u/LordDespairus

Eliot Thorne is no longer just a bookseller.

The war with the King in Yellow deepens, no longer distant whispers behind fogged glass but a conflict pressing against every doorway of the shop. His agents move through London, leaving rot in the margins of the city's stories, madness threading through the spaces between gaslit streets and ordinary lives.

Pages rot. Stories twist. Reality itself begins to misprint beneath the rising red moon.

https://a.co/d/08s6Z9xX

Under fractured skies, two sisters meet—and kingdoms burn.

When High Queen Nessdra's Dananné rebels raid Bahud's halls and steal Selena's future husband Alasdair and their daughter Aralon, they leave behind blood, ashes, and rage. With her future sister-wives at her side, Selena rallies her kingdom for war. She will reclaim what was stolen. She will make them bleed.

But Morgana rides east from the war-torn Northlands to investigate Vladimir's suspicious death in Bahud, bearing a secret that will shatter everything: a pregnancy born of forbidden union, a scandal that will rock the Änari to their foundations.

When the sisters finally meet, long-buried resentments ignite. A goddess will give birth. A newborn god will be stolen. And the realm will learn that some betrayals cut deeper than any blade.

Loyalties will fracture. Magic will blaze. And the blood of gods will water the earth.

https://a.co/d/07JoppqF

London bookshop life should be settling into a comfortable routine, but something is changing.

Eliot's temper runs hotter, his instincts sharper. Shadows move through London's fog with surgical precision and a king haunts the spaces between the bookshelves.

Hoarding broken things draws attention from entities who believe stories should stay where they belong.

The wolf is waking. The ledger is coming due. And this time, victories won't be enough.

https://a.co/d/05BcD89g

What if tragedy itself crossed the veil, begging to be rewritten? Eliot wants only to tend his quiet London bookshop, to keep every last shelf, coin, and secret to himself. Yet when a battered old novel opens on its own, a girl steps from its pages: Zayva, a bashful scorpion-centaur with a heart far too large for her own peace.

Soon she is joined by others: a mischievous goblin with laughter like broken bells, a diligent bee-girl who cleans until the world gleams, a steel-eyed were-gator who hides her tenderness behind grit and southern poise, and, because the universe delights in irony, an bratty eldritch maiden in doll-lace and ribbons whose sweetness masks a madness older than memory.

These girls were stolen from the brink of sorrow. No one yet knows the stories they escaped or the endings that still wait for them in the margins. Eliot, sardonic, shy, and far too greedy for his own good, cannot help but hoard what fate has placed in his care: a strange, mismatched family that refuses to let their tales close where they once began.

https://a.co/d/0hzk67KT