black background with the texturing of old paper. The text reads: reader's guide, The Babbler and the Balancer Keeper, Christian gothic dystopian in gothic font. This image forms the background of all other slides on this post

ALT The Pitch Desperate to escape the oppressive religion she was chosen to serve and bring her pious but disgraced friend along with her, secret heretic Quincy plots to con a religious fanatic from the outside world into helping them escape. But the key to freedom the woman holds looks nothing like what Quincy imagined, and her lies catch the attention of a man who could kill them all. The tagline: Her holiness could save the world...too bad she's lying through her teeth

ALT Tropes, Themes and Comps: • Creepy underground labyrinth • Snarky MC • Sweet but powerful friendship • Evil, entertaining villain • Battle of wits • Deadly desert • Sacrifical love • Choosing to be brave when afraid • Small acts of kindness and love in the face of powerful opposition • Light vs darkness Comps are works by Edgar Allan Poe, Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson, Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo, and things Unseen by C J Brightley Poe for the gothic atmosphere Vespertine for gothic atmosphere, questions about faith, the immersive world, being careful of what test you are passing, and a dark and dangerous world Shadow and Bone for the immersive world, being careful of what test you are passing, and how he'd use her if he could things Unseen for questions about faith, near-future dystopia, dark and dangerous world, and outlawed Christianity

ALT Prologue: The Bone Yard If you didn’t learn the lesson, you died. Quincy stood in the thick press of balance keepers, back ramrod straight, arms tight against her sides, eyes fixed firmly ahead. It didn’t matter if the wind howled between the towering dunes and stalked through the anchorage yard like a hungry jackal. It didn’t matter that it whipped stinging grains of sand into her face and tore the dark hood from her head. It didn’t matter that it would knock her off her feet if she dared to let it. She knew better than to dare. Perfect obedience paves the path to perfection. The yard was a keeper of dead things. Anything foolhardy enough to grow within its domain was stunted and withered, bowed low under the wrath of the swollen sun. Only the anchorage grew tall—a rambling tangle of sharp edges and knife-like spires and blackened stone, presiding in judgment over the silent keepers. And it never stopped watching.