Discover Mychael Black's Gravedancer today

   

Title: Gravedancer

Author: Mychael Black

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Mystery /Suspense /Intrigue, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Themes: Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ Gay, LGBTQ+ Sex & Gender Shifters, MPreg, Vampires

Series: Broken Houses (#1)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 81

Description

For Malik and Dorian, the death of one of House Severn’s leaders just turned personal.

House Severn is in turmoil with the mysterious death of its leader’s omega mate. No one knows how he died, and it falls on Malik Devries, the House’s resident Spiritori priest, to find answers. His search leads him to someone he never expected to find -- Dorian Morrow, his fated mate.

Dorian was only fifteen when his family fled House Severn. He always thought his dads wanted to get away and live life free of any House ties. He’d been wrong -- so very, very wrong. What he isn’t wrong about, however, is the almost magnetic pull he feels to House Severn’s Spiritori, Malik Devries.

Excerpt

Gravedancer (Broken Houses 1)

Mychael Black

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2026 Mychael Black

Wails echoed down the hall, anguished and utterly heartbreaking.

I leaned against the wall halfway down and closed my eyes. This whole nightmare had come out of nowhere, and no one had answers. Not even me.

A few days ago, Cesar, our leader’s mate, had been healthy, laughing and smiling with the rest of us. Then everything changed almost overnight. Darrien had rushed to my chambers and begged me to come with him, which I had. Cesar had been so pale, I’d feared he was already gone. He hung onto life for another couple of days before succumbing to whatever ailed him.

As I listened to one of my best friends mourn his partner’s death, I couldn’t help but curse the gods themselves. Darrien and Cesar ruled House Severn with kindness, and to hear such gut-wrenching sorrow was surreal in this place.

A door farther down opened, and I looked toward it. Darrien’s advisor, Christian Morelock, stepped into the hall. He headed my way, his expression as torn as I figured mine to be. He sighed and leaned against the wall opposite me, hands shoved into his pockets. He closed his eyes, and neither of us said a word for a moment while we listened to Darrien’s cries.

“Send any petitioners or issues to me for the time being.”

“Understood.”

“Don’t suppose you have any clue what happened, do you?”

I wished I could’ve said I had all the answers, but I had none. “No. Doc is just as stumped. Once Cesar is delivered to the chapel, I’ll see what I can divine.”

Christian studied me for a few seconds before replying. “You think it’s magic, don’t you?”

“I do,” I admitted. “Beyond the fact that we are less susceptible to illness than humans, my gut tells me this isn’t something so easily explained away.”

He nodded. “My question is: who is behind it? Who the fuck would target Cesar? That man never harmed a fly.”

That was the crux of this situation. Darrien and Cesar honestly had no true enemies. It just didn’t make a damn bit of sense.

“Anyway,” Christian said, dragging my attention back to him, “I need to go downstairs and call a meeting. Darrien will be out of commission for a while.”

This was one reason why I avoided relationships. Beyond being a Spiritori and dealing with the issues it came with, the thought of finding love, only to possibly lose it, was more than I really wanted to face.

Christian pushed off from the wall and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll make sure Cesar’s body gets to you as soon as possible.”

“Don’t rush anything,” I said. “Give Darrien time. I’ll be here.”

Nodding, Christian continued down the hall toward the bank of elevators. He stepped into one, and the doors slid shut, leaving me alone in the hallway again.

Darrien had quieted, but I could feel the soul-deep heartbreak with uneasy clarity. This was personal. We had been friends for centuries. Cesar’s death hit us all with devastating precision.

Like it had been planned.

That thought took root in my mind, and I couldn’t shake it. I hurried to the elevators and headed down. My apartment was on the same floor as Christian’s, but I worked in the basement. I enjoyed the solitude and quiet more than the usual bustle of the rest of the complex.

As soon as the doors opened, I stepped out, only to find Seth Gates, the head of security and the fifth member of our close-knit friendship circle, waiting for me. I nodded in greeting and unlocked the door, gesturing for him to join me. The moment we were alone, I turned to him.

“You’re thinking the same damn thing.”

“I am,” Seth said. “For several reasons.”

“Talk to me,” I replied as we walked through the entryway and toward my workspace. I pressed my hand to the sensor on the wall, and the door’s lock clicked. Confident Seth followed, I headed to my lab, turning on lights as I went. Once we were alone again, Seth sat on one of the nearby stools while I booted up my computer.

“I don’t think Cesar was the actual target.”

One eyebrow raised, I glanced over at him. “Okay…”

Seth shrugged. “I think we all were.”

I sat down and signed into the network. “Explain?”

“He was the only omega in Darrien’s inner circle. At least the only one anyone knew about,” he added. “He’d be the ideal target for magic, too, since he was a laicas.”

“True.” I turned to him. “Do you recall a trouble-making asshole named Jules Morrow?”

Seth scowled. “Bastard was a fucking pain in my ass. Why?”

“He and his laicas mate, Roman, struck out on their own about seven years ago. Before they left, Jules had been in touch with someone outside House Severn, asking about delayed magic.”

“How the hell did you find that out, and what the fuck is ‘delayed’ magic?”

“Let’s just say I do have contacts throughout the area,” I replied. “I can’t elaborate for their safety.”

Seth rolled his eyes. “You know you can trust me, but I get it. Now what’s ‘delayed’ magic? I thought spells hit when cast.”

“Most do, but those that are labeled as ‘delayed’ act much differently. They attach themselves to their targets and only activate when a certain event occurs or when a certain amount of time has passed. Essentially, a Magien can cast a spell on someone to activate, say, when that person hits a particular age or what have you. Follow me?”

“Sort of,” Seth muttered, though his expression said otherwise. He was a Venari, and, like laicas vamps, they tended to steer very clear of magic in general.

“Anyway, and this is a very loose hypothesis, what if Jules Morrow did something along those lines to Cesar? If your idea of all of us being the actual targets is true, then it would definitely be plausible.”

“I recall Jules being a rather jealous, vindictive shit,” Seth said. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Jealous being the keyword here,” I pointed out. “Cesar was an omega in a strong position of power. Jules was an omega with nothing but a cheating, worthless alpha.”

Seth sighed and raked a hand through his short, spiky black hair. “So what do we do?”

“I need to see if I can track down one of them.”

“That’s like searching for a needle in a haystack, Malik. How --”

“They have a son.”

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Mychael Black has been writing professionally since 2005. He writes gay romance and erotica, but also het romance as Carys Seraphine and queer fantasy as Katherine Cook.

He's an avid PC gamer with a love for RPGs, a horror fanatic, and a fantasy nut. He also has a weakness for anything relating to skulls, dogs, and Spongebob Squarepants.

Mychael lives on the Eastern Shore of the US with his family. He loves to hear from readers, be it via email or Facebook.

Website | Facebook

   

Book Tour Stop: Zephyr by Mychael Black

   

Title: Zephyr

Author: Mychael Black

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Mystery /Suspense /Intrigue, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Themes: Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ Gay, LGBTQ+ Sex & Gender Shifters, MPreg, Vampires

Series: Splintered Bloodlines (#5)

Multiverse: From Shadows (#1)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 76

Description

A one-night stand changes Aaron and Zach’s lives forever.

Aaron Pryce has lived a reclusive life for centuries, content with his dogs and his cabin. A one-night stand, however, sends his comfortable existence into a whirlwind. He’s the best candidate to take over the former House Zalis, but nothing is ever easy. When he visits the compound, he gets the shock of his life.

Zach Cane couldn’t get the man he’d spent one night with out of his head. So imagine his surprise when they meet at Saridan Tower weeks later. As they work to navigate a new relationship, old secrets from Aaron’s past come to light… none of them good.

WARNING: Depictions of domestic violence, child abuse, violence, and strong language may be triggers for some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

Excerpt

Zephyr (Splintered Bloodlines 5)

Mychael Black

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2026 Mychael Black

“There is no way in hell I am going to take over an entire house.”

The words -- my words -- still rang clear in my head. Two weeks had passed since that conversation with Raphael Santos. I had been very determined to nix the idea completely, but a tiny glimmer of “what-if” lingered. I also couldn’t fathom the work needed to run what was left of House Zalis now that its founding leader, Ivan Zalis, was dead.

Raph had been right, though. The house needed a magic user to run it. I wanted to kick myself for even thinking about it.

Swift on the heels of that came the reminder that it wasn’t just me and the pups now. Although we hadn’t talked about the future during the past couple of lunch dates we’d had since our unexpected meeting at Saridan Tower, there was no denying Zach Cane and I were mates. I had known that first night, when a few hours of insanely hot, quasi-anonymous sex had sealed my damn fate.

I didn’t know if Zach had any clue what we were. Surely, as an alpha, he did, but he hadn’t shown any indication that night or any time since. I certainly hadn’t told him either. I was still struggling with it myself. I’d spent my entire life torn between hoping for my fated mate and praying I never found him. I put the blame squarely at my parents’ feet, too. My alpha father, Stefan, had been a narcissistic asshole who’d used his magic to cause trouble for just about anyone he met, and my omega stepfather, Martin, had despised him for it. I’d been hidden away by him in hopes that my own magic would never be an issue. Hell, Martin had forced me to live as a laicas, a commoner. When he died, though, all bets were off. That’s when I began honing my skills as an Incantas. But watching my folks’ marriage deteriorate, magic or no, soured me on relationships.

Then Zach waltzed into my life.

Barking from inside the house snapped me back to the present. I realized I’d been sitting in the truck for longer than intended. I got out and grabbed the bags of dog food. As soon as I stepped into the house, all four pups swarmed me as if they’d been starving.

“It’s only been an hour, you idiots,” I said with a laugh.

I set the bags down and sat on the floor to get kisses and tail-smacks in the face. I never really intended to have this many pets. I’d started with one, then came another. Then I rescued two more. Now I couldn’t imagine life without my furbabies.

“Okay, okay,” I said as I stood. “Let’s get you nutcases fed.”

I picked up the bags and headed for the kitchen. The cabin wasn’t huge, but it suited me perfectly. I spent the majority of my life here after Martin whisked me away once they split up. Growing up, I hated the isolation, but, over time, I soon preferred it to the city and being around other people. I still had an apartment at Saridan Tower, but this was home. Just me and the pups.

My phone rang as I started filling the four food dishes. I answered it and put it on speaker.

“Hey.”

“Got a minute?” Deacon Saridan asked.

I glanced over at the phone and inwardly sighed. I had the feeling I knew what this was about. “Sure.”

“I’ve been in talks with Javier Torneau. We agree that, while the former House Lorthaen should be dissolved completely, what remains of House Zalis is simply too important, magic-wise. That said, they need a leader.”

“Fuck,” I grumbled. I sat down at the dining table and sighed. “Deacon…”

“I know it isn’t something you really want, but you’re the most obvious choice,” my half-brother said. “You’re one of the strongest Incantas in this area.”

“I don’t want to lead.”

“That’s precisely why you’re the best choice,” Deacon countered. “You’re not the type to let any sort of power go to your head.”

I grimaced. “That’s what Raph said. Have you two been talking?”

Deacon chuckled. “Perhaps, but we’re right.”

“You’re also an asshole,” I muttered. “Both of you.”

“So I’ll see you this afternoon then for a meeting? Say… two?”

“Ugh. Fine. Jackass.”

Deacon laughed. “See you then.”

We hung up, and I dropped my head to the tabletop, tempted to bang it a few times for good measure. Yes, I knew they were right. Ivan Zalis had been a Spiritori, but his death left a lot of good magic users in limbo without a leader. Magiens, Incantas, even a few Spiritori made up what had once been House Zalis. That much firepower, so to speak, couldn’t be unchecked and left to float around without direction and someone to watch them. An Incantas could also weed out the undesirables from the ones who just wanted to live without trouble. Much like myself.

When my phone pinged with a text, I half dreaded looking at it. I did, though, and couldn’t help but smile. Despite the mates issue lingering like an elephant between us, seeing Zach’s name pop on my screen made me ache with a hunger I hadn’t felt for anyone before meeting him.

Got any plans this evening?

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Mychael Black has been writing professionally since 2005. He writes gay romance and erotica, but also het romance as Carys Seraphine and queer fantasy as Katherine Cook. He's an avid PC gamer with a love for RPGs, a horror fanatic, and a fantasy nut. He also has a weakness for anything relating to skulls, dogs, and Spongebob Squarepants. Mychael lives on the Eastern Shore of the US with his family. He loves to hear from readers, be it via email or Facebook.

Website | Facebook

   

Book Spotlight Tour/Giveaway: In the Wake of Gods by Kent Priore

 

Seth thought God was dead...

but ideas tend to linger. 

In the Wake of Gods

The Abyss Borne Gods Book 2

by Kent Priore

Genre: Epic Dark Fantasy

“Kent Priore writes like a natural about the supernatural. American fiction has found a terrific new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland

Standing amidst the destruction of Magistrum, great sorrow and guilt weighs upon Seth as he keeps the memory of his mistake close—to continue his growth, to remain good. A concern which lingers through the birth of his daughter, Persephone, labeled a True Born God by the personification of the White Abyss. And due to the sudden death of her uncle, Persephone’s abyssal powers emerge in a destructive way, tearing a hole through the fabric of the world. Thus, solidifying Seth’s worries of managing his own struggles while being father to a god who resembles his past far too much.

Feeling Persephone’s powerful aura pulsate through dimensions, both antagonistic forces begin pursuing her, wanting to eliminate a threat, and make her power theirs. Alongside these heavy stressors, Seth must also deal with the inevitability of Sasha dying the same mysterious way as the other Guild members.

The Earth devolves into a wasteland as the gods ravish the globe, devouring every human they can find. All the while Seth, Sasha, their daughter, and others lay in hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike back, to resist the will of the Abyssian gods—but can they without sacrificing everything they worked so hard to achieve? And will Seth, so burdened by his past actions, endure this, or will he devolve into the monster he once was…the monster he fears his daughter will also become?

Fans of "Jerusalem" by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath, or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters Among Us.”

 

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The pitch-black night splits apart as two dark clouds go their separate ways. A large full moon looms overhead, filtering its borrowed light through the open window of Persephone’s bedroom.

The young girl tosses and turns, with soft animalistic grunts emerging from her. Gritting her teeth, twitching, flitting about, she whimpers as a large weight festers like cancer within her. A multitude of pressures, cramping with tightness in her tiny chest. Aching for release. A god, trapped in the frame of a small girl.

Tremors ripple through her body, intensifying further and further, and—she screeches.

Persephone sits erect, her eyes closed, mouth agape. Breathing in deeply, her head arches back, her eyes peel open, and rays of white light shine out from her skull, as she begins sucking in a tremendous amount of air in one, unending gulp. The bright yellow moon distorts and wobbles and sways like water, and at one edge begins to spill into a bright golden river. Stretching further and further, like toothpaste through its tube. The stream descends toward the Earth, creating a glittering strand of moon dust, stretching across thousands and thousands of miles until reaching Persephone’s window, and spilling into her mouth—

“Persephone?” Seth bursts in. “What’s wro—”

Sasha follows in from behind, stricken in awe alongside him. “Persephone? Persephone!” she shouts, running over and throwing her arms around the girl.

Seth hurries over to the window, watching the stream of moon dust spill into his daughter’s mouth. Reaching toward the stretched-out moon, specks of dust displace from the stream, glittering its golden sheen around his fingertips. Looking out and up through the window, he finds the once full moon half dissolved, crumbled away like sand.

“What is happening?” Andes says, appearing in the doorway. Mikhail stands at his side, nuzzling his sleepy eyes with the back of his hands before waking to the commotion before him.

“She’s not responding!” Sasha says.

Seth rushes over. “That light…no, it’s happening again.” Sasha yanks her gaze toward Seth, alarmed. “It happened earlier today, while reading…this white glow—and this pressure. It’s the Abyss. No doubt.”

“My apologies,” Andes says, “But we have larger concerns at the moment. If she consumes the moon, its absence will devastate the Earth!”

Seth breathes in heavily. A doomsday event in the middle of the night. She’s my daughter, that’s for sure. “Clear the room!” he shouts, his eyes illuminated with white abyssal flame. “I’m going to try something.”

Sasha rises, inching away slowly. Her gaze locked too fiercely onto Persephone. Seth places a hand on her shoulder, gesturing with his head for her to step aside. A hollow sensation takes root in Sasha as she ambles over to Andes.

Seth hovers his right palm over Persephone’s face, curling his fingers in a circular motion. Hand shaking, the pull of the moon dust river is too severe, continuing its descent into the depths of Persephone—setting his entire body ablaze with white flame, Sasha and Andes feel a gravitation shift pulling toward Seth. Mikhail clings to Andes’s sleeve, fearing his feet would be swept up in the sudden, unnatural wind current rushing through their enclosed home. And though the fire is bright, it does not burn. It does not scorch nor warm.

The moon dust begins to retract. Rising from Persephone’s throat, she gargles and gags.

Seth’s eyes glow brighter, and a portal opens at the far end of the room, creating yet another gravitational pull. Beyond the portal lay a vast darkness, sprinkled with glimmering stars. Sasha, Andes, and Mikhail huddle together, clinging fiercely to the doorframe while Seth and Persephone’s abyssal weight holds them steady. The last of the moon dust ejects from her stomach, and the white glow of her eyes disappears. Waking up, she’s suddenly lifted into the air by the vacuum of space—she thuds against Seth’s big right arm, brought close to his side. With the flick of his left hand, the moon dust flings into the darkness, followed by a pillar of abyssal flame erupting from his palm. Gravity reverts to normal as the portal closes.

Rushing to the window, they find the wobbling moon slowly steadying itself. Aglow with abyssal flame, searing the fabric of the world back together, it reforms into the same bright full moon as before.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Andes says. Sasha stares in awe of Seth, but with an ever-deepening scowl sinking into her face.

“I had a hunch. The words she pulled from the book pages floated back into form once she snapped out of it. The abyssal flame was an added precaution.” Seth collapses onto Persephone’s bed. The young girl cocks her head in confusion at her father’s exhaustion.

Andes, noticing the looks on both parents, steps toward Persephone. “You two get some rest. I’ll tuck the youngsters back into bed.”

“You sure?” asks Sasha.

“Never more sure in my life! Now, go.”

Glancing tiredly at each other, Seth and Sasha hurry back to their room.

Andes pulls a chair up to the bed and takes the book he gave her years ago from the nearby nightstand. Mikhail hops into bed beside Persephone, both children content beneath the covers as Andes begins to read a story.

Persephone smiles widely toward her uncle. With no memory of what had just occurred, she relishes what’s to come. A story told by her loving uncle, her most favorite of things.

The Monsters Among Us

The Abyss Borne Gods Book 1

“Kent Priore writes like a natural about the supernatural, and The Monsters Among Us is a marvelously dark and true novel. American fiction has found a terrific new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland

Seth’s life until now has been a product of a diabolical, evil Truman Show, his entire upbringing a façade orchestrated for malevolent purposes. After his beloved dies, he undergoes a demonic metamorphosis, which causes the world’s fictitious walls to crumble.

As he tries to piece a semblance of his life back together and move on, he meets friends who inspire, but even more harsh truths are revealed, perhaps too difficult to cope with.

The very existence of life and reality is exposed as a machination of grotesque gods. And to defeat them, Seth will have to fill his emptiness, for which there’s only two options…
Bring the world to ruin, or learn to transmute his pain into strength.

Fans of "Jerusalem" by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath, or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters Among Us.”

“I was intrigued from the first sentence, determined to spend the night speed-reading so I didn't have to remain in suspense any longer.”
-Ella Dupuie, author of Fractures of the Fallen

“Supernatural storytelling at its best, this vivid cinematic novel takes the reader on an imaginative journey through what could be considered end of days. The Monster’s Among Us is a masterful creation and a must read—even for those who aren’t fans of fantasy/horror.”
—Joni Marie Iraci MFA author of Vatican Daughter

 

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  “You've been gifted with versatile magic. Fire can destroy, but it can also create. You are a forge that bellows with hellfire. Make use of it. I have found that magic is best used in creative and unprecedented ways. Even the dullest magic knows few limits. Magic does what the mind wills it to do.”

  I start to run after Gluttony. I keep the image of those poor kids in my mind. The rage in me intensifies. My new demon body in combination with my anger makes me fast, but not fast enough. I can still see Gluttony in the distance, but he’s leaving my field of view more with each passing second.

  My mind is coated red with the image of the flattened children. Like a shark who had just picked up the scent of blood, my adrenalin surges, and I can feel a manic fit overtaking me. My perception is flooded in a crazed haze. I feel limitless, as if I can do anything. This is a feeling I know well. I felt it when I decided to return home to Crowley and burn it all to the ground.

  Where's that voice, huh? Not going to tell me to stop this time?

  {No.}

  Why not?

  There’s no answer.

  Whatever.

  With nothing to hold me back, I really am limitless. Instinct takes over. I conjure my flames, but not with the intent to attack. I stretch my arms behind me and point my hands straight back. Fire erupts from my palms, propelling me forward. I take flight at a much greater speed than my legs can reach. I hurtle through the air, struggling to maintain balance. Like a cannonball I blast my way through trees and homes alike. Planks of wood and support beams scatter about in chaos.

  I wonder about the people living in these homes. Are they safe? Have I killed them? I don’t care. I feel useful to Melphis for the first time, and my bloodlust is reaching glorious heights as Gluttony's body grows larger in my view. We are passing the border into New Mexico at intense speeds. Before I know it, we have passed into Colorado, the foot of the Rocky Mountains in sight. He appears to slow down. What is he looking for here?

  He comes to an abrupt stop, pulling up the ground beneath his tentacles as he does so. I keep my speed and make my descent. I plummet hard upon his back. His tentacles give out, causing his large body to fall to the ground. A thundering crash shakes the surrounding space.

  “Who's there?” Gluttony roars. “Wait, no—Greed? You smell like my brother!”

  For a dumb brute, he’s quick to piece things together. He rises, supporting himself with six of his eight tentacles. The other two pursue me. One slithers behind and wraps itself around me. The sludge-like tentacles are as strong as they are giant. I struggle but remain motionless. The heat rises again. I feel empty, but from that emptiness arises my rage which festers and grows ever more passionate. Flames overtake my body. I can feel the slime of his tentacles melting away, like sweat dripping off me.

    "Fuck you!" I roar. The blood-stained clothes of those helpless children rush back to me, then so do the memories of my own ruined childhood. The flames increase and grow hotter until the whole tentacle catches fire. It burns away at a fierce speed. Ashes flutter away as black sludge spills out from the now open hole in his hard shell. Gluttony roars and his tentacles squirm like a spider that has just been stepped on.

    I climb on top of his hard shell and beat down my fists with reckless abandon. It withstands my punches, at first. I can feel my strength rising alongside my rage until at last, cracks form. The fractures stretch wider with each punch. Gluttony moans as they grow deeper. Melphis called him a transporter. Just what is he protecting with this dense outer layer?

    My focus intensifies and locks onto the growing fissure in his shell. My mind goes blank. All that exists is this shell, the sensation of my knuckles bashing into it, and the white flashes of rough skin being blown away in shrouds of dust. He is mine—he'll pay—I'll make him pay—for those kids—for me—

    The back of my head is hit by a dense, wet object and I am knocked off the beast. My body shatters the trunks of a few trees as I make my descent.

    {Your lack of focus has made you blind to the monster's many tentacles.}

    "Shut u—" I choke.

    Gluttony's enormous face is now mere feet away from mine. My elation fades as I watch the skyscraper-devouring mouth open at its four hinges. A long snake-like tongue emerges out of utter darkness. It coils itself around my body before his teeth drop down, devouring me along with much of the landscape. I feel my body now coated in slime, as it slides down Gluttony’s throat. The darkness of the pit consumes me.

Graduated from Bard College with a BA in the Written Arts, Kent Priore is an author of dark literature, genre-blending epics and vignettes, where dark romanticism meets modern psychology for a macabre but hopeful depiction of inner struggle and the human ability to endure, and perhaps even prevail. He has a fascination with humanity and is one of the few to believe that despite our many weaknesses, we are far stronger than we often think. He wishes to show that strength to those darker individuals, burdened by lonesomeness, poor mental health, and other forces perceived to be out of their control, as well as show them that all is not lost.

 

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

Enter the In the Wake of Gods Giveaway Here

Review Tour Stop/Giveaway: GOLEMS OF BEITHIR

 

Check out the second volume of The Chronicles of Hadúr: The Golems of Beithir, now available from author Michal Snaerravn. Don't forget to enter the tour wide giveaway as Michal Snaerravn will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. The Review Tour is sponsored by Goddess Fish Promotions and you can find all the tour stops HERE.

My Review of The Golems of Beithir:

3.5 Stars

I was intrigued by this author's new book, The Golems of Beithir but not reading the first book hampered me in understanding some of the backstory and characters in this second book. It was well written, had a fast flowing storyline and intrigued me from the start . I honestly need to read book one then reread this to get the whole backstory, characters, etc straight in my head. I love fantasy books and this delivered on all my catnip moments. So if you like Dark/Epic Fantasy stories, you might want to try this author's books out.

This is an objective review and not an endorsement.

GOLEMS OF BEITHIR

Series: The Chronicles of Hadur, Book 2

by Michal Snaerravn

Dark Fantasy

Available at Amazon

Amnon returns in the second volume of The Chronicles of Hadúr: The Golems of Beithir. The

Blood Wars have begun as the races fight for control of Hell's Gate. Beithir is no longer alone, and the full power of the Druid Council now stands behind him to tighten the Druids grip on the region. Beithir has been assigned one final task: eliminate the Demonblood Amnon. He will draw on the Dark Assassins and forbidden powers as he battles the Dark Gods shielding young

Amnon...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt Two:

“I could carry you to—” My stomach wretched violently to curtail my words and vile vomit

splattered across the floor.

“Poisoned pastries. I should have warned you quicker,” Dornoll half apologized.

My head spun like a tornado as I painfully wretched again, then wiped the viscous slime off my

lips. I had bigger issues to deal with than slow poison, as a sinister mass formed in the tunnel

ahead.

Dornoll drew her sword while I pulled my Dwarfsteel dagger and whispered, “Thank you, Father, your dagger will go with me to my grave.” Then I added a prayer, “Lord Ashmedei, permit me to die fighting, and not by poison like a sewer rat.”

I felt the heat envelop me as my torso lit on fire and a monstrous aberration entered the

chamber, saliva dripping from its hideous maw.

Enter to win a $10 Amazon/BN gift card.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Michal Snaerravn continues on his journey as an explorer of his book writing soul whenever he

is not answering the call of the great outdoors. He believes that every prose, song, or poetry we

create captures a snippet of our souls. Having grown so much from completing the second book of the trilogy, Golems of Beithir, he is enthralled with the creation of the closing volume, Mist of Akhlys. "Life is too short to idly sit by: pursue your dreams as if your life depended on it. It does.

Books and adventures are meant to be shared—onward and upward!

The epic fantasy opens with “Curse of Ashmedei,” seen through the eyes of Amnon, a young

Demonblood hunting for the Druids that killed his parents. He crosses paths with a Company led by powerful Druids and becomes snared in a web of treacherous alliances. His enemies are

constantly one step ahead, and only the aid of Cathair, an ancient Lycan who has lost his

humanity saves him from death at the hands of Druids, Trollbloods, Trolls, Orcons and their

allies. In “Golems of Beithir,” Amnon closes in on his nemesis—Beithir, a powerful Master Druid with dark powers from Hell’s Gate. Beithir stalks Amnon’s every step in efforts to eliminate him and his allies, forcing the young Demonblood to side with the Trolls as they battle the Druids for control of the Hellgard Empire. “The Mist of Akhlys” culminates the trilogy as Amnon confronts his inner self and questions his values of revenge as he is taunted by lust and love…

The release of “Mist of Akhlys” will be followed by a short, free TTRPG Campaign that follows

popular structures and mechanics. “The Staff of Amdren” will set in the Hellgard Empire, led by the fearless Warlord Dornoll. Beta testing for Game Masters is available on the author’s

website.

Website: http://www.thechroniclesofhadur.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/amnonofhadur/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/51442973.Michal_Snaerravn

Discover Makerborn by Daymon Ashcord & Enter the Tour Wide Giveaway

Makerborn
Daymon Ashcord
(Maladies of Empire, #1)
Publication date: June 15th 2026
Genres: Adult, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy

The God War is over. An empire built on suffering, slavery, and betrayal remains…

In the fractured lands of the Salvian Empire, the Great Houses rule through blood and fear. For years, Alandra Phoenyka has hunted powerful Sonomancers in the empire’s name, paid in empty promises that her stolen daughter would be returned. Each step forward demands another compromise. Another betrayal. Another piece of herself lost.

When those promises turn to treachery, she is forced to take matters into her own hands and risk everything to reclaim her child.

In the empire’s mining camps, Bez Windstrider has endured years of torture and brutal experimentation. Broken but unyielding, he clings to one purpose: vengeance. The men who murdered his parents will pay, and their deaths will complete the ritual needed to free his parents’ souls from damnation.

But the deeper his grief cuts, the more he becomes something far more dangerous, for himself and for the empire.

As their paths draw closer, the buried truths of the God War begin to surface. What begins as two personal vendettas threatens to unravel something far greater than either of them can control.

Because empires do not fall quietly.

And the gods that shaped them are not as dead as they seem.

Makerborn is the first book in the Maladies of Empire series, a brutal epic dark fantasy of vengeance, sacrifice, and the cost of love.

For readers of dark, character-driven epic fantasy in the vein of Joe Abercrombie, Mark Lawrence, R.F. Kuang, Evan Winter, and Steven Erikson.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Chapter 2

A Son’s Vengeance

Bez woke in darkness, deep in a pit, having failed his parents yet again. The night air was heavy and damp. The acrid stench of feces had lessened, but his nose still burned with the stink of decay. He felt like he would never wash the smell from his body. What does it matter now?

The moist earth offered scant relief from the Southern Waste’s merciless heat. Sweat slicked his body. His skin felt on fire, reminding him of how the Salvians slowly roasted meat on spits. He pinched his right nostril and blew out a thick wad of phlegm.

How long? How squalling long have they left me down here to rot?

He traced fine grooves in the earthy wall of his cage with long, dirty fingernails. Twenty-seven days he’d scratched before he’d given up counting. Then the real fun began. Weeks of wading in his own shit like a rutting hog once the pit guards had stopped retrieving his privy bucket. Weeks more of starvation when the obvious solution to avoid living in a hog pen penetrated his addled mind: no food, no feces. His only companions were self-pity, nightmares, and maggots gorging on his noxious filth.

And the moans of indentured miners, likely years past their freedom date, and Collared All-Tribe—his people—drifting down in his dirt tomb.

“Water,” cried a pit prisoner.

“Bread, just a heel of bread for Seal’s sake,” whined another.

“It was Tuftson,” someone sniveled. “He made me do it. It was him. Please, let me out.”

“Shut your gobs!” bellowed a voice.

The sounds washed over him, had become part of him, familiar as his gnawing hunger or the ever-present worms wriggling against his hot skin. Even without starlight, his people’s blessed vision allowed him to penetrate the mirk. He watched his sunken stomach rise and fall. Each rib pressed against his skin. Sour spit filled his mouth.

He wasn’t surprised that an army of worms assaulted the sides of his stomach and shoulders while he dozed. The slimy little grubs coated him with a sticky sludge, but he was past caring. Hands trembling, he brushed the vanguard away that had reached his chest. His legs were a lost cause. Scores of grubs covered them so only his toes peeked out.

Bez yawned. Heat-induced spans of intermittent sleep kept him drowsy and muddled. Sometimes his parents sat beside him in the dirt, back from the dead, singing and laughing. Other times, he was in the mountains climbing crags, or swimming in crystalline lakes so clear he could see rocks at the bottom. Moments ago, he was a boy again, running barefoot with his cousins through Uncle Darian’s fields, the tall grass whipping at his legs. Then a cry from a prisoner or the damp air clogging his nose had awakened him, shattering the vision. What was real or imagined blurred. Maybe I’m with my uncle still and the pit is only a nightmare.

Hesitantly, he stretched his hands to either side, fingertips brushing the cool, root-tangled walls. Feet firmly pressed against damp earth. Not a nightmare. He moaned like a wounded animal.

“Guardian spirits above,” he wheezed, not wiping the hot tears streaking down his cheek. “There’s no way out.”

But that was a lie. There was a way. His fingers searched for the gouge in the wall, finding the sharp-edged shard of obsidian he’d hidden there. My final escape.

He pried it free, hand shaking, and pressed the jagged edge against the soft flesh of his right wrist. A bead of blood sprang from the tip.

“I’ll do it this time,” he said to the crude face carved into the wall. A pause. “I know that’s what I said last time. By the All-Spirit, I can’t—” His throat tightened. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Enjoying your new home, demon-blood?” asked an unwelcome voice from the pit’s metal cage above.

“Dorota,” he rasped, tongue clumsy from disuse. “What a pleasure.”

He hated Yan’s henchwoman, but at that moment, his life in the balance, he clung to her words like a drowning man to driftwood.

Her chuckles echoed in the earthy tomb. “Liar. Play it friendly as you like, slit-eyes, but we both know what you are.” She crouched, damp hair plastered to her face, mouth hooked in a grin that never reached her eyes. “I saw the demon in you when we caught you on that ridge. Thought you were clever, didn’t you? Thought the aqueduct workers wouldn’t notice you and your two friends? What is the count? Your third?”

It was his fourth failed attempt to escape the Makersmetal mining camp, but he didn’t bother correcting the murdering bitch. I failed them just like my parents. Tala dead. Marcel beaten or worse. Anelia missing. And Bez… well, he would die in darkness, dooming his parents’ souls to wander the Shadowlands forever, never to reunite with their ancestors. He choked down a sob, not wanting to give her any satisfaction seeing him broken.

Author Bio:

Daymon Ashcord writes dark fantasy shaped by suffering, resilience, and the brutal edges of love pushed too far.

Born in Gdańsk, Poland, and raised in New York, he grew up on science fiction, fantasy, and the stories that linger long after the final page. After studying accounting and public policy, he left a conventional path to travel the world and create a documentary, turning storytelling into something essential.

His debut novel, Makerborn (2026), reflects years of persistence, personal setbacks, and a fascination with the darker truths people endure to survive.

He lives in North Carolina, hiking mountains by day and writing by night. He is considering adopting a dog, a cat, or both, and suspects they would judge him harshly.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Youtube / Instagram / TikTok

GIVEAWAY!

Makerborn Blitz

—

Book Tour Stop: Claimed by Ashlynn Monroe

Title: Claimed

Author: Ashlynn Monroe

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Futuristic, Mystery /Suspense /Intrigue, New Releases, Romance, Sci-Fi , Urban Fantasy

Themes: Alien Encounters, Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ Bisexual /Nonbinary /Transgender, Multiple Partners, Second Edition

Series: Claimed (#3)

Book Length: Box Set

Page Count: 114

Synopsis

Lexa never really knew what it meant to live until she was condemned to die.

Framed for a crime she’d never even contemplated, Lexa Mercer’s doing thirty days or death on the Intergalactic Broadcasting Channel’s hit reality show Nariasma. She owes her life to one of the show’s hottest contestants -- and a ghost of a man no one is supposed to know exists.

Roan of the Northlands is a man made famous by enduring his sentence on the space station Nariasma. Lexa has seen the rugged hunk on television, but she never imagined he’d be rescuing her from hunters who’ve paid to kill criminals.

Roan’s strange companion Jenner is convinced Lexa is the key to their freedom. Surviving and keeping her alive is just part of the challenge. Now Roan has more to lose than his future. He’s made the mistake of falling in love with Lexa, and that makes him the one thing he’s never been on Nariasma -- vulnerable.

Roan and Jenner will give all they’ve got to protect Lexa. Jenner’s convinced she’s the only one who can save them. But does she have the strength to change their reality?

Excerpt

Claimed
Second Edition
Ashlynn Monroe
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Ashlynn Monroe
Excerpt from Claimed

Lexa's mouth felt dry. She tasted a bitter metallic tang on her tongue. For a few seconds she lay, hurting, with her eyes closed. Her head ached as she sat up. She didn't remember much at first, but then the horror of Dom's death and her sham of a trial came rushing back in a torrent.

She groaned and opened her eyes. The room was small. Bright light shone down from a single fixture in the ceiling. She was dressed in a dark brown leather corset and matching -- too tight -- leather pants. She ran her hands over her backside. The horrible pants weren't ass-less, and she was glad of that, at least. There was a black nylon utility vest over her shoulders. A row of silver and gold sequins sparkled on the hem of the vest. The combination of style and material was strange. Glam survivalist?

She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose in an attempt to clear her foggy mind. Her stomach rolled. Someone had seen her naked when she'd been at her most vulnerable. Shivering, she forced herself to stop thinking about how dirty having been stripped made her feel. Pushing herself up, using the wall, she managed to get to her feet.

The door slid open with a whoosh. Whoever designed the room had hidden the door so well she'd never even noticed it until it opened. A tall woman watched her mutely.

Lexa flinched under the scrutiny. "Why are you here? What's happening to me?" Lexa screamed the questions at the woman as her hysteria rose.

"You'll have a ten second head start. Go right to avoid the desert. Get to the trees, and you'll have a better chance. Here is your pack. It's all any of the contestants start out with. Inside you'll find a utility knife, canteen and matches. Millions of fans will be watching you. Take solace in knowing you won't die alone." The woman spoke without any hint of emotion or remorse.

"I don't plan to die at all," Lexa said. She hated how this woman had written her off. She wasn't doomed. She wasn't going to give up. Just because wealthy men had paid for a license to hunt her didn't mean she was automatically condemned. "I'm going to serve my time and return home."

Sympathy flickered across the woman's features, but she quickly covered the expression with a scowl. "Few have lived long enough to serve their time. No woman has left this place alive. Many find it easier just to walk out and wait for the end."

"I've never been good at taking the easy way out. I'll take my chances with the woods. Why are you giving me advice?"

"It's been a long time since we've had a woman as young as you on the show. I'd like to make the most of your time." The tall stranger's words held the ring of truth.

Lexa shrugged. "I'll do my best to outlast my sentence. I'd hate it if Interplanetary Broadcasting lost ratings due to my untimely demise. How bad can a month be?" Lexa spoke as sarcastically as possible. She didn't know if the cameras were already watching her, but she had a feeling they might be. Hatred for the mindless people watching her injustice boiled in her core. Until now, she'd been just like them.

The reality of how meaningless human life was hit her with shocking force.

The woman's eyes darkened. "May the enlightenment of justice guide your path."

Her sentence had begun. The cameras were watching. The woman's use of words made that clear. "Um, thanks, I'll make my own light. I've had a taste of justice, and it wasn't for me." Her new reality was a terrifying example of how deep a lie could burrow to masquerade as truth. She glared at the woman. No matter how afraid she felt she refused to let her fear show.

The emotionless expression taking over the woman's face made her shiver. "What happens now?" Lexa asked.

"Now you survive, or not. Either way, it'll be good TV."

Lexa's eyes widened as the woman shoved her out the door.

She ended up on an elevator and not in a hallway as she'd expected. As her brain kicked in, she realized it was now or never. With shaking hands, she took the items from the pack and shoved them in the few pockets her thin vest offered. She'd seen this show a few times -- enough to know the bright orange backpack was a good way to die.

Now she wished she'd watched more often. Her mother hated the show and always said it was low class and not what her daughter should watch.

Just as she put the last item into a secure place and dropped the bright bag, the elevator stopped. Her heart raced. Her heavy breathing was the only sound she could hear.

The doors opened and bright sunlight flooded the dark space to blind her. She took a shaky step and saw trees in the distance. She took the woman's advice and ran toward them.

In her mind, she started to count. One... two... three... The ten seconds would be over long before she reached the trees. She didn't look back, afraid of what she'd see. They'd be waiting. Men had paid for the privilege of killing her for the entertainment of bored television viewers back home.

A breeze ruffled her hair. Everything felt so real here, but it wasn't a planet. It was a space station. Terror hit her in the stomach so hard she stumbled. Horrified, she watched the ground coming at her face as she fell forward. She was giving her life to those bastards too easily. Her eager executioners would be upon her in seconds.

Eight... nine... ouch. She landed as her ten seconds ended. Rolling to her back, she sat up only to see three well-armed men wearing body armor aiming old-fashioned high-powered automatic rifles at her.

Death. She wasn't ready. Hands grabbed her roughly. The brutality of their grip caused her shock to turn into terror. She didn't scream or struggle. The raw panic kept her still. She was standing because those large hands hand pulled her to her feet.

"Run!"

She spun around and her breath hitched in her throat. He was glorious.

Roan of the Northlands, one of the sexiest men on TV, was rescuing her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward just as the first shot rang out. Dirt erupted next to her foot. "Go!"

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Ashlynn Monroe is a busy working mom. She loves her kids and family. Her greatest joy is creating stories to entertain others, and she hopes they bring a little more romance into the world. She's been writing since her teens for her own enjoyment but decided in her thirties to share her imagination with readers. Ashlynn enjoys biking, camping, reading, video games, and filling her home and life with love. If she's not working or chasing children, you can find her daydreaming up her next tale of romance.

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Tour Stop: Precog's Perception by Emily Carrington

Title: Precog's Perception

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance

Themes: LGBTQ+ Bisexual /Nonbinary /Transgender, Medical Romance, Shapeshifters, Wolf Shifters & Werewolves

Series: Psychic Soulmates (#1)

Multiverse: SearchLight Academy (#14)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 94

Synopsis

When the world doesn’t catch fire, Amaruq doubts his precognition. Can Nootaikok’s love heal him?

A stillborn pup, precognition unfulfilled, and raging guilt plague a trans werewolf. Amaruq’s suspicion that there’s something wrong with him, and that the death of his and Nootaikok’s child is his fault, colors all that he does. Traumatized, he denies himself pleasure.

Nootaikok will have none of that. He takes Amaruq on a “working vacation” back to the scene of Nootaikok’s greatest mistake. As both of them struggle with feelings of inadequacy and undeservingness, their bodies and souls still demand release.

Will their fears pull them apart or can passion lead back to love and forgiveness?

Excerpt

Precog's Perception (Psychic Soulmates 1)
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Emily Carrington

They’d started their mentor/mentee relationship with letters. Amaruq didn’t know about Jeremy, but for him, the fear of being found out in this digital age inspired him to write physical correspondence. Amaruq had a feeling he should be sharing these concerns with his mate, but he couldn’t bear for Nootaikok to know how guilty he felt. So, he wrote to the Night Wanderer who had become his friend.

Dear Jeremy,

I hate what I have become. I’m a sneak who doesn’t know how to apologize to my lover for losing our child. I get it that a stillbirth isn’t exactly my fault. I did nothing to make it happen. The issue is that I don’t want to try again. Try for another baby. It wasn’t just losing our child, our pup, but the dysmorphia I endured being pregnant when I’ve worked so hard to be my authentic male werewolf self. I do not, no matter what, regret that Nootaikok and I were trying for a baby. I don’t. I just don’t want to try again. In spite of my precognitive vision. That future glimpse guarantees I’ll be pregnant again at some point, as I saw Nootaikok and I surrounded by werewolf pups of many ages. I just don’t want to be.

I also dread Nootaikok finding out.

Speaking of dread, I can easily believe Nootaikok is angry with me for making him leave his position in DC. I’m afraid of the argument we’ll eventually have. I just wanted to be near you, where I’ve always felt safe. That’s the wrong kind of emotion to have for someone who isn’t my mate. Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not sexually attracted to you in any way. It’s just that you rescued me from the hell of living under my parents’ roof and inspired me to become part of the Miscellaneous Magical Creatures Department. It’s just that, now that you’ve moved to DC, I want to return. I know Nootaikok wouldn’t get his job back, though, and I don’t want him to be humiliated by having to walk those same halls every day as just a tracker and not the head of the whole world’s Tracker Central.

He stopped his pen before he could disclose more about his fears. Surely this letter, which was basically a rambling jumble of all his terror, wouldn’t help anything.

He shredded the page and tossed it in the garbage can in the den. There would be no leaving it around for someone else to discover.

Today, Friday, was his last day of parental leave. On Monday, he’d be expected to resume his work at the MMCD. He needed to pull himself together.

With that in mind, Amaruq looked around the den and then down at himself. He still looked slightly pregnant. He’d been slowly exercising away the pounds he’d gained as he tried to make a hospitable home for their pup to grow. Since he was a werewolf, he wouldn’t look ready to deliver much longer. Maybe six weeks total, which would mean another week or two.

He headed for the doorway to the den, determined to go for a run and maybe, by doing so, make himself feel more grounded in his body and less like a spirit drifting over the earth, unattached to anything but pain.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

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