Brusenna thought it was finished. She defeated the Dark Witch, saving the Witches from imprisonment and death. She found love and a place to belong.
But she was wrong. A new threat merges with the old as the Witches' dark history begins to catch up with them. Only Brusenna knows the extent of the danger and how to stop it, though doing so might cost her everything.
Including her life.
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If you like books like The Iron Fey series, Born Wicked or The Girl of Fire and Thorns, I'm sure you'll enjoy this one. ~Deea from Deea's Journal
It was so refreshing to read high fantasy that's still accessible. ~Melanie, Goodreads reviewer
The romance that blooms is so natural and imperfect and frustratingly lifelike, it draws you in and holds you there, right up until the very last word of the very last chapter. ~WBurr, Amazon Reviewer
Amber Argyle has again put me under her spell with the truly beautiful and lyrical way in which she writes. ~Cath from Book Chatter Cath
The night was so deep the shadows seemed to bleed darkness. Senna glanced toward the hidden sky, searching for the moon that would not come. Not tonight. Even the strongest starlight was strangled by the dense canopy of trees. The temporary blindness was frightening, but it ensured no one would notice her slipping away.
With each step she took, the roar of the waterfall grew louder. Finally, she reached the staircase carved into the side of the cliff. Mindful of the slippery steps, she climbed upward until her muscles burned and sweat broke across her skin despite the chill.
When she’d crested the top and crossed the bleak expanse, she glanced at the frothing sea far below. Sea spray misted her skin. She faced westward, towards the distant land of Tarten. Closing her eyes, she cast her senses across the vast ocean, searching and feeling the faraway echoes of the Four Sisters—Earth, Water, Plants, and Sunlight. She concentrated until she could hear their pain, an aching melody.
Senna’s tears started again, wetting the salty tracks already on her cheeks. At night, her dreams haunted her. Dreams of a withered land and a dying people. With all the strength she had, she sang.
Let not the curse of Witches
Destroy a land of natural riches.
Plants, preserve life in thy roots,
Seeds sleep in earth, send forth no shoots
Until the Witches shall disperse
This terrible and unjust curse.