It's 55555 AD, and Canidice Pint is one of the few young adults left in the compound. The Human Race's numbers have gone down to shocking numbers due to radiation poisoning and warfare, and Canidice's generation has the lowest count yet. There are 151 of them, and she's one of them. One of 151, 1 of 22 young women. Her 22nd birthday is approaching, and with it, an onslaught of attention from most of the 129 young male adults, and some of the girls too. There's no law saying she has to marry, and in fact she doesn't even want kids, but the pressure of society forces her to do something no one has done in centuries. She leaves the compound, and something even worse happens. The rest of the 151 start to follow her once they realize it's safe on the outside after over 2000 years. Some of them leave in search of their friend who's been spiraling into the abyss of insanity for years, some in search of the girl they might marry, some in search of a new chance at life. With only a week's head start and a single message in the sky as warning, Canidice must evade her soon to be captors while figuring out how to survive in a hostile environment to gain what no one has had for so long. Freedom.

The Shells are a subspecies of human. They're called Shells because- well, they're known for their lack of personality and feeling. Or at least, that what everyone says. Fayra is a Shell, and she has feelings. Sure, not everyone thinks so, she doesn't exactly show it very well, but she has them, and they're starting to crack her shell- so to speak- but it's not in the way most would think. She's still the same old Fayra, just... different. See, Shells have a layer most don't see, whats hiding in The Shell. Fayra and those around her are about to see what's Beneath the Shell.

There is in this book:

Something you could classify as Magic

Bad Ships

Sarcasm

Blood

Action

Rated R for triggering scenes including but not limited to: Extreme Violence, Crude/Adult Humor, Severe Sarcasm and amazingly stupid decisions.

Everyone was staring. Piper clutched her dingy old messenger bag to her chest nervously. One of the villagers stepped forward, Tom, the woodcutters boy, she thought.

"You're no longer welcome here, child of winter." Piper drew a hesitant and slow line toward the wood with her left foot. "Your place is not with us, Pykimsklymik. Go." A blur of red streaked into the brush, and Pipers brown dress blended in with the trees with little effort. Soon not even her bright hair could be seen through the autumn leaves.

"Let us hope she does not come back." The villagers voice echoed through the trees. Tom whipped his head around and shot a look of warning into the crowd.

"Speak softly of her, even in her absence. You know how they protect their young." Slowly, the crowd dissapaited. Everyone going back to their tasks and activities. Tom's head hung as he stared at the snow on the ground, which would not leave until the coming spring even though the weather and temperature should not permit its residence. He reached down, brushing a finger through it. Standing, he viewed the image as a whole for the first time. Blooming out from the two foot shaped imprints in the middle of the small hill was a flower shaped mound of snow. Glancing back at the place his fingers had touched, he stepped back in shock. The snow he had taken had mysteriously been replaced. A single crystal not out of place. He peered into the wood cautiously. Two green eyes stared back. Without a word, he turned and left.