Green Mantle Book Novels & Stories

The Sequel: Wild Anemone is coming soon. Hello friends, I'm Mama Magie Ward. A farm mom and author who started writing as part of my stroke recovery. We walk together in the penumbra, a space of partial illumination between the shadow and the light. Mine are stories about and for those who face overcoming or succumbing.

Garrett The clearing is exactly as I remembered from my scouting trip yesterday. Secluded, peaceful, with a small stream running along one edge. I've set up blankets, cushions, and most importantly—a stack of books. Iris stops when she sees it, hand flying to her mouth. "You did all this?" Her voice is soft with wonder. "I wanted it to be special." I guide her to the blankets. "And I found something I thought you'd like." I hand her the top book. It's old, leather-bound, with gilt lettering. "Advanced Theories in Shield Construction and Consciousness-Based Magical Architecture."

“No worries, Miss Shuzen. I look forward to learning all things learnable from Jenna.” “And I will be more than willing to teach her all I know, Mae,” Jenna replied rather hastily, her joy seeping into her tone. Clasping my hands together, I nodded. “Perfect. It seems like we all understand ourselves here.” Walking towards the table right in front of Jenna, my hands searched for a specific forest green book with some ancient markings on it. It didn’t take long before my fingers could trace the familiar patterns on the book, and with speed, I dragged it out of where it had been hiding all this time.

My wolf paces restlessly, urging me to hurry. Dust thickens on the shelves the deeper I go. One book catches my attention—a faded green volume on the Moon Goddess—but a quick skim reveals it’s about rituals and sacrifices, not bonds. I shove it back onto the shelf, the motion stirring a cloud of dust that stings my eyes.

“Come on both of you, and do bring the chicken.” We followed him inside, the library smelled damp and old to me, the stone walls giving it an air of mystery. His long robe brushed the floor, making slight swishing sounds as we walked toward a table in the corner of the room; piled high with books. He motioned for us to sit and picked up a book that looked like it’s binding was about to fall apart. He flipped the yellowed pages until he found what he was looking for and set the book down, pointing to a page where I began to read out loud. “The Earth Goddesses’ Protector, a wolf with fur the color of moonlight guards her from the night sky, his spirit glowing and racing amongst the stars for a

The rink along her finger taps about on the wooden, outer exterior. The larger man finds himself in the public library. The establishment is made with countless bookshelves that are on their last leg. It seems that they only stand up out of the will of defiance rather than curiosity about the creature’s knowledge. Among all the peasants that are reading, some are ripping pages out of the book and eating the paper, though these people are poor and few and far between, Garth is still able to beam his eyes around the community and spot them, though he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his right-hand reaches to the top of one of the bookshelves. The top shelves are home to books that have not been

- I told him. He nodded and pulled several books out from one of the stacks and set them in front of me. I opened the top book and ran my fingers over the runes in the title. It was beautifully written as if each word was drawn with love and attention to detail. Now that I looked at it, it reminded me of a combination of Norse and Old English. Nerrian pulled his chair closer and pointed to the first word, speaking it in my mind than out loud in Draygonian. With his help, I repeated the word over and over again until I perfected it.

Green means earth, my family was one with the earth now and I was the last living relative to avenge them. The last picture was of a stone, a ruby shining very bright, calling out to me. It was singing out to me, it's melody so calming but powerful. The stone belonged to me and I will find it. "How did you do that?" Dalia asks me. "I didn't do anything. I just opened the book." I say. She quickly takes the book from me, eyes me suspiciously before closing it and all the images that came to life, disappearing as if they were never there.

“Thank you.” “Do you want me to assist you?” Tyron offered. “No need.” Gwen answered, smiling. “I think I can manage on my own.” Gwen walked back to her room with the book and closed the door behind her. She sat down on her seat and sighed, then glanced at the book. It was dark-covered, and the title was written in a language she couldn’t understand. When she opened the book though, she could read what was written inside. There were so many chapters of different spells, and most if not all made use of blood. The more she flipped pages, the more shocked she became. She didn’t know if she should feel disgusted at the gory acts or in awe of how it is carried out.

The air in the garden was thick with the scent of ozone, warm honey, and crushed mint—the distinct, intoxicating fragrance of over-saturated mana. Queen Aurelia walked beside her daughter, carrying a thick, leather-bound book that she had rescued from the ancient vaults of Goodnovel, the oldest and most closely guarded repository of pre-cataclysmic history in the realm. Aurelia tilted her golden spectacles, a frown of deep thought etched on her brow as she compared the shimmering, mutated silver thorns of a nearby rose bush to the yellowed parchment of the ancient tome.