The Skeleton Faerie (Children of the Death Gods, #1) by A.P. Mobley

Faerie folklore meets a nuclear post apocalypse in this dark mythological fantasy woven with secrets, treachery, and star-crossed love. Get started on The Skeleton Faerie by A.P. Mobley today!

Title: The Skeleton Faerie
Book Series: Children of the Death Gods, #1
Author: A.P. Mobley
Genre: Adult, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Mythology
Release Date: November 8th, 2025

About The Book:

Faerie folklore meets a nuclear postapocalypse in this dark mythological fantasy woven with secrets, treachery, and star-crossed love.

Ninety-nine years after the Nuclear War of 1989, twenty-one-year-old Gus Brandon should only be interested in the survival of humanity and the expansion of his compound. But he’s obsessed with legends from the distant past, superstitions of an expired people.

While searching forbidden ruins for the scraps of stories lost to time, he stumbles upon a mysterious young woman covered in scars. Her name is Saoirse, and their meeting sets off a bloody chain of events—one in which Gus discovers that the folklore he loves just might be real, and that it’s tied to mankind in ways he could have never imagined.

Soon the lines between myth and reality blur, as do the lines between realms.

Gus will have to rely on his knowledge—and Saoirse—to survive the horrors awaiting him… in this world and the next.

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Excerpt:

The river was dark, so dark he could barely see the sun. It was little more than a sliver now, a shard of white alight in the sky. Had the smog thickened while he was in the tunnel? And was it just him, or was the water suddenly a whole lot colder than before?

In no time he burst out of the river. He could have sworn he was farther from the surface than that, that Saoirse had dragged him much deeper into the river, but he wasn’t about to complain about reaching the surface so soon. Closing his eyes, he gasped for air, relishing the fact that his heart was still beating, that he was still breathing.

“Glad you—made it,” Saoirse said between labored breaths.

At the sound of her voice—crystal clear, his ears no longer ringing—he nearly jumped out of his skin. He opened his eyes and scowled at her, his glasses dripping with water. “What did you do that for?”

“You’ll—see.”

What was that supposed to mean? And why was it so dark out here? This went beyond the sun disappearing behind smog. It was almost as if . . .

He looked up. A crescent moon shone through the cloudy indigo sky, dozens of stars twinkling like flashlights turning on and off in a shadowy forest.

“What the . . . ?” He whirled around in the water, glanced in every direction, searching for his companions, for any familiar landmarks. But he recognized nothing, because he was no longer in the river at the edge of the ravine three miles north of the compound.

He was in a pond, a small one, in the middle of lush woodland illuminated by the moon and stars. Blue bioluminescent bugs flitted about its dense woods, casting cerulean glares on sprawling oaks and worn paths.

“Welcome—home,” Saoirse said, still gasping.

He turned to her. Her chest heaved, her droopy eyes creasing from strain. Was she tired because she’d dragged him into the river? Good. After that trick, she had it coming. “‘Welcome home’?” He splashed backward, farther from her. “What are you talking about? Where am I, and what the hell is going on?”

Heavy breaths. “You don’t—feel the pull—to this place?”

“Of course I don’t!”

She opened her mouth to reply. A weak cry escaped her instead, and she floundered in the water for a moment. Then her eyes rolled into the back of her head, the rest of her going limp, and she sank beneath the surface of the pond.

“Saoirse!” He dove into the water, swam after her. Despite the limited light, he could see her as she floated down, down, down, and he reached for her with both hands and—

Wait, how am I using my left arm?

His heart almost stopped as he looked at and brushed his biceps. There was no blood, no wound, not even a mark where the skeleton had bitten him.

He touched his cheeks next, didn’t feel any evidence that Saoirse had dug her nails into them. The skin was perfectly smooth.

With a shake of his head, he returned his focus to Saoirse. Yes, the stunt she’d pulled was ridiculous, but he couldn’t let her drown. He’d figure out where he was and how his injuries had healed later.

He reached her, scooped her up in his arms, and paddled to the surface, then held her head above water and swam to land. Once on solid ground, he lifted her into a bridal carry and walked a few yards to the top of a small incline with plenty of grass. He laid her down, but she wasn’t breathing, so he shifted her into a sitting position.

She broke out into a fit of coughing, water spewing from her lips, and he held her in place, waiting for her to spit it all up.

Giggles echoed in the trees up ahead. The laughter was childlike, reminding Gus of kids at school during recess. But it was also mischievous, as if said kids were plotting a prank on their teacher.

He turned his head that way, peered into the woods. He was close enough to the forest to see that the glowing blue bugs were butterflies. How had they become so brightly bioluminescent? Was it the result of fallout? More experiments?

A humanoid shadow crept out from behind one of the oaks. It was about the size of a toddler, its limbs gaunt and elongated. The shadow ducked behind the tree once again, whispered something. More giggles rang through the air like jingling bells.

“Piskies,” Saoirse said, her voice scratchy and pained. “There must be a moor nearby.

About The Author:

A. P. Mobley is the Halloween-loving, rock-music-obsessed author of dark fantasy inspired by mythology. She doesn’t only write about her favorite myths, folktales, and fairy tales in books, though; she discusses them on her podcast, Myths (& Folktales & Fairy tales), as well as on her blog and newsletter. She grew up in Wyoming and Nebraska and currently lives in South Dakota, and when she’s not up to her elbows in research for her next project, she can be found consuming dangerous amounts of coffee, reading speculative fiction, or rewatching The Good Place.

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