
ALT A aesthetic in tones of lava red, black, and ash. Images include molten lava flowing across land, a volcano erupting into smoke, a waterfall of fire pouring off a cliff, hands crackling with magical lightning, and a deep red rose with scorched petals. Overlaid text reads: “Magic was not a wound to cauterise but a limb to amputate.”behind which very faint is a silhouette before a burning building. “And so the continent turned on what remained of the Gods.” behind which very faint is a a winged figure falling through the clouds. “And began to cut.” behind which very faint is a trail of blood trekking through snow towards a river.

ALT Moodboard with spider webs in top corners and four characters (red headed girl with glasses, black haired girl with purple dress, brown haired boy with white shirt, and blond boy with ghostbusters shirt) at the bottom. Moodboard behind features autumn designs: a girl in a warm-colored plaid dress, a cozy-looking store, a sprawl of tarot cards, etc)

ALT When sixteen-year-old Quinn puts on an ancient ancestral ring, it shatters the protective binding spell her family cast at birth—awakening clairvoyant powers she should have inherited from her Irish magical bloodline. But the ring also makes her visible to Neris, a Victorian sorceress who hunts Quinn to steal the ring. Hidden away in an Oregon enchanted forest with extended family, Quinn must master her powers before Neris destroys not only her, but their entire family tree.

ALT Portal to another realm, plant magic, elixirs and poisons, romance subplot, magical artifacts, time travel, magical baking

ALT Quinn gripped her camera and leaned forward, her shins pressing against the greenhouse ladder. Face to face with her majestic corpse flower, she held her breath as its infamous, putrid odor spilled from the curling burgundy folds. After years of careful cultivation, she couldn’t afford to miss a single stage of its first bloom. The camera’s shutter clicked one final time as she aimed into its central chamber. Satisfied with her shots, she climbed down and switched on the exhaust fan. Through the greenhouse glass, she watched her elderly neighbors on their back deck, gossiping as usual, completely unaware of the olfactory surprise heading their way. Right on cue, Vera’s voice rang out. “Woo-ee! Who died?” she screeched, sniffing the air. “Nobody croaked,” her husband Artie grumbled as he sipped coffee from his John Deere mug. “It’s that young girl next door. You remember she invited us over to look at some big, stinky flower tonight?” “Well, I’m not goin’. Bet you I’d pass out if I go












































