Rowan Celtic Tree Novels & Stories

A fae noble reached out to steady an elderly witch when she stumbled, the gesture automatic and genuine. "The Tree doesn't just symbolise unity," Kenny observed quietly. "It creates it." When the Tree finally stopped growing, it stood majestic against the sky, its canopy spreading wide to create a natural cathedral. From its branches hung fruit unlike any I'd ever seen, similar to Moonberries but larger, with a luminous quality that shifted between colours. "Unity fruit," Sebastian identified them with awe. "Said to taste different to each species, providing exactly what they most need for healing and strength."

"So it is said. But the tree knows things. Things about the Royal Clan, perhaps because the Clan has been around it so long it has absorbed some kind of knowledge about us. No one knows for sure. It is perhaps one of the few mysteries left in the world." "So, what are you saying? That I'll be connected to this tree once we're wed?" I couldn't tell what in all of Cofraystan he was driving at. He'd wanted to show me this tree, that was the whole purpose of this garden date from what I'd gathered. But was it just to show me it's existence, or something else? "See here?" Theron pointed far up, craning his neck as he too took in the magnificent size of the gods tree. I followed his finger to see

Winnie’s POV ​The interior of the cottage was a labyrinth of hanging herbs, ancient jars filled with shimmering liquids, and walls covered in maps that seemed to shift and change as I looked at them. The air was thick with the scent of sage and something much older, something that smelled like the earth itself. Rowan moved with a grace that defied her age, her every movement purposeful and filled with a latent power that made my skin tingle. ​“Sit,” Rowan commanded, gesturing to a table made of a single, massive tree root. “Drink this. It will settle the humming in your blood.”

I kneeled in front of the tree by myself, listening to the sound of my heart hammering against my ribcage. The concoction I drank had heightened my senses. I could smell a sweet fragrance wafting from the divine tree. It smelled like the bradford pear trees that lined the entrance of the village. I wasn't sure how far David and the others had gone, but I could feel multiple sets of greedy eyes staring at me, making goosebumps erupt all over my skin.

“Hey.” “What are you doing?” Cameron angled his head around to look at the line of runes that Rhett had drawn. “What do they mean?” Rhett shrugged. “My mum is super into Celtic stuff. It’s in her pack’s history, you see. They worship the Goddess Morrigan. She’s the goddess of death, destiny and battle. See, the Triskele, the Triple Moon, and the Triquetra…” He pointed to the symbols that he had drawn in a chain around his wrist.

“The tree stands as a human being, in other words, it explains the inner self of a person, the part which wants to remain hidden. You must have noticed the strong branches and the frail barks in the body. It means the strong branches are our outer self, that we use in our every day to day lives, to show others. But the barks, they are frail and rotting away, because of all the effort it goes through to hold the branches ahead. We never know, but the fake self that we display to the outside world, often ruins who we are in the inside, so that’s what this means. And the leaves? They just play the part to make it look more triggering.” I nod and turn pages after page. Half the book is taken ov

We were outside of the castle grounds now. Duck started to snarl, then backed away from the tree. 'Troy!' I howled, willing him to listen. He turned his head toward me, his eyes glistening the moonlight coming through the canopy of dried, yellow leaves above our heads. 'What the hell is that?' It was Rowan who spoke, gingerly stepping toward whatever Duck had found beneath the tree. He nudged Duck out of the way, and once Duck's body had moved from the base of the tree, a faint glow seemed to lift from the forest floor.

The rustling intensified as if the trees themselves whispered warnings. “Over there,” Rowan said, his voice low but certain. “Inside that dense cluster of trees. The air bends unnaturally around it, like something’s hiding within.”

** The landscape changed the moment Rowan crossed the border into Lycan territory. The forest thickened, gnarled branches twisting into the sky like blackened fingers, shadows pooling at the base of ancient trees. Mist hovered just above the ground, curling around roots and rocks, thickening the air. Even the wind felt different here—heavier, watchful, like the forest itself was alive and aware of every step he took.

“I can’t.” --- She fled into the night’s silence, retreating to the place where rogues had fallen. In that place, beneath the paths of ancient hunters, a mark had drawn her attention: a strange rune carved deep into a spruce tree. A clawed hand clasping a crescent moon. Symbols she didn’t recognize—no sign of Crescent Hollow or Stormfang. Something older. Hidden. Dangerous. As she knelt to trace the rune, a rustle startled her. Rowan stepped from the shadows, his wounded body moving with relentless purpose.