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This is killing two birds with one stone: needed a new cover for my WIP steampunkish/science fantasy-ish/slightly Slavic book The Phoenix Thief, and needed to design a book cover for my computer design class finals project. Yippie-ki-yay!
A huge thank-you to all you lovely Deviants out there who supply free stock, and also a thank you to my beta readers for The Phoenix Thief, who provided me with the 'advance praise' section of this design. 
Leather stock from 
Old paper stock from
Illustration © of me.
Start reading The Phoenix Thief!
The Feather
Jumping out of a clock tower window is not the best way to start your morning. But unfortunately for Kilter, the day had already been ruined – a little reckless jumping was low on his list of unpleasant occurrences compared to the mess he found himself in now.
He’d fallen asleep at his worktable again, facedown in a sea of twine, snippets of canvas, and the dog-eared pages of his book. The chiming of the great clock a little below had awoken him just in time to catch the sound of labored steps approaching up the long flights of stairs below, wood and old nails groaning and squeaking.
And he’d left the ladder to his attic hideaway down.
For as long as he could remember, he’d lived on the streets and forgotten places of the city of Istravol, and he knew them, and the ways to stay invisible, as well as the skinny cats that slunk in their shadows. How could he have been so stupid now?
Because of what’s on this worktabl
The Phoenix Thief - Chapter Two
As far back as Kilter could remember – when it took more steps to cross the streets, and when he stood next to Dmal his eyes were on a level with the man’s knees – his hand had been missing pieces. He’d woken up in the middle of an alley in the dark, his head ringing and his body aching. What was left of his bleeding hand had been heavy and hot as molten lead. His arm had been bent wrong, as well, and he couldn’t get his legs to hold him up.
It was Dmal who found Kilter there in the alley that night. Kilter remembered the man’s voice rising and falling gently, and the silkiness of his fine clothes, as Dmal carried him to a shabby little house among the boarding lodges in the lower city. Dmal had disappeared after that, but the bent old woman in the house bound up Kilter’s hand, and he lay on a little bunk, wavering between painful consciousness and unsteady sleep. For how long, he didn’t know.
There were many sharp, bitt
Image size
5424x2687px 4.34 MB
© 2013 - 2024 StaciaJoy
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