Tru Skies

@trudieskies.readindiefantasy.com

7802 Followers 1167 Following

North East British author of foul-mouthed queer fantasy The Cruel Gods and The Chosen One Con 📚 They/Them 💛🤍💜🖤 Trans rights! 🏳️‍⚧️ AI 🚫 Learn more at TrudieSkies.com Cats: Bayley and Gustave 🙀

A screenhot of the title page for the ebook version of The Chosen One Con. It shows the title and author logo, as well as a total ebook page count of 654. A novella, practically.
A photo of Gustave the tabby cat when he was a kitten. He's sleeping on my office chair.
The book cover to The Chosen One Con, book one in the Lost in the Aether duology by Trudie Skies. The cover shows a handsome young white man in a long trench coat putting a glowing blue potion in his inner pocket as though stealing it. In the background are factories with chimneys blowing out dark smoke with a teal colouring.
The book cover to The Chosen One Con, book one in the Lost in the Aether duology by Trudie Skies. The cover shows a handsome young white man in a long trench coat putting a glowing blue potion in his inner pocket as though stealing it. In the background are factories with chimneys blowing out dark smoke with a teal colouring.
A screenshot of text from The Thirteenth Hour. The text says: The tea they’d offered me was serviceable at best. Light on the milk, as I’d requested, but also heavy with sugar, which I’d not requested. They likely added it to mask the metallic taste of hardened, unfiltered water so common underground. If they planned to poison me, I supposed the attempt was subtle enough. Things could have been worse. They could have offered me coffee.
A screenshot of text from chapter 39 of The Chosen One Con. This is an epigraph, and the text says: Magic was never meant for mortal hands. Its creation exists beyond our comprehension and to pursue its allure is folly. It replaces human ingenuity and fills the void where our souls should reside. We should never have dug the stone. —Weaver, First Archon of Civics and Tradition, On the Mistakes of Magic
A screenshot of text from chapter 38 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I glanced around the library. “So those are all spell-books?” There were hundreds of books! “Not all. I stepped on an Aldren royal history book on my way in.” “Sounds excessive.” She gave me an exasperated look. “People do read for entertainment, you know.”
A screenshot of text from chapter 37 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I died fer this, didn't I? Died fer a kiss.
A screenshot of text from chapter 36 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Allow me to clean up this mess,” I said. “I do find bodily fluids rather distasteful.”
A screenshot of text from chapter 35 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: Magic should belong to everyone, don’t you agree? Magic shouldn’t exist at all. You don’t believe that. Magic is power, and power corrupts. Look at how the Archons use it. But in the right hands, imagine what magic could become.
A screenshot of text from chapter 33 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: What were the poorest supposed to do? Toil away in the factories so they could afford their next potion? That was the goal, wasn’t it? Keep us addicted. Keep us in line.
A screenshot of text from chapter 33 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “I’m Daffodil, but everyone calls me Daffy,” the girl said with a beaming smile that made heat rise to my cheeks. “We’re not using our flower names anymore, remember?” Belladonna chided. “Oh, sorry. The work’s different ’ere from what we did before, but we still need to wear protection!” Daffy giggled. “Isn’t this place so wonderful? ’Ave you ’ad your potion? They really are the most wonderfully tasting things.” “What potion?” Though as I asked the question, I scanned around the lab and saw other women casually holding or sipping from a white potion bottle—the same one stocked on the shelves. It wasn’t the usual color for potions, so I couldn’t tell the spell from looking. My god. What were they drinking?
A screenshot of text from chapter 32 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: Growing up in Aldevale, I’d never worried about the future or my place in it. In the city, everyone needed to make a living. Why did I have to make money fer some rich twat to justify being alive? I just wanted to enjoy my days with my family, feeling the grass between my toes, the sun on my face. The Archons had taken all that away.
A promo image showcasing the book covers to The Thirteenth Hour and The Chosen One Con by Trudie Skies, a non-binary author. The image also features the non-binary flag and colours for the background.
A screenshot of text from chapter 31 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I wanted to be a mage. Oh, I had no illusions about who I was. But I wanted to be a mage, if only for my fifteen minutes of fame. I’d endangered Hope and Belladonna because I wanted to be someone other than Max Farrow from Oldtown. Someone other than Magnolia, one of Val’s flower boys. I wanted to be someone like Benny… Someone the city adored.
A screenshot of text from chapter 30 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “They’ve been through a lot, is all.” “Is that why they’re wearing a pissing dress? I thought they were a boy.” “Archie isn’t a boy or girl.” “That’s bollocks. Maybe fancy rich folk can fuck around with shit like that, but not ’ere in Oldtown.” I used to think that once—that choosing yer gender wer a rich man’s luxury. They could afford the potions to change their hair, eye color, body shape, and aye, their sex. But then I’d met Max and Hope, and they made it work. Everyone should have the choice. Why should that be limited to who could afford it? Maybe Archie wer smarter than the rest of us. They’d found a third way between boy or girl, and it suited them fine.
A screenshot of text from chapter 29 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: And [redacted] confessed all this to me—bragged about it, really—because I couldn’t repeat a single word. Who would even believe me?
A screenshot of text from chapter 28 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I’d wandered the palace hallways and gardens enough times now to know their layout. It wer like walking through a mausoleum, only without the dust and the solace, because I knew fer damn sure I wer being watched through cameras. The portraits of dead royals were my only company, though, since I didn’t pass a single living soul. They stared as I walked on by. Judgmental bastards. At least someone cared enough to paint their likeness as evidence they’d existed. There’d be no portraits of me.
A screenshot of text from chapter 27 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I rubbed my neck where it still felt sticky. “Oh my. I’m going to need a sponge bath. Are you my nurse, Mr. Miller? You’ll have to get that sponge in all my nooks and crannies.” He smirked. “Are you going to be a well-behaved patient, Mr. Farrow?” “Absolutely not.” I bit my bottom lip.
A screenshot of text from chapter 26 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: Many still drank to the Aldrens’ health in pubs across the city, even though they were long since gone. Folk still spoke about ’em with a nostalgic fondness best left buried in the past. The Archons were tyrants, but the Aldrens had been no better. At least the Archons elected competent mages to the Arcanum. The Aldrens had ruled by their bloodline, and where wer the fairness in that? Whichever king or queen ruled the land wer a gamble. The lives of ordinary folk were shaped by whether the monarch at the time were an inbred psychopath. But they’d had pretty crowns and jewels and the palace as a tourist trap, so folk still loved ’em. Aefenhold didn’t even know what wer good fer it.
A screenshot of text from chapter 25 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Let us return to the trial at hand.” “You could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself. Isn’t that what it takes to succeed in show business?” “We are rich enough that we can weather a few social disagreements.” “And that’s why you’re on The Chosen One Show? Tour tickets not selling? Is opera going out of fashion?” She lifted her nose. “Opera houses remain bustling.” “Do they? Ah, such a shame. MV stars killed the opera singer.” “Opera can adapt,” she snapped, and stomped off to the table with the potions.
A screenshot of text from chapter 24 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: Together, we searched the room. Flynt found another two pieces of the torn flyer—one under a vase and one hidden on another painting. I fucked around with the badger and found the final piece stuck to its arse. The pieces completed the flyer, revealing an advertisement fer one of Royal Regis’s potions. A green sleeping potion.
A screenshot of text from chapter 23 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: The rest of the afternoon passed by in holy reverie as I cloistered myself in the Sapphire Suite and saw to my needs, as Benny suggested—a good wank, followed by a leisurely nap, and an order of room service for when the munchies hit. Aldren Palace served me all the blue caviar I could want, and it went straight through me in a glorious purge. I entered the shower as a sweaty, disgusting creature and emerged from my cocoon as a magical butterfly, feeling like a million dren, dressed in my blue suit and cloak and enough sparkling spellrings to join the stars.
A long message of text in a Discord server that my cat typed. The message starts with: 41+-**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 ’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc etc
A screenshot of text from chapter 22 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: Max charged at me, swinging that glowing blue sword at my neck with furious speed. I thrust up my staff in defense. The sword clanged against it, as though it were made of metal and not wisps of aether. Max recoiled, my block catching him off balance, as I righted my own. “I don’t think this is what they meant by dueling,” I muttered.
A screenshot of text from chapter 21 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I meant what I’d said to Belladonna. I didn’t want to let Hope down. She needed me to win this contest, to keep paying for her schooling and medication. I couldn’t let her see me in such a state. I was meant to be the adult between us, because we had no one else. That was one of my rules. Never struggle in front of Hope. Never let her see me sad. I had to be strong for her sake. Was it selfish of me to keep her here? The contest was growing more dangerous by the day, but I needed Hope and Belladonna. I needed them both. Belladonna returned with a Madame Mesmer’s Easy Snooze. “Drink up, and we’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.”
A screenshot of text from chapter 20 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Men take and take, which is why we women must take care of ourselves and forge our own space. And yes, Heather, that space is also for you. Did you know women weren’t allowed to use magic, once? Men decided we were too emotionally fragile to be trusted with magic. Some old-fashioned men still think that way, forgetting that anger is an emotion they have little control over. Magic requires a temperate mind, and the truth is, men are too volatile to handle god’s gifts.” Thalia leaned over the desk, meeting my eye. “Magic was meant for women. For us. Look what happens when men become mages. They inspire rebellions or start them.”
A screenshot of text from chapter 19 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: The system couldn’t be fixed. It could only be torn down.
A screenshot from chapter 18 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: Flynt cleared their throat. “Perhaps now is not the time to start accusing one another—” “Exactly the kind of boorish statement the killer would say to distract from their foul deeds.” “I’m a servant of God. Murder is beneath me.” “You speak as though no man has ever murdered in their god’s name.”
A screenshot of text from chapter 16 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Give me an hour.” If we were going to have this conversation, then I needed something to take the edge off before I did anything foolish like follow my heart or cock.
A screenshot of text from chapter 15 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I meandered across the factory floor, occasionally glancing at the machinery as though I wer interested in such. The older workers with gray hairs tucked underneath their caps stooped at an angle, their feet no doubt aching from hours of the same shite over and over. They wouldn’t be able to afford the potions that could ease their pains, not on a factory wage. The younger ones had a bit more life in ’em, but a few wer missing fingers. Same as me. The glove I wore hid our similarities, but I felt their aches in my own back, my own fucked lungs. It’ll get better, I wanted to say, but that wer a lie.
A screenshot of text from chapter 14 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Do you ever see things when you get high?” I asked Celestia. “I see stars. What do you see?” “My hallucinations nag me.” “They don’t sound like nice hallucinations.” “Right?”
A photo of Bayley the ragdoll cat lying down on a cat tree next to Gustave the tabby cat who is sitting next to him.
A screenshot of text from chapter 12 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: They nudged me in the side. “I could take some of those spiky fruits?” they signed, and then gazed longingly toward a platter of chopped fruit. I leaned Warlock’s staff against my hip. Carrying the fucking thing around wer an annoyance I’d not prepared fer. “The pineapple?” I signed back, angling my hands so Archie could see ’em but no one else could. Last thing I wanted wer someone getting nosy. “I don’t want any.” Pineapple wer a stupid fruit, the perfect type fer toffs—fancy, expensive, and torture to eat. Only toffs would declare something prickly that melts yer mouth a delicacy.
A screenshot of text from chapter 12 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: The child pointed out toward the hall and made a vulgar gesture that implied Incendio was a wanker. “You should stay away from him. Who is your master?” They raised their hood and pulled an exaggerated scowl. “Lysander?” They nodded and grinned.
An image featuring character art of the main characters from The Chosen One Con on a background of chimneys and grey smoke. The first image is of Max Farrow in a blue monochromatic style. He is a young man wearing a fancy suit and surrounded by bluebells. He is described as bisexual, loves magic, sex worker, addicted to magic drugs, wants a life of comfort, and his name name is Magnus. Underneath him is Lyle Miller in a red monochromatic style. He is a young man in a flannel shirt and surrounded by feathers. He is described as demisexual, hates magic, ex-miner and factory worker, dying from magic poison, wants a revolution, and his mage name is Lysander.
An arrow trope map for The Chosen One Con showing the book cover by Trudie Skies and a background of chimneys with smoke. The text says The poor mine the aether, the rich buy designer magic. The tropes arrows include: LGBTQ+ Rep, Celebrity TV Mages, A Contest of Trials That Don't Go Well, Will Suck Cock for Success, Queer-Normative World, Drug-Fuelled Hallucinations, Who Keeps Murdering? Everything is Fucking Blue, Enjoy the Revolution, Fake Chosen One Prophecy, Magic Potions Galore.
A promotional image for The Chosen One Con book by Trudie Skies. It shows a background of chimneys with smog and The Chosen One Con book cover along with the text: The Chosen One Con Releasing September 1. A televised contest of mages to find the "chosen one" in a world of designer enchantments and celebrity-branded potions.
A screenshot of text from chapter 11 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: Oh, dear Lyle. He’d sat on the couch, as solid as aetherstone but without any of its magic or glow. The hood of his robes hid most of his features except for a cold scowl. Thalia, bless her, had tried to lead him into open-ended questions, which he’d skillfully deflected. It was as though he’d braced himself for an interrogation and refused to admit to any wrongdoing. He’d failed to realize this contest was pure entertainment, and we were the entertainers putting on a show. Skill with magic was largely irrelevant. Every time he’d spoken, I’d cringed. It was truly that bad.
A screenshot of text from chapter 10 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I took my seat as Flynt took the right. Thalia, Celestia and Nightingale took the other side, with Max opposite me, next to Thalia. He placed his wineglass next to… three other glasses? What? I examined the sight laid out and almost choked. There wer a napkin in front. To the left wer three forks, and then three knives and two spoons to the right. Above wer another fork and spoon, then a smaller plate with a knife, and four glasses. Why the fuck did I need four forks and glasses? What did they need all this cutlery fer? Wer the extra spoons fer shoving up yer arse?
A ragdoll cat sleeping on my keyboard.
A screenshot of text from chapter 9 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “And now we’re joined by Oracle the Diviner,” continued AAC News, “who claims to have read the stars and determined the chosen one as laid out by the church’s prophecy.” The camera cut to Oracle sitting in a little hut, surrounded by dangling aetherstone and mystical pendants. It was all rather theatrical and dull. Real magic was far more impressive than whatever she proclaimed to peddle. She waved her hand over a cloudy crystal ball, her voice a dramatic whisper. “I have gazed into the stars and witnessed the face of the chosen one! They will be a mysterious stranger with a haunted past and piercing blue eyes.” “Well, that’s bollocks,” I said aloud. “Anyone who drinks a potion can have blue eyes.” “You never know,” Belladonna said. “She did predict Ignatius’s death.” “No, she predicted a ‘major event’ this year, same as last year, which is about as vague as my love life.” Honestly, smoking a hit of lapis leaf would get anyone hallucinating the future. Thank god I had Benny to set me straight.
A screenshot of text from chapter 8 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: How much of this contest would be an actual contest of magic, and not who wears the most expensive hat?
A screenshot of text from chapter 7 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Thank you, Magnus.” She took the paperwork and filed it neatly away. “By applying for The Chosen One Show, you confirm you are in possession of a blue license and have received a suitable magical education. May I see your license?” I slid it across the desk with another practiced smile. By the end of this day, I suspected we’d both suffer from aching jaws, though it was hard to tell who between us had the most experience in that area. How many cocks did poor Evelyn need to suck in her day-to-day as a studio producer?
A screenshot of text from chapter 6 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I grabbed Archie’s shoulder, forcing them to face me. “There’re two Argents and Sevrina at our front door.” Their eyes went wide. “Sevrina, the Arcane Knight?” No, Sevrina the fucking Arcane Baker.
A screenshot of text from chapter 5 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: I liked my coffee how I liked my men. Sweet and full of cream.
A screenshot of text from chapter 4 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: The Archons wanted a spectacle because that wer what passed fer modern customs in a city devoid of a soul.
A screenshot of text from chapter 3 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: He laughed, a twisted bitter, sound that told me I’d won him over, because he hated Thalia so much, apparently, that he’d happily let me play the fool to make her look like one.
A screenshot of text from chapter 2 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: The real price of magic wer one we’d already paid, and we were all living out the consequences. Poor folk suffering. Folk addicted to magic and wasting away. Villages like mine wiped off the map. City folk were sleepwalking to their own deaths, allowing magic to distract them with shiny, glowing colors.
A screenshot of text from Chapter 1 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: For once, the glow of the cerulean city matched the people’s mood. Bells tolled the unfortunate and untimely death of Aefenhold’s greatest Archon, and the whole city wallowed in mourning. Not me, though. I had drugs to buy.
A screenshot of text from Chapter 0 of The Chosen One Con. The text says: Even my familiarity with the raw, dirty process didn’t detract from magic’s beauty, in the same way a newborn child, covered in blood and shit, remained a miracle.
An illustrated head shot of Dru, a character from The Cruel Gods, by artist Seraphim. Dru is a woman with green stone skin and shoulder length vines for hair and yellow daisies for eyebrows. She's wearing a maids outfit.
A screenshot of text from The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Master is agitated,” they signed. “What does he want?” I signed back. “I’m busy brewing his potion.” “Don’t know. He mumbles.” Archie could lip read most, but not Warlock. Our master never put much effort into being understood. I preferred to sign in case of eavesdroppers. We’d developed our own way of communicating with my missing fingers, our own words no one else would understand, not even Warlock. “It smells of smoke. Did you blow it up?” “Not intentionally. My hand’s cramping. Can you combine a pain relief sigil with a sleep one for me?” “You’re knocking him out? For how long?” “Just a couple of hours.” They nudged me aside and scooted onto the stool I’d warmed up. It took them less than a minute to carve the spell on a fresh tablet—a livelier looking squid than my attempt. They glanced over their shoulder at me with a toothy grin. “All right, clever clogs,” I signed.
A screenshot of text from The Chosen One Con. The text says: Other than Flynt, I didn’t recognize these mages. Two men, two women. One of the men wore traditional robes and carried a staff, their wrinkled skin aging them into their seventies at least. Far too old for the contest. Their eyes kept fluttering as though about to nod off. The other was much younger, but his entire body was trembling, the wand in his lap bouncing up and down from nerves. The two women appeared to be more serious candidates. One also dressed in traditional robes, leaning into the seriousness, while another wore more a more elegant gown with a cloak like mine. A modern mage. She was the one organizing her spellrings and would be the one to watch. I spotted the problem with these candidates already. They were taking this contest far too seriously. Yes, the Archons were looking for a replacement for Ignatius, which meant they needed a dedicated mage who knew their spells from their arse. But this entire contest had been devised as a distraction, to be pure entertainment. Why else drag it out for a week and broadcast it? Was I the only one who could see that? It didn’t matter who the Arcanum chose as Ignatius’s successor. They still needed four other candidates to fill their Chosen One Show. Five charismatic candidates to sing and dance for their MV audience. Where was the charisma? The spark? None of these candidates fit the bill.
A photo of Gustave the tabby cat sleeping under a grey sofa. His back legs are sticking out from the sofa as though lying flat. We call this a sploot.
A screenshot of text from The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Max, honey.” Belladonna shook her head. “Only you could enter a secret contest and be known to two of the contestants. You have a soft spot for this boy?” “I have a soft spot for all boys.” “You’ve never mentioned a Lyle before. Was he a lover?” “Technically, my first. Look, I’m too lashed to delve into my sorry past. Get me some water, will you? I’m dry as stone.” My tongue was starting to feel fuzzy and disgusting. Hope fetched a glass tumbler and used a spellring to fill it with cold, fresh water. She sat beside me, her expression expectant. The problem with gossip was that while I was terrible, my sister was far worse. I took the glass gratefully and rinsed out my mouth. Both of them were vultures, and they weren’t going to let me sleep unless I indulged memories I’d tried to drown.
A screenshot of text from The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Did you expect to see swordplay in the duel today?” Thalia asked Sevrina, her voice amplified by a spelled microphone fer the crowd. “It’s a choice I would have expected from Flynt, not Benny Bluebell’s heir. Swordplay was a common form of combat before magic civilized the world. Not many are skilled enough to combine such a weapon with aether.” “A choice that our crowd loves! We’re seeing the evolution of a new magical trend, right here.” Max struck a heroic pose, to more cheering, and then gestured at me. “I thought Warlock’s greatest student would appreciate a return to our roots.” His voice carried. He, too, wer hamming it up fer the crowd. I could give as good as I got. “Know how to wield that? It’s not about the size, but what you do with it.” “Oh, I’ve felt my way around a few swords in my time. Crossed a few, too. I’d give your sword a good polishing after, if you’d like?” He winked. And then, for the audience he yelled out, “Duel me!”
A screenshot of text from The Chosen One Con. The text says: “Ghastly,” Flynt exclaimed. I thought they wer talking about the state of the woods, but no, they pointed at a squirrel the size of a fox. The largest damn squirrel I’d ever seen. Its fur wer matted and dirty, and it turned to me with glowing blue eyes and sharp, bloodied teeth. That thing had been gnawing on the hanged man’s leg. Panic rose in my chest. “We’re not safe. We should get back—” “A squirrel is no threat—” “Do you see the fucking aether in the water? If that beast drank from the river, then it won’t be just any squirrel. Magic fucks up wildlife. I’ve seen it before.” Rats that grew and turned vicious. Deer transformed into horrors with hideous abnormalities. Birds that sprouted extra wings and swooped to peck yer eyes out. Magic and nature didn’t coexist well.
A screenshot of text from The Chosen One Show. The text says: “Now, let’s finish our magic hour with a singsong.” The camera zoomed out on Benny’s face as the show’s theme song kicked in. The same song every episode that I knew off by heart. There’s no need to feel glum, chum, But it’s okay to look blue. There’s magic in the world, And it’s made for me and you.