Daughters of Midnight

They called it Pandora's box. My grandparents called it evil technology that would eventually destroy us all. And they were right. Now, there’s no central government, just city-states barely clinging to the notion of civilization, running on bioelectric energy known as glow. Cities need it; Glow Pirates steal it, violently, and Scavengers roam the wilderness between cities known as The Wastes preying on anyone and everyone, with glow or without it, and those without glow live together in peaceful communities called The Remnant.


Then, one night at the stroke of midnight, every woman who wasn’t Remnant died—all of them, all at once. 


It was The Reaping. 


Now, all of us women who are left are hunted for breeding. 


We are the Daughters of Midnight, and we are at war.