BLURB

When strange accidents start happening around thirteen year-old necromancer Ennara and her friends, she must search for the mysterious stolen artifacts causing the attacks while learning the highest form of magic--the spells that could prevent the fruition of a terrible prophecy.

EXCERPT

Ennara looked at the pansy. Still dead. Then at her teacher, who was staring at her, waiting. The class remained silent. Didn’t he see the plant wasn’t alive at all? His expression remained questioning. Did she want to admit she couldn’t do this, and be separated from the rest to re-learn how to do a blessing?

She took a deep breath. A sideways glance at Kithe showed him smiling at the end of the desk. He shot her a secret thumbs-up under the table. Failure was not an option. Healing spells were a major part of light magic and she had to master the path of light. Fulfilling the good part of the prophecy demanded it.

“No, I can do this.”

The greenish glow filtering through the classroom’s life tree, an ancient, knotted maple, darkened as a cloud passed over the room’s large sun-dome. Outside, the wind picked up. The life tree’s broad leaves shivered. A breeze whistled through the castle corridor on the other side of the heavy wood door.

Ennara focused on the delicate head of purple petals and yellow stamen. She lifted a delicate indigo-stained pine wand lying next to her scribbled notes on healing incantations.

“Mag koil.” Make unharmed.

Nothing happened.

Darsys and her friends at the front of the room giggled. Inunsolus folded his arms, his white beard pulling the creases in his face into several versions of a scowl.

Ennara bit her lip. How was she supposed to rely on holy magic if it didn’t work?

“Mag koil.” She glared at the plant, imagining its stiff little cells burning with potent life force. A brief indigo shimmer fell onto a limp purple petal.

Her teacher inhaled sharply and took a step away from the bench. The pansy, lifeless only moments earlier, slowly curled and relaxed a leaf. Ennara had seen that shimmer once before. Last summer, when she and Kithe traveled aboard the Cissonius to the sunken city of Ililsa. And just before a cabinet of curios, including a severed hand, came to life.

The bloom slowly straightened, its violet color deepening to black. A faint hissing sound tickled Ennara’s ear. She bent toward the little plant, squinting. Suddenly the pansy lunged, revealing a row of crystalline teeth under its bed of stamens.

“Eeep!” Ennara bashed the little flower with the thick end of her wand. Green slime sizzled the end of the stick.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Angela Myron was born in Vancouver, Canada in 1973. She grew up in the piney forests of southern British Columbia, studying tiny blue bells, dodging hidden cacti, and creating fantasy worlds in her back yard. She loved to imagine lands of fairies and goblins, then invite friends over to introduce them.

Angela studied biology and professional writing at university, starting her degree at the University of Victoria in Canada and finishing it at San Francisco State University. She wrote grant proposals for nonprofits, technical manuals for software, and freelance journalism before writing fiction.

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