Archive for the ‘YA Fantasy’ Category

 

 

 

Book Details:

THE WEB OF TIME

by Flavia Brunetti

Category:  YA Fiction (Ages 13-17),  298 pages
GenreGrounded Fantasy
Publisher: Blue House Literary
Release date:  May 2025
Content RatingG + M: While this is fully G, it does touch on matters including physical abuse and trauma. This is done in a very gentle way, but perhaps worth noting.

Book Description:

Far beneath the ground, a web quietly spins. The threads are keeping time, marking history. What’s done is done. Until now.

Protected by the gods and powering the three Great Portals of Art, Language, and Kindness, The Web of Time rearranges itself as humans change their minds, fall in love, or cause empires to rise and fall. When the Great Portals close from the world, time begins erasing itself, histories start to disappear, Earth falls into chaos, and the gods don’t know how to stop it—until Jack meets Anna.

Anna is a passionate and solitary writer who is protected by her companion, Nafusa of Libya, the cat god. When Jack, a young painter harboring a traumatic past, falls through the Great Portal of Art in Tunis, he stumbles into Anna, and his fate.

Helped and hindered by a rotating cast of deities, the two embark on a journey that connects three ancient cities in different times: Rome, Tunis, and Tripoli. They realize that it is Anna’s gift for healing words and Jack’s natural talent for drawing places as they were that can reinstate the Great Portals and restore the world’s balance, but some of the darker gods who thrive on chaos will stop at nothing to derail their quest. As time tears faster than they can heal it, Anna and Jack must come together in time to save history, and the possibility of a future.

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Check out the interview with Author Flavia Brunetti:
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  1. Do you have another profession besides writing?

I do. I’m also a humanitarian aid worker. Part of why I’ve traveled and lived in different countries over the years is because of that job, and those experiences are absorbed into my writing, sometimes not on purpose!

  1. How do you balance your time as an author with your other work?

Balance is something that I often struggle with, not only dividing my time as an author and with a job, but also ensuring I make time to do other things that nourish me, like reading, or spending time with my friends, or taking a long walk along the Aurelian Walls here in Rome.

What works for me is making lists, because that helps me to get everything out of my head and onto a piece of paper, so I don’t feel I have to keep everything at the forefront of my mind. That list also includes things like, take a break, watch a show, finish reading that chapter, have a lovely dinner. And then I have a new rule about not giving myself a hard time when I can’t get through everything! If there are things I have to get through but that I’ll tend to drag my feet about, like editing, I use the advice I got from a friend some time ago: I just start, promising myself that I’ll do it for ten minutes to start with and that’ll be a win. Most of the time, getting started really is the hardest part, as trite as that sounds, and much more often than not once I’m in the swing of things I’ll keep working through it.

  1. Writers often use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper? 

I always have a notebook with me and I grew up scribbling, but these days, if I’m honest, I’ll often jot things down in my notes app on my phone because it’s so much faster. Then, I’ll move it to my laptop to expand on the idea. I’ll always read my last version out loud to myself because I think hearing things helps process differently. In all of this, I miss the paper element, and I think paper itself is the most powerful thing, but I have to admit I often fall into the “it’s so much faster to type” category. I do always keep a notebook still with me and my agenda is a physical one I write in, but I’ve even noticed recently my writing hand gets tired much faster these days because I’m less used to physical writing. So I have a commitment to change this back to writing, at least shorter pieces, more on paper!

  1. What is your next project?

When WOT is out, you’ll find me hard at work on the sequel. The book can stand alone, because as a reader, I tend to love series that intertwine but also wrap up their individual storylines, but the world we’re meeting in this first book isn’t done with me yet, and I hope the readers will feel the same!

I’ll be sharing as I start to work on research for the second book (which, right now, is set to take place in Egypt, in a place we already see in this first book, but that’s all I can say!) You can find me on Substack and Instagram to talk WOT, places and how we define ourselves by them, cultural cross-pollination, and the occasional is-curly-hair-better-than-straight-hair convo.

  1. Do you snack while writing? Favorite snack?

I snack all the time! I’m a big proponent of “a little treat”. I love sweets but have some blood sugar issues so I try to always pair protein with it, so my go-to snack is often a piece of parmigiano and some cookies to much on.

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Meet Author Flavia Brunetti:

Born just outside of Rome, Flavia grew up bouncing back and forth between Italy and California and has lived between a myriad other countries, so her writing often revolves around place and identity and is usually written on a plane where she inevitably apologizes to the person sitting next to her for bumping their elbow. She is the author of the novel All the Way to Italy. Her second novel, The Web of Time, a YA grounded fantasy adventure set in Rome, Tunis, and Tripoli, will be published by Blue House Literary in May 2025.

Today, Flavia continues learning about the world while working for a humanitarian organization and getting lost in her Eternal City, writing flash fiction and non-fiction stories, and connecting with other readers, writers, and adventurers (also the armchair travel variety).

connect with the author: website ~ X ~ facebook ~ instagram ~ goodreads

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Tour Schedule:


WEB OF TIME Book Tour Giveaway

 

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His mountain solitude shattered.

Her lab prison escaped.

Together they’ll find refuge or die trying.

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Shadowed Skies

by Haley Cavanagh

Genre: YA Clean Dystopian SciFi Fantasy Romance

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Hunted for their blood. Fighting for their future.

River

He’s the last of his kind, a winged warrior
hidden in the mountains. River Shaw has lost everything: his sanctuary, the
only shield from a world that fears and hunts him. When Delene, another of his
kind, crash-lands into his life, wounded and on the run, his solitude is
shattered.

Delene

She’s a fugitive
with a secret, escaping the clutches of dark forces that took everything from
her. Delene Fairborne’s flight to freedom leads her to River and the spark of a
bond neither can deny.

In a landscape
scarred by betrayal and danger, River and Delene must navigate their growing
feelings and the sinister scientist who will stop at nothing to harness their
power. Shadowed Skies is where love takes wing, hope soars, and destiny
entwines. Dive into a world where every heartbeat is a rebellion, every glance
a promise, and every flight a taste of freedom.

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I wake to a muscular, silent figure looming over me, his wings
casting unnerving shadows. Intelligent dark eyes scrutinize
me from his smooth, brown face framed by cropped black hair
and raven quills. He’s been around the block.
My guard shoots up. I’d stand, but my body’s too weak from
the climb. “Your nest, huh? Sorry, I didn’t see your name on it.”
“It’s carved right over there.” He points past me to the
rockface. My eyes travel over the stone, where he’d etched River
in craggy letters. The carved name is so tiny I didn’t notice.
“Now you’re supposed to tell me your name. That’s how this
goes.”
I blink. “Delene Fairborne. Listen, would you mind if I––
ow,” I scrape against the wall and suck air through my teeth. I
clamp my eyes shut.
“Are you okay?”
I shrug the blanket off, and my injured wing flops lamely
near my shoulder. River’s eyebrows lower, and he comes closer.
“Let me look.”
He stows his serrated hunting knife, presents empty hands,
and crouches to examine my injury. “Relax. I won’t hurt you.
Let’s see the damage.” He’s gentle, avoiding the wound and
handling my feathers softly. He lightly touches the bandage.
“Dr. Lytle runs the Stockade, the underground bunker and
lab where the humans imprison and experiment on our kind.
His men hunted me down and shot me with a crossbow as I tried
to escape. The wound is still healing––I changed the bandage
earlier, but without a spare set of clothes, I had to tear strips off
my pants to re-dress it.”

“Hmm.” He examines the back with a frown. “There’s an
exit wound.”
“Yeah, I pulled it out.”
“Well, that was stupid of you. You could have died if those
goons pierced a blood feather.”
My temper flares. “Oh, as opposed to leaving it in. I’d rather
take my chances, thanks.” My voice is hostile, though I’m
grateful for his help. I still don’t know who he is or what he
wants, and my mother warned me to be on my guard.
River sits back on his haunches, sighs, and meets my eyes.
“Doesn’t look good. How long have you been here, kid? A day
or so?”
“I’m no kid. I’m seventeen.”
“Well, I’m eighteen. So, you’re a kid.”
“By what, a few whole months?” I snicker. “Okay. If a kid
free-climbed in the pitch-black up a hundred-foot cliff to get
here, I guess I’m a kid.”
After examining the wound, he says, “The damage looks
fixable. Let’s clean this well to prevent infection.”
“I’ve cleaned the wound.”
“Clean deeper,” he admonishes. “I don’t have antibiotics, but
I’ll try to get some. Or at least honey. Honey heals.”
He hesitates before retrieving water, then takes a rag from
his pouch and soaks the cloth. With the knife still in hand, he
comes closer.
“Look … You seem all right, but I’m a lone wolf. I operate
solo. You have a target with a big ‘X’ on your back. I feel bad for
you. I do. But you know how it is with our kind.” He gives me
a blatant look, so here’s your cue to leave.
“Gee, I’d kindly vacate the premises, but I can’t fly.”
He rubs the back of his neck, agitated. “The valley’s full of
drones. And they’ve got at least a dozen soldiers combing the
forest.”

“I’m sorry.” I shift my eyes down. “You never asked for any
of this.”
“None of us did,” he waves me off. “The soldiers are here.
I’m screwed either way.” He pauses and assesses me. “Stay the
night. Then after that, I’m sorry, but you need to find somewhere
else to hide.”
The night might be all I need. “Thank you.”

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Behind the Scenes: The Inspiration for Shadowed Skies

Every story has an origin, and Shadowed Skies was no exception. This novel was born out of a mix of inspiration, personal experience, and a love for dystopian adventure with a touch of the fantastical. Today, I’m taking you behind the scenes to explore how this story came to life—from its first spark of an idea to the fully realized world of the Evol-humans.

  • The Spark of an Idea

The first whispers of Shadowed Skies emerged during NaNoWriMo 2019. At the time, life was a whirlwind of responsibilities, and most of my writing sessions took place in the carpool lane while waiting for my kids. It was during those stolen moments that River and Delene’s world began to take shape. I wanted to write a story that blended high-stakes survival with the emotional depth of identity, freedom, and resistance.

  • Wings, Science, and the Ethics of Experimentation

I’ve always been fascinated by the intersection of science and ethics, particularly the unintended consequences of genetic experimentation. What if human beings were engineered for a purpose—only to be discarded when that purpose no longer suited their creators? This question became the foundation of Shadowed Skies and the plight of the Evol-humans. Designed as super-soldiers with avian DNA, they were meant to be resilient, capable of thriving in extreme environments. But as history often repeats, humanity fears what it does not understand. The same people who created the Evol-humans turned on them, leading to their persecution, imprisonment, and fight for survival.

  • A World Shaped by Dystopian Influences

I’ve always been drawn to dystopian fiction, from classics like 1984 and Brave New World to modern YA series like The Hunger Games and The Darkest Minds. These stories highlight resilience in the face of oppression, a theme that resonated deeply with me. However, I wanted to add a unique twist—rather than a purely tech-driven future, Shadowed Skies introduces an evolutionary shift, where biology itself becomes both a weapon and a weakness.

  • Survival in the Wild

Much of Shadowed Skies is set in rugged, mountainous landscapes, inspired by the breathtaking wilderness of Utah. I wanted to capture the raw beauty and danger of the wild—how nature can be both a sanctuary and a merciless force. River, one of the main characters, has learned to live off the land, a skill that not only defines his character but also plays a crucial role in the survival of those like him.

  • Characters with Heart and Struggle

At its core, this story is about two people who refuse to be caged—literally and figuratively. River, haunted by loss and determined to stay hidden, must confront his past and decide if he will fight for more than just his own survival. Delene, who has suffered unimaginable losses, refuses to let fear break her spirit. Their journey is one of trust, resilience, and ultimately, hope.

  • The Journey from Draft to Publication

Like any novel, Shadowed Skies went through multiple drafts, revisions, and deep dives into worldbuilding. Thanks to an incredible editorial team and supportive readers, the story transformed into what it is today—a thrilling blend of action, suspense, and heart.

  • Final Thoughts

Writing Shadowed Skies was an adventure, one that challenged me in ways I never expected. I hope readers find themselves lost in this world, rooting for River and Delene as they navigate a future shaped by both humanity’s cruelty and its potential for redemption.

Thank you for joining me on this behind-the-scenes look at Shadowed Skies! I’d love to hear from you—what are your favorite dystopian worlds, and what elements make them unforgettable to you?

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Haley Cavanagh is
a military veteran, wife, and mother. She was awarded the League of Utah
Writers 2020 Silver Quill Award for Retaliation, the second novel in her
Oceanstone Initiative series. Haley is an alumna of Columbia College, a musical
theater nut, and she loves to dive into any book that crosses her path. Haley
resides with her family in the United States and enjoys spending time with her
husband and children when she’s not writing. She loves to hear from her readers
and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.

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A Limited Edition Collection of YA Epic Fantasy Authors on
PreOrder for 99 Pennies!

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Beyond the Realms

A Young Adult Epic Fantasy Anthology

with stories by

K.M. Jenkins, Christina Wallace, Joli Campbell, Megan
Charlie, R.E. Joyce

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In lands far beyond our world heroes step forward to take on
epic journeys into the unknown. They must face the thrill of adventure, love,
and magic to find themselves as they go. But when fate plays with their
destiny, they find they are on a path they never saw coming. From SwordMasters
to Fae creatures you will find a mix of fantasy creatures that will keep you
reading until the very end. Grab this limited-edition box set before time runs
out.

Written by authors of Fantasy Romance and Epic Quests, this boxset is sure to
take you on an epic journey. Featuring tales by Christina Wallace, debut author
Joli Campbell, International Bestselling author K.M. Jenkins, Megan Charlie,
and R.E. Joyce fill these pages.

Twisting tales of battle, magic, intrigue, love, and tragedy. Perfect for those
looking for light romance with epic adventures to enjoy.

Genres: Young Adult, Epic
Fantasy, Swords and Sorcery, and Fantasy Romance

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, One
Bed, She saves herself, Strong female lead, Fae, Task-based quest/epic journey,
No spice second chance romance, Epic quest, Magical test, Facing ones fears,
Hero’s journey, The mentor, and Love triangle turned inside out.

**Only .99 cents!!**

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* Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub
* Goodreads

 

The Swordmaster
Brothers

by K.M. Jenkins

EVERY YEAR SWORDMASTERS ARE CHOSEN. But first they have to
be tested. Together, Rikkin and Roulle must endure the trials that will reveal
their greatest strengths and weaknesses and possibly lead to their deaths. Can
two brothers survive the challenge of the GrandMaster to become the next
generation of SwordMasters? Only through overcoming their greatest fears can
they change their destinies forever.

K.M. Jenkins is a published international bestselling author that
writes epic battles, forbidden romance, and tales of fantasy and adventure. She
has a big love for the fantasy genre and loves dragons above all creatures.

When she is not writing, you will find her chasing her twin boys around
the house. Between the three she has epic battles throughout the day and
nothing ever gets boring.

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Website * Facebook * Facebook * FB Group * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon
* Goodreads

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What if we
could be the heroes we pretend to be?

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Revary

by Abigail Linhardt

Genre: YA Epic Fantasy Adventure

In a small
Midwestern town, Celeste and her friends find escape from the pressures of
senior year through their tabletop roleplaying games. But when Celeste stumbles
upon a way to actually enter their imagined realm, fantasy becomes a reality.

Suddenly, the
friends find themselves living out their greatest adventure. In Revary, they
can be anyone they want: brave warriors, powerful mages, or cunning rogues. But
as they explore this magical world of their own creation, they discover it is
threatened by a mysterious force that is causing the fantastic world to vanish
into darkness.

With Revary
in peril and tensions rising in their world, Celeste and her friends must
navigate the blurring lines between imagination and reality. As they fight to
save their creation, they’ll confront fantastical dangers and the real-life
issues they’ve been avoiding.

“Revary is a spellbinding journey that explores the power of
friendship, the courage to face reality, and the magic of storytelling.”
–ARC Review

 

 

**NEW RELEASE!!**

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Abi works part-time as a
freelance ghostwriter, editor, audiobook narrator, and is one half of the
partnership that owns Altered Reality Magazine. She hopes to one day make these
passions her full-time job while she hunts for the next bohemian adventure.
She has published works of fiction, poetry, academia, and even won awards for
her short stories in science fiction and horror. Her novel, The Trial of Two,
was named an Honorable Mention in the Writer’s Digest 2021 self-publishing
awards and won first place in the dark fantasy category in The BookFest Awards.
Abi is also a proud mom of ferrets. She currently resides in Kansas.
She is one of nine children–all of whom share the creative spark.

 

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* Goodreads

 

 

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What if the key to saving the world lies in the one creature
everyone learned to fear?

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Dragons, Mermaids, Elves… and Kitsune?

Keeper of Dragons: Aprella Academy Book 1

by J.A. Culican

Genre: YA Fantasy, Ranobe

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What if the key to
saving the world lies in the one creature everyone learned to fear?

Rhyden was supposed to stay hidden in Ochana, the floating
realm of dragons—isolated ever since Prince Jago’s mysterious death. But with
an unshakable sense of duty, he defies his people’s decree and enrolls at
Aprella Academy, a legendary school where mermaids, elves, fairies, and kitsune
shape the world’s magic.

Arriving as the first dragon on campus in a century, Rhyden
becomes an instant sensation—and not everyone is thrilled about it. Whispers
circulate that the wards protecting the academy are failing. A priceless
artifact has been stolen, dark forces lurk in hidden corridors, and rumors
blame the sudden “dragon presence” for the danger creeping past the gates.

Teaming up with a ragtag circle of new friends—Kairo the
mermaid warrior torn between land and sea, Fenrick the kitsune trickster hiding
unexpected insecurities, Talyssa the elf struggling to atone for her people’s
past, and Lirien the quiet fairy sensing a looming evil—Rhyden races to unmask
the culprit. Yet ominous illusions and shocking betrayals await at every turn,
threatening to shatter the fragile trust he’s begun to build.

When Rhyden’s draconic power finally awakens, it’s as
explosive as the secrets that forced dragons into hiding long ago. Determined
to reclaim the dragon legacy and protect a world that once shunned his kind, he
soon learns that defeating hidden enemies may require forging alliances beyond
imagination—and confronting a darkness older than the academy itself.

Dive into a ranobe-inspired tale of epic magic, unlikely
friendships, and one dragon shifter trying to light the path forward in a realm
built on shadows. Will Rhyden spark a new era for dragons—or remind the world
why they vanished in the first place?

Perfect for fans of
magical academies, secret conspiracies, and unstoppable teamwork, Keeper
of Dragons: Aprella Academy
 is your next addictive fantasy read.

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* Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub
* Goodreads

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Flames crackled around my hands as I let the fire within surge free. My skin prickled—scales rippling in a rush of raw power—and I felt wings tear from my back. Even the masked intruder froze for a heartbeat.
“Dragons vanished for a reason,” the figure hissed, voice warped by dark magic.
I exhaled, heat fueling every breath. “Not anymore.”

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J.A. Culican is a USA Today Bestselling author of the middle
grade fantasy series Keeper of Dragons. Her first novel in the fictional series
catapulted a trajectory of titles and awards, including top selling author on
the USA Today bestsellers list and Amazon, and a rightfully earned spot as an
international best seller. Additional accolades include Best Fantasy Book of
2016, Runner-up in Reality Bites Book Awards, and 1st place for Best Coming of
Age Book from the Indie book Awards.

J.A. Culican holds a Master’s degree in Special Education
from Niagara University, in which she has been teaching special education for
over 13 years. She is also the president of the autism awareness non-profit
Puzzle Peace United. J.A. Culican resides in Southern New Jersey with her
husband and four young children.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon
* Goodreads

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Immortal Dark

by Shermon Kodi

 

Publication date: March 10th 2025
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

The shadows awaken as darkness falls. And these shadows have fangs.

Seventeen-year-old Bexis has survived the frozen streets of Coppejj by trusting no one but herself. With her shadow magic, she’s scraped by as a freelance thief, working for local gang lords and politicians.

But when a routine heist goes horribly wrong, Bexis is branded with ancient magic, making her the target of a bloodthirsty spirit.

Desperate for answers, she turns to an eccentric demon hunter. Together, they uncover a deadly plot by a sinister cabal, threatening to plunge the world into eternal night. As Bexis confronts her haunted past, she faces a grim choice: Embrace the shadows within, or lose everything she holds dear.

To destroy the darkness, she must first become it.

Add to Goodreads

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The job is simple.

Enter the room unseen. Wait for Ajjan to distract the mark—a foreign dignitary from the south. Then acquire her handbag and deliver it to the other side of town.

No blood. No trace.

My employer was very specific about that last bit. It’s common protocol in my line of work, along with an understanding that pay will be docked by half if I’m spotted. If there’s blood, I might not get paid at all. My mark must never know I was here. Personally, I thought I’d outgrown grabbing purses in the night. But it’s an easy job, and I can use the money.

The red night moon casts the world in crimson light as I pull myself onto the third-story balcony of a slummy brothel in the west end. The window is webbed with ice, obscuring my view inside—I can only make out pale blotches of yellow light. There doesn’t seem to be any movement, but I can’t be sure the room is empty. I just have to hope the Blackbones did their job and set everything up.

I give the windowpane a shove, but it doesn’t budge. Damn. The thing hasn’t been opened in months, and it’s frozen shut. For a common thief, a frozen window stymies a job. But I’m no common thief.

I take out my trapper tone pipe, a metal cylinder with a single reed, tuned to one specific note. The reflective surface catches light from the lanterns below, illuminating my name inscribed along the side in big bold letters: BEXIS. It was a gift from my deadbeat father right before he abandoned me. It’s the last thing I have from him, and if it weren’t so damn useful, I’d have tossed it years ago.

I bring the pipe to my lips and blow. The note is inaudible, like a dog whistle, too high for the human ear to hear. But the vibration weaves through the air and seeps into my skin, where it sparks like flint on steel, and a sonorous ember catches deep in my chest. Resonance hums through my body. The ambient darkness around me shimmers with feathered lines of silver that only I can see.

A burst of power shudders through me, and I hold it within my realm of focus, like cupping a candle against a sea wind.

This is resonance trapping—the first step in performing harmonic magic. Mine is the harmony of shadow. Sparking the ember is the easy part. Trapping it is more difficult, but holding it once it’s been trapped? Well, that’s like riding an angry wolverine. If I’m not careful, I might lose control, and people could get hurt. It’s been months since that’s happened, but there’s always a chance the resonance will lash out, sending me into an episode of uncontrollable power.

Resonance quivers through my veins. I reach my hand to the glass, willing the vibration into my fingertips, and the shadows obey. Tendrils of silver swirl across my wrist and through my palm. I touch the windowpane, and the shadows run through it, seeping like oil into the hinges.

The window squeals as ice crumbles around the edges.

I shift my awareness to the space above my head. Resonance purrs in my chest as I weave gossamer strands of silver around me like a cloak. This is my greatest trick. So long as I can hold the resonance and have enough ambient shadow to work with, I can conceal myself from prying eyes. But I can’t maintain it for long; already, I can feel my energy beginning to drain as heaviness settles behind my eyes.

Best be quick now.

I heave the window open and squeeze inside.

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About Author Shermon Kodi:

Shermon Kodi is a legally blind author who finds inspiration in the quiet knolls of Chittenden County, Vermont, where the long snowy winters drive one to pair wool socks with moccasin slippers and curl up by the furnace with a pot of chamomile tea and a book about monsters in dark places doing dark things. Through his writing, Shermon seeks to explore the resilience of the human spirit, the tenacity of good people faced with hard times, and the relationships that light us up, make our hearts smile, and carry us through every storm.

When he’s not writing, Shermon spends his time thinking about writing.

He knows this is a problem— although, he contends, it’s a good kind of problem to have. Occasionally, he’ll break from his routines and really let go— sleep in till 7 AM, drink tea instead of coffee, read in the mornings, or plug in the ’07 Strat and reminisce about the days when he dreamed of being a rockstar instead of an author.

He’ll be the first to tell you: “No regrets!”

Life is funny like that.

Shermon is the author of Heart of the Valley and Songs of the Rhor, both available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. Stay connected on TikTok and Instagram for updates on his latest books, behind-the-scenes insights, and creative content.

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 When truths uncovered cannot be forgotten. Or forgiven.

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Faeries Don’t Forgive

Heart of the Worlds Book 2

by TF Burke

Genre: YA Epic Fantasy

 

Returning to Nonderu,
the underworld court, to rescue her dad should have been simple after the
malevolent soul-sucking Boggleman fell to his presumable demise. They just need
to find a way in. And get past the Mockmen trolls.

Instead, Aunia is attacked by a fanatical soldier cult that seeks to kill or
capture her. Plus, her unmanageable magic notifies deadly wererats of her
location. It also hurls her into an evil sorceress’ study. If all this wasn’t
enough, she’s fighting a different battle with Mathias, her pegasus-riding
love. His insistence to keep her hidden is more infuriating than any of their
enemies. It leaves her determined to kick anyone who says first love is easy.

Worst of all are the truths she’s uncovering. Truths that can’t be forgotten.
Or forgiven.

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

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Chapter Seventeen

Clurichauns

What makes a man something worth admiring and when will you doubt his worth? — Queen Didianne, in the reign of the mad queen

A buzzing brushed Aunia’s skin like a hive of bees as she lurched in a mad attempt to keep her footing. The smell of woods, perfumes, and herbs had disappeared and in its place was the stench of waste, unfamiliar food, and burning metal.

A village-full of voices swirled within the buzzing . . . one pulled at her plaintively, though she couldn’t make out the words. Dust skated over Aunia’s feet as she appeared in a long boxed-in area surrounded by bulging timber buildings covered in faded paint and smeared pitch. And pressed within this area were more people than she had seen in her entire life.

“I said let the child go,” a gruff voice said from behind her.

Aunia swiveled.

An older man with a broken-nose, well-muscled and tall, like Oskan from her village, stood in front of two men in red cloaks.

“We don’t take orders from you, Mason,” the shorter of the two red-cloaked men said. He yanked a small boy towards him by the arm and the child’s sandy-haired head bounced off his chest.

“He’s hungry is all,” the broken-nose man said. “I’ll pay for him.”

“Bugger off,” the red cloak said.

Aunia stepped forward. “You can’t let a child go hungry.”

Several of the people glared at her.

“Shut your mouth, rover,” said a pillar-built woman with a messy bun, brown hair streaked in gray. She stood in front of a building with large windows and a swinging sign, which read ‘Forged Tankard.’ “Ain’t no food he stole.”

“Brana,” the broken-nosed man growled.

The woman rolled her eyes and pushed past him, holding up a small ring with two finger-length keys. “Missing these?”

The larger of the two red-cloaked men reached under his cloak patted his side, and his face turned red. “It’s the stocks for ye, boy.”

The boy dropped to the cobblestones and the shorter, red-cloaked man yanked him back one-handed. Held his other hand high to strike.

“Stop it,” Aunia yelled.

The larger of the red-cloaked men turned in her direction.

“Not the stocks.” A bearded man in a long-sleeved patchwork tunic, white powder streaks along his sleeves, stepped forward. “You’ve the boy’s mother in custody already. She was an unbraceleted faeblood. He’d be the same. You know it. It’s prison he should go.”

Faces pressed against the glass windows of the Forged Tankard’s tavern. Some folk stepped forward. Others melted back, including the broken-nosed man.

Aunia shook. Taya was indeed right of cities being dangerous. If this was how they treated small children . . . but what could she do? She was only one in a crowd.

“Stop,” she slid back, beseeching the broken-nose man. “You have to help. He’s just a boy.”

But the man slid into a narrow alleyway between the tavern and another building, and past a pig rooting in a pile of broken barrels, jugs, food scraps, and rags.

“She ain’t my mom,” the child screamed. “Not my real one. She picked me out of the garbage. I was just a slave to her.”

The taller, red-cloaked man yanked the child’s sleeve up. “Unbraceleted. You. Run to the Yanna’s forge. Grab a cuff. Now.”

“Don’t be thinking of calling on any magic,” the shorter, red-cloaked man said, bending to sneer those words in the child’s face.

“I’m . . . not a faeblood.” The child stopped his struggling and with his wrist in the guard’s grip, pointed in Aunia’s direction. “That’s the one you want. A real faeblood. Didn’t you see? She just skipped out of nowhere.”

The larger man straightened. “You. Rover.”

Aunia backed away, nearly colliding with a press of people guarding her back. Rover? But of course, she was wearing their garb. And by their expression and harsh tone, they did not like rovers.

“Don’t think you’re going anywhere,” one woman in a dark gray gown said.

Faeblood . . . this is how the people saw Reina. “I’ve . . . I’m looking for flyers,” Aunia said. “I flew with them over the Grashbear. Mathias. Keston. Fallo. You’ve had to have seen them. This is Dalin, isn’t it?”

The scowls of the people deepened. They shuffled closer. People in front of her and behind her, but the alleyway . . . could she flee with that pig in the way? Pig. She blinked. It had a quilted cloth saddle fastened around its girth with knotted cloth straps. And stitched cloth saddlebags hanging along the pig’s side. Who would be riding a pig?

[for a 700+ word excerpt use the verbiage above OR include the rest of the chapter for just under 1500 words]

“Look alive,” a raspy voice sounded.

Aunia squinted. Amongst the broken wooden boxes and broken jars, two little men, shin-high, drank from a clay jar over half the size they were. Clurichauns with their rosy, weathered faces. They were solitary beings generally. The last time she saw one was in Gaitha’s basement lapping up a bit of spilled apple brandy.

Someone, the taller red-cloak, grabbed Aunia’s upper arm and a raw thrill, like a sharp nail, rose through her throat. “Leave me be.”

She yanked. He held her firm, his fingers pressing into her flesh like a vise.

The adrenaline spike landed against the pit of her stomach like a stone. Mygul. She sucked in a breath, squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to coax a pinching sensation in her temples. Nothing. Her mouth turned to dry paper. Did she even have her glowing blue globefire anymore? She hadn’t seen it since the Boggleman’s veil tendril lodged itself in her gut when she stood on Hebsolum’s palm. Did that mean Hebsolum had it? Hebsolum, the thief who took her mother’s amulet. The only good thing he had done was to help her cage the roiling blue storm cloud made of Edvaras’ magic . . . but her bit of magic . . . the one that caused mischief, made her an outcast, kept her safe. He must have taken it, too.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Prison. Was that where they were sending her? How would Mathias even find her? A soft mew escaped her and Aunia shook her head. She couldn’t show weakness. And there were clurichauns. Faeries often would help her. Would these?

She turned her head to the alleyway where the clurichauns swilled leftover booze from broken crockery. “Help me.”

One of the clurichauns looked her way, bright eyes going wide. “She sees us.” His voice, gravelly and sing-song, sounded over the clamor of human voices.

“She don’t.” The blonder of the two clapped the auburn one’s shoulder. “She do. Drat it. On our way, Sharpish.” He pointed to the pig.

“She be the one Mara made mention.”

“We can’t be making the Boggles mad now, can we, you know,” the blonde one said. “We go.”

The Boggles? Did he mean the Boggleman? Aunia struggled against her restraint. “I want to, too.”

“Want to what?” the red-cloaked man sneered.

“Want you to let go,” Aunia said between her teeth. “You’re hurting me.”

The man tightened his grip. “I’m barely holding you.”

Aunia struggled toward the alleyway. Saying please would cause possible faery aid to disappear but what poem could she utter? Aunia groaned. “Help me now it’s good folk fashion. Aid to for those who seek compassion.”

“You call that a poem,” the blonde clurichaun said. He shook his head then made a running jump onto the pig’s back. His green pants contrasted with the wine-stained saddle. “Come on, brother.”

“Brandy. I’ll bring you brandy,” Aunia yelled.

“No one bribes the guard.” The stinging heat from his slap rang into her cheekbones. “Where’s that Davis? Cuff her good and she can blubber whatever nonsense with the other lobheads.

“Don’t know,” the shorter of the red-cloaked men said. He still clutched the boy’s arm. “But that face is sweet even with your handprint.”

“Ah, that’s done it,” Sharply said. “Dismount, Gargle. Now.”

Gargle patted the saddle. “There’s another tavern were—”

“Certain things don’t get done. Now off brother, lest you go for a ride.”

The two clurichauns glared at each other while some of the townsfolk shuffled aside and a thin man with iron cuffs jogged forward.

Gargle dismounted. “It’s on you if this is a bad decision.”

“I’m always the one you blame.” Sharply scooped up the neck of a broken bottle, drew his arm back and made a mighty throw at the pig’s backside. It hit with a thunk and the pig gave a squeal. People standing at the mouth of the alleyway fell back as the pig pelted straight for Aunia and the red-cloaked man.

“Doxy-churl,” the guardsmen swore. He staggered back, pulling Aunia with him out of the way but Aunia yanked with everything she had in the other direction. The man’s fingers slid over her upper arm painfully. There was the sharp rip of fabric. And then she was free.

Aunia ran.

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Faeries Don’t Lie

Heart of the Worlds Book 1

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Can Two Worlds Survive an Augury?

Releasing a Chandarion’s god-like magic into the world isn’t what
sixteen-year-old Aunia, the village’s outcast, intends. She only wants to
impress Mathias, a visiting seventeen-year-old pegasus flyer, who fiercely
believes the choice—either Faery or Mortal world surviving—has come.

Her action calls forth the Boggleman, a soul-sucking ghoul, who abducts her
dad, eats her faery friends, and sets Dagel demons on her isolated village. And
worse.

The worlds of Ahnu-Endynia are full of faeries, pegasi flyers, myths, secrets,
and themes of belonging, despite being misunderstood. And if you don’t watch
carefully . . . You might be pulled into the Betwixt. . . the space between the
worlds.

**On Sale
for Only .99cents!**

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Explaining true love to a garden faery wasn’t easy. Aunia tapped her pitchfork against the stone-slabbed floor and wrinkled her nose against the golden dust while her faery friend, Jennium, landed between a nanny goat’s ears. The escaped animal froze in place in front of the long wooden goat pens while the faery sat cross-legged on her furry perch, folding her iridescent wings, purples, blues, and yellows.

Another of Jennium’s mind-pictures arose in Aunia’s head. This one was of the villagers, old and young, dancing arm-in-arm in twisting steps around a bonfire—fiery sparks rising to the stars.

“That’s the party afterwards. True love is how you feel. How your heart would give away every constellation to see your beloved smile.” Aunia flipped her blond braid over her shoulder and wished she could disappear into the slithering crack along the stable’s high-vaulted ceiling—or, better yet, fly away to the faery world . . .if that doorway wasn’t watched. “But like I said, there’s no one here for me.”

Unlike the two lovers exchanging mating beads this night, she would stand in the shadows as an outcast, too different to be accepted. At sixteen years of age, she needed to accept this would be her life. She scooped another pitchfork of dirty hay onto the dung heap.

Jennium propelled another image—Aunia’s father standing, back turned and shoulders slumped, at his favorite fishpond. The faery tipped her raven-haired head as if to ask, “And where’s your father’s true love?”

Aunia’s hands slid on the pitchfork. She couldn’t answer that. Her father refused to talk about her. But it was obvious he clung to her memory—whoever she was. And he had to have loved her real mom desperately. Why else would he have treated Nehla like a sister. A sister he couldn’t save from being skewered by a wild boar. An accident. An awful, terrible accident.

Stomping, Aunia passed the long pen of bleating goats and turned up the middle junction of horse stalls to the quadruple-sized hay-less stall that had been Nehla’s pottery work area. She frowned at the grain buckets lining the shoulder-high wall where clay boards used to stand. She padded to Nehla’s pottery wheel, draped with a green and yellow blanket, and pressed her knuckles against the scratchy wool. Three years later and it still hurt.

With a light jingle, Jennium landed on Aunia’s head and projected another image—a woman’s silhouette, but not Nehla.

Aunia pulled her hand away from the pottery wheel. For a moment, she made out the curve of the woman’s left cheek, so like her own. Then, the silhouette was gone.

“I don’t remember my mother,” Aunia said. “But she probably had faery sight like me. Maybe she could even see people’s glows.”

A whiny buzz brushed against Aunia’s hair and a shiny green bug dove behind the stall’s black walnut wood.

Jennium launched up, and Aunia winced at the tug, reaching to free the faery’s tiny feet from her braid. Jennium yanked through, chittering, and landed on an empty pottery shelf—one that rested on iron spikes nailed into the wall. Those spikes had been made from Nehla’s sacrificed pot hooks to keep faeries from breaking freshly made bowls.

“How are you—”

A screech from the stable’s front door sent Aunia crouching behind the pottery wheel.

“The bottle in the back ought to muffle the evening proper,” said Sigmus with his deep wheezy voice.

Aunia tensed. Her father’s closest friend would still be livid about the faeries shoving tadpoles in his boots from yesterday’s yesterday. But it had been his own fault. He had insulted the water fae.

Aunia tiptoed forward and peeked over the stall’s wall. These two were supposed to be stacking wood for the cooking fires. Her father’s head and shoulders, glowing with his usual brick-red aura, seem to float above the horse pen-wall—or did until he dodged a buzzing insect.

Sigmus swiveled, cracking his hands together, presumably squashing the bug. “Ain’t no grace-fall smushing your own pest.”

Dad jutted his jaw. “I can’t do that.”

“And you get a grumping every beading.”

Dad’s red glow dulled. “I am happy for them.”

“Sure. It makes all the sense you hankering to sneak off to the sheep cave.”

“Fish pond,” Dad clarified.

“Well, I’ve a better idea. Wait here.” Sigmus waddled up the middle aisle toward her.

Aunia ducked, pressing a hand over her mouth. Her sigh filled her palm when his footfalls veered toward the nearby tack and storage room.

Sheep-cave? No one was allowed near them. Dad himself had told her the Boggleman lived there now. She eased to a trousered knee and considered. Sigmus was probably just saying that for shock and her father was looking to wander off to be alone.

She had wanted to sneak away earlier, too. Sneak past the gate-minders to the woods for a game of tag with the moss-gnomes or maybe cajole a dryad into playing a whistle-tune. She had almost made it through the gate but got caught, so she ran and hid in the stable.

Aunia leaned against the chest-high wall. It would be better to stay with faery friends instead of being in the village.

The tack room door grumbled open, followed with chalky scuffles from dried leather and thud-clack of ceramics. Sigmus hooted. He probably stashed another bottle of the apothecary’s cider brandy.

Sigmus exited the tack room, popped the bottle, and shouted, “Figure you’ll get a fair healing, spilling out your sorrows.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” her father called back.

Stars. How long am I going to need to hide while they drink?

Sigmus pranced past her stall. Aunia inched forward. Her father stood about ten yards from her in the middle aisle and close to the dung heap.

“Ah, so you say,” Sigmus said. “But I knows these beading ceremonies remind you of yer Tamorian lady wife.”

Tamorian? Lightning crackled in Aunia’s belly and erupted against the back of her throat. “You’ll tell him about my mother but not me.”

Dad whirled in her direction, his glow retreating to a scant fingers-width around his head. She marched out of the pen while Sigmus stepped in her way.

“Move, Sigmus,” she said. “I’m talking to my father. My dad, not yours.”

Sigmus raised his hand. “You’re supposed to be stirring them stew pots.”

“Like you gathering wood?” Aunia tried sidestepping him but Sigmus’ elbow clipped the side of her head. She hunched-over, wishing she could melt Sigmus “Sourling-Beast” into pudding ash.

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TF Burke currently
works with NYT David Farland’s Apex-Writers as an admin and marketing
specialist, where she schedules industry leaders for weekly multi-Zoom calls,
provides content for social posts, and hosts several writer-focused Zooms.

Her published works includes hundreds of newspaper articles, blog posts across
various platforms, anthologies, including MURDERBUGS, the second volume of the
Unhelpful Encyclopediam a collection of short stories in WHIRL OF THE FAE, and
the first book of the Heart of the Worlds Series, FAERIES DON’T LIE.

When not writing or wearing other hats, she can be found with a sword and a
dagger in her hands for medieval-style fencing tournaments and melees,
something she’s been doing since 2010.

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Sins of the Fire
by Phoenix Ward

 

(Sins of the Fire, #1)
Publication date: September 13th 2024
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Young Adult

No one knows dragons coexisted with humans.

Ancient times long past, we shared magic, weapons and even our very souls with these creatures. Society’s connection between them spanned the test of time, through art, stories, and spoken word. Yet though depictions remain, they no longer exist.

Christian armies, believing these creatures to be devils, laid siege to end their species in a wild pursuit of their Promised Land. Bloodshed for nearly two centuries suddenly came to an end. Concurrently, those winged beasts, admired and feared, were extinguished without a trace.

It’s 2028, and the Crusades are talked about in my college classes. One dragon was able to escape it all by sealing itself in a blade. If such a blade existed, and anyone were to lift it today, they’d reignite the war long dormant—An affront on God himself.

I’m Kane, by the way. Kane Wynde. And this is Mysherra, the affront to God.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

“You shall be tied to the blade, for as long as your mind and spirit remain. Is this acceptable?”

The earth shook, and the rumble of fire howled from outside of the cave. An ultimatum laid before me. To bind myself within the blade would mean giving up my freedom for eternity. To fight a war that threatened to burn the earth to its core would mean my death. The Gods have brought upon us a calamity no mortal could ever hope to quell. Humans who were once close to us rallied for our demise. Our kind torched them, their lands, and their ilk in sport. Whichever side won, there would be no true victor. Only ash.

Would it be acceptable to live the rest of my life as a weapon? Would it be better if I died fighting a lost cause?

Imprisonment or death; my options were narrow.

Looking down at the human, dressed in burns, I pondered what he thought. He bore no hatred. He held no contempt for my kind after what happened. He agreed to fight alongside me with eyes ablaze with passion. I wondered why. What would make someone turn a blind eye to the wounds inflicted by a beast of my caliber? What allowed him to grace my hand, still slick with the residue of death, and find camaraderie in the midst of devastation?

The silence of the cave was beginning to draw on my senses, my own thoughts starting to cloud the noise of the carnage.

We agreed to fight together, but fear was a wise and stringent guide. Regardless of it, I had to make a choice.

“This is acceptable.”

“In doing this, you will relinquish your body. Your essence shall be ripped completely from within. Your magic, your strength and your flames will be in the hands of your wielder. Is this acceptable?”

My heart shuddered. It would hurt. I would die, yet I would live. What would happen to my body? Would my heart sit in silence, left to rot in its empty temple? Would my flesh be torn away with my spirit? Again, I looked towards the human. His gaze held mine. Though twisted and bloated, he held me in their comfort. He smiled. He did not need to reassure me with words nor tender touch.

“This is acceptable.”

“The process shall span the turn of the moon. With the dawn, you shall awaken in your new form. Do you accept the terms  of the pact?”

“I accept.”

The dragon’ s eyes flashed. “The terms have been set, and the pact is complete. May fortune favor you, Mysherra.”

As the sword began to gleam, I closed my eyes.

Tingling spread across my body as the sensation of my insides were pulled from within me. And thus, through a pain that transcended anything inflicted upon my hide of scales, I accepted my fate.

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About Author Phoenix Ward:

Phoenix Ward is an indie black writer, and educator from Philadelphia. He has worked in the field of education for over five years, teaching all grades Mathematics and English. When he’s not writing, he is composing music using Logic Pro X, or tutoring children on subjects they struggle in. Currently, he lives in Philadelphia with his dog and cat.

An avid world-builder, Phoenix has created many stories from youth to adulthood, but none have captivated him as much as his latest work Sins of the Fire, which combines his passion for storytelling with his deep understanding of human nature. He draws inspiration from the vibrant city life of Philadelphia and his own experiences as an educator, infusing his narratives with authenticity and depth.

In addition to his work as a writer and educator, Phoenix is committed to supporting young creatives in their journeys. He actively encourages students and adults alike to seek a way to create their own stories. Everyone has a message to share, and doing so in story is the best way to do so.

Website / Goodreads

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;

Dare to dream. Dare to believe. Dare to embrace your
legacy.

,

Orphan Pascal and his friends Paloma and Pierrot dive into
the mystery of children disappearing in the enchanting land of The Vale.

.

The Harlequin’s Legacy

Book 1

by Andrés Rosas Hott

Genre: YA Fantasy

Dare to dream. Dare to believe. Dare to embrace your
legacy.

In the enchanting land of The Vale, the grand city of Pivot
stands as a beacon of innovation where scientific progress clashes with the
now-dwindling beliefs in magic that the place once held.

Just outside of Pivot, 17-year-old Pascal has spent his life
at The Skystead Home for Orphaned Children. Life outside the orphanage seems
ceaselessly interesting, and shielded from the rest of the world, he wants
nothing more than to explore. Already puzzled by unanswered questions about his
past, Pascal’s concern deepens as he learns about a grim mystery of local
children’s disappearances.

In pursuit of finding his place in life, Pascal is joined by
Paloma—a street-savvy girl and former gang leader with a tragic past—and
Pierrot—a silent, enigmatic companion. Together, the unlikely trio begins to
sneak out of the orphanage to experience the one place that still embraces
magic: the welcoming carnival.

As secrets begin to unravel, the truth unveils hidden powers
within each of these three young adventurers. Their friendships are challenged
as they overcome demons, both inside and outside themselves. Yet, each step
brings them closer to the truth: a sinister plot that threatens the very fabric
of their world.

Before they know it, the fate of the missing children has
become inextricably intertwined with their own.

The Harlequin’s Legacy is a gripping tale
of adventure, friendship, and self-discovery. Pascal, Paloma, and Pierrot trust
in their inner courage and resilience to reach their true potential despite
trials and tribulations. This story encourages everyone to dare to dream, to
believe in themselves, and embrace the legacy that awaits them.

Adventure, magic, and self-discovery await! Are
you ready to join Pascal and his friends as they uncover hidden secrets and
embrace a timeless legacy? Witness the journey firsthand—grab your copy
of The Harlequin’s Legacy today and become part of the story!

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Meet Andrés Rosas Hott, an emerging voice in literature and
the author of The Harlequin’s Legacy. With a master’s in Graphic
Design and Illustration from Konstfack University and a background as a
commercial director, Andrés blends creativity and storytelling in captivating
ways.

His debut novel, inspired by his favorite character, The
Harlequin, combines fantasy with themes of courage, identity, and personal
growth. Based in Stockholm, Sweden, Andrés balances his creative pursuits with
family life, finding inspiration in both the imagination and his loved
ones. The Harlequin’s Legacy is just the beginning of an
exciting journey into fantasy and self-discovery.

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Tale of the Seasons’ Weaver

by D. Wallace Peach

 

 

Publication date: January 9th 2024
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

.
“Already the animals starve. Soon the bonemen will follow, the Moss Folk and woodlings, the watermaids and humans. Then the charmed will fade. And all who will roam a dead world are dead things. Until they too vanish for lack of remembering. Still, Weaver, it is not too late.”

In the frost-kissed cottage where the changing seasons are spun, Erith wears the Weaver’s mantle, a title that tests her mortal, halfling magic. As the equinox looms, her first tapestry nears completion—a breathtaking ode to spring. She journeys to the charmed isle of Innishold to release the beauty of nature’s awakening across the land.

But human hunters have defiled the enchanted forest and slaughtered winter’s white wolves. Enraged by the trespass, the Winter King seizes Erith’s tapestry and locks her within his ice-bound palace. Here, where comfort and warmth are mere glamours, she may weave only winter until every mortal village succumbs to starvation, ice, and the gray wraiths haunting the snow.

With humanity’s fate on a perilous edge, Erith must break free of the king’s grasp and unravel a legacy of secrets. In a charmed court where illusions hold sway, allies matter, foremost among them, the Autumn Prince. Immortal and beguiling, he offers a tantalizing future she has only imagined, one she will never possess—unless she claims her extraordinary power to weave life from the brink of death.

In the lyrical fantasy tradition of Margaret Rogerson and Holly Black, D. Wallace Peach spins a spellbinding tale of magic, resilience, and the transformative potency of tales—a tapestry woven with peril and hope set against the frigid backdrop of an eternal winter.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

A wicker basket of colorful spools rested at my feet. I picked through the bewitched thread my mother had hand-spun long before my birth. No matter how many seasons passed, the spools unwound and unwound, and I no longer fretted about reaching their ends. There was no end to magic, no end to the seasons, no end to my place on the cusp of two worlds.

A delicate pink caught my eye, a color crafted from the cherry blossoms bordering my garden. I held it against the tapestry, testing its suitability for flowering plum trees and coral bells I’d stitch into the meadows and along the forest’s edge.

“Should you desire my opinion, Erith,” a small voice piped up, “it requires a touch of carnation and a shimmer of sunshine. On the dogwood blossoms as well.”

“I wondered about those.” My gaze rose to my knee-high hospet. He sat cross-legged on the hearthstone in front of our shrinking fire, cracking walnuts with his sharp teeth. The creature blinked at me with eyes as clear as spring water, his waistcoat buttoned, cheeks rosy, and cinnamon hair parted in the middle like a magistrate. Nobbin kept my wood and moss cottage tidy, expecting little beyond customary respect and an occasional outfit when his garments aged past mending.

He also took it upon himself to offer artistic advice since my mother had chosen to join my father in the underworld.

“I might leave them as they are,” I said. “Dogwoods are white.”

Nobbin’s eyebrows tilted up in an expression of devilish skepticism. “Spring’s princess will agree with me. Give it a brush of magic. I know you dabble when I’m otherwise occupied.”

“You spy on me?”

“I’m observant. And I’m charmed.” He flicked his handcloth at the window. “Snow doesn’t glitter like that without your touch, my girl. You added that sparkle to your mother’s tapestry, and it impressed the Winter King.”

“Do you think so?” A blush heated my cheeks. “From what I’ve gathered, he’s not one to dole out compliments.”

“None of them are.” Nobbin held up a nut as if inspecting a precious gem. “Such is the nature of immortals. Add a layer of royalty on top, and we are lucky they don’t dismember anyone or anything tarnishing their crowns.”

“Dismember?” I cringed at the grisly thought and drew my black shawl around my shoulders. “My mother told me the courtiers are kind and cruel in equal measure. Without good reason for either.”

Not one to speak with his mouth full, Nobbin raised a finger and swallowed a morsel of walnut. “Indeed, they’re notoriously whimsical. But you are their weaver, and every artist must begin somewhere. You will earn your place, Erith, though it is no simple task to prove your power and demand respect. Spring is the first tapestry you may claim as your own creation, and it is a glorious start. I have untold faith in you.”

I smiled gratefully and stifled a shudder at the challenge ahead. Despite Nobbin’s trust in me, my confidence wavered like a weathervane on a gusty day. I’d done my best, and it would have to serve. The seasons’ rulers wouldn’t dismember me on a whim. I hoped.

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About Author D. Wallace Peach:

Best-selling author D. Wallace Peach grew up surrounded by her father’s well-loved paperback books. Fantasy was a staple, but it was Tolkien’s The Hobbit that planted the seeds which would grow into a passion for writing.

Peach started writing later in life when years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books. She was instantly hooked.
In addition to fantasy books, Peach’s publishing career includes participation in various anthologies featuring short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. She’s an avid supporter of the arts in her local community, organizing and publishing annual anthologies of Oregon prose, poetry, and photography.
Peach lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two owls, a horde of bats, and the occasional family of coyotes.

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