To the Death by MELISSA WELLIVER is a heart-stopping YA dystopia, where outsiders and islanders are pitted against each other – and the undead – in a game show to the death.
Read on for an extract.
ABOUT THE BOOK

Caught in a deadly game where the undead and other contestants close in, Astrid must navigate her developing feelings for Luke and the treacherous terrain of reality TV, where there can be only one winner.
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EXTRACT
PROLOGUE
The stage lights flicked on and they burned my skin like I was a Pyre and they were the sun.
‘OK, 60 seconds until showtime,’ Cresta said, holding a manicured finger to her earpiece.
I looked around the floodlit courtyard of the ruined castle. It was an old tourist trap from before the fall, crumbling from neglect.
Well, that was about to change. ‘Forty-five seconds,’ Cresta called out.
The make-up artists buzzed around us like flies on a corpse. The one assigned to me tried to push some sweet-smelling brush against my cheek, but I batted her away.
Nine other contestants sat in the semicircle of chairs that the production team had laid out in the courtyard. Cinta was checking the work of her make-up artist in a mirror, and when she saw the results she threw the compact at the girl and told her to start over. Mills and Decke were deep in conversation, whispering to each other. Mills drew a line across his throat, pointed to me and laughed. I caught Cass’s eye and she gave me an attempt at a reassuring smile.
The glint of the gold-rimmed chairs seemed senselessly gaudy against the dull stone of the ruined castle grounds. Maybe it used to be like this, when there was a king or queen that lived here. But crowds of people would have been here too, instead of on the other side of a camera lens across the sea. Away from here. Safe.
Before the mainland abandoned us and let Bloodwatch farm us out for entertainment.
‘They’re estimating five million viewers for the premiere.’ I couldn’t tell if my make-up artist was talking to me or herself. ‘Five million people. Can you imagine?’ She snapped her make-up bag shut and walked away.
Five million people. And Bloodwatch wouldn’t exist without them.
‘Thirty seconds,’ Cresta called over her script, eyes down, checking her notes. ‘We’ll have around a minute to do the show introduction, and then we’ll leave you to it.’
‘It’ was an interesting term for ‘leaving you to fight for your lives’. In the distance I thought I heard the shriek of a Pyre waking up for their evening hunt.
I looked at the long shadow cast by the floodlights. The sun was setting, painting the sky pink and orange. Being out after dark with no weapon was the stuff of nightmares. This was it. Bloodwatch were really doing this.
I glanced at the group sitting with me. These nine other islanders might be the last people I would ever see. I didn’t count the make-up artists, or the armed guards just beyond the cameras, or the drivers ready to wing the production crew out of here as soon as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Mainlanders didn’t count.
‘Ten seconds.’ Cresta put down her notes and smiled at us. ‘You know, I can’t wait to see who survives. Our winner’s interview is going to make cracking television.’
Glaed shifted in his chair, but he didn’t say anything. He had a thousand-yard stare that told me he was scared shitless. Smart. How some of the others were acting vaguely like their normal selves, I couldn’t fathom.
But, hey, we’d all ‘volunteered’ to be here.
It was scant consolation, but Cresta had a small smudge of lipstick on her teeth that would show up beautifully on-screen. The cameras were all remotely operated to keep the crew safe – must be nice.
They wouldn’t last two minutes after the sun went down.
I would.
Winning was my only chance out of here. I had to stay focused on that or everything else would overwhelm me. And as Dad always taught me: a panicked Pyre hunter was a dead Pyre hunter.
‘And that’s five . . . four . . .’ Cresta mouthed the last few numbers, and little red lights appeared below every camera. ‘And we are live.’
Cresta winked at me before turning to face the sea of lights.
‘Hello, world. My name is Cresta Golding and welcome to the first-ever episode of Escape from Blood Island.’
In the distance, a chorus of Pyre screams echoed in the night.
CHAPTER ONE
Three days earlier
‘You ever wonder what the difference is between us and the Pyres?’ I asked.
Hild and I were sat in the armoury, detailing the crossbows. The name in itself was a bit grand for what the armoury actually was: a small wooden shack, slightly larger than a garden shed.
‘Well, seems pretty obvious to me. We’re alive and they’re not,’ Hild said, rubbing wax into the crevice of a crossbow. ‘They were unlucky enough to get bitten and we weren’t.’
‘Yeah. But I mean, they were like us once, right? As you say, they were bitten, got sick, turned, we know how it goes. But they’re basically infected humans. They’re unwell. Do you ever think about that before putting one down?’ I pressed.
Last night had been heavy, at least a dozen Pyre attacks on the walls, and the lack of sleep combined with the busy work of the armoury was making me go cross-eyed.
‘Where is this coming from, Astrid?’ Hild asked.
I shrugged. My heart hammered against my ribs every time I thought about last night.
Hild narrowed her eyes at me. We had known each other long enough that sometimes it felt as if she could read my mind, and she knew that if she didn’t push, I would come to her.
‘You know, there was this one Pyre that was driving me barmy last month,’ she said. ‘Kept coming back, night after night. One of the smart ones, you know? I swear, this bitch had it all figured out. She would watch the stupid Pyres run at us, get caught on the fence and shot through the heart, but she wouldn’t do nothing. Just sat there, waiting.’
‘One of the smart ones? Please. Sure, some manage to avoid the traps . . . but watching and waiting? You saw some Influencer girl.’ I pulled on the repaired string of the crossbow in front of me. The old shoelace held strong as I tested the tension, so I put it to one side with the others.
Hild spread out her hands. ‘I’m serious. This bitch was a Pyre. Look, I thought I was imagining it too, some scrawny girl on the edge of the woods watching us. But after a full week, she came out from the trees and I saw her through my scope. Pale skin, black eyes, sharp teeth. Covered in blood. She was a Pyre, Astrid, I swear on my life.’
‘All right, fine. Not that smart, though. You can hit a Pyre at a hundred paces. No way you didn’t nail her then and there,’ I said.
Hild tapped the side of her head. I rolled my eyes. In another life, in another place, she’d be a storyteller.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Melissa runs a podcast on her love of tropes alongside podcaster Jamie Greenwood and YA author Naomi Gibson called The Chosen Ones and Other Tropes. She has published two standalone dystopian rom-coms, My Love Life and the Apocalypse and Soulmates and Other Ways to Die, and one darker dystopian book, The Undying Tower. Melissa’s books have been longlisted for the Berkshire Book Award and won the Write Blend Bookshop award for YA fiction in 2022. Melissa’s writing has also listed in the Mslexia Prize; The Bath Novel Award; The Northern Writers Awards; and the Wells Book for Children prize.
Visit Melissa Welliver’s website.
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Read more about To the Death on the Simon & Schuster website.









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