Bittersouls by L.A. Morton-Yates

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What chapter was your favorite to write and why?

Thinking back on it, I have to say it was Chapter 6, known to me as “The Vaults”. After Dela and the mysterious wanderer who calls himself Talon are stranded on the wrong side of the mountains by a blizzard, they must brave a derelict subterranean mountain pass inspired by Moria from Lord of the Rings. Talon, who up until this point has appeared stoic and unflappable, appears visibly nervous, remarking on how he’d prefer to never have to traverse the Vaults again. According to him, they will not be able to sleep until they reach the far side—a two day journey. He gives her the cryptic warning to ‘not trust the walls’, and this is only the start of the nightmare awaiting them.

“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” [Dela] murmured. So far from the sun, she could think of only one explanation. Something down here was alive.
He exhaled slowly and gave a dour nod, “They want to make you weary. Want to make you sleep. I told you: don’t trust the walls.”
The girl shivered, “They?”
The Bittersoul shook his head, “You don’t want to know.”
“I think you’re right, Talon,” Dela caught up to him before he started walking again, “I don’t like the Vaults.”
He chuckled darkly, “Not there yet.”
“What?” She frowned, minding her step as the tunnel began to slope slightly downward.
“These aren’t the Vaults.”
– Excerpt from Bittersouls, Chapter 6

It was fun to write for a variety of reasons. The vast majority of the book takes place out in the wide wasteland of the Bitters, where practically nothing from the People of Old remains. The Vaults are a stark exception to this, giving a brief yet harrowing glimpse at what the People of Old were capable of. More than any other chapter in the book, it leans into the horror of the unknown. It serves to give some historical context for the world without revealing enough to give the characters any sense of understanding or closure—ratcheting up the tension of the story as a whole. Besides this, this chapter is where the magic system of the world—something the characters call Warmth—starts to really be explored. Over the course of the story, Dela’s eyes are repeatedly opened to a wider understanding of the world around her, and this chapter is one of the key steps at the beginning of that journey.

A Shade. A Storm. A Soul.

Cursed with forbidden knowledge, 19-year-old Dela must hide her secret from her nomadic tribe or face exile into the frozen wasteland of the Bitters. When she becomes separated from her people during a blizzard, a mysterious and dangerous wanderer named Talon promises to help her find her way back to them. She quickly learns that nothing is what it seems, that her curse may actually be a gift, and that the Bitters are far more dangerous than she could have imagined.

Packed with unexpected twists, Bittersouls is a mixture of survival, adventure, and slow-burn romance that is sure to get your heart pounding.

Read an Excerpt

[Dela] rounded the corner, stepping into the mouth of the cave. As she expected, she wasn’t alone. But the man who leaned against the far wall of the cave, watching her with a wild and savage curiosity, was not a man she’d ever laid eyes on before. He wore a stark, white roughcloak. To Dela’s eye, it looked to be fashioned from a Jackal’s fur. The head of the beast encircled his own as a hood, the angular snout coming to a toothless point a few inches past his forehead. His arms were crossed over his chest, pushing the sides of his rough out enough to reveal a tattered and patched network of leather garments, ugly and indelicate, but which looked to be sturdy and thick. At his sides, an array of bone hooks much like her own supported various tools and weapons.

But what caught her eye most was the fiery array that spread out around him, stemming from the center of his back. Unlike those in her congregation, whose entities kept small and close and wrapped themselves around their humans, his spread all four of its ghostly appendages out behind him like crimson wings, swaying gently as though breathing or being brushed by the wind. If the congregations’ were simply alive, his was awake.

“Interesting,” the man mused. His voice was low and scratchy, as if from months or years of disuse. Dela realized she’d been staring at him for some time.

“Interesting?” she repeated. Who was this man? What was he doing out here? He’d been so close to their group… and she’d followed him out here. Alone. Had that been his plan?

The man shrugged, stepping off the wall and approaching her with footsteps too quiet to hear over the din of the storm. “I had expected another—”

“Bittersoul.”

About the Author:

A life-long lover of the magic of storytelling, L.A. wrote his first story at the age of 7 and has been writing ever since. Speculative fiction, particularly fantasy, has always held a special place in his heart for the uniqueness of the places and the questions it can address. Though veiled by apparent strangeness, he has always seen it as capable of revealing deeper truth about our own reality.

L.A. graduated from Montana State University in 2015 with Honors in Biochemistry and a minor in Music Composition. This helped nurture his critical thinking and research skills which continue to be instrumental to his writing. During his collegiate years, he also met the love of his life, Julie, whom he later married. At once his greatest supporter and his staunchest critic (when he is wrong, which is more often than he’d like to admit), she has been an integral part of his creative process ever since.

In February of 2018, L.A. became the father of his first son, Griffin. His second son, Tiber, was born in December of 2019 and his third son, Malachi, was born in January of 2022. Though life has become considerably busier since he became a family man, L.A. continues to work on writing in what little spare time he can find. He hopes to one day pass on his love of literature to his sons.

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