Young readers ages 8–14 will embark on a journey through time and space to the world of Glideon with the new fantasy adventure series, Lightglider Origins, written by Derek Holser and Zach Fay. Each book features the story of a teen from a different time period and location around the world who has been transported to the mystical land of Glideon to become Lightgliders. In Glideon, the Lightgliders are tasked with saving a mysterious land filled with Gliddles, talking spiders, and diabolical Machines.
The series begins with Bryce and the Lost Pearl, set in current day Victor Harbor, Australia. Life is full of responsibilities for fifteen-year-old Bryce Holland. Between working at his uncle’s horse stables, playing his newly earned spot on the varsity basketball team, and leading a Bible study, the juggling act of his life is on the verge of a crash.
For starters, an injury ends his season prematurely, then the girl Bryce likes starts hanging out with the guy who caused his sprained ankle. All of the stress sends Bryce over the edge, and he thunders away on his uncle’s Clydesdale without permission. When the horse gets away from him, the search to find the missing animal sends Bryce wandering deep through the woods and into a strange new land.
Bryce suddenly finds himself in the alternate realm of Glideon where he meets other teens who have been tasked with rescuing the Gliddles from an army of Machines that threaten the land. Along the way, Bryce and his new friends discover the mysterious pearl that will guide them in their journey to resurrect Lightglider Academy, rescue the Gliddles, and restore the land.
Instead of telling you more about Bryce’s story, we invite you to read to read a little bit of it. We hope you enjoy the first chapter of Bryce and the Lost Pearl!
Saturday, September 14, 2024
Victor Harbor, South Australia
Beep—beep—beep—beep
The buzzing of the vintage AM/FM clock radio on Bryce’s nightstand jolted him awake.
“I’m up, I’m up!”
Bryce reached across his nightstand, fumbling in the dark for the snooze button. He banged his knuckles against the side of his ceramic lamp, causing it to wobble.
“Ow!”
The beeping alarm gave way to the voice of the morning radio show host. “Another drizzly day today, cool temperatures. A high of twelve degrees. Remember tourists, that’s Celsius!” she chirped.
SLAP.
Bryce slammed the snooze button. He squinted through one eye as he rubbed his sore knuckles. The bright red LED display reminded him that snooze time was over.
6:20 a.m.
There was a rap on his bedroom door, followed by his mom’s voice.
“Bryce! Don’t be late for work!”
“I’m up, Mom. I’m old enough to use an alarm clock.” Under his breath he added, “since you don’t trust me to use my phone . . .”
“I heard that. Watch your tone, young man.”
Bryce pushed his basketball all-stars bedspread to one side and sat up. He clicked on the lamp, and light filled the room. Rainbows danced on his wall, a reflection from the disco ball he’d recently hung from the ceiling.
He glanced at his secondhand desk. Lots of memories at that desk. The front leg chewed by his older brother Mikey’s puppy. Sketching out plans with Mikey for a fantastic treehouse that never got built. Diagramming basketball plays his coaches had yet to use.
His bedroom’s only window was above that desk. Bryce shuffled over and pushed apart the faded curtains that had hung there since he was in primary school. The orange glow of the rising sun filled the horizon. The screech of a pair of rainbow lorikeets nesting in the gutter caused Bryce to wince.
“Do you have to be so loud so early?!”
Two minutes, three gulps of water, and five push-ups later, Bryce was dressed and standing in front of the bathroom mirror. After brushing his teeth, a quick dunk of his head in the sink, a dab of style cream and a tousle of his hair, he was ready for the day. As he stepped into the hallway, he bumped into his father.
They paused, face-to-face. Bryce was as tall as his dad, with infinitely more hair. Both distinctives were frequent topics of conversation.
“A few more months and you’ll be looking down at me!” Mr. Holland grinned.
“Yep.” Bryce nodded and smoothed the front of his hoodie.
“You got the early shift at Uncle Barn’s?”
“Yep.”
“You need a lift?” Mr. Holland finished buttoning the sleeve of his oxford. “I’m heading to the men’s breakfast at Old Wills. I could drop you there.”
“Oh, I was gonna use Mikey’s scooter.”
“Are you sure?” Mr. Holland’s arched brow wrinkled his bald head, implying otherwise.
“I was planning on it.”
“Mikey didn’t come home last night. He mentioned staying over at Wyatt’s place. He must have forgotten since he’s just home from Uni for the long weekend.”
“Right.”
Bryce turned in the direction of the kitchen. He smelled Mom’s cinnamon waffles baking and heard her cheerily singing an old pop song.
“So, is that a yes? You want a ride?”
Bryce paused. “Sure. Thanks Dad.”
“Ok. Be in the car in five.”
“Got it.”
Bryce stepped down the short set of stairs that led to the kitchen. The Holland family home, a white-paneled trilevel bungalow, was right up the street from a bluff overlooking Boomer Beach. Bryce had lived there his entire life and every room held memories. He walked by the framed collage of pictures from his first year of school. In nearly every picture he wore the same expression. Eyes like slits, face tilted skyward, exuberant grin from ear to ear.
“Those were the easy days,” Bryce whispered to the boy he used to be.
“Come get some waffles before you go!” Mrs. Holland hollered.
Bryce jumped off the third step, landing with a thud. He pantomimed dribbling a basketball between his legs and spun in a circle before extending his right arm in a shooting motion.
“Holland crosses ’em up and drops another deep three,” he said, assuming the role of play-by-play announcer for his imagination. “The crowd goes wild! Another W for Victor Harbor!”
He skipped over the threshold from living room to kitchen, sliding across the linoleum floor in his tube socks. His elbow brushed against his mom’s back. She was leaning over the kitchen island, fishing a hot waffle out of the iron.
“Where are your shoes?” she asked.
“By the front door. I slid them off when I got home from the movie last night.”
“Was it fun? Did Hillary and Taz go?”
“Just Hills. Taz had to go to a family dinner at his Nona’s.”
Bryce unplugged his phone from the kitchen island and unlocked its screen. Text messages from two friends appeared.
11:07 p.m.
TAZ
Soooo . . . how was the movie?
Did U ask her?
11:13 p.m.
HILLS
Tonight was fun! 🤩 _🎉 _
Nice to escape real life 😞 _
for a couple hours.
cya ltr
Bryce snatched two waffles from the stack and packed them in a paper bag. He walked over to his shoes, feeling the back pocket of his camel-colored work pants. He shoved his feet into his sneakers and walked out the door into the bleak misty gray.
Another underwhelming day underway. Or so he thought.
Excerpted from Bryce and the Lost Pearl © 2025 by Derek Holser and Zach Fay. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission.
Bryce and the Lost pearl
Life is full of responsibilities for fifteen-year-old Bryce Holland. Between working at his uncle’s horse stables, playing his newly earned spot on the varsity basketball team, and leading a Bible study, the juggling act of his life is on the verge of a crash. The stress sends Bryce over the edge and he thunders away on his uncle’s Clydesdale without permission. When the horse gets away from him, the search to find the missing animal sends Bryce wandering deep through the woods and into a strange new land.
