The Old Kind
A Stand-Alone Anthology in the Sibylline Saga
Believe everything you hear about the Old Kind.
That way, you’ll never be caught unawares.
A grieving flax spinner descending into madness. A fiery rebel stuck between land and sea. Two sisters, divided by faith and determination. An immortal man, and the ravens that watch him from the trees.
The Old Kind lurk at the edge of these stories. Almost gone, but never forgotten. The Weaver hungers for life and magic. The Mermaid aches for her family. The Shadow Wolf stands guard at the door. And Death gently waits at the end.
These four stand-alone tales – The Glass Wheel, Bluewater, Starsong, and Raven’s End – explore the overlooked corners of the Sibylline Saga universe. These are stories of hope and healing, where the bond between sisters, the bravery to truly feel, and steadfast love can conquer all.
Content Advisory
This book includes scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Please expand the button on the right for a complete list of these sensitive topics.
If while reading this book, you come across any sensitive topics that need to be added to this list, please reach out to me at [email protected] and put CONTENT ADVISORY in the subject line.
Take care of yourselves, loves.
Content Advisory
The Glass Wheel
Death of a parent, depression, grief
Bluewater
A tertiary character is burned alive near the beginning of the story, but it is not a graphic scene and the character is drugged to not feel pain or fear.
Starsong
Child abuse – an adult man is beaten by his father on the page, and their history of child abuse is implied.
Raven’s End
Mild gore, assisted suicide, death omens
The Complete Sibylline Saga
Character Art Coming Soon...
The Weaver
Four long fingers appeared around a hickory tree about ten feet away. They wrapped around the rough bark slowly, laying down one at a time with graceful precision. And then, from behind the same tree appeared a face.
At first glance, it appeared to be the face of a young woman. Smooth complexion, long delicate nose, pert mouth. Her flowing hair was only a few shades darker than her ice-white skin, pulled back into an efficient braid that would have looked boring on anyone else.
And yet, something about that face set my heart racing. My palms began to sweat, despite the biting cold.
As the figure came fully into view, that unknown uneasiness solidified into fact. She was too tall. Impossibly tall. She towered at least ten feet high, with long, narrow proportions. Her sheer, sleeveless dress showed off her lean figure in every incredible detail. It hung about her in tatters – ripped, torn, and worn through to almost nothing.
Not human. Not human.
I backed up a step.
This was not human, but one of the Old Kind. A creature of magic, long gone. I didn’t have to go to the seaside to meet one after all. Here one stood, right in front of me in my own woods.