Rowan Celtic Tree Novels & Stories

The only honest thing in the only available space. “She is ready for the full version,” Elliot said. “Not the pieces. The complete story from the beginning in one continuous account.” “Yes,” Sera said. “She is.” Helena came in from the garden. She stood at the table and looked at Sera. “The rowan,” she said. “It is the something significant stage. Zara said it would get there and it is there.” Sera looked at the rowan in its sixth year through the window. Not large. But arrived at the stage that communicated what it was going to become. A tree that had been in the ground long enough to show its future.

“You’re early.” A figure emerged from the tree line, tall and wrapped in a weathered cloak that smelled faintly of ash and pine resin. Elder Rowan looked the same as he always had—older than he appeared, younger than he acted, eyes sharp with the kind of awareness that came from watching generations repeat their mistakes. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the stone near the fire pit. I remained standing. “Say what you came to say.” His brow lifted. “Still impatient.” “Still alive,” I replied. “Which you implied was up for debate.”

Rowan was right beside her, hauling crates and planks along with the citizens of Montrose. He didn’t complain. He didn’t even make a sound when Cade teased him on the phone this morning about paying the price for hurting me over four years ago. Cade said he wouldn’t be able to help as much because he was busy as a “new father.” I understood, of course, but I thought Rowan would give him a hard time and tease him to join us. However, he didn’t. Elias was here, too. But, he was deep in the forest to help the isolated witches and wizards.

the officiant asks. “Yes. We all came up with this design together acushla, you’ll only wear it when you know for certain you won’t shift. Otherwise it’ll get ruined of course,” Rowan says, as he holds up his pinky finger. On it, not even a little ways down, is a brilliant gold band with a diamond celtic knot in the center, a blue jeweled wolf paw on one side and a green matching on the other. I practically come out of my skin thinking about them making it for me. “It’s perfect,” I breathe, my legs feeling a bit weak.

The pink spirals around the trunk formed intricate swirls, which looked old, almost like human, Celtic designs. And, as we watched, the pink spirals shifted, making way for words that were being carved into the centre of the tree’s trunk. I read the words out loud. “And this is for him.”

Amongst the huge docked boats and the industrial buildings, I felt certain that a tree would stand out. As I’d suspected, the tree was easy to find. It was a rowan, which made Mera snort. “A tree of protection. Ironic.” I was surprised that she knew that. Most of my knowledge about trees and herbs came from my folklore study, as nature was so closely intertwined with magic and myths. I realised that, actually, I didn’t know a whole lot about Mera.

Celus could feel the anger fuming deep inside him. "That is true. I regret that, but I also don't like that she is mated to you now." He growled. Celus' eyes began to darken, unable to control his anger as Rowan fought for dominance. "How dare you." He growled and lifted the man up with ease, throwing him up against the tree.

Alicia's POV His voice was low, almost reverent. “Mixed with a few other things—rare things o my I could get you. It’s not easy to come by, but it’ll do what you ask. Takes a hybrid’s power clean away, then eats at their life ‘til there’s nothing left.” Rowan tree ash. The name was unfamiliar, a mystery that prickled at the edges of my mind. I’d never heard of such a tree, not in all the tales whispered around the pack’s fires. But the way Marek said it, the certainty in his tone, sent a thrill through me.

Not a plant, but a tendril of pure shadow, searching, smelling, hunting. “Everyone out!” Rowan shouted, grabbing Selene’s hand. Caden didn’t move. As the others fled, he turned toward the forest, his voice low and intimate as he whispered into the wind. “It’s time.” And the trees began to bleed.

She was very, very tired of deals. She reached into her satchel. The small cloth bundle inside was heavier than it looked. When she unwrapped it, a sapling’s narrow root ball came into view, bound in damp soil and burlap. The leaves were a dark, glossy green, veins faintly silvered. “What is that?” Kael asked. “Rowan,” Rin said. “Old temple ward‑tree. The acolytes use their berries in half their protective charms. I stole a cutting from the cloister wall.”