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Dermot is a fifteen-year-old boy in the kingdom of Denú. He has always longed for more in life. Then everything changes after he sees a gryphon and crosses paths with a reclusive healer.

Soon, he and his brother Brian have no choice but to leave their home. They embark on a journey through many forests. They meet an old man and unicorns, witness an important birth, and must evade fire-breathing dragons and dark-armored soldiers that serve an evil sorcerer determined to subjugate Denú.

A legendary coven must now return after years in hiding. Dermot and Brian slowly realize there is something deeper among the trees and creatures, but is there also something more about themselves? Can they protect those they love, or will all Denú be consumed by darkness?

Excerpt

Looking up, they saw a dragon flying overhead. Taranis himself was riding the creature. Although they were far below, the boys heard him bellow, “You think you can defeat me, Saershe? I’ll find you, and the rest of your kind, no matter where you hide! I shall slay all of you!”

“Come on, let’s go,” urged Dermot, though part of him longed to relish being up in a tree once more. He and Ruairí climbed down, then jumped to the ground.

“What did you see?” Brian asked.

“Oh no,” Dermot said. “Look!”

They turned to see the wildfire spreading rapidly throughout Úaene. Without warning, a river of dragon fire came down, incinerating many trees. All around, the boys could hear screams, which were then suddenly silenced.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” Dermot said. “Come on!”

They ran, pursued by the spreading fire. Eventually, they crossed the woodland’s border, right before the fire was able to ensnare them. They sank to their knees, wheezing and helplessly watching the fire devour the trees. When Dermot turned, he beheld, to his horror, all that remained of Emerin. He stood up and took a step forward.

Not a single cottage had survived intact. It was no use searching for whatever charred wreckage had once been their home. Wisps of black smoke rose from the debris, as well as from the ruins of the manor, where the battlements had been severely damaged, and where piles of stone lay. What they did not see were any lifeless bodies, human or livestock.

Dermot remembered once hearing long ago that a dragon’s breath was so powerful, a person would be converted to ashes—flesh, and bones, and all.

He fell to his knees, followed by Brian. Both wept for their lost home and the loss of their parents. The heavens let loose tears, too. All three boys became soaking wet, yet none gave any thought to it.

Ruairí knelt beside the brothers. Brian wiped his runny nose. Dermot gripped his chest, feeling guilt in addition to grief. Guilt that he hadn’t been able to do anything to prevent this destruction. He thought not only of his parents, but also of the many other screams he’d heard in the forest, followed by that terrible silence. He knew that each silenced scream came from someone who had been born on, and grew up on, the same small patch of land as he.

eBook

See also

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/247723026-mystical-greenwood