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J.F. Wren

In her bed at home in Bromma, Agnes wakes up with a jolt. Something has startled her. Cautiously, she sneaks up to the window and peeks out from behind the curtain. The wind is blowing in the tree canopy outside the house and the darkness is compact. Suddenly something yellow gleams out from behind a little lilac bush. What is that? Agnes closes her eyes, just for a moment. When she opens them again, the light is gone.

In Nazaria, the dark despot is pacing about his black palace. Naz-Halham is furious. Once again, his emissary has failed. But now he is to receive his punishment. Tomorrow he will personally cut the man’s heart out of his chest and sacrifice it in the sanctuary brazier. A demonic smile crosses the increasingly insane king’s stiff lips.

The Secret of the Stone Bridge is the first part of the Legend of Amornia series. It is an exciting, imaginative story about kings, magicians, gods – and an ordinary girl who is destined to make a journey like no other. Follow Agnes and her grandmother on an adventure that brings them face to face with prophecy, evil and dire challenges.

Jez Jameson

Whip Media

The Tales of Amornia

The Secret of the Stone Bridge

Neil Betteridge

Agnes sat with tears rolling down her cheeks, cradling her grandmother’s bloody head in her lap. She had managed to stem the flow of blood, but she could barely feel Astrid’s pulse. Beside her lay Knox, brother of the Emir of Thulisia’s late wife. The old mariner was unconscious, but breathing steadily.
A dim red light pulsed in the otherwise darkened chamber, fluctuating in brightness as if the thing emitting it was alive. And as it flashed, two formless beings could be glimpsed by the door. They appeared amorphous and seemed to be covered in week-old ash.
The Crimson Sceptre is the second volume in the Tales of Amornia series. It is an exciting, imaginative story about kings, magicians, gods – and an ordinary girl who is destined to make a journey like no other.

The Crimson Sceptre

With a sense of déjà vu, Agnes packed her things. She was going to be staying with her grandmother in Hova again. She picked up her fully packed suitcase and as she started to go downstairs the thoughts began running through her head. It was as if something was missing, something she ought to remember. Something hideously black. But for the life of her she couldn’t remember what.
In the top of the tower on the smaller of the islands that made up the Samloqs sat that night’s watch. He looked up at the starry sky through the opening that was the tower’s only window – and there, something was there. A giant black shadow swooped past and blocked out the light. The preacher shuddered. The next moment he almost fell out of the tower. The creature high above him had turned, revealing an enormous pair of wings and clouds of sooty black smoke billowing from its nostrils.
Naz-Halham could not erase the Sibyl’s words from his mind. “The time is come when I, Moros, shall rise and break my bonds. I enjoin upon thee to ally thyself with the people from the sea, whose arrival in Amornia has been prophesied since before my sisters and brothers fettered my person with their treacherous chains.”

The Return of the Silver Dragon