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The Song of War
The Song of War brings the Dybbuk Scrolls Trilogy to a breathless finale. The story opens with Asmodeus rallying his monstrous army and stepping out of the shadows to wage open war. Carrie, Mikhail, Lindsay, Rebecca, Emilia, and Ferne are pulled straight into danger as the conflict breaks across their worlds like a storm tide. Weddings, dreams of the Angel of Death, burning theatres, massed armies at the palace gates, and the chaos of a full-scale magical invasion all collide in a story that moves fast and hits hard. The book pushes every character to their breaking point, and it never stops reminding you that the cost of this war will be steep.
Reading this one felt different from the first two. I felt that there was a heaviness hanging over everything, and it’s hard not to feel that weight with Carrie. Her fear, her guilt, her frantic hope that she can keep the people she loves alive made me tense in a way I didn’t expect. The writing leans into emotion without getting flowery. Scenes swing from warm and funny to terrifying in a heartbeat. The wedding was especially emotional for me. It was sweet and soft and full of love. Then the dread crept in. Then the drums started. Then the world fell apart. I felt that shift in my gut.
The battles are messy and personal and frightening. Characters panic, stumble, run, freeze, and sometimes find a burst of courage they didn’t know they had. The story doesn’t pretend everyone suddenly becomes a warrior. It shows fear for what it is. It also shows love and loyalty in a raw way. Emilia’s struggle to reconcile her lineage with her future, Mikhail’s desperation to save his father, Lindsay’s reckless bravery, and Carrie’s mix of fear, anger, and determination gave the whole book a steady emotional heartbeat.
By the time I reached the end, I felt wrung out but satisfied. This book doesn’t hold back. It gives the trilogy a strong, emotional finish that feels earned. If you like fantasy stories where magic mixes with real-world problems, or if you enjoy character-driven adventures filled with danger, heartbreak, and stubborn hope, this is a series worth picking up. The Song of War is especially fitting for readers who love finales that swing big and don’t shy away from loss or triumph.
Pages: 217 | ASIN : B0FR2RBDDS
The Song of Vengeance
The Song of Vengeance picks up right where the first Dybbuk Scrolls adventure left off and wastes no time throwing Carrie back into danger. The book follows her struggle with loneliness at university, the eerie disappearance of her two closest friends, and the creeping feeling that something magical and malicious is once again closing in. When the dybbuks return with a new plan for revenge, Carrie is pushed back into Hadariah and into another fight she never asked for. The story blends modern life and fantasy in a way that feels quick and tense, and the mystery of what happened to her friends drives the plot with a steady pull.
I was rooting for Carrie in a very personal way. Her stress, her self-doubt, her frustration when no one believes her, all of it hit with surprising force. The writing is clean, direct, and often emotional in a quiet way. There were moments when I felt that knot of worry she carries, especially when the people around her begin forgetting Lindsay and Rebecca as if they never existed. That idea is simple, but it’s creepy, and the book leans into it with confidence. The dialogue feels natural, and the scenes that shift from the normal world into the magical one have a dreamy snap to them that I really enjoyed.
I also liked how the book digs into friendship. The bond between Carrie and her friends is the heart of the story, and even when the plot slows down, that emotional thread pulls everything forward. I do think some moments move a little quickly, especially when new characters show up or when the story jumps between worlds, but the emotional beats are strong enough that I didn’t mind much. The fantasy elements feel familiar, yet the author gives them a warm, human frame. Carrie is not a hero because she’s chosen, she’s a hero because she’s stubborn and loyal and scared, but moving anyway. That made the story feel real to me, even when magic was swirling everywhere.
If you’re a fan of series like Percy Jackson, The Mortal Instruments, or The School for Good and Evil, The Song of Vengeance will feel like a fresh but familiar ride. It blends ordinary life with creeping magic in a way that scratches the same itch as those stories, and it leans hard into friendship and courage just like they do. The world of Hadariah has its own rhythm, its own rules, and its own emotional pull, and readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy with real heart will settle into it easily. If you like your adventures tense but personal and your heroes a little messy and human, this is a great next read.
Pages: 271 | ASIN : B0FR2QTN4C
Consistency is Key
The City of Arches follows a princess who discovers a letter containing the key to her mother’s hidden past and her connection to a powerful wizard. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
I love the idea of family secrets being uncovered. For me, I loved going through boxes of old pictures that my grandparents kept and hearing about all the old stories. The real treasure for a family is always hidden in old documents and old photographs. From the beginning, I have had Learsi’s story mapped out in my mind, and to have her daughter discover it in her own words was a temptation too big to ignore.
How did you balance magic and its use throughout the story to keep it believable?
I think of it almost as a muscle. Like any talent or ability, it needs to be used, trained, and practised. And just like a physical ability, it can be strained, and it can be draining. Like anything, magic needs its limitations to be believable, and once I figured out how it worked in my world, consistency is key.
Which character in the novel do you feel you relate to more and why?
That’s a hard question. I wish I could say that I relate to the hero, but in reality, I’m probably more like Aud. She’s just this normal person who cares about her family. She’s thrust into this world of magic and mess and has to make the best of it. She’s at heart just a mom, and I guess that’s what I relate to.
Can you give us a glimpse inside Book 4 of The Sitnalta Series? Where will it take readers?
Book 4 is called The Hedgewitch’s Charm. It shows us a Colonodona that’s put at risk by a plague. A young hedgewitch named Gwendolyn thinks there’s more to it and fights to save the people alongside Ipsinki. I loved writing her, and her and Ipsinki’s dynamic, and I hope readers love it too.
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In the buried past, Kralc finds a ragged Learsi living on the streets after her home kingdom’s destruction and presents an offer: help him set things right with the mysterious City of Arches and he will give her back her family and birthright. With her parents murdered and her kingdom in ruins, she doesn’t know how he can achieve such a thing. All she knows is that she has nothing to lose.
The False Princess
The False Princess is a fantasy novel that blends court politics, young love, and an undercurrent of danger as Princess Sitnalta prepares for her future role as queen. The story opens with old secrets resurfacing, threats stirring in the shadows, and multiple characters navigating loyalty, family, and identity. What begins as an engagement celebration quickly fractures when Sitnalta becomes the target of a calculated assault, and the emotional fallout sends her, her loved ones, and the kingdom into far more complicated territory.
Reading it felt like slipping back into a classic fantasy world where kingdoms matter, alliances matter, and every gesture carries weight. What pulled me in most wasn’t the magic or intrigue, but the relationships. Sitnalta’s bond with Navor is warm and earnest, and the moments between Sitnalta and Aud feel tender in a way that makes the palace feel like an actual home instead of a backdrop. Gwendolyn and Ipsinki add another thread about love, choice, and the quiet pressure of tradition.
The writing itself is straightforward and emotional. Sometimes a little dramatic, sometimes soft, but always sincere. And when the darker moment arrives on the balcony, the tone drops hard and fast, which honestly worked. It’s jarring in the way those moments are supposed to be. The author gives Sitnalta space to feel shaken, ashamed, angry, and ultimately supported, and those scenes were some of the strongest in the book.
As I read, I kept noticing how much attention the author gives to interior feelings. Characters think, hesitate, second-guess, explain themselves, and comfort one another. The pacing stretches at times because of this, but in a story that centers on identity and stepping into power, I didn’t mind lingering in people’s heads. What surprised me most is how grounded the emotional beats feel inside a fairy tale–like setting. There are silk gowns and royal balls, but also conversations about consent, reputation, and the burden of leadership. Even the villain, Sparrow, isn’t painted with subtle strokes, yet his cruelty serves as a sharp contrast to the compassion in the rest of the cast. The book keeps circling back to the idea that strength isn’t loud. Sometimes it’s in telling the truth. Sometimes it’s in letting others help you.
The False Princess is a good fit for readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy, especially those who like royal intrigue mixed with heartfelt relationships and themes of resilience. It’s very much a fantasy novel at its core, but one that leans into emotional honesty more than magic or battles. If you appreciate stories about young women finding their voice within demanding worlds, this one will speak to you.
Pages: 184 | ISBN : 978-1945502750
The City of Arches
The City of Arches follows Princess Sitnalta as she uncovers a long-hidden letter, one that reveals the past of her mother, Learsi, whose own journey from starving street thief to reluctant partner of the wizard Kralc becomes the heart of the book. It’s a fantasy novel through and through, built on quests, hidden cities, magic, danger, and old wounds, yet it moves with a personal focus that makes the stakes feel close to the skin.
I found myself reacting less to the grand fantasy quest and more to the author’s choices in shaping her characters. Learsi’s early chapters hit me hardest. Her hunger, the cold stone under her bare feet, and the constant weighing of risk and survival felt vivid and relatable. Even her wary dance with Kralc, a man who can feed her, manipulate her, or save her depending on the moment, brought a tension that carried far beyond the tavern scene. The writing is straightforward and sincere. It doesn’t try to dazzle with flowery language, which I actually appreciated. The pace is steady, letting me sit with Learsi’s exhaustion, Kralc’s prickly solitude, and Sitnalta’s shock as she pieces together her mother’s past.
The fantasy elements are threaded in with a kind of quiet confidence. The legend of the City of Arches, for example, is both eerie and oddly beautiful: enchanted arches emitting a soothing song that masks the slow decay of a cursed people. I liked how the author lets the myth sit without over-explaining it. The emotional beats land more softly than dramatically, but they linger. Even the small moments, like Kralc awkwardly realizing he cannot knock on a deaf girl’s door or Learsi racing to shovel stew into her mouth, gave the book a grounded feel. Sometimes the dialogue is earnest, sometimes the plot steps into familiar fantasy rhythms, but those qualities made the story welcoming and easy to follow.
By the time I reached the later chapters, I felt as if the book was less about a magical quest and more about the way people try to rebuild trust after their world has broken apart. The stakes grow, of course, but the heart of the story stays with Learsi and her slow opening up to someone who might actually mean her well. I rooted for her, even when she second-guessed herself or snapped defensively. Her reactions felt real.
I’d say The City of Arches is best suited for readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy: people who like quests but care more about the companions on the road than the monsters in the woods. If you want something gentle yet still full of secrets, something that balances fairy-tale simplicity with emotional weight, then you’ll heartily enjoy this book.
Pages: 226 | ASIN : B0G46P9D3T
They’re not wizards. They’re not powerful.
The Hedgewitch’s Charm follows a struggling hedgewitch and a haunted duke as they confront a deadly, possibly deliberate plague, discovering that compassion and failure can be as powerful and as dangerous as magic itself. What inspired you to center the story on failure and helplessness?
I felt that this was an interesting starting point for the story. The idea of fighting against something so small, and so unknowable as a sickness, it’s something that’s universal and also something that everyone can identify with. So many heroes in stories profess to have all the answers, and all the power. It’s this attitude of “I’m Superman, of course I can save the day.” What happens if our heroes are small? What happens if they don’t know what to do? What happens if they’re so very human? For me, that was an interesting place to start the story. Ipsinki has been there from the beginning of the series, and he has known failure. He’s just a man, and Gwendolyn, the hedgewitch is just a woman. They’re not wizards. They’re not powerful. They’re just people who want to do some good; and there’s real power in that.
Gwendolyn’s magic feels intimate and exhausting. How did you shape her relationship with magic and its limits?
I write her as kind of the anti-Kralc. He’s this wizard who acts as if he knows all the answers, and he’s almost cocky, in a way, with his power. She’s someone whose affinity with the earth, and with this desire to heal, grants her these gifts. Her power is of a much more humble nature, and so, like anyone confronting a large scale problem, she has her limits, and she is acutely aware of them. Whatever magic she has is limited in scope by her calling. She has a true sense of what’s right, and what is necessary. It’s from this place that her power comes from, and she accepts her limits.
Ipsinki carries both political responsibility and personal grief. How did you balance those two sides of his character?
For me, it’s these traits that make him a good leader. He recognizes what’s at stake on a far more intimate level than many of the other characters in the book. Here is a man who, through his years as a soldier, and through his mother who owns an inn, has cultivated a real relationship with the people on an individual level. This is something that is truly lacking with the royal family, with the rest of the nobility. It’s this quality that makes all of this so painful for him, but also makes him the perfect person to help tackle this problem. With the others in charge, it’s sad, but the lives being lost are just numbers on a page. It’s all so abstract. With Ipsinki, it’s not that at all. It’s “Oh my god, you mean Sarah died? I just spoke with her yesterday.” It’s his desire to know the people, and his relationships that drive him, and make him good at his job.
Disease and fear play a role in the story. Were there real-world anxieties or experiences that influenced how you portrayed the plague?
In a way, yes. I believe that all writers draw on their lives to some degree when they write. Funnily enough, I came up with this idea before the pandemic. It’s something that I came up with with my friend, An Tran, when we were working Bath Salts. The idea of a disease used as a weapon was something so scary to me. Add some magic to it, and we have The Hedgewitch’s Charm. There’s something so intrinsically tense that comes from a spreading disease. How does one fight against germs? It’s an invisible enemy that you can’t really confront. Writing it was interesting, as the disease almost became a character in itself.
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A strange illness is sweeping through the kingdom of Colonodona bringing death and pain wherever it hits. Gwendolyn, a young hedge witch has made the startling discovery that the illness is one that has been created out of magic. Leaving her home, she makes the trip to the capitol to see the King. There, she is teamed up with the Duke Ipsinki and sent out to find the wizard responsible. As this is happening, the disease strike the capitol infecting Ipsinki’s mother, Aud, and Sitnalta. It is now a race against the clock. Along the way, Gwendolyn realizes that Ipsinki is unlike any other man she has met, while the Duke sees that there is more to life than paperwork and duty. Regaining his love for adventure, he sees that he has more of a choice in front of him than he first realized.
The Hedgewitch’s Charm
The Hedgewitch’s Charm is a fantasy novel that follows a spreading, deadly illness sweeping through Colonodona and the people who are desperate to stop it. We meet Gwendolyn, a young hedgewitch trying and failing to save those brought to her door, and Ipsinki, a duke haunted by the suffering of his people as he races to bring news of the mysterious plague to the king. Their paths eventually converge as both realize this sickness may not be natural at all, but something crafted with intent. The story blends magic, politics, and personal grief into a quest to uncover the living force behind the dying.
I kept pausing at moments where the writing leans into the rawness of helplessness, especially in scenes where Ipsinki stays at a dying friend’s bedside or when Gwendolyn works in suffocating heat, hoping for a miracle that never comes. The author’s choice to place us so close to the emotional burden of failure brings a kind of intimacy to the narrative. It hits harder than expected for a fantasy novel, which usually leans more on adventure than emotional weight. Here, the emotion is the adventure, and I found myself sinking into that more than the worldbuilding at times.
The ideas in the book feel grounded in very human fears: disease you can’t stop, the panic of not knowing the cause, and the sudden realization that the danger might not be random at all. When Gwendolyn senses the illness’s true nature, the tension spikes. It’s the moment where the genre shifts from comforting folk-magic fantasy into something more ominous, and the book seems to say: this world is lovely, yes, but it’s not safe. Still, the writing keeps a warmth to it. There’s grief, but also friendship; fear, but also stubborn hope. The rhythm of the storytelling reflects that. Some sentences snap quick like sparks. Others roll out slowly, the way a person talks when they’re trying to make sense of something that still hurts.
I think the book sits in that space between cozy fantasy and dark fantasy. It’s magic, mystery, and emotional stakes all woven together. I’d recommend The Hedgewitch’s Charm to readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy, especially those who like stories where magic comes with consequences and the heroes are driven less by glory and more by compassion. If you like fantasy that feels personal rather than epic, you’ll enjoy this one.
Pages: 221 | ASIN: B0G67H73RH
A Man Driven By Greed
The Kingdom Thief follows Princess Sitnalta as she races to undo a thief’s reality-warping wish, becoming the lone keeper of the truth in a world that no longer remembers who she really is. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The Sitnalta Series finds itself focusing a lot on this coin- its origin, its powers, and the power of wishes. Through the first book, with Sitnalta’s relationship with the troll, Najort, we look into the consequences of wishes done with the right motivation, and by good people. For the sequel, I wanted to look at the reverse. Wilhelm is not Najort. He is not Sitnalta. He is a man driven by greed, and what would that look like, if he were to acquire the coin and make a wish.
Sitnalta and Navor’s relationship holds so much emotional weight. How did you approach balancing romance with the fast-paced plot?
For someone their age, the idea of a budding romance can be what drives a person. In a way, it is the plot. Navor wants to help Sitnalta, and Sitnalta wants her home back. This should be in balance with what is happening outside of their little bubble. For them at least, their feelings are just as important as magic, and politics, and stopping the mad man who has stolen a kingdom. When you look at the world through the lens of two young people and their feelings, one thing is never more important than the other. As a parent of teenagers, I’m surrounded by that on a daily basis, and that was my approach.
If you could expand one section of the story, give readers more time in any particular place or emotional moment, what would it be and why?
I would love to spend a lot more time in Navor’s head. He has a lot on his plate right now. Writing his dreams, his fears, and his hope for the future was a lot of fun, and I would love to have done a lot more of that.
What can readers expect in book three of the Sitnalta Series?
Oh, without giving too much away, I can say that we have tragedy, a very different type of romance, and so many questions about the past get answered. In a way, this is almost a prequel, but still very much Book Three. Sitnalta would not have been ready for these answers before now. I hope that wasn’t too cryptic.
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Princess Sitnalta has been living happily ever after with Queen Aud and King Gerald as her adoptive parents, enjoying the peace in her world. Her growing friendship with the mysterious Prince Navor leads her on a journey to visit his island kingdom. While there she receives the horrible news that her kingdom has been conquered and cruel King Wilhelm is responsible.
With King Gerald and Queen Aud imprisoned, Prince Navor and a secretive network of spies as her only allies, Princess Sitnalta feels lost and adrift. Nothing about Colonodona’s takeover seems right, and Sitnalta suspects magic may be to blame.
Far from home and unsure of whom to trust, Sitnalta must find a way to save her kingdom, and return her beloved Aud and Gerald to their rightful thrones.
LITERARY TITAN 