Read a Chapter Month 6

 Coming of age fantasy

ON AMAZON

The Peace Summit was in shambles, the prince kidnapped. When the rival king realizes he kidnapped the wrong prince, hostilities escalate. Loyalties to each other and country are tested for the twin princes of Crato, Joachim and Brandan. Joachim, captive of King Waldrom, faces deception and betrayal as he struggles to find his way home. Brandan, at home with a father focused on rescuing Joachim, wrestles with his own demons as he searches for his place in the world and the favor of his father. Torn from the safety and peace of their childhood, they are thrust into a world where bonds of family, brotherhood and roles as heirs to Crato are tested. Through war, spiritual journeys, death and marriage, will they choose the path of good or evil? Who can be trusted, as the world they know slips into a whirlpool of chaos?

Read a Chapter

My Dearest Lilia,

I am sure after these many years you have come to see the error of your ways in choosing Theodric over me. I am willing to forgive your transgressions and welcome you to my castle and my god, Sidramah. To make you even more comfortable, you may bring one of your children with you. Waldrom

* * * * Seven Years Later:

Queen Lilia stood by the doorway of the aerie at the top of the castle. A gentle breeze blew the scent of liliads through the open doors. Tapestries depicting Asha covered the stone walls. It was sparsely furnished with a wooden desk, chairs, a table, and bookshelves. Portraits of the princes were interspersed between potted miniature rosas. She took off the ceremonial day robe and tossed it on an armchair, leaving a simple white dressing gown. She removed the petite crown and placed it on the desk. Finally, she pulled the white ribbon out of a braid, freeing the hair to fall loose around her shoulders.

Her lady in waiting delivered a letter. “My Queen.”

After the servant departed, Lilia closed the door and picked up the letter. It was from her old school friend, King Waldrom. Slowly she read it.

I will forever love you, but I find it hard to believe you left me to spend your days in the drudgery of my enemy’s kingdom with his false god. My lord would have given you more.

Soon you will know the pain I have felt these many years since you went away.

There will be no peace for you, or Theodric, as long as you remain with him.

Your only hope is to forsake him and come to me.

W

The letter dropped from her hand as a slow chill crept up her spine. She grabbed her shawl and went to the crackling fireplace, but still the chill would not go away. The evil message clawed at her heart until she could stand it no longer. She snatched the page from the floor and flung it into the hungry flames.

“I will protect my family from you and your evil, Waldrom,” Lilia vowed, as the paper burned, hissing and twisting like a snake set on fire. When the last of the charred paper floated up the chimney, she knew where to turn for help. Lilia ran down the hall to find Rupert, the words of Waldrom’s letter echoing in her head.

* * * *

Joachim stood and watched his twin brother, Brandan, practice the re-growth spell Master Adept Croifan was teaching them. Why must Brandan always be so difficult? Crack! The sapling exploded and fragments of the pot and plant shot everywhere, showering the room’s three occupants with ceramic shards and soil.

Prince and teacher ducked to avoid flying debris. Croifan straightened up, dusted off his clothes. “Not a success, I think. Get another plant, Brandan, and let’s try the spell again, but this time use all the steps.”

Shaking his head at the short, stubby Kningrad, Brandan said, “Master Croifan, this exercise isn’t necessary. We’ll never perform re-growth spells. That’s all done by low-level adepts. We’re much more important than they are.”

“You’re no more important than the lowest serf in your father’s kingdom.

Besides, you never know when you might be alone and have to perform one of these spells to survive.” Croifan pounded his staff on the floor. “Do it again.” He pointed his staff, directing Brandan’s attention to one of the lily pads in a fish bowl on the floor.

Brandan looked at Joachim and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “You asked for it,” and with his deep voice began the chant. “Powers of Ramajadin quicken the streams of creation within your deepest regions and enable this tree an increase in the life blood that feeds all living things and frogs.” With a turn of his hand, Brandan then whispered, “Ignis.” The practice trees erupted into flames and separated the twins from Croifan, now a small green frog.

Glancing around the room in disbelief, Joachim yelled, “Brandan what have you done?”

“Nothing. Now let’s get out of here while we have a chance.” Brandan stalked to the door. “I have had enough of him and his lessons.” He stormed out of the training room.

Joachim yelled, “Summergo,” and ran into the garden after his brother.

Spring was blossoming in Crato, a country in the western hemisphere of the planet Ramajadin. The royal gardens shimmered with the variety of purples, golds, reds and blues of the flowers scattered across them, giving the landscape a feel of rebirth…a rebirth in the faith of the people and their love of the royal family.

Stepping into the courtyard, Joachim watched Brandan collide with their parents, King Theodric and Queen Lilia, entering the gardens from the royal family’s private quarters.

As Joachim reached the royal couple, the king grabbed his arm. “Whoa, boys, slow down.”

Lilia brushed Brandan’s tunic, wiping away some invisible dirt, and the king released Joachim.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Joachim responded as he brushed his blond hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t watch where I was going.”

Smiling, the queen asked, “Where were you two going in such a hurry?”

Grabbing his mother’s hands, Brandan said, “We finished our lessons and were headed to the kitchen to get carrots from cook for the horses. We were planning on riding. Would you and Father like to come with us?”

The king shook his head. “No, I can’t. I have to see Rupert about the meeting with King Waldrom.”

“Mother, you should come.” Brandan looked at Lilia. “You haven’t been riding in so long.”

“I wish I could but not today. I must speak to Rupert before your father, and then I have some letter writing to do. Maybe tomorrow.” She hugged the twins and then strolled with her husband toward the council chambers. “I’ll see you boys at dinner,” Lilia called over her shoulder.

As Joachim headed toward the family’s kitchens and reached the wooden gate in the center of the tall stone wall surrounding the courtyard garden, Brandan caught up to him and patted him on the back.

“Thanks for not saying anything to Father. I would be seeing the abbots for sure if he found out about my little spell.”

Turning, Joachim brushed Brandan’s hand away. “Maybe I should have told Father. Haven’t you learned not to use your magic for evil, especially during lessons?”

With a push from Brandan, Joachim fell to the hard ground. “Well, aren’t you Sir High and Mighty, like you haven’t thought about doing the same a time or two?”

He scrambled to his feet. “Yes, but I would never actually do it. That’s the difference.”

“Well, maybe you should once in a while, and then you might be more human.

Besides, who does it hurt?”

“It hurts you and tears your relationship with Asha. If you have no self-control with Master Croifan, how can you ever expect to be an Anointed One and a king?” Diving for his brother, Brandan caught his red tunic on a nearby glingkol tree.

Joachim jumped aside, causing him to land with a solid thump in a patch of blooming rosas.

“Setting that little fire won’t prevent me from being king.” He stood and caught his breath. “Besides, who wants to be an Anointed One anyway?” Brandan landed his fist on his brother’s jaw and then fell to his knees on the small hillock between the garden and a stone wall behind Joachim, exhausted and gasping for breath.

“Our final examinations are in a week.” Joachim stepped forward. “When will we study?”

“You’ll have to figure that out yourselves.” He turned to enter the High Council chamber.

* * * *

When Queen Lilia reached Rupert’s quarters, she found a messenger leaving the room with Rupert not far behind. “Rupert, I need to talk to you.”

“Sorry Your Majesty, but we just received a message, and I must find the king to tell him of it.” He walked quickly down the hall, leaving Lilia with her skirts lifted to run after him.

Lilia stopped to catch her breath when they reached her husband and sons in the garden.

As he approached the king, Rupert bowed. “Sire, we just received a message from Eyvindur. There has been a raid at Freiberg.” “Raid by whom?” the king asked.

“The messenger was unclear who ordered the raid, but some villagers saw King Shigeo, lurking in the forest during the attack.”

“Why would the Mantion king be leading the raid?” Brandan stepped beside his father.

As he straightened his long gray beard, Rupert continued, “There was another force leading the raiding party. The villagers reported feeling evil that didn’t come from the attackers. Something or someone else was in control.”

“Rupert, take eight men from my personal guard and see what you can learn.”

“Sire, the Peace Summit is in a few days. We both need to be here. One of the generals can take care of this. The raid is over.”

“Father, I can go with them,” Brandan interrupted.

Lilia put her hands on his shoulders and gently turned him so she could look in his eyes. “Son, you haven’t been through your final testing yet. How can you think about going?”

“The tests are a formality.” Brandan sighed. “You know I can do this. When do I leave?”

“You aren’t going. Fifteen is too young to undertake such a task. General Geurin, the leader of the Guard, and his squad will go. Be assured, when you are ready, I will let you have your chance. Until that time you must be patient.”

“Father, how can you say I’m not prepared for this? I’m older than you were when you went on your first mission, and I have more training than you had. If you can’t see that, then you don’t know me at all.” Brandan turned and walked away.

“I’m ready for this. I’ll show them all.”

Joachim followed and overheard him mumbling under his breath.

“Don’t be so angry. We’ll be doing this kind of thing soon and probably wishing we could be at home instead.” He attempted to placate his twin.

“What do you know about it? I bet if you asked, Father would’ve let you go.”

“No, he wouldn’t. I’m smart enough not to ask.”

“Well, aren’t you the special one, maybe the Aga Adept?” Brandan sneered before he pushed Joachim away and stormed into the palace.

About the Author

Read a Chapter Month 5

 Action-adventure romantasy

ON AMAZON 

Kirkus "GET IT" Award - January 2026

Kirkus "A classic quest narrative that lovers of fairy tales are likely to enjoy."

Booklife Review (Jan 2026) " A lively, touching bard’s tale of a faerie’s adventures in the mortal realm."

An action-adventure romantasy filled with intrigue, sharp banter, dangerous secrets, and real emotional stakes.

Escala’s Wish, the debut fantasy-romance novel by David James, launches the epic Tales from Valla series, where fey politics and forbidden love collide in a world shaped as much by choices as by power.

It started with a kiss.

Escala Winter, a mischievous pixie from the Court of Dreams, only wanted to understand love.

But one impulsive kiss awakens a long-buried grudge, forges a treacherous alliance, and unleashes a storm of vengeance that threatens to consume both mortal and Fey realms.

Banished from her enchanted home, Escala is thrust into a world of danger and deception, and burdened with an impossible quest that may be her only chance to make things right.

She’s hunted by a cruel rival, haunted by the loss of her best friend, and entangled in a sinister revenge plot older and darker than she could ever imagine.

Now, trapped in the mortal world, Escala must confront a past she never knew, and an evil she accidentally unleashed, one that could destroy her family, the fey realm, and the entire material plane.

Escala’s Wish is a sweeping coming-of-age tale about magic, mischief, and the dangerous price of curiosity.

Escala never meant to cause the end of everything, but can she stop it before it's too late?

This is a fresh, unique romantasy: no werewolves, no vampires, no “bad boy” love interest, and no enemies-to-lovers arc. Instead, the romance is sweet, gradual, emotionally sincere, and reminiscent of classic fantasy love stories, an innocent slow burn that grows from shared trials and genuine connection.

Told by an energetic and egotistical bard named Wigfrith Foreverbloom, Esacla's Wish is a tale of redemption, sacrifice, and love, where every price of curiosity might be too high.

Step into Valla and discover how one wish sets an entire world in motion.

Read a Chapter

I reach for my pipe—a quiet invitation, in case anyone else fancies a smoke. As I pack the bowl with tobacco from the rolling fields of Kelly’s Pride, I nearly launch into the tale of how it got its name.

Something about a woman named Kelly who seduced a wealthy old miner,

took over his town, and inherited everything—after he “accidentally”

tumbled down one of his own goldmine shafts.

But that’s a story for another night.

As I puff, I continue the story.

When they arrived at Dunwell, the first thing Escala noticed was the

vivid colors. Everything was painted—doors in faded reds and deep

greens, shutters in lavender and storm blue. Even the cobblestones were

splashed here and there with dye and chalk, remnants of old festivals and

careless children.

They passed a bakery with golden rolls steaming on the sill, a smithy

with a horseshoe nailed crooked over the lintel. Street vendors called out

wares. Sticky walked beside Escala, arms folded behind his back, scanning

every flowerpot for bugs to snatch with his tongue—he was not

disappointed.

Escala wasn’t used to being surrounded by so many people. Almost

immediately, there were some “don’t touch the faerie” moments that

Roedyn had to defuse.

They followed a cobbled lane to a three-story inn with a crooked sign

swinging out front: The Stag and Hound.

They stepped inside by the very door you all came through tonight. It

looked the same back then, maybe with fewer folks inside—but on stage

was a certain dashing gnome performer, finishing a tale as they walked in.

He struck a pose and recited:

“—and with a roar, she tore the wing from the firedrake’s spine and

fanned herself with it—the way only a queen of the Summer Court might!”

The gnome was me, of course, and I bowed so deeply that I nearly

tumbled off the table.

“Wigfrith?” Harper called out, grinning.

I snapped my head up and took in Harper and her companions.

I lifted my mug as if preparing to deliver the toast of a lifetime. This

was the very first time I laid eyes on Escala. And my, oh my, was she

beautiful.

She wore tan canvas pants tucked into black boots that rose to her

knees. A royal navy-blue tunic, trimmed with silver, hugged her frame. A

black leather belt circled her waist, with a travel pouch on one side and a

short sword on the other. Her pack was slung casually over one shoulder.

I even noticed a small patch near her ribs where the tunic had clearly been

stitched, like it had once been torn in battle.

But what struck me was her presence. She carried herself like someone

who belonged in a court—she was no peasant. Of course, I recognized

Harper and Roedyn immediately. But the frog? I didn’t know him. I had

questions—so many questions.

Harper nudged Escala forward, of course, but I did not know her name

yet.

“She’s looking for you,” Harper said. “We told her you know

everything.”

I looked at the crowd for confirmation that perhaps Harper was not

wrong. It took a moment—longer than I would have liked—but eventually,

applause developed, and when I was satisfied, I gave a courteous nod.

Smiling at Harper, I said, “Well, now, I can see you definitely didn’t

inflate her expectations.”

Turning to Escala, I bowed with an elaborate flourish. “My dearest elf

maiden, it is my honor to meet you. I’m Wigfrith Foreverbloom—Bard

Medic of Misty Springs, spinner of a hundred tales, and survivor of at least

thirty-five. And you—

”And that’s when she said those nine words I would come to hear

hundreds—if not thousands—of times throughout our adventures together:

“I am Escala Winter from the Court of Dreams.”

Now, I’d heard of the Court of Dreams—most bards had. But she was

claiming to be fey, even though she looked like an elf. Interesting.

I stroked my chin theatrically. “Then come—we have much to

discuss.”

We took the corner table by the hearth. Escala sat across from me and

watched me closely, her eyes searching my face. And I—well, I was doing

the same to her, looking for any hint of madness.

I pulled out a leather-bound notebook, a fountain pen, and prepared to

take notes.

“Now,” I said, “we must establish that you are who you say you are.

Let’s begin.”

I squinted suspiciously at her. “First question. Name the three most

dangerous edible mushrooms in the Deep Briar, which, as you know, is a

hollow four valleys southwest of the palace of the Court of Dreams, and

tell me what they whisper when picked under a full moon?”

“What?” Escala said.

Roedyn leaned over to Harper. “Is he serious?”

“Oh yeah,” Harper muttered. “He’s in full Wiggie mode.”

Escala thought carefully. “This is a trick question.”

“How so?” I asked, knowing she was right.

“Well, the mushrooms that are dangerous to some are also a boon to

others. For example, firecaps can burn your blood, and if you eat too many,

you can explode from the inside. But they’re used by healers in small

quantities to treat certain infections. And what they whisper depends on

how fast you pick them. If you pick them fast, they scream. But if you pick

them very slowly, they don’t whisper anything.”

I raised an eyebrow—surprised. She was right.

“And then there are the purple-stemmed heartspore mushrooms,” she

continued. “They’re deadly to mortals and can kill almost instantly if

consumed, but they’re not poisonous to fey. We use them for stomach

aches. So, I’m not certain if that counts as a dangerous mushroom or not.

And they don’t whisper anything—well, I guess they do, but no one knows

what they say because they speak a language no one understands, and

then—”

I cut her off. “Very good!” I quickly scribbled her answers into my

notebook.

“But I didn’t finish the answer,” she said, almost annoyed.

“You did fine, just fine,” I said. “Question two: What is the third law

of moonlight according to sprite tradition?”

Escala didn’t hesitate. “Moonlight reveals only what wishes to be

found.”

I grinned wider. “Excellent. Question three: How many names does the

wind have in the Court of Dreams?”

“Eighteen,” she said. “Nineteen, when a crossing is open.”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“It means she knows what she’s talking about,” I said, my eyes never

leaving Escala’s. Maybe it was because she was so unbearably beautiful,

those striking blue eyes impossible to look away from—or maybe I was

trying to spot a ‘tell,’ some twitching lip or suspiciously sweaty forehead

that would reveal a lie.

All I can report is this: she had none of those things. Just those

impossibly beautiful blue eyes.

I leaned forward across the table. “Last question—the real test.” My

voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “In your truest form—before

the banishment—how tall were you?”

I pause the tale and take a slow sip of ale, rubbing my chin as if

pondering some grand mystery. Then I lean in and say, “Now listen

closely, friends—that last question I asked Escala was a trick question.

The fey don’t measure things the way we do. No pounds, feet, or meters

for them. They measure by nature—petals, raindrops, moonbeams, that

sort of thing.

If she’d said something like ‘one foot’ or ‘sixteen inches,’ I’d know

she was faking it. This is the moment of truth. If her answer sounds like a

lie, the story ends right here, and you can all head over to the Golden

Goose—hells, I’m going with you!

“But,” I tap the table for emphasis, “listen to what she tells me.”

Escala immediately answered, “I was two red apples and a green grape tall.”

I must admit—I howled with laughter and slapped my knee, and the

audience did too.

Harper choked on her drink.

“Two red apples!” I was nearly crying. “And a green grape!” I thumped

the table. “By the gods, she’s genuine!”

I nearly toppled off the stool, catching myself with a wobble and a

curse. Then, recovering with all the grace I could muster, I swept my arm

in a grand arc across the table.

“Escala of the Court of Dreams,” I proclaimed, “welcome to the

material plane, to Dunwell, and to The Stag and Hound!”

I extended my hand with a theatrical flourish. “How may I, Wigfrith

Foreverbloom, be of service?”

She did not shake my hand. To be honest, I thought she was being rude.

However, Roedyn quickly said, “She doesn’t like to be touched; it’s

nothing personal.” I withdrew my hand at once.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands folded beneath my chin.

“So,” I said, “what can I help you with?

Escala told me her story, which you have already heard, and I focused

on the boulder part.

“Tell me exactly what the Court of Dreams said—word for word.” I

said, ready to take detailed notes.

Escala nodded slowly. She took a breath, closed her eyes for a moment,

and recited her sentence from the trial I told you about earlier. I stopped

her at the part about the boulders and made her repeat it.

Now, I am a smart gnome, I think you’ll agree, but I did not know what

a boulder was in the context of her punishment.

“Apples and pears,” I said. “They went full poetic punishment.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what it means ever since,” Escala said. “At first, I thought the court meant real boulders—physical things I had to move or destroy. Then I thought maybe it was about people’s obstacles—dreadful things in their lives they needed help with. I’ve been keeping a logbook—I have people sign it every time I help someone.”

“She’s not kidding,” Harper said. “She even has a signed page from some guy saying she helped him negotiate a peace treaty with a swarm of bees.”

“Do you think what I’m doing is right? Is helping people with their

troubles and obstacles the boulders the Court of Dreams meant?” she

asked.

“No,” I said. “But,” I added, holding up one finger, voice laced with

stubborn brightness, “I have theories.”

I flipped through my notebook and stopped with a flourish on a page—

crinkled, ink-stained, singed at the corner.

I tapped a passage with my knuckle. “This one always stuck with me.

A forest warden I met in the Cindermarshes said it came to him in a fever

dream. He woke screaming and didn’t speak for days. When he finally did,

all he said was, ‘The Cycle’s jammed. Too many boulders—the wheel’s

stuck.’”

That line sent me spiraling. Some scholars—those unhinged enough to

study dream-sentencing—believe the True Cycle governs more than life

and death. They think it governs intention and balance—not just how life

moves… but why.

I traced a small circular sketch beside the passage. “The fey courts,

especially the Dreaming Court—”

“Court of Dreams,” Escala corrected.

“Yes, the Court of Dreams,” I said, “are obsessed with the idea of

balance. Dreams, stories, seasons—they all turn like wheels. But when a

wheel is blocked… everything can get warped.”

“So…” Roedyn frowned. “Boulders could be disruptions?”

“Exactly,” I said, nodding firmly now. “Blockages or interferences.

Some obstacle that prevents the Cycle from moving cleanly. It could be

anything—unresolved pain, misplaced power, unnatural magic, festering

guilt. Something that doesn’t belong but won’t move.”

“If enough of those stack up… the wheel stops.”

“Like corruption?” Harper asked. “Or monsters?”

“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “But the ‘boulder’ could be a lie, a secret, or

even a regret. Something stuck in someone’s heart that refuses to move

forward.”

“That could be anything,” Escala exclaimed.

“Exactly,” I said. “That’s the point—it’s not a checklist. It’s a test of

the soul.”

Escala looked down, the reality hitting her for the first time.

“They gave you an open-ended sentence. That means the court doesn’t

want you to solve a riddle. They want you to change. To see the world. To

touch it—and let it touch you.”

“But I don’t understand. I was sent here for interfering. It doesn’t make

sense—why would they want me to interfere with the True Cycle now?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“So, the logbook… won’t help?” she asked quietly.

I knew I had to be careful—not to crush her spirit. I smiled gently. “It

might. I think it says more about you than you realize.”

Escala looked down again.

“That’s the worst part of fey justice,” I added, settling back on my

stool. “They don’t hand you chains—they hand you a mirror.”

About the Author

Love Potion or Potion of Shadows?

Can we control the unpredictable nature of love? 

Love potions are a fascinating blend of folklore, chemistry, and cultural psychology. Their history is as rich and layered as any mythic tale, with roots stretching across continents and centuries.

Ancient Origins

Ancient Greece: 

The earliest known love potions, called philtres, were used to stir desire or bind affection. The physician Xenocrates (3rd century BCE) recommended mallow sap for arousing women, while Dioscorides wrote of mandrake root steeped in wine as a seductive aid.

Rome: 

Love potions were sold in the Sabura district, accessible even to common folk. Recipes included aphrodisiac seafood like oysters and cuttlefish. The poet Lucretius was allegedly driven mad by one such potion.

India: 

The Kama Sutra (3rd century BCE) offered instructions for seduction, including playing a reed pipe treated with plant juices to ignite passion.

Islamic Golden Age: 

Avicenna (Ibn Sina) described love brews made of honey, pepper, and ginger. These were part of a broader tradition of erotic manuals like The Perfumed Garden.

Magic, Myth, and Alchemy

Witchcraft & Sorcery: 

In European folklore, witches were often said to concoct love potions using herbs like mandrake, henbane, and satyrion (possibly the orchis plant). These ingredients were believed to have mystical properties due to their anthropomorphic shapes or intoxicating effects.

Alchemy: 

Medieval alchemists saw love potions as part of their quest for transformation—both physical and spiritual. The idea of manipulating emotion through chemistry was deeply tied to the search for the elixir of life.

Sensory Seduction

Egypt, Greece, Rome: 

Fragrances played a huge role in seduction. Botanical oils like jasmine, rose, and patchouli were used in perfumes, massage oils, and ceremonial headdresses.

Modern Aromatherapy: 

Today, essential oils are still used to evoke romantic moods. Scents like ylang ylang and sandalwood stimulate the limbic system, which governs emotion and memory.

Love Potions in Fantasy Literature

A young adult fantasy

A love potion made with haste out of jealousy puts Dorian into a comalike state. A rare orchid that blooms only once a year could save his life, but Liam and his werewolf pack fiercely guard the precious flowers. The acolytes of the coven are forbidden to enter the forest, and the young apprentices volunteer to make the journey that will test their loyalty and courage. Will they succeed?

Read more:

The Potion - Author Erika M Szabo

Book Sunday

 Today's recommendation is a supernatural fantasy

https://books2read.com/The-Potion-by-Erika-M-Szabo

A love potion made with haste out of jealousy puts Dorian into a comalike state. A rare orchid that blooms only once a year could save his life, but the precious flowers are fiercely guarded by Liam and his werewolf pack. The acolytes of the coven are forbidden to enter the forest and the young apprentices volunteer to make the journey that will test their loyalty and courage.

Will they succeed?

Prologue

Cordelia, the high priestess of the Ravenwood Coven, stood in front of the altar lighting the candles one by one. The room was dark, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls. Her hair was pulled into a bun, and her statuesque figure hid under her long, hooded cape. She held her arms high, reciting a prayer.

Lady of the Moon

Let my mind be attuned

I need your guidance

Lord of the Sunrise

Hear my humble cries

I need your guidance.

Cordelia flipped her long cape, turned around with three silver goblets on a tray, and stared for a long moment at the nervous-looking young women and man sitting side by side. Her stern expression sent deep shivers down their spines. She reached them with a few small steps and stood over them before handing them the goblets. “Drink!” Her booming voice filled the room.

Olivia, a slender, dark-haired young woman; Candice, the athletic-built blonde; and Dorian, a dark-haired young man, exchanged nervous glances. They took the goblets with shaky hands, lifted them to their lips and drank the ruby red liquid. Their expressions changed. They seemed to be in a deep trance.

The High Priestess watched the trio for a minute and then asked, “Do you wish to become apprentices of the Ravenwood Coven?

“Yes, I do,” came the reply from the three young acolytes in unison.

“Do you promise to follow the Coven rules and promise to practice only white magic?”

“Yes, I do,” the three answered.

“Do you promise to be loyal to the coven and its members, and promise not to compete with each other or be jealous of others?”

“Yes, I do,” Olivia and Dorian replied without hesitation, but Candice’s answer came a second later: “I’ll try.”

Cordelia drew a sharp breath. I’ll give her a chance because her grandmother is an Elder, but I’ll keep a close eye on her. She clapped her hands, and the young acolytes snapped out of the trance, looking a little dazed and confused.

“Welcome to Ravenwood Coven,” Cordelia announced. “You’re now apprentices. It will be a long road, and the next months will not be easy. You will study and practice hard before you can become witches and a warlock. Good luck to you all.”

Chapter One

When Olivia passed the entry exam and was accepted as an apprentice into the Coven, it was the best day of her life. Her father and grandmother had been preparing her since she was a little girl, despite the objection of her mother. Her parents were happy together and lived in harmony, except for occasional fights between them about the family tradition.

Her mother, Gloria, objected. “Why does she have to be a witch? I’m not, and we’re happy!”

“Because this is our family tradition, and you knew it when you married me. Remember?” Xavier, Olivia’s father, patiently replied.

“Why did you marry me? You knew I was different and never wanted anything to do with witchcraft.”

“Because the blue butterfly told me,” Xavier said.

“A what? Are you losing your mind?” Gloria asked, feeling alarmed and concerned.

“I never told you this…because I never wanted you to look at me the way you’re looking at me now.” He bowed his head and swallowed hard. He then looked into his wife’s eyes and continued, “My family is protected by guardians, and they communicate with us by making different colored butterflies appear to show us the right path. The blue butterfly they sent me the day I met you was to show me that we were soulmates.”

 “That’s so sweet! Scary, but sweet. And yes, we are soulmates, darling. But I don’t remember seeing a butterfly,” she said, staring at her husband.

“Only we can see them. They function as detectors of people’s intentions. You’re a good, honest, and loyal person. That’s why the guardians showed me the blue butterfly.”

“Aw… But still, Olivia doesn’t have to be a witch,” she protested weakly, folding her arms across her chest.

“I told you before we got married that our children will join the Coven when they turn eighteen, and you agreed,” Xavier argued.

“Yes, but…but I was hoping you’d change your mind,” his wife replied in a quieter tone of voice. “Okay, okay! It’s just… I don’t have to like it.”

“You should be proud of her, honey. She did very well on the entry exam. She’ll be a great witch.”

“I’m proud of her, and I know she wants to follow in your footsteps. It’s just, I had a different future in mind for her. She loves science, and I was hoping she might want to follow that path.”

“And she will. She can be a great scientist or researcher, and a witch, too.”

***

Candice enjoyed being popular and never really wanted to become a witch, but because her grandmother insisted, she applied for the apprenticeship. Her mother was absent most of the time, following fleeting dreams and ideas. The only steady person in Candice’s life was her grandmother.

Although Candice passed the entry test, which made her grandmother happy, she was more interested in partying than studying spells and potions. The idea of following the strict rules and studying all the time bored her, but her interest flared when she found out Dorian had joined the Coven as well.

She preferred partying with the athletic boys of the football team, but when she noticed that Olivia and Dorian were developing more than a friendship, she grew jealous of their closeness and quiet happiness. She wanted to be happy like them; she wanted him. She tried starting conversations with him, asked him to go to a party with her, and asked him to study potions and spells with her. Dorian gave her a polite excuse every time.

Feeling frustrated, Candice confided in her grandmother. “They’re spending all their free time together and started dating! How could he like her? She’s so plain and weird. Okay, she’s a caring person, but still. I’m a cheerleader and the prettiest girl in school. How could he not like me?”

“You’re the prettiest, love,” her grandmother cooed, hugging her. “He’s interested in her, so leave them be. There are other boys. Looks like the family curse follows you too like a shadow.” Her grandmother sighed.

“What curse?” Candice asked.

“We’re cursed with always wanting what we can’t have.”

“No, Grandma! I want him! I want him to go on a date with me, to return my feelings. I want to be his girlfriend, but no, he had to ask Olivia, sweet and boring Olivia. All she cares about is school and being boring. I’m popular and full of zest for life. What does she have that I don’t have?”

“Nothing, dear. She’s just a plain and boring girl, just like her grandma was. They make a good pair; Dorian is not an interesting person either. Even if he’d have asked you out instead of Olivia, you’d grow bored with him in no time.”

“No, Grandma. I want him! I’ll find a way to make him fall in love with me.”

“And, the family curse continues...” the old lady muttered under her breath, feeling sad and frustrated.

Chapter Two

Candice and Olivia were seniors in high school, and both came from a long line of witches and warlocks. They hadn’t really spoken to each other before they both became acolytes of the Ravenwood Coven. Candice was a beautiful and popular cheerleader, always wearing colorful clothes. Olivia was a shy loner, always dressed in black. Candice hung out with the cheerleaders and often humiliated Olivia publicly, or sometimes she posted degrading things about Goth people on social sites to make fun of her.

They were warned by the High Priestess not to tell anyone about the Coven. They kept it a secret, and Candice rarely talked to Olivia in school. She spoke to her only when she needed her help. One day, at lunch, Candice surprised Olivia by approaching her at the geek table. As Candice sat down, Olivia watched the brown-winged butterfly hovering over her head. She’s a bad person. Dad warned me about the brown butterfly people. I must be cautious, she thought.

Candice leaned closer to Olivia and said in a hushed tone, “I’m in trouble! I didn’t have time to practice, and we’ll have to perform a protection spell tonight. You have to help me.”

Olivia looked at her in disbelief. “You didn’t practice? Studying for school and memorizing the spell and ritual kept me up half the night.”

“We had cheerleading practice, and after that, we went to a party. I was too tired. Being a cheerleader is a commitment, and sometimes it’s not easy to keep up with the others. You always have to pretend to be chipper and happy, even when you’re not. And you always have to do everything as a group. I couldn’t just tell the girls that I needed to study a magical protection spell, now could I? Besides, we had so much fun last night. The football team joined us.” Candice smiled, and her blonde ponytail bounced as she shifted in her seat impatiently.

“I can imagine. Maybe I should have joined the cheerleading squad instead of the science lab,” Olivia said sarcastically.

“You know you wouldn’t have made it. You’re not flexible enough… and a Plain Jane like you wouldn’t be accepted, anyway.” Candice turned away, muttering.

Her mocking tone hurt Olivia’s feelings. She knew Candice didn’t care about her; she just tolerated her and used her, but she couldn’t say no. “Okay, I’ll help you.” She helped Candice memorizing the spell at recess, and the day went by quickly.

***

On the way home Olivia was thinking about her growing feelings for Dorian. She first saw him when his family moved to town to be closer to his ailing grandmother when they were in the ninth grade. She liked him and secretly hoped that one day he’d like her back. But deep down she never thought he would like a girl like her, until recently, when he joined the science club and was accepted into the Coven. He was nice to Olivia and didn’t care about how she looked. They had become best friends. He was interested in the genuine person she was.

Her heart warmed every time she saw him, and she fantasized about him a lot. One day when they were in tenth grade, she was going home from the store and saw him in his Grandma’s driveway next door. He was working on his car, leaning over the engine, under the hood. Olivia was too busy gawking at him and dropped her bag while taking the paper out of the mailbox. He had looked up, startled by the loud thud.

“Are you okay?” he’d asked, concerned.

“No, I’m fine, just dropped my bag. What are you working on?”

“Changing the oil. Mom and I came over to clean Grandma’s house.”

“Is she home from the hospital?”

“We’re going to bring her home tomorrow. She had a hip replacement.”

“Yes, my mom told me.”

“Hey, would you like to go for a cup of coffee after I finish the oil change and get cleaned up?” he’d asked.

He’d always been friendly, but Olivia hadn’t expected him to ask her out and felt the heat rising to her face. “Are you asking me to go on a date?” She didn’t really believe her ears.

He cocked his head. “It’s about time, don’t you think? Or if you don’t want to go out with me…” He left the sentence open and looked at her questioningly. 

Olivia had smiled, feeling and looking embarrassed. “Yes… I mean… Okay,” she stuttered but quickly came to her senses. “I have a few things to do, but we can go to Karen’s shop in about an hour for coffee and cake.” She didn’t want him to think she was a desperate loner who’d been fantasizing about that moment for a long time.

“She makes the best lemon poppy cupcakes with vanilla frosting.” Dorian had smiled and turned back to the car.        

Olivia had nodded and hurried inside before she could manage to make herself look foolish.

One date and bonding over cupcakes had led to more dates. They enjoyed each other’s company, and they spent as much time together as they could. They took long walks by the river, and he helped her collecting herbs in the woods. Dorian’s grandmother, a retired witch, as she often called herself, was an Elder of the Ravenwood Coven. She was happy when Dorian decided to follow her. His mother never showed interest in joining the Coven. She divorced Dorian’s dad when he was very young, and he rarely visited but once or twice a year.

Dorian knew Olivia’s father and grandmother practiced witchcraft. He asked them to help his mother after his grandmother told him it was beyond her knowledge, and the doctors were puzzled by her mysterious illness that left her weak and tired all the time. Olivia’s dad and grandma had performed cleansing and healing rituals, making Dorian’s mother healthy.

When Olivia told Dorian she wanted to be an apprentice, he was eager to know more. She told him about white magic, and he decided to apply for apprenticeship in the Coven as well. Their friendship deepened and bloomed. When he confessed his love for her, and they shared their first kiss, Olivia watched as a blue butterfly flapped its wings above them. I know he’s a good person, but could he really be my soulmate? Well, the guardians didn’t lie before… 

Continue reading or listen to the audiobook:

https://books2read.com/The-Potion-by-Erika-M-Szabo

Erika M Szabo

https://authorerikamszabo.com

Erika loves to dance to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance, and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative and educational and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.

Meet Author David W. Thompson

 David W. Thompson

https://www.david-w-thompson.com

David is a multi-genre writer, and a member of the Horror Writers' Association, and the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association. When not writing, Dave enjoys family, kayaking, fishing, hiking, hunting, winemaking, and woodcarving.

David is a multiple award-winning author, an Army veteran, and a graduate of UMUC (now UMGC). He claims his first writing efforts were "Dick and Jane" fan fiction when he was a child- no doubt with a unique twist. As a multi-genre writer, he's been awarded membership in the HWA--Horror Writers' Association, the MWA--Mystery Writers of America, and the SFWA -- Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association. He lives in picturesque southern Maryland, blessed with nearby family and dear old friends.

After his family and cheesecake, reading was his first love. It was a gateway to the people, cultures, and ideas he would never experience otherwise. Writing was a natural extension of this "out-of-body" experience, as his characters acted as tour guides to their worlds and possibilities. He hopes to honestly convey the stories they've whispered in his ears.

When he isn't writing, Dave enjoys time with his family, kayaking (flat water, please), fishing, hiking, archery, gardening, winemaking, and pursuing his other "creative passion"- woodcarving.

Occasionally twisted...always honest and original!

Eye of the Jaguar

 A story from the What If? Anthology

Martina Crestada focused her binoculars and looked down into the cenote, one of the sinkholes riddling the karst landscape of the Yucatan peninsula. The building storm clouds scuttled across the face of the moon making it flicker like a guttering candle.

“Philip, hold the flashlight still, this one isn’t filled with water and there’s a carved altar stone in the center.”

He balanced his flashlight on the cenote’s rim to steady it. Philip lived to make Martina happy. While he’d become fascinated with Mesoamerican history and lore, his love of Martina was the primary reason he’d majored in Mayan culture and the only reason he’d joined this archeological expedition.

“Martina, we’d best hurry, the clouds are building. I smell rain and we’re an hour from camp. It’s dangerous at night. Ocelots, jaguars, and wolves, oh my!”

Martina pointed her flashlight upward from under her chin ensuring Philip could see her look of disgust. “Don’t be a crybaby. I see an altar stone on the bottom. There’s writing, but I can’t read it. Red veins. Could be iron oxide. Maybe blood. How exciting! Philip, I hope they’re bloodstains!”

“I’ll record the GPS reading and tell the guide we’re ready to leave. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

 The guide screamed. He pointed at a jaguar skulking quietly as a gentle breeze and shouted “B’alam! B’alam!” The beast moved nearer the explorers and pinned them against the pit’s edge. Philip was unarmed, he had a flashlight, a pocketknife, and a pith helmet like the explorers wear in a Tarzan movie.  

The jaguar's eyes glowed like red coals. Philip froze in place. The cat charged without warning and Philip threw his helmet like a flying disk and hit the jaguar in the shoulder. He shoved Martina to one side and stepped backward away from the leaping cat. He struggled futilely for purchase on the crumbling pit edge. He fell into the cenote and the jaguar flew over his head and into the pit with him. They both screamed all the way down.

Philip woke up on the decayed leaves that dotted the altar stone. He felt his left arm. Shit, broken. Dark down here. Where’s my damn flashlight?”

Martina shouted, “Philip!”

“I’m alive. Broken, but alive.”

“I’ll send the guide for help.”

“Have them bring a harness. Pretty sure my arm is broken. I can’t climb out. The air is stale, and it stinks of rotten fruit.”

“Is the jaguar, or should I say, the B’alam, dead? We can practice speaking Mayan until help comes.”

Philip found his flashlight. The jaguar draped the altar stone like a praying supplicant. Chiseled images of cats, snakes, and wolves appeared and vanished with the sweeping of the flashlight’s beam. Philip crept slowly to the jaguar and gently touched its throat seeking a pulse.

The creature opened its eyes, snarled, and bit Philip’s arm. He tried to jerk away and cursed. “Christ, damn thing bit me. Probably has rabies!” He searched the altar with his free hand, the one attached to a broken arm. He caught a brief vision of an obsidian knife stored in a cubbyhole. He gritted his teeth against the pain, stretched for the knife, and stabbed the jaguar in the neck. The creature released his arm. He wiggled the knife until the glow in the beast’s eyes faded to darkness. Their blood mingled and flowed into the red-stained cracks atop the limestone altar. The stench of rotted fruit grew overpowering. Philip couldn’t breathe, he gasped, staggered back from the altar, his head spun, and he passed out.

The pain from the jaguar bite or his broken arm woke him. Flickering torchlight and rancid smoke filled the cenote. Several men, costumed in ancient Mayan ceremonial regalia, filled the cavern. He shouted for Martina. She didn’t answer, but above him, the pit’s edge was lined with women and children.

The quiet was frightening. It was like the silent moment in a horror film before all hell breaks loose. Philip remembered from a class on negotiation that the person who speaks first, loses. He couldn’t stand it. The people just stared at him.

Read the full story in the book: 

https://books2read.com/u/m27NQd

What if you think the known world isn’t strange enough? Embark on a journey that pushes the boundaries, challenges your perception, and questions reason, logic, and established beliefs. 

Book Sunday

 Enjoy our featured books

In online bookstores, readers often discover new books by browsing the bestselling titles in their desired genre. However, countless hidden gems may not receive as much promotion but offer incredible stories that deserve recognition and readership.

Time travel romance

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Embark on a journey through time with Dylan Anderson, the lead guitarist of Ablaze, as he strives to recreate the magic of the '70s, inspired by Kenny Chesney's iconic hit, "I Go Back." In his pursuit of reliving his golden days, Dylan becomes entangled in the hidden world of a mysterious cult, eager to uncover the secrets of time travel.

The stakes are high, and the risks even higher – challenges he's prepared to confront head-on.

This adventure is far from a solo act. With his enduring love, Jennifer Kovich, by his side, Dylan is determined to bring her along on this journey whether she's ready or not. However, there's a catch – The dark spell Dylan has created will not allow him to return to the present even if he ever wanted to. Only Jennifer would have a chance at finding an escape route back home, but according to Dylan, it's almost impossible. Or is it? Brace yourself for a tale of love, danger, and the irresistible pull of a past era as Dylan leads us on an unforgettable voyage to the heart of the '70s.

Review by Readers Favorite

"Lorraine Carey uses an intoxicating brew of romance and mystery with a tinge of the paranormal to take you on a captivating time travel adventure odyssey you don't want to end. With an absorbing narrative, Carey captures the vibe and atmosphere of the 1970s flawlessly, offering readers a chance to immerse themselves in the golden era of rock and roll. The characters are not only well-developed but also very likable for the most part. While Jennifer's interactions with Dylan are entertaining, I also enjoyed her friendship with Paul. The plot has its share of surprises to keep readers hooked. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and heartily recommend it to romance lovers who don't mind dipping their toes into the paranormal genre."

Sci-fi space opera

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Kathy Masters never expected to journey to the stars. When she does, she experiences the adventure of a lifetime.

That all changes when she is selected by the prestigious Galactic Geographic Society to photograph and record the flora and fauna of a newly discovered class M planet. Filled with hope and enthusiasm, she boards the S.S. America for the trip to Beta 3 Epsilon to begin her new project. On the way she is abducted and brought aboard the privateer Rapier.

Going from captive, to slave, to induction into the infamous Brotherhood, Kathy finds herself raising the adopted daughter of the crew of the Rapier. Given the responsibility to raise their princess, Cindy, they travel among the stars preying on merchant ships, dodging Chinese warships, fighting pirates, visiting strange worlds, and encountering fantastic creatures, all under the watchful eyes of Commodore James Ulysses Black. Trying to raise a young girl among gunfights, swordfights, ship-to-ship battles, slave trades, deals, and some of the most feared raiders in human space is no small challenge.

The only question is, Is Kathy up to the task?

Review by Travis B

"The face-paced, in-the-present style of writing always keeps the story moving along at light speed. But after each jump to or from hyperspace anything can happen and does. Swimming with whales living in nebulae of thick, colorful gases. Horse-sized wolves and never-before-seen natives and underwater adventures to meet the almighty, giving ones: bioengineering “gifts” with omnipotent capabilities. And sword-fights, blazingly fast strokes of the gleaming steel, bellies bursting, men keeling over."

Ghost suspense thriller

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A powerful curse cast thousands of years ago by the Grand Vizier. Tanakhmet cursed Prince Akhmose to never enter the Field of Reeds, the heavenly paradise. Why did he want him to linger as a restless ghost among the living, forever?

By reading the hieroglyphs, Layla, a young Egyptologist, inadvertently breaks the curse and frees the ghosts of both Prince Akhmose and the Grand Vizier whose thirst for revenge is stronger than ever.

With Layla’s help, can Prince Akhmose finally cross into the afterlife?

Or perhaps, because of the charms of the mortal woman, he doesn’t want to…

Review by Termite Writer

"I’m always attracted to stories with archaeological subjects and this story deals with ancient Egypt and its curses, mummies, and ghosts. Through the machinations of the Pharoah’s evil Grand Vizier, Prince Akhmose is murdered and his soul is sent into the future, while his lover’s soul is also reincarnated in a modern woman who happens to be an Egyptologist. Her skeptical roommate Mara adds some enjoyable humor to the tale."

Gothic romance

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Fernal Thorn always suspected her family had secrets.

But she has no idea how dark and dangerous these secrets are until a mysterious man, his horde of followers, and a powerful demon invade her forest home. Badly beaten and alone, she is rescued by an aloof high-born stranger who takes her to his family’s ancient estate in Cumbria.

There she finds allies and enemies with secrets of their own. Captivated by her alluring yet reclusive rescuer, Fernal is torn between vengeance and love, and she must find a way to defeat the evil that has plagued her family for centuries—or die on the next solstice.

Deeply compelling and seductive, Eternity Awaits is a richly textured story that will dwell within you long after the last pages are read.

Review by aerowell

"Intriguing story that has something for everyone: mystery, suspense, romance and the supernatural. The characters had flaws and insecurities with which we can all relate. Eternity Awaits is an entertaining page-turner with unexpected twists. "

FIND OUT HOW

Book Sunday

 Enjoy our featured books

Short story collection

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A Collection of stories written by Shebat Legion. These tales range in genre, but all share the quirky and thought-provoking, often disturbing voice that is Legion. Hubris, a collection of short stories, new and previously published are offered as an example of the eclectic range and style that is Legion's own.

Young adult supernatural fantasy

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A love potion made with haste out of jealousy puts Dorian into a comalike state. A rare orchid that blooms only once a year could save his life, but the precious flowers are fiercely guarded by Liam and his werewolf pack. The acolytes of the coven are forbidden to enter the forest and the young apprentices volunteer to make the journey that will test their loyalty and courage.

Will they succeed?

Humor and parody

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Through a Wine Glass Darkly. updated in 2024, contains fifteen tales of horror, mystery, humor, and science fiction previously published between 2016 and 2018, including the award winning short story, "Swim With The Beavers," and three stories that received honorable mention status in the Writers of The Future Contes .Also included are six drabbles originally published in the Horror Tree anthology, Trembling With Fear - Year One. A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words. One new story, "Cruising With Eddie" is included in this volume. Scary, evocative, whimsical, and funny - all at the same time. Fill your glass, sit in front of the fire, and enjoy the book. You might want to keep the lights on.