Point of view counts for so much. Change it, and you change the story. 

The Beyond Androva series takes place almost entirely in the world of Xytovia. But thanks to the four perspectives of the first-person narrators, it's a very different Xytovia in each book.

Serena is Androvan with no prior knowledge of Xytovia. Art has grown up in a segregated post-war society with an abundance of rules. Kellan comes from a time before the war when magic on Xytovia was plentiful. For Averine, the war has only just ended, and mage-sickness has decimated the population. Averine is also the only non-magician.

Even when all four characters are in the same place at the same time, there isn't much overlap between their individual perspectives! I loved figuring out the different versions of Xytovia and how the skills and personalities of my characters would influence the overarching story. (Creating four tailor-made villains was also a lot of fun!)

“There is no easy way to tell you this. I’m afraid Miss Jonville is dead.”

I heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. Because it wasn’t possible. There had to be a mistake.

My mother’s face was expressionless as she waited for me to respond. Only a slight tension in her jaw betrayed the emotion lurking beneath. What kind of emotion, I wasn’t sure. She would never allow it to reach the surface. 

“I don’t understand.”

I had to force the words past a throat that was tight with panic, and my voice came out sounding hoarse.

Her eyebrows arched. “Yes, you do, Ammartus.”

I sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed. My ribs seemed to tighten until my heart thudded against them with a force that was almost painful.

Maxia Jonville was dead. And I was seventeen next year. I would never find another match in time. 

I hunched my shoulders, feeling ashamed that my first thought was for myself. Even though I had just lost my only chance of becoming a magician, I was still here. Still alive. For now, at least. 

My mother remained in the doorway, assessing me with customary shrewdness, her spine straight and not a single crease in her pale grey suit. Her hair was brown and shiny and perfectly smooth, and her eyes were the muted purple of gathering rainclouds.

She looked exactly the way a bonded magician was supposed to look. Calm. Controlled. Immaculate.

We were nothing alike. My own hair was a sort of dirty blond that gave a convincing impression of never having encountered a comb. My eyes were ridiculously bright, even for an underage magician. And control was not something I had ever possessed. 

The Bonding Spell would have fixed everything. It would have fixed me. Smoothed out my flaws and made me capable. I had been counting the days. 

“How did she die?” I asked. 

My mother let out a tiny sigh, and I knew immediately it was the wrong question.

“That hardly matters,” she said. 

I couldn’t help thinking it probably mattered a great deal to Maxia’s family. 

“You did not know her,” she added.

Nevertheless, I got the point. An emotional response was not appropriate. An emotional response was never appropriate.

“What happens next?” I said.

“Your grandfather has called an emergency board meeting. He will make every effort to find you another match.”

A hollow laugh rose up in my chest, and I pressed my lips together to silence it. 

“He won’t,” I said.

“Yes, he will,” she said firmly.

“I don’t mean he won’t try,” I said. “I mean he won’t succeed.”

My mother and I stared at each other in silence. I was her second son, not only in order of birth but in every way that mattered. No one in the Bavois family had ever scored so poorly against the eight criteria used to match one underage magician with another. 

My grandfather’s position on Vayl’s Board of Mages was the only reason the Jonvilles said yes. Every other magical family had politely declined. And a year later, my scores had not improved. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said my mother.

Her tone was infuriatingly calm, even though the tightness in her jaw had unmistakably increased.

“Why not?” I retorted. “We might as well face facts. Without a match, there can be no Bonding Spell. And no Bonding Spell means the removal of my magic. I’ll be a-a—” 

My voice caught. I took a deliberate breath and carried on. “I’ll be a cotidian.”

There. I had said it. The word that summed up my future.

Becoming a cotidian meant everything would change. Having no magic was only the start, and that was assuming I even survived the transition. What would I do? Where would I live? How would I live?

In the space of a moment, my entire education had become worthless. And the population of Vayl was strictly segregated. I’d be amongst strangers. I gritted my teeth. Not quite. They’d be strangers to me, but everyone in Vayl would know exactly who I was. Quite possibly everyone in Xytovia would know. The first Bavois cotidian ever.

“We’ll test you again,” said my mother as if I hadn’t spoken. “I’ll coach you myself.”

“That would be a waste of time,” I said. “For both of us.”

I got to my feet and lifted my chin, daring my mother to contradict me. I’d already had the best professors my parents’ lumien could buy. It hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t been enough.

The humiliation I felt when my scores remained stubbornly unchanged never faded. I could feel it now. Twisting my insides and making heat rise into my face until my eyes burned.

“Don’t give up, Art,” she said, and her tone was softer than before. “We’ll find a way. I’ll come back as soon as the board meeting is over.”

After she closed the door behind her, my hand went to the crystal amulet around my neck. The edges of the stone dug into my fingers as I tightened my grip. They can’t make me take the tests again. 

They could, of course. They could do anything they wanted. 

Whereas my options, always limited, had just shrunk to almost nothing.