fantasy novel
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My first counselling session is with Quentin Corinth (better known as Quen) from The Thirteeth Hour by Trudie Skies, a truly brilliant story (and first in The Cruel Gods series) about the world of Chime and the twelve realms of the gods to which it connects. With each realm comes a different race of mortals.
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I had the pleasure of interview Violet Lumani, an author whose debut YA fantasy book, FORETOLD, released in July! I was particularly interested in learning more about this book because its main character is grappling with various mental health issues, and this is an area about which I am very passionate. So, let’s get onto
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Lucy: Hi Brianna! It’s great to have you here. So, first things first, tell us a bit about yourself. Brianna: Thank you so much for including me in this conversation, Lucy! This is a topic I care a lot about. To quickly introduce myself, I’m a proud geek, sci-fi and fantasy writer, and filmmaker. City
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As 2020 draws to a (scarily rapid) close, I’m looking back on the books I’ve enjoyed this year. It’s actually been the first year I’ve kept track of what I’ve been reading (no idea why I didn’t do this before… I’d love to be able to recall everything I’ve ever read). I’m not the fastest
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The dog stretched out of the cramped hole in the base of the great tree, yawning deeply. It had been a cool spring night and he sniffed at the fresh morning breeze that brought with it an undercurrent of death and decay from the surrounding forest. His pointed ears pricked up at the sounds of
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The old wizard walked with purpose, one hand grasping an intricately carved wooden staff, the other resting lightly on his weathered belt. You might expect him to be wearing a luxurious robe, as wizards are wont to do; in fact, he was dressed sensibly in woollen trousers, tunic and cape, for there was a long
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It started with a sacred weapon. Arthur was told from a young age he would inherit his father’s sword—his grandfather’s before him—and take up his rightful place as Hero of the Realm. And yet… And yet, the idea left him hollow. It wasn’t even fear—well, he had to admit, perhaps a little fear—but rather a
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The bell above my door rings and my heart jolts in my chest, sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins. I am torn; comfortable in my state of near-hibernation, reluctant to move… But this is my first visitor in months, drawn in by the ever-burning flame at the top of my tower—a waypoint in
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The oak tree stood vigil on the roadside. Travellers passed by along with the seasons and the tree saw the flourish of life and the rot of death, ever silent in its watch. And so it was that, on this particular morning, it felt a tug upon one of its lower branches; a sturdy limb
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I’ve been reading fantasy books for about twenty years. Though I will venture off to other genres (horror, thriller, even sometimes a good romance), I will always be drawn back to the magical lure of the fantasy section in my local (read: any) bookshop (much to my husband’s chagrin). There is something incomparable about being
Lucy A. McLaren 