A startling, character-driven debut of skilled writing and intelligence, Arx: City of Broken Minds is a standalone epic of grimdark fantasy. In Arx, no-one remembers anything. Not the Flame Protests. Not the Sightless executioner. Not even themselves. The story unwinds through the tales of three young characters : Caelan:  His memories have been stolen. All he has left is instinct and fear. Fear of the Fog-Eyes, mindless and drooling. The emptiness that lies in his future unless he can quiet the nameless voice screaming in his head. And he will burn Arx to ashes to avoid it. Samantha:  an asexual blacksmith and perpetual paternal disappointment, knows exactly what she'll be remembered for: Callisteel. A mythic metal that can pierce reality, it waits for her beneath the smog that scars the sky black. No matter the cost. Ruairi:  a famer boy with a twisted spine, heads to Arx desperate to avoid being pitied. On the way, he rescues a man with violet eyes. His reward is a nightmare of blue fire and blood that pushes him to the edge of what his broken body can take – and beyond. Mindbreakers walk once more in Arx , drawn to the spire of unbroken metal that hangs like a blade against the rotten heart of the city. Now their master has returned, it is only a matter of time before it awakens and slices the connection between reality and memory for good... "Rich worldbuilding, fascinating concept and complex characters" – Jacey Bedford , author of The Amber Crown Edmund Hurst was born in the misty lands known only as The Midlands. A nerd-of-all-trades, he spent much of his childhood between pages of books, playing video games and of course, writing stories. School was strict, stifling, and saved only through the efforts of Brian Jacques, Paul Stewart & Chris Riddell, and Terry Pratchett. Fortunately, at University he found a lifelong love of education. He worked his way across the UK as a waiter, a bartender and an actor until finally he found the promised lands of Up North. Ed obtained his Creative Writing PhD at the University of Hull, where he is now Programme Director for Creative Writing. He lectures in Fantasy, Sci-Fi and Horror prose, as well as researching the impact of AI on Higher Education and working to make creative education accessible to students from all backgrounds through the growth of creative communities. Something stirred in the smog. A shadow that broke the mist. Heavy footsteps splintered the ground beneath an armoured giant. Blue-silver steel glimmered like a midnight sky set alight. Its scarlet cloak wrapped around the hilt of an enormous axe. It lifted its head. Empty onyx eyes set in a screaming, metal mask. The void where a soul should be. Caelan knew what it was to have eyes like that. 'The Sightless,' Kuyt breathed. He tucked his sketchbook back beneath his coat. A scrawny bloke scrambled to the front of the platform and cleared his throat. 'Voters of Rotheart! By the authority of Viceroy DeSüle, Mistress of the Ropes, these criminals are brought here to receive justice. As they forget their crimes, so too does the city absolve them of their responsibility and gift them their lives.' The condemned man took a shaking breath of cold air. Caelan felt something oily squirm around his heart. 'Arthur Colis, guilty of trespass and acts of murderous intent towards Viceroy Jace DeSané, Minister of Commerce,' the scrawny bloke shouted. 'Murderous intent is it? We didn't have a blade between us. Couldn't have afforded one even if we wanted. No Salt Ponies means no food down here. Winter is on the way and we can’t eat metal.' The prisoner shivered. Without warning, Kuyt grabbed Caelan's collar. Caelan struggled, but the old man was merciless. He dragged him through the meagre crowd and threw him to the ground before the scaffold. The Sightless drew its axe. Blue-silver, same as its armour. A curved moon edge, sharp enough to slice through the morning smog. The prisoner fell to his knees. He didn't scream. Maybe that was brave. Anticipation pounded in Caelan's ears. He locked eyes with the condemned man. In that instant they were connected. Knelt together at the precipice. 'Don't let them do it.' The words burst through Arthus Colis' lips. 'I'd rather die. Rather a corpse than–' A Walker forced a gag between the man's lips. The cloth muted his words, but he still sobbed. He still screamed. The axe fell. It slid through the prisoner's neck without resistance. Without… anything. No blood. No crunch of bone. The axe sliced through, but the head remained in place. Untouched. And Arthur Colis' eyes boiled from his face. Replaced by a dense, blue fog. Eyeless, the man once called Arthur Colis stood up. Breath filled his lungs by instinct. Without thoughts. Without memories. Hollow. Caelan's heartbeat caught on the ragged edges of his throat. Kuyt bent to whisper in his ear. 'You are not empty.' Overhead, the clouds burst with cold rain.