Heroes of the Empire: The Captive (the concluding volume in the quartet) follows a three-front reckoning: Saga Barindaughter claws her way through occupation-era Savoria with an axe in one hand and grief in the other; Emperor Honzio tries to stitch the Empire back together while pursuing a quiet investigation into Devorin’s queen; and Aria infiltrates Castle Yakh, chasing the last request of her dead brother, finds Jaxon Tana, only to find a castle that feels less like a seat of power than a laboratory built out of nightmares.
Reading it, I kept feeling how the title’s “captive” isn’t just a plot condition, it’s a texture. Saga’s chapters have the briny, clenched-jaw intimacy of survival, where even tenderness comes barbed. When the book finally lets her say, aloud, that captivity is over, it feels like a door unbolting in your chest. I loved how Azizi doesn’t soften the moral bruises: characters aren’t merely brave; they’re scarred into bravery, and sometimes they mistake spite for oxygen. If there’s a cost, it’s that the emotional pitch stays high so often that quieter beats can feel rare, like a candle you keep expecting the wind to take.
What surprised me most was how effectively the court-intrigue thread goes cold, not elegant, not witty, but clinical. Aria’s discoveries in Castle Yakh read like a page you shouldn’t be holding: lists, experiments, “statuses,” the bureaucratic handwriting of cruelty. That darkness gives real ballast to Jax’s arc, which is less a heroic return than a painful, partial unmaking-and-remaking of a self. And then the epilogue pivots, unexpectedly, into something almost tender: Jax, a ragged figure in the capital, telling stories to children who only know him as “Master Hand.” It’s a strange kind of mercy, and it worked on me.
Book 4: The Captive is for readers who like epic fantasy, romantic fantasy, dark fantasy, multi-POV political fantasy, and rebellion/court-intrigue storylines that don’t flinch from trauma but still insist on complicated hope, especially if you enjoy endings that tie off wars while leaving emotional loose ends on purpose. If you’ve ever mainlined Sarah J. Maas for the big-feelings momentum and battlefield romance, you’ll recognize the addictive glide, though Azizi’s palette runs a little more wintry and iron-streaked.
In Tales of Spooner Pond, by Terry Rasner, a girl named Pippy Natalie Hyland discovers her “dreams” are less pillow-fog and more passport: she’s being called from ordinary North Star Ridge into Spooner Pond, a lush otherworld populated by talkative animal-humans (“palimals”) and overseen by Truggles, a towering, dog-and-panda-like guardian who insists she can learn to travel back and forth, and even bring a few friends along. The book opens with a domestic alarm (a bedroom wall turned into a map, furious parents, a counselor visit) and quickly widens into episodic adventures where strange gifts appear, loyalties form, and the geography of wonder becomes almost tactile.
What hooked me first wasn’t the premise, portal fantasies are a well-trod trail, but the particular grain of the telling: Pippy’s voice can be earnest, snarky, and suddenly luminous in the same breath. The adults are drawn with a kid’s exacting fairness (my favorite detail is how her father “towered…like a stout oak tree,” which is both affectionate and indicting), and that tension gives Spooner Pond a real narrative job: it’s not just escapism, it’s relief-pressure, a place where a child can feel chosen instead of merely managed. Even the language invents its own little rituals, “noggin nudger” moments, like the story is quietly training you to adopt its private vocabulary.
Once the “palimals” take the stage, I found myself smiling at how the book refuses to sand down its oddities. Kitty Joe, the oversized cat with his chewy idiolect and disconcerting carnivore pride, is both cuddly and feral; he’s the kind of character who can purr in your arms and, two sentences later, remind you he’d prefer his breakfast with a crunch. And the set pieces have a fable-like clarity, Barney becoming “Feathers,” learning to glide and then “fly” by turning ears into wings, is delightfully implausible in the way childhood logic can be: if you want it badly enough and you practice hard enough, anatomy negotiates. I admired the book’s stubborn commitment to its own cadence, unembarrassed, a little eccentric, and often genuinely sweet.
Terry Rasner’s YA novel feels best aimed at middle-grade readers (and read-aloud families) who like fantasy, portal fantasy, supernatural adventure, and magical creatures with a dash of moral weather, patience, courage, and loyalty, threaded through the spectacle. If you loved The Chronicles of Narnia, Spooner Pond offers a similarly sincere invitation, just with fur, oddball slang, and gifts that arrive sideways. Tales of Spooner Pond is a warm and peculiar pocket-universe where the weird feels like a kind of truth.
The Dragon Moonstone follows a young man who discovers he’s inherited wizard blood and must learn to control his unstable magic before it consumes him. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
I write primarily to inspire my grandsons to discover the joy of reading. We’re all flawed—that’s what makes us human—and I wanted them to see Noah, a young man who discovers his inherited wizard blood, grappling with unstable magic just like any beginner. Even the greatest wizards start somewhere, and I hope Noah’s journey shows them that mastering your gifts is a process worth celebrating.
I find the world you created in this novel brimming with possibilities. Where did the inspiration for the setting come from, and how did it change as you were writing?
My stories tend to unfold organically as I write—I never start with a rigid plan, and it often feels like Noah himself is in the driver’s seat, steering the adventure. The inspiration for the brimming world of The Dragon Moonstone came from my love of classic fantasy realms, blended with everyday wonders I share with my grandsons.
Courage, perseverance, and the drive to make things right were essential themes I wanted to weave throughout The Dragon Moonstone. These aren’t just plot devices—they’re the story’s true heartbeat, lessons I hope to impart to my young readers. Noah embodies this when life hurls challenges his way: unstable magic, self-doubt, and unexpected losses. Through it all, he learns to step up, push through, and emerge stronger, reminding us that true power comes from facing our flaws head-on.
Can you tell us more about what’s in store for Noah and the direction of the next book?
Grief has threaded through Noah’s journey so far, and the next book dives deeper into it as he learns to process his sadness and confront his challenges head-on. Along the way, he’ll discover that kindness isn’t a weakness—it’s a quiet strength—and that being the underdog comes with its own fierce advantages. Above all, Noah will embrace the power of paying it forward, turning his losses into legacies that inspire those around him. Expect more magic, more heart, and even higher stakes when you dive into The Griffin Moonstone.
The Dragon Moonstone: Book Two of The Moonstone Legacy Series
Noah never asked to be a wizard—too bad magic doesn’t take requests. Patience? Not exactly his strong suit. With messy, unpredictable powers that have a mind of their own, Noah puts his friends at risk. So, his great-aunt Shirley pulls some strings and sends him and his friends to Castle Dragon, where they’re in for a bumpy ride convincing the legendary sorcerer to come out of retirement and train them.
As Noah’s emotions tangle with his chaotic magic, a seemingly harmless shortcut spirals into disaster. To fix his blunder, he must find rare dragonroot, the only cure for his magical mishap. But fate throws him another curveball: the Dragon Moonstone has gone missing, and the realm’s balance hangs by a thread. Without it, chaos could reign, endangering everyone he cares about.
With a vengeful witch, a devious bounty hunter, and nearly every Fae in the Otherlands pursuing their own agendas, Noah knows he can’t do this alone. His quirky and brave friends offer their support, but in a world rife with deception and treachery, trust is a dangerous gamble.
When tragedy strikes, Noah confronts a haunting question: does the reluctant hero have what it takes to save the realm, or is he destined to be the guy who always ruins everything?
Join Noah and his friends on a fast-paced fantasy adventure filled with magic, humor, and action. Tailored for teens and adults who enjoy action-packed contemporary fantasy with a mystery to solve.
Wing Haven follows a fairy who finds herself queen after being betrayed by her sister, and along with some unlikely allies, enters into a dangerous adventure. Where did the idea for this novel come from?
I looked on Submittable for short story and flash fiction writing contests because I think it’s a good way to flex your writing muscles, and saw one which must have had a fairy or forest theme. I hit the word count limit and had so much more to say about Almond’s journey that I just kept going.
There was a lot of time spent crafting the character traits in this novel. What was the most important factor for you to get right in your characters?
I think archetypes are powerful tools for storytelling, and each character has a role: the hero, the sidekick, the love interest, the comic relief, the villain, the muscle, etc. In Wing Haven, the hero is a fairy, the sidekick is a chipmunk, the comic relief is insects—and they have motivations and quirks corresponding with their roles in the story that I hope draw the reader into a suspension of disbelief that allows them to go along for the ride.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
Some of Wing Haven’s most important themes are self-reliance, chosen family, and acceptance. Almond must learn to live outside of the regimented Fairy Nook, where there are no rules or safety nets, but also learns to trust the creatures she befriends. They’re a ragtag group of very different creatures who accept each other as they are and appreciate each other’s strengths.
Can fans of Wing Haven look forward to more work from you soon? What are you currently working on?
I am excited to share that I’m working on my first closed circle murder mystery, but I also have ideas for more adventures for the Wing Haven crew, so sign up on my website for updates.
When Almond Nettlesworth is taken from the Fairy Nook, she is desperate to find her way home. Alone in the dark forest, Almond collects a ragtag gang of characters and together, they transform an abandoned dollhouse into a haven for tiny creatures. But when the Fairy Queen sends the Knight of the Nook to bring her back, Almond must decide between the home she knows and the home she’s built.
Wing Haven, by Naomi Shibles, is a beautifully imagined fairy tale that feels both timeless and new. It tells the story of Almond Nettlesworth, a reluctant fairy who doesn’t quite fit into her messy, mossy world. After being outshone and betrayed by her younger sister, who suddenly becomes queen, Almond is thrust into an adventure that forces her to confront danger, friendship, and her own sense of belonging. Alongside unlikely allies like a chipmunk named Nutsie, she journeys through the wild forest in search of purpose and freedom, discovering a forgotten dollhouse that becomes a kind of refuge. Beneath the fantasy, the story hums with ideas about independence, family, and what it means to find beauty in imperfection.
What I liked most was how the book blended the charm of childhood imagination with the weight of adult emotion. The writing is lush and cinematic, full of textures like glittering wings, sticky sap, and the smell of damp moss. Shibles has a gift for description that makes even tiny moments feel alive. Still, it’s the heart of the story that got to me. Almond’s frustration with her world, her yearning for cleanliness and order in a place ruled by chaos, hit closer to home than I expected. I found myself rooting for her even when she stumbled, even when her pride made her prickly. The relationship between Almond and Pepper, sisters bound by rivalry and love, felt raw and real. Their clash mirrors the kind of quiet wars siblings fight when one grows up too fast and the other gets left behind.
I felt the pacing sometimes slows under the weight of its detail. The world-building is rich, like a garden that needs a little pruning. Yet, I didn’t mind walking through that garden. The story invites you to pause and notice the small wonders that are hiding. I also admired how the author used the natural world not just as a setting, but as a character. The forest breathes and sighs, both nurturing and cruel. It reminded me of how nature holds contradictions, beauty and decay, danger and shelter, and how those same tensions live inside us.
Wing Haven left me with a quiet ache and a deep sense of wonder. It’s a story for readers who still believe that magic exists just out of sight, for dreamers who feel out of place in the noise of the world. I’d recommend it to anyone who loved The Secret Garden as a child and now wants something more grown, more tangled, and more tender.
Twisting in Time tells the story of Goff, a boy who desperately wishes to live a normal life but finds himself constantly dragged back into a world of magic, danger, and tangled loyalties. At Amworth Academy, what should have been quiet moments with friends and his first love quickly unravel into chaos as strange forces whisk people away, shadows stretch into monsters, and visions of looming battles return. The story swings between his present struggles and the origins of his curse in Slaathwick, where he is burdened with being a Verlokken, a kind of outcast whose magic is feared as much as it is needed. Through duels, betrayals, and heartbreaking losses, Goff keeps stumbling forward, hoping for safety and love, yet always being pulled into another storm.
What I liked most was the way the book balanced whimsy with darkness. There are scenes filled with warmth, like meals shared, jokes between friends, even the sweetness of Goff’s awkward romance with Joy, that made me smile. But just when I started to settle in, the story twisted into something darker. The shadows, the grotesque enemies, and the way time itself bends gave me a pit in my stomach. The writing has a playful rhythm in places, almost silly at times, and then suddenly sharp, reminding me of how childhood wonder collides with the dread of growing up. It kept me off balance, which I liked, because it mirrored Goff’s own unease.
Goff is both stubborn and insecure, and that mix makes him feel real. He longs to protect his friends, yet he keeps secrets, pushes people away, and sometimes gives in to anger. I wanted to shake him, but I also wanted to hug him. That kind of emotional pull is rare. The author’s choice to lean into food and cooking as recurring motifs was lovely too. Those moments grounded the story. A dish described in detail, or a meal shared, often felt more magical than spells or battles. It made me feel like magic wasn’t always in wands or words but sometimes in butter, lavender, or a loaf of bread.
By the time I reached the end, I felt both drained and hopeful. The book is heavy with loss and with the idea that time doesn’t really heal so much as twist and fold, carrying pain forward in new ways. Yet it’s also filled with small sparks of loyalty and friendship that remind you why the characters keep fighting. I’d recommend this book to readers who enjoy fantasy that doesn’t shy away from sorrow but still knows how to laugh at itself. It’s for anyone who wants a coming-of-age story tangled with monsters, magic, and heartache, but also with friendship, food, and flickers of joy that make the struggle worth it.
The Heart Scarab is a sprawling and layered fantasy tale set in the richly imagined world of the Duchy Wars. The story weaves together the fates of warriors, mystics, and serpents in a landscape scarred by mining, politics, and old tribal magic. Atrium introduces us to Bybiis, Raykiim, Ulaya, and a cast of many others who grapple with serpents both literal and symbolic. At the center are the mysterious serpent pouches, objects of power and danger that drive much of the conflict. The novel is both an adventure and a meditation on power, sacrifice, and what it means to serve something larger than yourself.
The prose is often strange and textured, with voices that shift from tribal chants to raw dialogue. At first, it made me stumble, but then I leaned into it and realized that Atrium wanted me to feel disoriented, just as her characters are when they confront forces beyond their control. I admired the guts it takes to write like that. Some sections flowed like a river, pulling me along without effort. Others were jagged, forcing me to slow down, reread, and sit with the unease. I liked that tension.
I kept coming back to the characters. Bybiis is wounded and stubborn, scarred inside and out, but she burns with an energy that made me root for her even when she drove me crazy. Raykiim had this mix of charm and darkness that made me wonder how much of him was his own and how much came from those serpent pouches he guarded. And Ulaya, chasing her twisted experiments, was chilling in her certainty. What hooked me most was the sense that everyone here carried scars, literal or otherwise, and the story kept asking whether scars make us stronger or just remind us of what we’ve lost. The emotional weight of that question stayed with me.
The Heart Scarab isn’t an easy read, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be. It’s for readers who enjoy being challenged, who like complex worlds with no hand-holding, and who don’t mind wandering through passages that feel more like songs or riddles than straightforward narrative. If you want to be immersed in a world that feels alive, harsh, and unpredictable, with writing that pushes you out of your comfort zone, then The Heart Scarab is worth your time.
Aerie is a continuation of the Dragon Guild saga, where Gabri and her dragon Makani seek peace in a mountaintop refuge, only to be swept into a cross-realm rescue mission that tests the bonds of love, loyalty, and identity. What were some new ideas you wanted to explore in book two?
Thank you for your interest in Arie and in me.
At the end of SANCTUM, Gabri was a 16-year-old who had lost all her enhanced abilities when she’d been abducted. Her family on Terra was doing all they could to find her and bring her home. She had bonded with her dragon, Makani, and her Aracai, Ting.
After chapter 1 of AERIE, Gabri’s story continues at age 18. While people flee to Sanctum in droves to escape the evil ruler of Umbra, Gabri and Elio join with other dragons and riders to protect their home and everyone on the planet. This book explores Gabri’s relationships with Elio, who is in love with her, and with Donny, the one she was sure she would build a life with. Donny is still searching for her. New challenges, far more complex than before, test her and the ones she loves. Will Gabri survive and overcome them? Who will she choose to be her life partner?
Gabri’s emotional journey is so raw and personal. Was there a specific experience or inspiration that shaped her arc in Aerie?
Personally, I grew up as an Army brat, moving from one environment to another, sometimes with little warning. Leaving friends behind, or seeing them leave, broke my heart. Changing schools was daunting, especially when we moved during the school year, which often happened. More so, moving from one country to another, from a familiar culture and language to one completely different, left me feeling temporarily powerless. Personal growth occurred as I learned to overcome every obstacle (such as learning another language) and as my broken heart mended after each move. In many ways, I identify with Gabri.
As for Gabri’s character arc, two experiences come to mind. One happens when Gabri is captured by Ozul and discovers he is not the one who abducted her from Terra. She encounters Katzir, the being behind her abduction and the one controlling the planet. She shows great courage, despite being separated from her bondmates and Elio. Before she can reunite with Makani and Elio, Ozul wipes her memory.
The second occurs as she slowly recovers her memories. Donny re-enters her life, and she must make a decision. Elio or Donny? Aerie or Terra?
The dragons feel uniquely alive and soulful. How did you develop Makani’s personality and her bond with Gabri?
Although intertwined with Gabri’s thoughts and emotions through their bond, Makani is very much herself, a being with reason and opinions all her own. She’s highly intelligent, strongly emotive, and, in some ways, a bit clingy. She loves to play during flight but can be serious and intuitive when necessary. Her relationship with Gabri developed as I wrote. It became organic, and I knew how she would interact in any given circumstance. Makani is the dragon I wish I had.
Time shifts and interdimensional travel play a big role. How did you keep the pacing balanced between high action and emotional depth?
It wasn’t easy. As I wrote, I used a spreadsheet, with Terran time in one column and the corresponding Aerie time in another. The spreadsheet kept me sane. After the first draft, I separated the chapters into Terra and Aerie, then wove them together in a way that made sense according to the parallel timelines. The pacing balance seemed natural to me. The story needed to breathe. Picture the high action as an inhale and emotional depth as the exhale. One wouldn’t work without the other. As life ebbs and flows through our seasons, a story should do the same.
Trained for battle, bonded to her dragon, and with a growing interest in Elio, the leader of Dragon Guild, Gabri could lose it all.
A young warrior in the Dragon Guild, Gabri and her beloved dragon, Makani, fly patrol through the inner world of Sanctum with Elio and his golden dragon, Kealohi. While investigating an abandoned enemy outpost, Gabri is captured and isolated from Makani and everyone she loves. Imprisoned and implanted with a mind control device, can Gabri break free, unite with Makani, and reclaim her lost memories?
Together with Elio and his dragon, Gabri and Makani embark on a quest to reclaim their world from a sinister enemy. As they face formidable foes and uncover hidden truths, their bonds of friendship and courage will be tested like never before. Will they succeed in their mission?
With themes of courage, friendship, and the power of love, Aerie invites readers into an enchanting adventure filled with danger, hope, and the unbreakable bonds between humans and dragons.
