“Provocative and fascinating” (The New York Times)
When one day crippled and half-blind Nemsa meets the alluring Xenthia, a mystifying Sky Whisperer, it becomes clear that her path lies far above and beyond all she is familiar with.
But, even with her true heritage revealed, how can her destiny be linked with that of the much older, immortal Sky Whisperer she grows fonder of by the day? What is expected of her? More so–how can frail Nemsa ever hope to stand up against the supremacy of a vengeful, ambitious Sun Whisperer?
Will the courage in her heart be enough?
Magic is at work, a fatal sickness is spreading among mortals and immortals alike, the sun is brutally beating down, and the fate of all hangs in the balance. And if Nemsa is to fulfil her destiny and save the world, she must find her way through it all . . .
Follow Nemsa and Xenthia in this Epic, Hopepunk, YA Interracial Lesbian Fantasy tale of courage, true love, redemption, and hope.
“SkyWhisperers by Natasja Hellenthal is really quite an original and unique story. What an adventure this book turned out to be!” ~ The Romantic Reader Blog
“A sparkling compelling story. It was original, inventive and very well written. There was a budding love story, jealousy, greed and power. All of this were captured in this story. I loved how the story unfolded, it was sometimes heart pounding. I can sincerely say it held me spellbound.” ~ Loek
“There are a lot of emotions displayed throughout this story. Love, jealousy, greed, power, confusion, and anger. They are played out magnificently. The story is compelling, original, and impossible to put down. The experiences described are believable and so are the characters. It is one of those books where you are rooting for good to overcome evil.” ~ Lorraine
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Targeted Age Group:: 16+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
It started as a story collaboration between another lesfic author and myself. I had so many ideas and saw the whole story develop, whereas the other author didn't have as much time, so she kindly let me write the novel I pictured coming out of it!
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I wanted a sort of anti-hero set in a dystopian world where something drastic had happened. That was Nemsa. I loved the idea of her trying to find out who she was and where she belonged as well as discovering all her powers.
All of my life, there had been no wind until she came. I had known only stale and fetid air––the dust only moved by the shuffling of my feet––so that when it started to swirl, I grew frightened.
I was alone upon a trail in the mountains leading back to my village, hiding my face in my robes. But upon that breeze came an unknown scent––clean and vibrant. I could smell it through the thin cotton. As my fear abated, I raised my head and sniffed the air. I experienced a sensation I never knew I missed.
That's when I see her. She comes down the path towards me; the stark blue of her robes standing out among the red rocks like a picture I had once seen. My mother called it a forget-me-not.
Her dark hair whips in the moving air obscuring her face; except for her eyes, radiating such a light blue they seemed almost clear. She stops a slight distance away from me and watches me for a few moments. She then raises her hand in greeting. As if in a trance and unable to do nothing less, I raise my own. I’m no longer frightened.
We approach one another, my steps timid, hers are sure. As the distance closes, I can see her features. She is beautiful. Full lips, high cheekbones, skin like alabaster, and small creases in the corners of her eyes as if from squinting or laughing, or both. She is neither young nor old, but timeless. A small smile is painted on her lips as if she knows me, but I’ve certainly never seen her in my life. I would surely have remembered such a rare beauty with skin so pallid, as I’d never observed such a thing before in my life. My kind is mostly either dark, or olive-skinned.
Suddenly, I am aware of my plain robes; white long ago. Although washed recently they are already reddish from the dust and, as always, threadbare. Even after a day the red dust would stain it, like it did with everything else. I glance at my walking stick, my bad leg and my old worn sandals, and grow conscious of the black eye-patch in front of my left eye in a way I’ve never experienced before. You see, the people in my village all know me and don’t notice it anymore. Hardly ever a traveller passes through our dusty scorched village at the edge of the mountains. And the sweating…I bathed this morning but I already smell myself, and feel new sweat drip down my lower back, and prickle under my arms.
Naturally, I grow embarrassed about my appearance in front of this majestic-looking lady. There is no doubt about it. This woman is of the Sky Whisperers we are told about all of our lives, but have never seen. Our parents speak of them in hushed voices, and I’m never sure if they are benevolent or evil.
She stopped a couple of feet away from me as if sensing it, her lovely smile widening slightly. Next thing I knew she reached out, slowly, holding up my chin and making me look into her eyes. It was unnerving and phenomenal all at once. My mouth felt dry. I didn’t dare to swallow as her fingers travelled slowly down my cheek. When she lowered her hand I shivered for the first time in my life.
‘There is no need to fear me,’ she stated in the most tranquil and pure voice I had ever heard. Very soft, almost a whisper though, as if she didn’t want anyone else hearing it, just me. She cast her eyes past me down the path in the direction of my village. I noticed a slight worry in those pale eyes. I strained my ears so I could hear what she said.
‘Forget everything you’ve ever heard about us, little one,’ she added with a small shake of her head, concern resonating in her voice. Her dark strands lifted in a sudden invisible wind and caressed her face and neck.
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