Willow H. Wood

In a world of walking emotions, murdered deities, rising demons and ravenous ghosts the people of Denmoria are hurtling towards destruction. The God of Death rekindles his power, Empires collide in battle, and mortals meddle where they don't belong...

Princess Stariel thinks reclaiming her kingdom and freeing the elvish people from servitude is her great challenge, but that is a mere footnote in the war brewing on the horizon.

Tatiana Sethu thinks training to be a demon hunter will liberate her of a meaningless existence, but the truth of that commitment will consume her life.

Trill thinks that climbing the political ladder will make him indispensable to the nobles who look down on him, but the more gold he grasps the heavier his wings become.

Jim thinks he can be the greatest bard who ever lived by undermining all of them while pretending to be their friend, and he might just be right...

Do you love music? I have a playlist for everything.

Haaaaa, mate, this is my homebrew Dungeons and Dragons campaign. We’ve been playing this for—let me count my fingers…seven years. I intend to write it all up as a slickass novel, but it’s definitely not my number one project. It’s a joyful procrastination project.

One would think, after a lifetime of being waited on, that imitating a servant was easy. And Stariel thought she was doing rather well.

“What do you think you’re doing? Get back to the dining room,” barked the butler. Stariel fought not to sneer at his Imperial accent. Elves shouldn’t sound that way. It should flow like the rivers coursing throughout the city, susurrate like the ever present whisper of waterfalls.

“Dusting.” She curtsied, the answer short, aware that an elf as young as her should probably have mastered Imperial by now, which of course she had – but the accent. Ah, Stariel loved the music of accents, if only she was good at mimicry.

The butler’s nostrils flared, accentuating his handsomely straight nose. “Get back. To your post. You were not hired to dust, you were hired for the party. Can you not follow simple instructions, halfwit?”

She clenched her fists and sucked her tongue hard against her teeth. If he knew who she really was… Well. Stariel glanced down the corridor behind her, the study a mere fifteen feet away. What was rightfully hers stashed just beyond that door.

“Now!”

Stariel jolted at the sudden shout. The butler twisted her arm in his grip and pointed in the opposite direction. “Do as you’re told or I’ll dismiss you before the champagne is even poured.”

“Viaren gatta tal’quet, va pous!” The insult flew from her lips, wrenching her arm free.

“Pig, am I?” The butler stilled, radiating a cold calm that froze the breath in her lungs.

A familiar emerald cat materialised above the butler’s head, casting phosphorescent light that only she could see. Stariel looked into the burning gold feline eyes, tensing for a fight, but the cat said, “You’ll blow your cover, Princess. Do as he says for now, for goodness sake. I thought you said you could handle it.”

As the butler raised his hand to strike, Stariel turned and fled.

You can read this story as it develops, in all its minimally edited glory, on Wattpad!