The world is broken. The powerful machines that once ruled over land and sky are gone, leaving humanity in a state of primitive fear. Only legends of the Schism remain. Enoch has never been frightened by these tales. He sees things differently than the other youth in Rewn's Fork, and that makes him an outcast. Where others see crops, weather, and flocks of sheep, Enoch sees numbers and patterns. When he accidentally awakens a powerful Artificial Intelligence, he discovers the truth behind his peculiarity-Enoch is an Etherwalker, the last in a long line of powerful technopaths who can control machines with their minds. Without knowing it, he has triggered the ancient Hunt, and now ancient monsters are hungry for his blood and bent on his extinction. They know he has seen the truth behind the broken world, and, if he survives, he may have the power to shatter it... or to make it whole again. “Vividly realized, skillfully crafted, and briskly paced, Etherwalker is a thrilling first chapter for what is sure to be an outstanding saga.” —Micky Neilson, New York Times bestselling author “It’s unlike anything I’ve read before, and I want more.” —Matt Burns, author of Diablo III: Book of Tyrael "Cameron Dayton has met the challenge of blending science fiction and fantasy with Etherwalke r." —Christie Golden, New York Times Bestselling Author of Star Wars: Dark Disciple “A heady stew of genetic engineering, Mesoamerican myth, techno-utopianism, and post-apocalyptic dreaming, with a dash of quest fantasy and a liberal helping of nerd apotheosis." —Alex Irvine, Locus-Award winning author With over twenty years writing for blockbuster franchises from Activision, Electronic Arts, and Epic Games, Cameron has gained a reputation for bringing powerful storytelling to games. From the Call of Duty trenches to the enchanted World of Warcraft, his tales have engaged, rallied, and inspired millions of readers. Cameron has also written for best-selling comics, anthologies, and co-wrote the independent film Unicorn City , which garnered several awards in the indie circuit and was featured on Netflix. Cameron is a wide-ranging traveler, an adventurous foodie, and the father to three children who are mercifully patient with dad's geeky ways. Prologue This is the account of how all was in suspense, all calm, in silence, all motionless, all pulsating, and empty was the expanse of the sky. —Popol Vuh 1:2, Maya-Quiché Genesis, New Century Revised Edition And again, she spun through the blackness over the broken world. Her thoughts followed the same tired patterns that they had for centuries. ::Watch ::Watch ::Consider Sometimes the ::Consider brought memories, however. Memories of a time when she used to ::Command, weaving strands of direction, rebuke, and pardon down into the shifting tapestry below. The tapestry had long ago frayed and parted, requiring more energy and concentration than her ailing faculties could sustain. She was severely alone now, accompanied only by the empty whale song of distant stars and memories heavy with static and dust. The memories still bore dim proof of times golden with communication. Times when she was the primary voice when time came to ::Consider. When time came to ::Decide. Until the ::Decide broke from the ::Consider. Until the ::Command broke from the ::Obey. Silvered feathers tilted to drink more fully from the sun, the metal tracery of delicate wings pitted by the orbiting sediment of age. She spun through the blackness over the broken world. ::Watch ::Watch Chapter 1 When black the clouds of Northland furled, Red the skies of Babel, Those who ruled and clove the world Death’s tattered wind did travel. —Lodoroi song “Found any more soil under all those rocks in your field?” Grinning and bobbing and shaking his tangle of oily orange hair, Mishael Keddrik slapped the tall soldier on the back. Once again, the grocer was attempting to wear down Master Gershom with an onslaught of bad jokes—a siege of limp humor flung at a pale and unappreciative target. Enoch tried to hide his smile, lifting his wrist over his mouth while pretending to cough. Stepping around the trader’s wares, Enoch found a spot behind a bin of seeds where he could listen—and smile—without being noticed. Master Gershom stared at the grocer, weathering the storm of bad breath and sarcasm like he did every spring: with tight-lipped stoicism. Loudly clearing his throat, Master Gershom repeated his request for salve. Unperturbed, the round little grocer smiled and reached into one of the cupboards behind the counter. With a theatrical gasp of joy, he pulled out a little clay pot. “And now, boy,” said the trader, calling across the shop toward Enoch, “if the good Master Gershom will promise to apply this to his sickly humor twice daily, I shall give it to him for free.” Enoch pressed his wrist so hard against his grin that it hurt. Not wanting to ignore the trader, or to