Rowan Celtic Tree Novels & Stories

“It’s almost like there’s a presence; something in the air that makes you feel like there’s nothing to truly be afraid of.” Opening his eyes, Alex knew exactly what she meant. It was like the two of them were not really alone here. He nodded to himself. “What is it?” he asked her. Rowan took a quick glance over at the strange tree near the center of the Oasis. “I’ll show you.” She got up and headed light-footed across the damp river rock surface and over to the winding tree cluster. Alex followed and began examining the tree up and down. “This is one of the strangest trees I’ve ever seen,” he muttered as he placed a hand on it. The bark was wet from the constant spray of the streams.

I asked while looking around for where the voice came from. “Too late,” he cried. “It has already begun; its effects are taking hold of you already.” “What’s a Rowan?” I asked. “That very thing you are looking at,” he said. “Heed my warning, for I’ve witnessed the Rowan’s treachery firsthand.” “Its berries may seem succulent, its leaves a vibrant green, but trust me, this tree is a curse to our kind.” “I’ve seen generations of our strongest wolves stumble, their eyes glazed, their howls reduced to mere whimpers. They forget their name, their pack, their very purpose.”

He'd been going to tear me apart, and Rowan had thrown himself between us. Was Rowan okay? I'd seen him hit that tree. I saw the way he couldn't get up after Kael threw him with that strange dark power. What if he were dead? What if I'd gotten him killed? The sky was starting to lighten with pre-dawn gray when Cian finally slowed the motorcycle. We turned off the main road onto a barely visible path through dense forest. Branches scraped against us as we pushed deeper into Frostborn territory. After what felt like forever, a small cabin appeared through the trees. It was tiny, made of dark wood, with smoke rising from a stone chimney. Someone had been here recently, keeping it ready.

“That’s got a nice bite to it.” “It means ‘little dark one’ in old tongue,” I murmured. “Kind of ironic for a child revealed by light.” He chuckled. “Alaric’s good too. Sounds noble.” I nodded. “But… there’s one name that’s stuck with me. Ever since I was a girl.” He leaned in. “Tell me.” “Rowan,” I whispered. He stilled. “Like the tree?” he asked. “Exactly. It means protection. Strength. Wisdom. In the old packs, Rowan trees were planted outside the homes of expecting mothers.”

We had faced the darkness together, and our love had been the ultimate weapon. As the celebration and healing process continued, I found myself drawn to the Tree of Unity once again. Its silver leaves shimmered in the moonlight, and a feeling of serenity washed over me. I knew that the tree held a special connection to me, and I couldn't help but wonder about its significance. Celina approached me, her eyes warm with affection. "You have a deep connection to the tree, Cassie," she said, her voice soft. "It recognizes the power within you, the power of the Lyman."

He sat against a bent tree, his head back and eyes closed. Aster didn’t like this forest. Unlike the one in Slovakia and their estate in England, this place wasn’t peaceful or comforting in the slightest. Even the trees were wrong; they bent at the base in a weird angle, growing away from each other. “Go to sleep everyone,” Rowan ordered. “Rest while you can. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow.”

“Rowan.” --- Part III – The River Tree That night, Rowan wandered into Hearthvale’s outskirts where the river curled like a silver serpent. There, beneath a great tree with roots half-submerged, he stopped. He could feel something in the bark—like heat. He pressed his palm to the trunk. His mother’s lullaby came to him—not sung, but spoken, in his mind. Not from his memory. From somewhere else. He stumbled back. Behind him, the hooded figure from Riverhall emerged again, unmasked for the first time. Her face bore age and exhaustion.

He was fulfilling an old prophecy, one that needed me at the center. I stormed out of the cabin. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The trees blurred around me as I ran, rage boiling in my chest. I didn’t stop until I reached the northern ridge. And there he was. Waiting. Rowan stood beneath a twisted tree, arms crossed, the same smirk on his face as the night of the feast. Only now it was colder. Crueler. “Took you long enough,” he said. I drew my blade. “Where are they?”

The wind howled through the trees as the convoy moved through the northern pass. Selene rode beside Rowan in tense silence, her eyes scanning the dense forest beyond the path. Something about the air felt wrong—thicker, heavier. Each breath carried the copper tang of blood and the unmistakable stench of dark magic. They had barely covered half a day’s ride from the ravaged village when the first signs appeared: claw marks too deep for any natural wolf, strange black vines curling along tree trunks as if the forest itself had been cursed.

That was the league he was in compared to others. Rowan’s face is slowly becoming red in his struggle to breathe, “S-she… she wanted t-to hunt,” he begins, “There was a-an herb she i-insisted on finding in the woods. I-I tried to send more g-guards with her but she re-refused… T-they came back without h-her past our agreed t-time…” Sebastian met Rowan's unwavering gaze after he finished telling him the story. His grip squeezed on his neck before he threw Rowan away, Declan instantly moved to help his brother.