Katy Campbell

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Next Serial, Author Discord, New Illustrations, and More!

Katy Campbell — Wed, 26 Aug 2026 03:15:24 GMT

Hi Folks,

In preparation for the final book in the Rosaline Trilogy, Madhuri’s Hourglass, I am going to start posting Rosaline’s Curse as a serial on Monday, September 7th. This will give everyone a chance to read (or reread) together in time for the new book!

To start, I am going to post one chapter per week. However, I might post more as I get closer to completing Madhuri’s Hourglass. The first draft is finished, so it shouldn’t be too much longer.

The serial version will feature brand new art from the amazing GRACE WOODS, who illustrated Mark’s Noble Quest.

Actually, when I first met Grace, I was in the process of writing Rosaline’s Curse. She ended up beta-reading it and randomly sent me some fan art. I loved the art so much, I went on to commission her to do the illustrations for Mark’s Noble Quest.

This is one of the early pieces of fan art she sent me. I think it’s awesome and, as hard as this is to believe, she’s gotten even better over time!

Please take a moment to check out Grace’s portfolio:

See Grace's portfolio!

And please drop a comment to tell Grace she’s awesome!!!

Yes! There’s going to be an audiobook too!

In addition to Grace’s art, I will also be including audio recordings of each chapter! This comes with two distinct advantages:

You will learn what a Kaltic accent sounds like whenever Rosaline speaks English.
You can read while driving and not crash! (As much as I love Grace’s art, please do not look at it while you are driving.)
The narrator is me, but only because I couldn’t afford Morgan Freeman.

But wait, there’s more! I’ve started an author Discord server! (And it does not cost $19.95, it’s free!)

Do you want to talk about the chapters with someone as you read them? I’ve started an author Discord for that purpose and much more!

If you join, you can discuss the book, see fan art, memes, and potentially be the first in line to get a Madhuri’s Hourglass ARC!

Join here and please make sure you review the rules:

Join the conversation!

This link will self-destru- I mean, expire after 7 days. So if you miss the deadline, send me a message for a new link.

My ebooks are free, but publishing isn’t. $1.00 helps cover costs.

As I get ready to release Madhuri’s Hourglass, I will need to hire an editor, cover artist, and pay the book setup fees required by Ingram and other publishing platforms.

Please consider contributing $1.00 to help cover expenses. $1.00 might not seem like much, but believe me, it is! And it is so appreciated!

Contribute $1.00

If you would like, you can also sponsor a chapter here and get a shoutout when I post it!

If you can’t contribute financially right now, please share my stories with someone you think would enjoy them, and don’t forget to like this post and subscribe to this Substack! All of this helps tremendously!

(Scroll past the paid subscription options; there is a free one, but Substack puts it at the bottom because they are annoying that way.)

Thank you so much for your support, and I can’t wait to share the complete Rosaline series with you all!

Katy

Rosaline's Curse 3: Madhuri's Hourglass

Katy Campbell — Tue, 11 Aug 2026 22:26:08 GMT

So, I’ve finished posting my middle-grade fantasy novel, The Laughing Empress!

The Laughing Empress was a bit of a unique project for me because it was the first book I wrote with a specific target audience in mind. To learn a little more about what inspired it, jump to the last section of this email.

For now, let’s talk about my next project!

Rosaline’s Curse 3: Madhuri’s Hourglass

I am super excited to announce that I have just finished the first draft of Rosaline’s Curse 3: Madhuri’s Hourglass!

If you aren’t familiar with my Rosaline’s Curse series, it’s about a princess from the thirteenth century who is put into an enchanted sleep to await her true love. Unfortunately, it takes 800 years for her true love to show up, so when she finally wakes up, she has to integrate into modern society.

And if that wasn’t enough of a challenge, apparently the evil fiancé she thought she left behind in the 1200s is immortal because somehow he’s still alive and very much in love with her.

Madhuri’s Hourglass will be the third and final book in this series! I don’t have a publication date yet, but I will let you know as soon as I do!

In the meantime, check out the first two books:

Rosaline’s Curse

Mark’s Noble Quest (A novellette)

I also recommend you read Love, Treachery, and Other Terrors since the book is referenced throughout the Rosaline’s Curse series (though it’s not required).

(You can also get these books on Amazon, but they might not be free there because Amazon will sometimes start charging for my books without warning.)

I am so excited to share this story with you all and will let you know when it’s ready!

I also have some other projects in the works, but more on those later!

The content in the Rosaline’s Curse series is appropriate for teens and up. A parent should read all books in this series before sharing with a child younger than fourteen.

Since I just wrote a middle grade book, I feel it is important to remind readers that most of my books contain mild swearing, innuendos, dark humor, and other content that might not be appropriate for kids.

About The Laughing Empress

People often ask me what age I write for, but here’s the truth: I don’t write for any specific age or audience. I just kind of write stories I enjoy and hope they find an audience of any age that enjoys them also.

The Laughing Empress was my first attempt at writing specifically for a mainstream middle-grade audience. The characters were young teens, and it made use of many popular middle-grade tropes: chosen one, orphan protagonist, etc. The language spoken by the fantasy characters was a lot more casual and colloquial than I use in my other books.

The whole thing was very different than what I am used to, but I am glad I got to branch out and experiment with a new style of writing.

My personal favorite thing about The Laughing Empress is the character of Pouli. He is based on my own pet starling I raised as a teenager.

Starlings actually can learn to talk, and the way Pouli spoke is very similar to the way my Bird (my starling) spoke. Of course, Pouli is a little more coherent than Bird was, but not by much. The personality is basically the same. My bird also loved grapes and would ask for them!

Caught for a nail trim! Bird was not happy!

I know you’re mad, but I still love you!

Will I write more middle-grade fiction in the future? I don’t know. If I get inspiration or if my audience asks for it, I might. For now, I look forward to getting back to my stories from Para Sympan that are targeted toward… people of any age who share my strange sense of humor.

The Empress Supreme

Katy Campbell — Mon, 03 Aug 2026 04:01:22 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

“So… are you like the queen now or… what?” Zoe asked.

Philothea was sitting in her father’s hall eating a breakfast large enough to feed a small village. It consisted of eggs and toast and bacon and lots and lots of grapes. Some of these grapes were, to Zoe’s amazement, yellow. Incidentally, Pouli looked at least three sizes fatter than the day before.

The battle had stretched her body, mind, and powers to the limit; she didn’t think any amount of food would ever fill her up again.

Raven was sitting next to Zoe, stroking Fae’s feathers.

Philothea shook her head aggressively. “No, my mother is the queen.”

“That’s right,” Raven agreed. “Philothea is the Empress Supreme.”

“Well, I’m still older,” Zoe remarked.

Philothea glared at them and, despite her annoyance, giggled.

“I should probably write to my dad,” Zoe commented. “And tell him I’m alive and stuff.”

“My parents already sent a message to Keeper Ruth,” Philothea said. “I’m sure she’ll tell your dad we’re alright.” She felt a lump in her throat thinking of the last time she saw the Keepers who raised her. “I hope they’realright,” she added.

“They’re fine,” Zoe remarked. “Keeper Ruth is indestructible. She’s been alive at least seven hundred years; do you really think Zeno could have taken her out?”

That comment sent Philothea into a fit of hysteria. Yet, it also made her heart sink just a little. Her whole life she had wanted nothing more than to find her family. Now that she had… was she losing the family who raised her?

She chomped down on her lip. No. She was not. They would always be her family whether in the same home or on the other side of the world. Zoe especially would always be her older sister no matter what happened.

“Zoe?” Philothea said. “You know, if you want, maybe we can send for your dad, and you can both live here.”

Zoe drummed her fingers on the table thoughtfully.

“The thing is…” Zoe began. “Now that you’re all settled down and whatnot… I was thinking of becoming a Keeper.”

“You?” Raven scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Zoe questioned.

“You don’t strike me as particularly devout,” Raven remarked.

Philothea had the same thought. Yes, Zoe lived with the Keepers all her life, but she’d always been a sort of stoic rebel.

Zoe answered Raven with a shrug. “It’s fine. They can always kick me out if I don’t meet their piety requirements or whatever.”

“And then what?” Raven pressed.

“I’ll move in with you,” Zoe answered.

Raven leaned back, lit her pipe, and replied: “I will stab you in the face.”

Philothea detected a hint of amusement in Zoe’s eyes.

“You know, Raven,” Philothea said. “I still have a lot to learn, and I was hoping… that maybe you would stay here and teach me.”

“There are fae more powerful than me,” Raven answered. “And you have your mother back now.”

“I know,” Philothea answered. “And she’ll teach me too, but I really need an unbiased teacher.”

“I am extremely biased,” Raven remarked. “Biased against everyone.”

“Perfect!” Philothea giggled. “You’ll offset my mother’s favoritism.”

Raven smirked and stuck her tongue in her cheek as she considered the offer.

“I’d be so far away from my family…” she mumbled. “...Yes. I’m definitely in.”

Philothea rolled her eyes. She was doing it again—pretending to be a self-interested recluse who hated everyone.

Philothea wasn’t even going to try and correct her this time. Her hope was that maybe the Holy Creator was working in Raven’s heart in some way Philothea couldn’t understand. Zoe’s sudden career choice was evidence He’d already been at work unseen.

She giggled a little as the unpleasant thought of her elder brother came to mind. She hoped and prayed that the Holy Creator would set to work on him too. After all, if He could make a giggly-girl into a war hero, surely he could soften the heart of a tyrant.

Whatever You’re doing, Philothea sighed in her heart. Please keep doing it.

Afterword

Pouli and Fae did indeed get married, and soon thereafter Fae laid three eggs. The first chick grew up into a slightly smaller version of its mother. This, of course, was the world’s very first crow.

Their second child was closer to Pouli’s size but had a yellow ring around each beady black eye. When it wasn’t mimicking human speech, it made a sound like a rubber duck. This, of course, was the world’s very first jackdaw.

The last chick favored his father but had a longer tail and no stars. This was the world’s very first grackle.

So, thanks to the union of Pouli and Fae, the world was filled with all kinds of black feathery vermin. They multiplied and spread to every corner of the globe. Farmers loathed them, and no picnicker was ever free from their watchful eyes.

Pouli was a very good father and wrote many songs to teach his children essential life skills. One of his favorites went like this:

Dodging watchful human eyes,

Is the way to claim your prize!

People food is yummy sweet,

And if you’re fast, you too can eat!

As time went on, his descendants developed variants. Today, the most common version goes something like this:

Dodging watchful human eyes,

Is the way to steal their fries!

Grab them off the asphalt, yum!

Devour every tasty crumb!

Thanks for reading The Laughing Empress! If you enjoyed this book, please like, subscribe, and/or shoot me an email at Katysfables@gmail.com

You can check out all of my books at katysfables.com/books.

I offer my ebooks for free. If you would like to support my work, please consider leaving a tip at https://buymeacoffee.com/katysfablec/e/483611

Thank you so much!

Katina

Katy Campbell — Mon, 27 Jul 2026 04:01:00 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Philothea was so weak and exhausted, she wanted nothing more than to curl up right there on the scorched earth and sleep forever. But the moment she had finished with Zeno, Avis took her by the arm.

“Quickly, with me,” he ordered. “There’s one more thing you need to do.”

The next thing that she knew, she was standing with him in the middle of an open hillside. A starry sky sparkled above her, illuminating the open sloping hills. All around her, fae warriors appeared, having transported themselves from Cyrus’s battlefield to this place, wherever it was.

“Where-what?” Philothea muttered. She was trying to ask both where they were and what they were doing, but the questions got tangled up in her weary mouth.

Avis looked at her with sympathy and touched her forehead, willing her strength to return. She felt only slightly improved by his action, but appreciated the effort.

“We are going to go get your mother,” Avis explained. “Then you can both go home together.”

Philothea nodded vigorously. Avis pointed up the hill toward the lights of a castle in the distance. It must have been Zeno’s palace. In the dark, she couldn’t see it well. Even so, she could tell it was a colossal structure, dwarfing her father’s palace twice over.

As they started for it, Philothea looked at her grandfather, the king who loathed half-fae. The king who only very recently had tried to have her killed.

“Why did you help us?” she asked.

An affectionate smile touched the king’s lips. “Because if I must live in fear of a god, I’d rather it be you, Philothea.”

They continued in silence for a while. When they were just outside the gates, Philothea asked, “What do you need me to do?”

“Just walk with us,” her grandfather answered. “And protect us if we need it.”

The drawbridge began to open as they approached.

The fae king put a hand on his sword hilt, bracing for an attack, but the only thing that came forth from the darkness was a cheery melody:

Zeno isn’t home today,

He has gone and run away,

Gone to hide in mountains grim,

For fear of what we’ll do to him!

A little black something shot through the gate and landed on Philothea’s head.

“Go to sleep!” he ordered.

“Pouli!” Philothea cried.

“I am a good boy. I found Katina. I found your mommy. I will get a grape!”

“Where is she, Pouli?” The fae king demanded.

Pouli shot back through the drawbridge. “This way!”

Philothea, the king, and his men entered the bailey. Then, the fae king had the army divide up; some came with him and followed Pouli while the others went to secure the rest of the palace. Subduing the few guards they encountered wasn’t any trouble under Philothea’s protection.

Pouli led them up a spiral staircase. The passage was narrow so that the company was forced to go up two at a time with Philothea and her grandfather in the lead.

When they came to the top, they found Pouli perched on the handle of a thick wooden door.

“Philly-thea must open!” Pouli chirped. “Fae magic won’t do, won’t do! Thea must blow it to splinters!”

The fae king placed a hand on the wood and stood silently for a moment, trying to sense the magic that held it closed.

“Yes, this is it,” Avis confirmed. “And you must open it, Philothea. Zeno couldn’t contain your mother in a prison fae magic alone could open.”

Philothea stepped around him and grasped the handle. She could feel the gentle hum of magic flow up through her arm. The fae warriors behind them on the stairs must have remembered what happened the last time they encountered her because they started backing away to a safe distance.

However, their fear was ill-founded. To Philothea, it felt like a hundred years ago that she was running around her grandfather’s castle blowing holes in buildings. The locking magic gently gave way beneath the gentle force of her will. She pulled the door open and stood aside to let her grandfather pass.

She proceeded cautiously behind him, drinking in her surroundings. The place seemed like a labyrinth of book stacks. For a moment, Philothea wondered if there was any furniture in the room under the towers of discarded reading material.

Zeno was a good son. Well, not really; locking up your mother is not exactly good behavior, but at least he wasn’t keeping her in a dungeon.

From the bed, a woman gasped and sat up, startled awake by the intruders. She looked at the fae king with wide blue eyes.

Avis knelt by the bed and threw his arms around her.

“You’re free,” he breathed. “Everything is alright now. The prophecy has been fulfilled.”

She pulled backward out of his arms and regarded him with panic in her eyes.

“Zeno?” she pleaded. “Where is he?”

“Imprisoned,” her father answered. “Powerless.”

She looked at him questioningly, thinking. A hint of resentment shone in the look she gave him.

“He’s alive?” she asked, incredulously.

“He is,” her father answered. “I promise.”

Relief swept the fear and resentment from her expression. She buried her face in her hands as tears rolled down her cheeks. Then she laughed through her sobs.

Philothea stiffened a little because she had heard that laugh before. When it came from her, it expressed an avalanche of emotions–sometimes joy, sometimes sadness, sometimes anger, sometimes she didn’t know what.

“Your daughter,” the king continued, glancing over his shoulder at Philothea. “Fulfilled the prophecy without harming him in the slightest. I don’t think she could harm a soul if she tried.”

Whatever it was her mother was feeling, Philothea realized she was feeling exactly the same way because she laughed too.

Her mother looked up from her hands, tensing. Clearly she was sharing the same surreal experience of hearing the sound of her own laugh come from someone else’s mouth.

She leapt out of bed and ran to Philothea. Without so much as an introduction, she threw her arms around her.

“You’re safe,” she sobbed, soaking Philothea’s shoulder with her tears. “You’re safe.”

Tears and laughter shook them both as they embraced. There, in her mother’s arms, Philothea finally felt like she belonged.

The Battle

Katy Campbell — Mon, 20 Jul 2026 04:00:47 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

Chapter Thirty

“This is way too big for you,” Raven observed.

She had helped Philothea into a mail shirt and was now pinching the excess material together around the neck to tighten the collar.

Cyrus’s army was assembled just outside the city gates, waiting for his order to go out and meet Zeno’s forces. At the very last minute, Raven decided that Philothea needed a little extra protection in case someone should try to sneak up behind her and stab her in the back while she was distracted protecting her father’s army.

“I need a pin,” Raven mumbled.

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “...for chainmail?”

“I’ll be right back,” Raven informed, before rushing out the door.

Zoe stared after her for a long moment. “I think she’s going to be jealous when we get your mother back.”

Philothea didn’t make any kind of reply. Not a whimper, not a giggle, nothing.

“You okay?” Zoe asked.

Philothea hardly heard her; she just stared off into space, her hands trembling, her heart hammering in her chest.

Zoe gripped her hand. “It’s going to be alright, you know. The prophecy is on your side.”

Philothea’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth and choked. How could she explain to Zoe that that made things so much worse?

The prophecy did indeed make it seem like she was going to survive this, but it didn’t say anything about the people who were fighting with her.

“What if I can’t protect everyone?” Philothea mumbled. “If anyone dies tonight, it will be all my fault.”

“Zeno’s,” Zoe corrected with a shake of her head. “He’s the one actually trying to kill people.”

“Zoe…” Philothea squeaked. “The most powerful person on our side is me. Doesn’t that terrify you?”

“The Creator is the most powerful person on our side,” Zoe stated.

“You’re right,” Philothea blushed, now feeling silly. “So I don’t have to be afraid, but–”

“Well, you kind of do.” Zoe shrugged. “I mean, considering most of the Creator’s prophets ended up murdered.”

“Zoe!” Philothea squeaked.

“But, even when they died, they still won, you know?” Zoe continued, “Because they were taken into the Creator’s garden.”

“I don’t want anyone taken there!” Philothea squeaked, then, seeing Zoe’s slightly raised eyebrow, she added. “I mean, I want everyone there eventually, just not today.”

Philothea slumped down and buried her face in her hands. She understood what Zoe meant. Whether they all died today or sixty years from now didn’t make much difference in the grand scheme of things. The Holy Creator would win ultimately, and today His will would be done. Still, that knowledge did nothing to make her feel better about the impending fight.

Tears welled up in her eyes and poured down her cheeks. “Why can’t I hear Him anymore?”

“Who?” Zoe asked, sitting down beside her.

“Holy Creator,” Philothea continued. “Before I found my mother’s ring, I used to feel His presence everywhere I went; I could… almost hear Him sometimes when I prayed. But ever since I discovered my powers, I’ve felt Him less and less. I need Him now more than ever… Where is He?”

That’s when Zoe did something extraordinarily unZoe-like. She crushed Philothea to her chest in a hug.

While Philothea was still recovering from her shock, Zoe said, “Can you see me?”

“No!” Philothea complained. “You’re crushing me!”

“Well, I am closer to you now than I’ve ever been,” Zoe remarked. “And I think the Holy Creator is too.”

Her demonstration complete, Zoe released her friend. In response, Philothea lunged forward and attacked Zoe with a hug of her own.

“You don’t have to come,” Philothea insisted. Per her promise, she was not going to transport Zoe away from danger against her will. Yet, Zoe was hardly a warrior. Philothea had no idea how she planned on contributing to the battle.

As if reading her mind, Zoe said, “I’ll come. I’ll stand with you, and I’ll pray.”

Behind Philothea, in the distance, the lights of her father’s castle glimmered in the darkness. She stood on a ridge overlooking the battlefield where her father’s army was assembled. Beyond this, flowing slowly toward them was a sea of enemy soldiers. They marched forward like a slow tidal wave, ready to swallow up everyone Philothea loved.

She breathed deeply, using the memory of the plan to calm herself. Her goal was to freeze the enemy, directing all her power toward holding them at bay. Then, per her orders, her father’s men would rush forward and disarm them.

Zeno would most likely respond by attacking her directly. To counter this, her father had a row of archers lined up on the ridge behind her. Even the mighty Emperor Zeno couldn’t both kill Philothea and fend off Cyrus’s attacks at the same time. By the time he finished taking out the archers, his soldiers would be disarmed and helpless. Then, Philothea could direct her protecting power to her father’s men, allowing them to capture Zeno unharmed.

It sounded simple, straightforward, easy. Yet, looking out at the approaching forces made Philothea aware of several complications–first, her brother’s army was at least twice the size of her father’s. Second, Zeno had a number of fae warriors at his command, and Cyrus had only Raven.

Given that she was the only other magic wielder on their side, Raven was tasked with protecting Philothea.

Several days prior, Raven had sent a message to King Avis, hoping she could convince him to fight for his granddaughter. After all, it was perfectly clear that he disliked Philothea least of his two half-fae grandchildren. Yet, the battle was now upon them, and they had received no response.

Philothea had come a long way since she was almost killed by her grandfather’s guards. She was stronger now than ever, yet as she looked out at Zeno’s fae warriors, she wondered if she would be able to withstand so much magic.

What they needed was a miracle. Apparently, Zoe had decided that requesting miracles was her department. She stood on Philothea’s right, armed with nothing except the little multipurpose knife she always wore on her belt.

She had been offered arms, of course, but refused every time.

As they stood watching Zeno’s army move closer, Raven decided to give Zoe one last chance to protect herself. She looked around Philothea at their stoic friend and said,

“Are you sure you don’t want a dagger?”

“I wouldn’t know how to use it,” Zoe replied. “I’m here for prayer. Prayer and…” She squeezed Philothea’s hand. “Emotional support.”

“Prayer can’t stab people in the face,” Raven grumbled.

“What is it with you and stabbing people?” Zoe remarked.

“It’s kind of the point of a battle.” Raven shrugged.

“Um, the point of a battle is victory,” Zoe stated. “Prayer is great for that.”

Raven rolled her eyes and mumbled. “I wouldn’t know.”

Philothea hoped to the depths of her soul that her two friends would still be around to bicker with each other in the morning. The desire to protect her people burned in her soul stronger than anything she’d ever felt. But was that desire enough? Was her will strong enough to withstand Zeno’s?

In all of Philothea’s life, she had never felt so small.

Zoe must have read her thoughts because she squeezed Philothea’s hand even harder.

“You aren’t doing this alone,” she promised.

Those simple, monotone words gave Philothea a peculiar feeling. For while they came from Zoe’s lips, something told her it was the Holy Creator who spoke them.

It brought to her heart warmth and peace. No, she wasn’t alone. None of them were.

She prayed for strength and courage as Zeno’s army suddenly charged, pouring down into the valley like water rushing over rock.

Philothea watched, letting them approach her father’s side. Closer, closer, they rushed while Cyrus’s men stood their ground waiting. Just before the collision Philothea raised both hands and willed the advancing army to stop. The rush of men froze mid-stride.

Cyrus’s army recognized their queue, charged through the enemy line, and set to work ripping the weapons from each frozen soldier.

So far, so good. Philothea felt slightly relieved as she watched the men below working away as planned. But this relief was short-lived. A deep red glow bloomed across the horizon beyond the frozen enemy, and as it spread across the sky, a black figure rose up from somewhere in the distance and remained hovering in the air–a silhouette against a blood-red sky.

In that very same moment, Philothea felt an all too familiar tightening on her chest and neck. Zeno must have known that his only hope of victory was taking out Philothea while her power was directed toward holding his army at bay.

She tried to direct some of her magic inward, to defend herself against the pressure on her chest, but the moment she did, her grip on Zeno’s soldiers slipped. A few broke free from her magical grasp and began fighting with her father’s soldiers.

From her left, she heard King Cyrus ordering his archers to fire on Zeno.

At once, a cloud of arrows shot through the air toward the silhouetted figure. The tension lifted from Philothea’s chest as her brother directed his magic toward the hail.

The archers were keeping Zeno busy, all according to plan. It was working. It couldn’t really be this easy, could it?

That question was answered in short order when Zeno swirled in the air, directing the wind around himself. The arrows whipped around their target, and then Zeno, with a thrust of his hand, rained them down toward the armies below.

All this happened in an instant. Instinctively, Philothea released her grip on Zeno’s forces so she could create a shield of protection over the field. The arrows bounced harmlessly off this.

“Is he trying to kill his own men?” Cyrus cried.

“Don’t think he’s that picky,” Raven replied. “As long as he takes out yours at the same time.”

With the arrows deflected, Philothea froze Zeno’s army once again. The tightening on her chest resumed, stronger this time. Zeno was putting the full force of his magic into breaking her.

Raven drew a ball of fire from the air and hurtled it toward Zeno.

“Keep fighting, little one,” Raven encouraged as she hurtled a second fireball. “I’ve got you.”

And as Philothea held Zeno’s army at bay, Raven continued throwing fireballs. Zeno attempted to redirect these, but his action dissipated the flames into the air. Frustrated, he thrust both of his palms down toward the battlefield.

Philothea sensed an attack coming and released his army once again to create a shield of protection. Not a moment too soon, a blaze of fire shot from his palms, colliding with her invisible shield.

Sweat dripped from Philothea’s forehead, and she struggled to hold the barrier intact against the roaring flames. As Zeno continued shooting fire, he began barking orders to his men that Philothea couldn’t make out.

The crushing pressure on Philothea’s chest resumed, but this time it wasn’t Zeno causing it. He was still focused on simultaneously dodging Raven’s projectiles and maintaining his own cascade of flame.

Where was it coming from?

It occurred to her that many of the warriors now loose within her shield were Zeno’s fae.

He must have been ordering them to direct their magic toward her, even while he sent a hail of fire downward on the intermingled armies.

If she refroze the fae warriors, her shield would break, and everyone on the battlefield would be incinerated by Zeno. Yet if she didn’t refreeze them, they would use their powers to kill her, and the battle would be lost.

“Come!” Cyrus called to his archers. “We need to take out the fae.”

A portion of the archers broke off and followed their king into the valley.

“Just hold that shield, little one,” Raven ordered as she sent another ball of flame sailing into the air. “We’ll take care of everything else.”

Philothea focused and prayed. The crushing increased on her chest. Her arms burned, and her chest ached as she fought against the fae magic to hold her shield in place. Philothea’s body trembled; she thought she was going to snap in two.

Shouting, noise, and chaos erupted from the valley below as her father and his archers met with Zeno’s warriors. The crushing continued, growing stronger, tighter. Philothea gasped and then, for a moment, everything went black.

The next thing Philothea knew, she was lying on the ground staring up at the stars. Raven and Zoe were kneeling on either side of her. Raven had her hands pressed against Philothea’s chest as she tried to counter the force of the enemy fae with her own magic.

“Come on, Philothea,” Zoe encouraged. “Get up. We need you.”

Philothea struggled to her feet; her body felt so heavy as the enemy magic pressed in on her. Yet she resisted, and with Raven’s help she was able to fight her way back toward the ridge.

Part of the battlefield below her was scorched, and the rest was a shouting, clashing cluster of fighting men. She couldn’t have been down for more than a second or two, because Zeno was in the same position where she had left him, though he had ceased his hail of fire.

Philothea’s arms were like lead as she forced them upward.

She knew she couldn’t fight for long. If Raven was helping her resist the fae magic, she wasn’t hurtling fire at Zeno. They were all finished, yet… Philothea had to try. Even if it was all in vain, she was going to fight to protect her people until the very end.

Some of Zeno’s men froze under Philothea’s magic, but in her weakening state she couldn’t hold them all. Now, Zeno was flying toward her, carelessly dodging the arrows Philothea’s guards sent in his direction.

He was ready to kill all of her guards and then cut her down with his own hands.

As he drew closer, Philothea observed his calm, relaxed expression. Yet, behind that facade, a fury burned in his eyes. He was winning, yet he hated the challenge. Had anything ever challenged him before?

Suddenly, Zeno froze, his eyes widened in alarm. He brought his hand up to his throat and seemed to gasp for breath.

The tension on Philothea’s chest broke, and she gulped in sweet air as the weight lifted from her shoulders.

“Ho, ho, ho,” laughed a familiar voice from somewhere in the sky above Philothea.

A great, black bird circled downward from the heavens and landed on Raven’s arm. “Ho, ho, ho,” Fae laughed. “I brought the fae king. I am a good girl. Ho, ho, ho.”

“Ah! You got my message!” Raven grinned at someone behind Philothea.

Philothea dared not turn around lest her grip on Zeno’s army slip.

She jumped as a thin, bony hand rested on her shoulder.

“Fight, Philothea,” came King Avis’s voice from over her shoulder. “We’re here now. He’s finished.”

Looking down into the valley, Philothea noticed fae warriors materializing among the armies. As each one appeared, he extended a hand toward the emperor.

Zeno began to sink down toward the ground as he struggled against their combined magic.

Philothea sent a pleading glance toward her grandfather. “Don’t kill him.”

Avis shot her a sympathetic glance. “We don’t have a choice.”

“He’s my brother,” Philothea pleaded. “I-I can contain him.”

Avis made no reply. He turned his attention back toward the fae army.

Philothea glanced back down. Cyrus’s army, combined with Avis’s forces, had Zeno’s men outnumbered and disarmed. Philothea released her grip on the enemy. With their weapons gone and their leader now on the ground struggling for breath, they fled, causing Philothea’s side to erupt into victorious cheers.

Philothea gripped her grandfather’s arm. “We have him now, let him breathe; I’ll contain him.”

“I’m sorry,” Avis replied. “I can’t let him hurt anyone else.”

“He won’t,” Philothea argued. “My mother suppressed my magic when I was a baby. We can do the same thing to him.”

“You were helpless,” Avis replied. “You couldn’t fight back.”

“He won’t be able to fight back against all of us,” Philothea pointed out. “We’ll put him to sleep and suppress his powers. When he wakes up, he’ll be human… basically.”

Avis stared out over the battlefield thoughtfully.

“Philothea is the most powerful person alive,” Zoe pointed out. “And you’re questioning her orders?” She thrust her hands on her hips. “I bet you never questioned Zeno.”

Avis rubbed his forehead.

“If anything goes wrong,” Avis sighed. “He must be stopped. Understand?”

Philothea nodded. “I’ll contain him. He will live to make amends to the people he’s wounded.”

Zeno lay unconscious in a circle of scorched earth. His skin was stained with the ash created by his own searing flame. All around him, scattered across the blackened soil, was debris from the recent conflict. When Zeno’s fae temporarily disabled Philothea, her barrier of magic snapped, and everyone immediately below Zeno was devoured by his fire. Metal, bone, and bits of broken weapons were visible in the charred ground.

Though weak, exhausted, and grieving those she couldn’t protect, Philothea tried to keep her focus on the task at hand. She was about to make absolutely sure that no one, no one else, was going to die today.

The fae army circled around the crumpled emperor, prepared to intervene if he should wake before Philothea had completed her task.

She knelt down beside her brother and looked to see if he was still wearing his seal. Once she’d suppressed his powers, this seal would act as the key to unlocking them, as her mother’s seal had done for her.

She gently rested her hand on his forehead and focused. His power was like a furious torrent that crashed through every part of his being. It was wild, untamed, and locking it away would be like trying to plug a geyser with a cork.

Still, Philothea slowly and steadily asserted her own will, driving Zeno’s magic down, down into the deepest recesses of his soul. To the human onlooker, she didn’t seem to be doing anything more than kneeling silently in the ash, staring at the fallen emperor. From her perspective, however, she was locked in a raging battle, will-to-will with a madman.

Zeno’s experience gave him the advantage even in his weakened and unconscious state, and Philothea would have fallen away defeated if Raven and Avis hadn’t sensed her distress and come to her aid.

The seal on Zeno’s finger shimmered as his power gave way beneath that of his enemies. Finally, sensing her task completed, Philothea plucked the ring from her brother’s finger and held it up triumphantly.

At long last, Zeno the tormentor was powerless.

A Brief Family Reunion

Katy Campbell — Mon, 13 Jul 2026 04:01:00 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

King Cyrus sent criers out to every corner of the village and had them read aloud the prophecy. He had it recited in his halls and fields, and everywhere a listening ear waited. And with the news of the prophecy, he proudly proclaimed his daughter’s return.

What Philothea wanted, more than anything, was to sit down with her father for a long time and talk. Unfortunately, with Zeno’s looming arrival, they were forced to give each other only brief summaries of their fifteen years apart.

They did not get a chance for a long heart-to-heart until the evening of their first full day together. At Raven’s insistence, Philothea spent every moment from dawn until dusk training with her father’s army. They staged battle after battle. Philothea stood up on the castle wall, trying to keep the two sides from clashing below. As she suspected, protecting real people was a lot harder than protecting illusions. Especially Dave, whose enthusiasm always gave him the strength to break free from the grip of Philothea’s magic and charge into enemy lines.

When sunset put an end to her trials, Philothea flopped down with her back to one of the battlements. Her father, who had been watching her practice, came and flopped down beside her directly on the walkway. The sight of the old king, sitting cross-legged with his back to a wall like a little boy, made her giggle.

“You laugh just like your mother,” he smiled.

Philothea’s smile faded as she remembered Zeno telling her exactly the same thing.

“She’ll be so proud of you,” Cyrus continued. “You’re everything we hoped you would be.”

Philothea looked at him questioningly. “Will you tell me… well, tell me everything?”

“You know some of it already,” Cyrus mentioned.

“Pretend that I don’t,” she pressed. “I want you to tell me.”

The king sighed. The sadness that always seemed to linger in his eyes deepened. He opened his mouth to speak, but a long moment passed before he could find the words he needed.

“Everything that happened to you is my fault,” he confessed. “Actually, everything that happened to Zeno and his victims is my fault.”

Philothea looked up at him, studying his kindly face, his weary, sorrowful eyes… She couldn’t imagine any of this was his fault.

“When Zeno was a boy, your mother and I were so amazed by his powers… There were rumors, legends really, about the powers of half-fae children. But we didn’t believe any of it until we had a child of our own. And then we were so proud and amazed… We hired the best teachers to develop his skills. We praised him and boasted about him constantly. We made him the very center of our world.” The king winced. “It was no wonder he decided he belonged in the center of everyone else’s.”

A sadness swelled up inside Philothea when she heard the pain in her father’s voice.

“By the time I realized what he was becoming, it was too late,” the king continued. “He left us to build his empire–your mother and I couldn’t stop him.”

He glanced sideways at her affectionately.

“When you were born, we realized you must be the girl from the prophecy. We needed to hide you so you could fulfill it, but we also wanted to be sure you wouldn’t grow up to be a tyrant yourself. While you were still a vulnerable newborn, your mother was able to use her own magic to suppress yours. Then she enchanted Pouli and sent him away to hide you among the keepers.”

Cyrus bit his lip. “The seal that Pouli gave you, your mother’s seal, was a key designed to unlock your abilities when you had grown. By then, we hoped, the Keepers would have taught you what we failed to teach Zeno: that you are not God.”

Philothea felt a lump in her throat. The missing pieces of her story were falling into place, which brought her a strange combination of relief and sadness.

“Of course, Zeno was furious when he found you missing,” Cyrus sighed. “He took your mother away, hoping she would give up your location.” The king’s gaze dropped. “Me, he left to live as a helpless puppet king.”

Philothea could feel the king’s sadness infecting her own heart. Not only had he spent the last fifteen years grieving a missing wife and daughter, but he was grieving the loss of his son. Philothea’s return had brought him some comfort, and they would rescue her mother soon enough, but what of his son? What of Zeno?

Philothea’s heart ached. Only God could rescue him.

She leaned her head on her father’s shoulder, and for a long time, they sat together looking out at the starlit sky in silence.

The second day was spent as the first. Although Philothea was exhausted and sore, she was encouraged to see her skill improving. Trapping opponents in her magic was becoming easier every minute. Dave only managed to escape once during the entire day. It made Philothea grumble to herself. When this whole affair was over, she decided she was going to give him a stern talking-to.

After dusk, Philothea’s party assembled for dinner in the great hall. Her father’s hall seated not only his courtiers but an entire flock of starlings. They sat on branches that had been attached to the walls.

She grinned as she watched the lively birds fluttering around, chattering with each other. Unfortunately, Pouli wasn’t among them because Raven had sent the little bird away with a message shortly after their arrival.

“I always thought they were horrible pests,” Cyrus explained to Philothea. “When I brought your mother here, she couldn’t believe we were trying to get rid of them. She insisted we add these branches for them and within a few weeks, she had the whole flock tamed.”

Thinking of her mother helped bring Philothea hope, even as war loomed. Her father’s stories made her feel like she knew exactly who her mother was. A strong, fun-loving, and adventurous woman. Philothea remembered the little fae Princess Keti. Her mother was probably like an older version of Keti.

“We have starlings at the Temple of Creation,” Philothea giggled. “The Keepers hate them! I didn’t know you could teach them to talk. I mean, I didn’t before I met Pouli.”

“Yeah, you can’t teach them to stop talking, though,” Zoe commented.

This made Cyrus break into a broad grin. It warmed Philothea’s heart to see his sadness driven away by a moment of levity.

Philothea opened her mouth to rebuke Zoe but stopped. She was suddenly aware of a peculiar feeling–an icy tingling on the back of her neck. She looked toward Raven, who replied with a grave little nod. She felt it too.

A chill swirled through the hall, and the doors at the far end burst open.

“Hi, Dad,” came a familiar voice.

Cyrus leapt to his feet and stood staring toward the door, his face ashen.

Philothea recognized Zeno’s silhouette in the open portal. All the occupants of the hall fell silent as he strolled in, drinking in their terrified expressions.

“Stand down, Zeno,” Cyrus ordered. Philothea noticed his hands trembling.

“Is that any way to speak to your emperor?” Zeno demanded.

“You’re not my emperor,” Cyrus replied. “You’re a tyrant, Zeno.”

His son ignored this remark and instead let his gaze fall on Philothea.

“You know why I’ve come, Dad, don’t you?”

“You will not touch her,” Cyrus answered.

Zeno’s cold eyes flickered over to his father. “Give her to me, or I will take her.”

Now it was Raven’s turn to leap to her feet.

“Try it!” she dared.

When Zeno moved his gaze to Raven, a fury flickered in his eyes.

“You stabbed me in the back,” he stated with cool detachment.

“Did I?” Raven shrugged. “Oops.”

At once, Philothea encircled Raven with an invisible shield of protection. And not a moment too soon, she felt Zeno’s magic collide with her own. It was the same spell he’d used on Raven before, the one that seemed to leave her lifeless on the grass.

She felt Zeno’s magic dissipate against her own. Raven stood within her shield of protection, grinning defiantly.

Philothea felt herself shaking and prayed for the grace to keep calm. She needed to show the people in her father’s court that she was equal to Zeno in power. That they didn’t have to be afraid of him anymore.

A flicker of frustration and confusion entered the emperor’s expression.

The room was deadly still. Relief washed over Philothea as she realized she wasn’t laughing. After all, now was probably the most inappropriate moment in the wor–

With that realization, she felt a tickling in her stomach and chomped down on her lower lip.

Help me not to laugh. Help me not to laugh. She prayed, but the harder she prayed, the more the tickling sensation grew.

Zeno, meanwhile, began spinning up a great fire. The flames leapt up and swirled around him. Philothea could feel their heat as they grew. In a moment, he launched the flames outward in all directions across the hall. They might have incinerated everyone, but Philothea countered by dissipating the flames the moment Zeno released them.

Zeno’s confused expression was too much for Philothea. She burst out laughing. Before she could mentally rebuke herself for the inappropriate outburst, the other occupants of the room, the guards and servants, started laughing with her. Raven laughed hardest of everyone–wild and triumphant.

Zeno’s calm facade began to crumble as he looked at the mocking faces of the people he tried to destroy.

“Funny boy!” one of the starlings chirped. Then all the others joined in, crying “You funny boy!” and mimicking the various laughs of the diners.

Zeno, wicked, emperor cruel,

Is nothing but a helpless fool!

One of the birds sang.

Another immediately added:

Princess sweet, she will defend,

And bring about poor Zeno’s end.

Then the starlings all started laughing and chattering and adding to the song. Everyone else in the room, the servants, courtiers, and guards, continued laughing and mocking Zeno. Daring him to try another attack.

Zeno straightened up, attempting to collect his dignity. Though the calm had returned to his demeanor, a wild fury burned in his eyes.

“I spared you, Cyrus,” he said. “Even when you betrayed me, I spared you because you are my father.”

Cyrus, the only stoic person in the room, said: “You’ve heard the prophecy, Zeno. You know you can’t win this.”

“No more mercy,” Zeno answered, ignoring his father’s statement. “By dawn this kingdom will be ash.”

As he turned toward the door, he glanced at Philothea and hissed, “Silly girl,” under his breath, then stormed out.

“That’s right!” Raven called after him. “Go and cower behind your army!”

The room roared with laughter once again as an invisible force slammed the door shut behind him.

Dave, who was on guard next to the doors, raised his oversized spear aloft and cried out, “Down with Zeno! Long live Princess Zo-Philothea!”

Zoe, who had somehow maintained a straight face through the entire thing, tapped her thumbs together and said, “So… I am slightly worried about that ‘this kingdom will be ash’ thing.”

Raven smirked. “I’m not.”

Philothea, for her part, was terrified.

Fan Art Contest Winners!

Katy Campbell — Wed, 08 Jul 2026 20:51:21 GMT

Thank you so much to everyone who entered our Scoundrel or Scallywag fan art contest!

After reviewing the submissions, Emily Deady and I realized we had a problem. 50% of the entries came from Emily’s fan pool and 50% came from mine. We both love our fans and worried that the only way to pick a winner was a sword fight.

However, neither of us are particularly violent people, so instead, we decided to pick TWO winning illustrations to print in the back of the book!

And FOUR winners, including the top two, will receive signed paperbacks!

Drumroll please!!!!!!

Katharine’s Grand Prize winner is Grace Woods!

Please take a moment to view the rest of Grace’s amazing portfolio here:

Grace’s Portfolio

Emily’s Grand Prize Winner is Katharine Alethea Eastvold!

We love her Mangy BLUE Sea-drenched Hull Rat.

Follow Katharine on Instagram

Now for the runners-up!

Caroline doesn’t have a portfolio yet, but I hope that she keeps creating art and makes one soon because I love her style! Once she does, I will share it with everyone!

Max is an amazing 3D artist who tends to lean spooky. So check out his work here (If you dare):

Max’s Deviant Art

Thank you so much, everyone! We loved reviewing your submissions and are so grateful you took the time to share your creative energy with us!

Never stop creating!

Enthusiastic Dave

Katy Campbell — Mon, 06 Jul 2026 04:00:57 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

“We’ve got to hide you,” King Cyrus began, looking wildly around.

“Is Zeno here or something?” Zoe asked.

“He will be,” Cyrus cautioned. “If anyone sees you, they’ll report it to him immediately.”

“I’m pretty sure Zeno already knows we’re here,” Raven commented. “I mean, it’s the obvious place for Philothea to go.”

The king turned his fretful gaze on Raven.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Raven added. Then, placing a proud hand on Philothea’s shoulder, said. “After all, Philothea is the one person Zeno fears. If your people have any brains at all, they’ll side with her.”

Cyrus looked down at the smiling, round-faced, sweet-eyed little girl in front of him. He seemed unconvinced.

“The prophecy is on her side,” Raven reminded. “I say we remind the people.”

“Take me back home,” Philothea demanded. “And tell our people they don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

The king stood for a long moment, lost in thought. He closed his eyes, thinking deeply, running over his options in his mind. Finally, King Cyrus opened his eyes and nodded. He took his horse by the reins and began leading the party back toward the castle.

Philothea was feeling a combination of delighted and apprehensive as she followed. Part of her wondered if her own father was just playing along with her so he could turn her over to Zeno. His tearful delight at their reunion filled her with optimism, yet she remained alert and watchful.

There was so much she wanted to ask him, so much she wanted to tell him, but neither seemed to know where to begin. While Philothea was still forming the conversation in her mind, she noticed a small company of armed men approaching from the village gate.

“My personal guard,” the king explained. “I raced out ahead of them.”

He waved at the approaching party, and the man riding at the front waved back.

When they were within earshot, the king proclaimed, “My daughter, Princess Zoe, has returned!”

Zoe scowled, thrust her hands on her hips, and mumbled, “I am not okay with this.”

The approaching guards paused, looking at Philothea, trying to take in the king’s words.

“She is here to fulfill the prophecy,” King Cyrus continued.

Most of the men went slightly pale. She could see the fear flashing in their eyes.

“She is here,” Cyrus tried. “To overthrow Zeno!”

Someone in the back of the company held his spear up in the air and roared, “YEEESSS!!! DEATH TO ZENO!!!”

The other guards parted slightly as they all craned their necks to see who it was. The perpetrator was a shrimp of a man; his oversized helmet partly concealed his vision. The arm that held up the spear triumphantly was much thinner than the spear itself. He couldn’t have been older than seventeen.

“Um… Dave…” one of his fellows mumbled, elbowing him.

The shrimp stopped waving his spear around and pushed his helmet up so he could see.

“Wait, where is the warrior princess?” he asked, looking over the heads of Cyrus’s party.

His fellow nodded toward Philothea. The enthusiasm melted from Dave’s face. “Darn, we’re all going to die.”

Philothea laughed. She laughed long and hard and without shame, as her father’s company looked increasingly more confused. Raven and Pouli laughed with her while Zoe contributed by regarding the terrified warriors with a slightly amused twinkle in her eyes.

“Wait… why are you laughing?” the head guard asked.

“Because you were expecting a warrior,” Philothea grinned. “Do I look like a warrior?”

“No, not really,” Dave called from the back of the group.

“I am a defender,” Philothea explained. “I’m not going to fight Zeno. None of us will.”

“So… we’re all going to die or just continue living as slaves or what?” Dave asked.

“None of that,” Philothea pressed. “Because I am going to protect you.”

A moment of silence elapsed before Dave threw up his spear arm and cried out, “YES!! DOWN WITH ZENO! LONG LIVE PRINCESS ZOE!”
Dave’s enthusiasm, like Philothea’s laughter, was somewhat contagious. All the guards joined in, chanting: “Long live Princess Zoe!”

“EXCUSE ME!” Philothea cried.

The rabble died down, and the men looked at her.

“I’m not Zoe.” Philothea pointed to her friend. “She’s Zoe.”

“So she’s the princess?” Dave asked.

“No, no,” Philothea replied. “I’m the princess, but my name isn’t Zoe anymore. It’s Philothea.”

“I’m confused,” Dave stated.

King Cyrus helped by throwing his arm around Philothea’s shoulder. “This is my daughter Princess Philothea! She has returned to fulfill the prophecy!”

“And anyone who knows the prophecy knows that this battle ends in Philothea’s favor,” Raven added. “So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stand with her.”

King Cyrus

Katy Campbell — Mon, 29 Jun 2026 04:00:24 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

Philothea was beginning to think her travels would never end. She spent a lot of time talking to Zoe about what they would do when the whole conflict was over. At this point, their dreams consisted of sleeping in an actual bed, eating “real food”, and taking warm baths.

When Philothea saw the white towers of a castle rising up on the horizon, she couldn’t believe it was real. Pouli, however, confirmed the structure’s existence by shooting off of Zoe’s shoulder, crying out: “My grape! My grape! I saved the princess! Where is my grape?”

He vanished from their sight, but Raven put Philothea’s worries to rest with a wave of her hand.

“It will be good if he arrives before we do,” she shrugged. “Assuming your dad is at home, it will be easier to convince him you are, in fact, his missing daughter if Pouli tells him.”

“Do you think Philothea’s dad is going to try and kill us?” Zoe remarked.

Philothea burst out laughing– a natural reaction for someone who was disturbed and horrified.

“Really?” Raven remarked, looking at Zoe with one eyebrow raised. “Even I have more sensitivity than that.”

“Look, given how the rest of Philothea’s relatives have treated her, I want to be prepared for anything.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Raven remarked. “Philothea’s managed to protect us from all her homicidal family members thus far.”

They continued walking for some time before Zoe said:

“Promise if anything goes wrong, you won’t get rid of me.”

Philothea answered with a shrug.

“I mean it,” Zoe pressed. “Don’t turn me into a bird. Don’t zap me away to the falls.”

“I need to keep you safe,” Philothea mumbled.

“No,” Zoe insisted, the corners of her mouth turned very slightly downward. “I’m older! I need to keep you safe.”

“You don’t have magic,” Philothea argued.

To her surprise, Zoe’s frown deepened, and her eyebrows scrunched together. For maybe the first time in her life, she was making a legitimate facial expression, and that expression was one of frustration.

“I don’t care. I’ve looked after you my entire life, and I am not going to change that now.”

“Can we continue this conversation later?” Raven asked. “It appears we have company.”

Philothea and Zoe turned their attention to the road ahead.

A lone rider galloped toward them. They could tell he was a nobleman by his richly embroidered velvet tunic and handsome white war horse. He was cloakless, hatless, and had clearly left wherever he came from in a hurry.

From a distance, the only physical features Philothea could make out was his white hair and beard. But as he drew closer, Philothea got a better look. He was an older man, certainly too old to be riding so recklessly. As she was squinting at him, she felt something land on her head.

“Here is the baby!” she heard Pouli chirp from above. “Where is my grape?”

The newcomer brought his horse to a halt before Philothea, dismounted and stood for a moment regarding her with disbelieving eyes.

Philothea stared back. He was very fair; his hair had probably been blonde when he was younger. Yet, Philothea recognised the soft, gentle features–they were hers. They were Zeno’s too.

She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a long moment before she found the courage.

“Daddy?” she finally asked.

Tears flooded his cheeks. He nodded and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Yes, yes,” was all the king managed to choke out.

A long moment passed before Zoe glanced at Raven and said, “This is nice. Do you want a hug?”

“I will stab you in the face,” Raven replied.

Zoe nodded approvingly at this response.

The king finally released his daughter. Wiping the tears from his eyes with the base of his wrist, he said, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Philothea,” she answered.

“Friend of God,” King Cyrus answered. “Beautiful.”

“Do I have another name?” Philothea asked. “One that you and mom gave me.”

The king smiled.

“Yes,” he said. “Your name was Zoe.”

Philothea burst out laughing. Raven shot Zoe a grin.

Zoe raised her eyebrows and said, “Yeah, you’re going to have to keep Philothea, because that name is already taken.”

Tell me about the contest!

Bluebeard Fan Art Due Soon!

Katy Campbell — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 21:30:07 GMT

We’ve already received some amazing fan art for Scallywag or Scoundrel. I am so excited to share it with you all!

If you are still working on yours, this is a reminder that the deadline is fast approaching, Sunday, June 28th!

If this is your first time hearing about the contest, and you want to enter, no worries! Check out all the details here:

Submissions should be sent to katysfables@gmail.com

Thank you again to everyone who has entered already! If you have any questions or run into issues, you can contact me at the email above!

And check out this amazing submission by Grace Woods!

See more of Grace’s work here:

Check Out Grace's Art!

Thanks so much, everyone, and good luck!

Katy

P.S. Did you hear that Emily Deady just published another new book? If you love Robin Hood, check out Hood of Secrets!

An Unlikely Romance

Katy Campbell — Mon, 22 Jun 2026 04:00:36 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

The next few weeks were long and hard, but Philothea endured them with a happy heart. Until very recently, her entire life was a mystery. Now, not only did she know who she was, but she knew very clearly what she was meant to do.

Every day as they traveled, she practiced her magic. Protecting Zoe and Pouli as Raven attacked them with various things. Zoe made it clear she was not pleased with the arrangement, though she understood it was for the greater good.

Philothea grew stronger and more comfortable using her magic. It felt like such a natural part of who she was now. The idea that until recently, she was completely unaware of her own powers was so odd.

Despite their grueling pace, endless practice, and the immense responsibility that came with her powers, Philothea never felt more free. Soon, she could deflect Raven’s attacks without even thinking.

Raven responded to her progress by spinning up illusions of larger and larger groups of people in peril. Once, she projected a great landslide crashing down upon a village. Philothea ran about in the illusion, pushing and pulling people out of the path of the flowing earth.

Once, a swarm of dragons descended from the sky, raining fire down on field laborers. Philothea projected an invisible shield above them that absorbed the dragon's fire and kept the beasts from descending.

The exercises were exhausting, more so since Philothea spent most of her days walking. Every evening, Philothea fell asleep the moment she lay down.

One day, when the traveling party stopped to rest on the edge of a cliff, Raven created two opposing armies in the valley below. Philothea recognised one of them as Zeno’s by their deep blue banners and dragon coat of arms.

The other army she didn’t recognise. They were dressed in red but had no other symbols or decorative embellishments.

“Protect the red army,” Raven ordered, flopping down on the edge of the cliff.

But Philothea did more than that as both sides charged forward; she caught them in her magic. Willing that they couldn’t touch each other at all.

“You don’t have to protect the blue guys,” Zoe offered helpfully.

“I’m protecting everyone,” Philothea glared.

“But I really want to see Zeno’s guys wiped out,” Zoe protested.

Philothea turned an astonished face on Zoe. That was not the sort of attitude the Keepers would condone.

“Not in real life,” Zoe shrugged. “Just in this… illusion thing.”

“Oh,” Philothea giggled. That made her feel only slightly better. Still, she continued protecting both sides.

“I wish we had a real army to train you,” Raven sighed. “This is too easy.”

Suddenly, Philothea felt Raven’s illusion fighting her. The armies strained against her magic, trying to break free from the invisible barriers that held them at bay. She found herself expending every ounce of willpower to stop the collision.

They aren’t real. She thought as she began to ache from the strain of keeping them separated. Still, she couldn’t bear to let go. The next time she met Zeno, she would indeed be protecting real people.

Raven’s magic fought against hers even harder. How was Raven doing this? She had also been walking all day. Did she ever get tired? Finally, after what seemed like ages, Philothea let go.

She crumpled over onto the cliff, and the fake armies collided for a few brief seconds before Raven pulled them out of existence, leaving the valley empty.

“You, little one, are a force to be reckoned with,” Raven smiled proudly.

The next time they came to a village, Raven purchased some parchment and a pen and scratched a note.

“I don’t think the Fae king is going to believe that,” Zoe commented, as she read over Raven’s shoulder.

“It’s worth a shot,” Raven remarked.

“I will miss my Pouli,” Fae commented as Raven tied the note onto her leg.

“I’ll have you know,” Raven replied. “That I do not approve of this relationship. You’re like… three feet taller than him.”

“Ho, ho, ho, he is a little thing,” Fae remarked. “But he is my pretty boy. My handsome bird.”

“Fae is a pretty girl,” Pouli replied, before bursting into song.

Fae, my lovely, I suggest,

We go away and make a nest!

A nest with speckled eggs of blue,

And little chicks that look like you.

“Aw! Pouli, that’s so sweet.” Philothea squeaked.

“Yeah…” Zoe started. “No, that’s not going to work. They aren’t even the same species.”

“Good luck convincing them,” Raven grumbled with an eyeroll. “And we are not having any kind of wedding until after we’ve saved the world. Understand?”

Pouli and Fae were too busy complimenting each other to hear her.

“Fae,” Raven interrupted. “Time to go.”

It took some convincing, but eventually Raven got Fae to take off.

After she’d disappeared from sight, Raven began scratching another note.

“This one’s for you, Pouli,” she remarked. “But you aren’t going to deliver it just yet.”

“I will take the note, because I am a good boy.”

“Yes, you are,” Raven said. “But we need you to stay with us just a little longer.”

The Terrible Training Trials

Katy Campbell — Mon, 15 Jun 2026 04:01:06 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

The next two days were grueling. Raven kept the little party moving, always afraid that Zeno would catch up to them. Philothea asked over and over again what her plan was, how she was going to defeat Zeno, but Raven would almost always reply with a slight smirk and “trust me.”

Then, on the third day, while they were having a brief rest on the top of a high cliff Philothea repeated her question.

“What are you thinking?” Philothea pressed. “How am I going to defeat Zeno?”

Her words brought a mischievous twinkle to Raven’s eyes. Then, to Philothea’s alarm, she hurled herself off the edge of the cliff with the words, “Save me, Thea!”

At once, Philothea reached out with her magic, slowing Raven’s fall. Raven landed gently at the base of the cliff and released a wild laugh before transporting herself back to the top.

“Why’d you do that?” Philothea exclaimed.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Zoe added. (Even stoic Zoe had her eyebrows raised.)

Pouli added,

“Tricky Raven thinks today,

She will learn to fly away!

But foolish fae, she cannot fly,

She is doomed to crash and die!

“No indeed,” Raven grinned. “Not while Thea is here.”

No amount of questioning on anyone’s part could get Raven to explain her rash action. To each inquiry, she replied, “Trust me.”

What Raven did the next day was even worse. While they were all peacefully eating lunch, she very suddenly pulled a knife from her belt and flung it at Zoe. Philothea’s magic stopped it long before it struck her. When the knife landed harmlessly on the ground both girls were looking at Raven white-faced.

“What. Was. That.” Zoe demanded.

“You were never in any danger,” Raven shrugged. “Nothing at all can harm you while Thea is here.”

“But…” Philothea breathed. “But what if I had been distracted? What if I hadn’t seen? What if…”

“Do you trust me?” Raven asked her.

“No!” Zoe interjected. “You just tried to kill me!”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Raven remarked.

Philothea stared at her mentor. The woman who had risked her life to save her twice. The woman who had shown her cunning and resourcefulness on multiple occasions.

She remembered how only recently Keeper Nathan betrayed her. Raven was right when she said she trusted too easily. And yet, after everything she’d been through with Raven, she couldn’t help but trust her. Was it wise? She had no idea. It was just a fact.

In response to Raven’s question, she nodded.

The next day, Raven continued her terrible trials. First, she threw herself headfirst into a roaring river. Philothea’s magic pulled her safely to shore. Then, she tried bringing a tree down on Zoe’s head, but Philothea’s magic redirected it just in time. Then she tried feeding Pouli to a cat. Zoe chased the cat away without any assistance of magic at all.

“I’m good for something I guess,” Zoe remarked, after the valiant rescue.

Each time one of their party was delivered from imminent death, Raven would laugh triumphantly.

“STOP IT!” Philothea demanded after Raven tried to knock Zoe into a pit.

“No,” Raven smirked. “I don’t think I will.”

“Seriously,” Zoe remarked. “This is not okay.”

Raven stuck her tongue in her cheek and stared at her nails.

“I’ve had enough, Raven,” Philothea declared. “I trust you, alright? But you have no right to treat me this way.”

“Zoe doesn’t look frightened,” Raven stated.

“She is,” Philothea declared.

“I am,” Zoe affirmed dryly.

Raven sighed. “This is all part of the plan.”

“You need to tell me your plan,” Philothea demanded.

“Why should I?” Raven dared, her cat-like eyes sparkling.

“Because if you don’t, I won’t go a step farther with you.”

Raven’s smile changed. The smug slyness melted away.

“You’re not laughing, little one,” Raven pointed out.

The realization made Philothea tense. She wasn’t laughing was she? Not crying either. She was trembling slightly, but aside from that she was in control of herself. She was thinking only of protecting Zoe and Pouli from Raven’s cruel pranks.

A delight swept over her causing her to giggle and that of course spoiled the entire effect. She sighed.

“You’re very strong, you know,” Raven smiled. It was a proud smile, not a smug one.

“I am?” Philothea asked.

“When I first met you, the thought of you defeating Zeno seemed absurd. But now? Well now I see it clearly.”

“Tell me how,” Philothea demanded. “Stop playing these games.”

As she said this, she was thinking of Zeno. How calm and controlled he was. How easily he manipulated his power. She, on the other hand, was not only an emotional wreck most of the time, but paralyzed by a fear of hurting others.

“You are not going to defeat Zeno by being like him,” Raven explained. “You will defeat him by being different.”

Philothea drew her eyebrows together as she waited for Raven to elaborate.

“In many ways, Zeno is your opposite. He’s cold, detached, and only thinks about getting what he wants,” Raven continued. “People follow him out of fear.”

She smirked, regarding Philothea. “But give the people another option. Give them a leader equal to Zeno in power but with a heart that cares too much for others and they will turn on him in the blink of an eye.”

“You’re saying…” Philothea started.

“You’re saying that Philothea doesn’t have to kill her brother,” Zoe interrupted. “She’s just got to stop him from killing everyone else.”

“Exactly!” Raven continued. “Zeno rules through fear, if he can’t hurt the people they won’t follow him. And that,” she grinned. “Is the reason I’ve been torturing you these past few days.”

“It would have been nice if you’d explained that earlier,” Zoe commented.

“But, but,” Philothea interrupted as another thought popped into her mind. “I’ve only been protecting you and Zoe. To stop Zeno, I’d need to protect everyone!”

“An army at least,” Zoe added.

“Of course,” Raven shrugged. “That’s why we’re training. You start by protecting a few friends and work your way up.”

She must have noticed the apprehension in Philothea’s expression because she added, “Don’t doubt yourself, little one. If Zeno can destroy an army single-handed, you can protect one. You’re every bit as powerful as he is. With a little training, it will be easy!”

Philothea hoped and prayed that Raven was right.

Are you an artist? Do you want to win a prize?

Katy Campbell — Tue, 09 Jun 2026 22:13:01 GMT

Arghhhhh Scallywags! We want to see your Artttttt!

We are in dire need of an illustration to put in the back of the upcoming print edition of Scallywag or Scoundrel! So we are running a fan art contest!

Deadline: Sunday, June 28th

Winners: Three winners will be chosen by Katharine and Emily

Prize: Three winners will receive a signed copy of the print edition (winners outside of the United States/Canada will receive a signed bookplate in lieu of a physical copy because shipping is expensive).

Grand Prize: One of the three winners will get their artwork memorialized in the back of the print edition!

What you need to know:

Art should feature a scene, character, or at least be somehow related to our book Scallywag or Scoundrel.
Any level of art prowess is appreciated!
Any type of art medium is appreciated! Want to make a Scallywag-inspired cake? Go for it! Crochet a plushie of the Baleacanis? Do it! Want to make a giant blue beard out of blue photos? Emily already did that one, but you can do it too!
- P.S. Pictures of all your creative artworks are welcome, but only illustrations can be printed in the back of the book because cake frosting will make the pages sticky.
- P.P.S. The book interior will be printed in black and white, so while you are encouraged to make your art in all colors, the printed version will be black and white.

Rules:

Participants under the age of 18 must get permission from their parents to participate.

Please make this art yourself. No AI.

The book is family-friendly, so your art should be too! We will not be resharing anything that is too violent or scandalous (Keep it PG appropriate or less, please).

Prizes will only be shipped within the United States and Canada (We would love to send winners outside of this region a signed bookplate and personal note, as that is less expensive to ship).

There is no compensation or monetary payment for any of the winners.

By participating in this contest, you are giving Emily Deady and Katharine Campbell permission to publish your submissions on social media and their websites, as well as in the print book itself. All artwork will be credited to the original artist with whatever name or social media handle you request.

Winners will be chosen by Emily and Katharine (we will try not to be biased toward the submission that we already received from Katharine’s daughter, but that will be difficult because she did an excellent job).

To submit, please click the button below to email your art to Katharine! Include your name, a link to your social media handles and/or online gallery, and anything else you would like to tell us about the art!

Thanks for participating and good luck, everyone!

Submit!

Email: Katysfables (at sign) gmail.com

I can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Philothea’s Revelation

Katy Campbell — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 04:01:03 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

Raven and Philothea continued their flight through the woods until only a tiny remnant of daylight remained. It was around that time that Fae descended through the canopy and alighted on Raven’s shoulder.

“There is my Raven,” she said. “I found my Raven. But where is my Pouli? Where is my sweet Pouli? He is a good boy.”

“You think too much about Pouli,” Raven remarked, looking at her bird with narrowed eyes.

“He’s so funny,” Fae answered. “Ho, ho, ho, he’s a funny thing.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know we are going to go and get him,” Raven said, stroking Fae’s feathers.

“Wait, we are?” Philothea asked. She’d been hoping they could leave Zoe and Pouli back at Bilberry Falls, out of harm’s way.

“Of course! It will be a lot easier to find your dad with Pouli’s help,” Raven explained. “Plus, I don’t want to be the only one risking my life for you.”

“But you just said you weren’t risking your life for me,” Philothea replied.

“I’m not,” Raven confirmed. “And neither are they, because you’ll protect us, little one.”

“Raven!” Philothea exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

Raven ignored her complaint and looking to Fae asked:

“Is Zeno following us?”

“Zeno is with his shiny men,” Fae explained. “He is such an angry boy.” Her chest puffed up and she bobbed her head as she released a hearty “Ho, ho, ho.”

Raven nodded somewhat impatiently. “That makes sense considering I just stabbed him in the back, but where is he?”

“He is at the temple with his shiny men.”

Philothea’s heart sank when Fae mentioned the temple. It only served to remind her of Keeper Nathan’s betrayal.

“They wrapped him up and gave him some tasty wine,” Fae continued. “He will have a nap, poor thing, and then kill you because he is so, so angry. Poor thing.” She repeated the words, “poor thing” several more times in different tones as if testing the way the words felt on her tongue.

“Well, Thea,” Raven said. “We have as much time now as we ever will. I’ll have a seat here and you go get Pouli.”

She took a seat on a fallen log and stared at Philothea expectantly.

“You’re not coming?” Philothea asked.

“Can’t transport myself that far, remember?” Raven pressed. “Oh, and you should probably get Zoe too or she might kill you before Zeno has the chance. I’ll be waiting.”

Philothea closed her eyes, pictured the falls, and willed herself there. After a moment, she opened her eyes to see that nothing had happened.

Raven was regarding her with one eyebrow raised. “You leaving or enjoying a moment of silent meditation?”

Philothea tried to scowl at her, but ended up choking out a laugh. She closed her eyes and tried again. This time, the rush of falling water and the cool midst on her skin made her aware of her success. She opened her eyes to see Zoe standing a few paces away staring at her with an expressionless face.

“I am going to kill you,” Zoe stated.

“I know,” Philothea beamed, before rushing over and throwing her arms around her.

Pouli, who had been sitting on Zoe’s shoulder, fluttered into the air to avoid getting crushed by Philothea’s arms.

The fact that Zoe didn’t immediately remove Philothea led the latter to believe she had actually been worried and was glad to see her alive.

“What happened?” Zoe demanded, finally freeing herself.

“I’ve got to get you both back to Raven,” Philothea stated. “Then I will explain everything.”

Willing Zoe and Pouli back to Raven’s position was an effortless task, but it took several agonizing minutes and multiple attempts before she was able to move herself.

“Took you long enough,” Raven commented when Philothea finally appeared. She was waiting on the log where Philothea left her, though this time Zoe was sitting beside her and Pouli was sitting on Zoe’s head, calling to Fae that she was a “pretty thing” and a “good girl”.

“I know,” Philothea shrugged. “For some reason, I can’t, or… It’s hard to use magic on myself.”

Raven raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I know,” Philothea sighed. “When Zoe and I were first escaping Zeno, I tried to change us both into birds. I did it to her, but it didn’t work on me. Then, when I was escaping from my grandfather, you transported everyone away, but I couldn’t transport myself.”

“I’ve never known a fae who couldn’t use magic on herself,” Raven commented.

“I can,” Philothea pressed. “It’s just been difficult.” She rubbed her forehead as she struggled for the words to explain her meaning.

“Remember how you said using magic was like moving your arm?” she tried. “Well, ever since I got my mother’s seal, I’ve been able to feel my ‘arms’ as it were, more and more. Now I can even feel them without the ring. But… when it comes to using magic on myself… I don’t know… that muscle is weaker than the others. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Zoe replied.

“Yes,” Raven said at the exact same time. After shooting Zoe a scowl, Raven continued. “Do you know what I think?” She scrunched her lips thoughtfully. “I think you are too giving.”

“Holy Creator wants us to be giving,” Philothea said.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Raven shrugged. “I do know that you can’t help anyone if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Philothea scrunched her eyebrows as she tried to fathom Raven’s meaning.

“You have a gentle heart, little one,” Raven clarified. “And it may be that guilt is blocking you from turning your magic inward. We need to work on that.”

While Philothea was still pondering this, Zoe chimed in.

“You might have a point,” she said to Raven. Then to Philothea she added in one monotone breath: “While giving is a critical part of our beliefs, the ability to receive humbly is also important because, you know, without it you can’t receive any gifts from the Holy Creator or whatever.”

Raven stared at her. “Is that a quote from something?”

“Technically it’s a paraphrase,” Zoe explained. “From Zoronophillious’s Book of Generosity.”

Philothea chomped down on her lip in order to contain a laugh. It escaped through her nose making her snort. She knew very little about the works of Zoronophillious because everytime Keeper Ruth said his name, she would explode into a fit of hysteria that was rowdy even for her. The very fact that she was only snorting at the moment and not rolling on the ground clutching her stomach proved that she was slightly more in control of herself than usual.

“Well,” said Raven dryly. “Any man with a name longer than three syllables must know what he’s talking about.”

“Yes,” Zoe agreed. Then she shot Philothea a scowl. “So don’t go zapping me away anywhere next time you’re in trouble!”

“And don’t hold back from using your powers to protect yourself,” Raven added.

“Zoronophillious,” Pouli tried. “Zor-o-no-phil-lious.” He went on to repeat the word several times over in several different voices, then mixed in the sound of Philothea’s laughter.

“Oh-kay,” Philothea breathed. Her face was scarlet, her self-control pushed to the maximum.

They continued walking late into the night. All the while, Pouli and Fae chattered excitedly to each other. How either of them could follow the conversation was a mystery; then again, the conversation didn’t have a lot of intellectual content worth following. They were mostly just complimenting themselves and each other.

“So… you going to tell me what happened?” Zoe asked Philothea. “After you zapped me away?”

Philothea explained as best she could, though the events of that day seemed a blur in her mind.

“So, Zeno is actually your secret brother?” Zoe commented. “Is, like, everyone related to you?”

“I’m not,” Raven helped. “And Pouli, where exactly are we going from here?”

“East!” Pouli answered. He twirled his wings and sang.

“If Thea wants to kill the beast,

Then she must continue east.

East to meet her father grim,

To see what she can do for him!”

Raven gets an Idea

Katy Campbell — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 04:01:50 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

Philothea and Raven ran in silence for a long time, thinking of nothing except putting as much distance as they could between themselves and Zeno. Philothea had no idea where they were, or if they were headed in the right direction, and she didn’t have enough breath to ask.

When they finally slowed to a walk, Raven was the first to speak.

“Should I be worried about Zoe?”

Philothea shook her head. “I sent her away,” she explained. “All the way back to the falls… Pouli too.”

“Not Bilberry Falls?” Raven marveled.

Philothea was confused. “Yes? You said I just had to be able to picture–”

“There’s a range,” Raven reminded. “Bilberry Falls is three days behind us. Most normal fae can only transport short distances, a day or less.” She broke into a broad grin. “Of course, I forget, you aren’t exactly normal.”

Philothea giggled, though she hardly knew what she was feeling at the moment. It certainly wasn’t amused. She was tired, nauseous, and emotionally disoriented.

Not only had she expended an extraordinary amount of power fighting off Zeno, but she had just learned that he, her enemy, the man she was destined to defeat, was her own brother. She couldn’t imagine harming him even before she knew they were related.

And yet, he was holding her mother hostage, threatening everyone she loved. The fae lived in fear because of Zeno. Then there were the people of Cedar Valley, weakened and overworked in Zeno’s service. Zeno was a tyrant, a murderer, a force of evil and yet, he was also a child of the Holy Creator.

The Keepers had taught Philothea to see everyone this way, drilled it into her from the moment she came into their care. That combined with her gentle nature, made it impossible for her to kill anyone, not even to save the whole world.

She breathed deeply as she walked, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

What do you want me to do? she prayed.

Unfortunately, she received no immediate answer. Of course, Philothea had enough experience with prayer to know that immediate answers weren’t really the Holy Creator’s thing.

After a time, she looked up at Raven and said, “Thank you. You risked your life for me again.”

“Hardly,” Raven answered. “He can’t kill me, you’re destined to win this, remember?”

“But I’m not destined to save you,” Philothea pointed out.

“He can’t kill me,” Raven repeated. “As long as you won’t let him.”

“You don’t know that,” Philothea objected.

Raven’s grin broadened. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re getting stronger every minute. Why, after our last close escape, you couldn’t even walk! Now here you are fleeing for your life through the wilderness like it’s a daily occurrence!”

This made Philothea laugh through her tears, “I mean, it sort of is at this point.”

Using her powers was getting easier. Still, Philothea thought Raven’s confidence was ill-founded. Assuming it was confidence at all and not just Raven refusing to admit she wasn’t completely self-centered.

It was perfectly clear to Philothea why someone would pretend to be kind for the purpose of satisfying their selfish desires. What she couldn’t figure out was why a kind and giving person would work so hard to appear selfish. Perhaps she would never figure out the mystery that was Raven.

They walked in silence for a few more moments before Philothea asked, “Did you know he was my brother?”

Raven thought. “I don’t know? Maybe I did. I haven’t thought about it much to be honest.” She shrugged. “Of course it makes complete sense.”

Philothea stared vacantly down at the road before her and mumbled, “Why are all of my relatives trying to kill me?”

“That’s family for you,” Raven commented.

Philothea glanced up at Raven and waited for her to elaborate with whatever tragic story turned her into her current cynical recluse self.

“If it’s any consolation,” Raven continued. “I think your grandfather wants to love you; he’s just afraid of you. Thinks you’ll follow in your brother’s footsteps.” As Raven said this, her eyes brightened, and she broke into a broad grin.

“What is it?” Philothea pressed.

“I’ve just realized how you’re going to win this,” Raven announced.

“How?” Philothea begged.

Raven’s grin only broadened. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Philothea answered.

“You trust too easily, little one,” Raven rebuked.

Philothea threw her hands up. “Gah! Yes, maybe I do. But–”

“But if you insist on trusting me,” Raven grinned. “Then just be patient. You’ll see what I have in mind soon.”

Emperor Zeno

Katy Campbell — Mon, 25 May 2026 04:00:26 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

The first thing Philothea did when she realized she was face-to-face with her nemesis was burst out laughing.

Pouli, on the other hand, had a more aggressive reaction.

“You naughty thing!” he cried, shooting from Philothea’s shoulder and dive-bombing the emperor. Zeno raised his hand and caught the little bird as easily as if he were a ball.

“Pouli,” Zeno observed, his voice was cool and matter-of-fact. He was looking at the bird with a detached interest. “So that’s how she did it…”

“You are a bad boy, you naughty thing!” Pouli screeched. “Go back in your cage and go to sleep!”

He attacked Zeno’s fingers with his beak, trying to peck them apart. Unfortunately, the man’s grip wouldn’t budge. He handed the irate feather-ball to one of his guards and turned his attention back to the girls.

“Come here,” he said, motioning to Philothea.

When Philothea did not follow his orders, she felt the air around her constrict like a giant gripping hand. Then she stumbled toward her enemy as she was pulled along by the invisible force. As she moved forward, she slipped her own seal onto her finger. The feeling of power rippling through her body that had once alarmed her now came as a small comfort. She felt a little bit braver knowing she had her magic. If nothing else, she could protect Zoe.

When she was within arm’s reach of Zeno, the air dissipated, releasing her. She stumbled a little but caught herself before falling. With a nervous giggle, she looked up into Zeno’s eyes.

His face, now that she was seeing it up close, wasn’t unpleasant. He had soft blue eyes, light brown skin, and a roundish face. In fact, the way his beard and mustache were cut at hard angles seemed like an attempt to compensate for his otherwise gentle features.

As she looked up at him, she found herself praying that there had been some misunderstanding and he wasn’t the evil tyrant everyone described. It wasn’t only because she was afraid of him, but because she felt some sort of connection to him. He was, after all, the only other half-fae she knew.

“Give me your hand,” he ordered, slipping the seal off his finger.

Philothea thrust her hands behind her back and, glancing at the ring he held, shook her head.

“I won’t hurt you,” Zeno remarked.

“That’s a load of garbage,” Zoe commented while jogging up beside her friend.

Philothea stiffened as Zeno turned his cold gaze on Zoe. All of Raven’s training came back to her mind. What she wanted more than anything in the world was for Zoe to be safe.

A warrior to Zeno’s right stepped forward and said, “Is that any way to speak to your emperor?”

Zoe opened her mouth to answer, but before she had a chance, she vanished.

Philothea breathed a sigh of relief. If her magic had worked correctly, Zoe was now several days away from her, probably back at the waterfall near the fae kingdom.

It occurred to her that she could do the same with Pouli. Snapping her attention to the screeching feather ball in the soldier’s hand, she willed him away to Zoe.

Zeno’s men expressed mild surprise as Zoe and Pouli vanished in turn, but Zeno only smiled.

To the man on his right, he said, “I don’t think we even need to try the seal, General Clietus,” he shrugged. “Then again, why not?”

He held out his hand and motioned for Philothea to give him hers.

Philothea tensed, gripping one of the hands behind her back very tightly in the other.

“Obey your emperor,” General Clietus insisted.

“It’s alright, Clietus,” Zeno answered.

He reached out and, gripping Philothea’s arm, jerked her hand forward. Even without being an all-powerful warrior, half-fae, he was pretty strong.

He startled when he noticed the seal she was already wearing.

“Mommy’s ring,” he mumbled to himself.

Philothea stiffened, then she smiled as she tried to make sense of his words.

“No,” she blurted, while violently shaking her head. “This is my mother’s. The K is for Katina.”

“Of course,” Zeno laughed, pleasantly. “She’s my mother too.”

Philothea couldn’t make a sound.

“Why do you think I’ve been trying so hard to find you?” Zeno explained. “You’re family. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Philothea’s mind was flooded with thoughts, including but not limited to:

Safe with family? My own grandfather just tried to kill me!

And

Why do all my relatives want to kill me?

And

My brother! Eeeeeeee!

And

Wait, how is he my brother when he’s so old?

With all these thoughts simultaneously bombarding her brain, Philothea released a fresh tidal wave of giggles. A natural reaction for a girl who was confused, overwhelmed, and terrified.

“You laugh just like our mother,” Zeno smiled.

Philothea glanced up at him. If she had run into him without his army of brutes, he would have given her the impression of a kind and gentle man.

He couldn’t be as evil as everyone said, he couldn’t. But then… had everyone she met on her journey thus far been wrong? What about the people of Cedar Valley, who all looked so thin and sickly? What about the fae people in her grandfather’s kingdom who lived in terror of every half-fae on Zeno’s account? What about Zoe’s father and so many others in her own village who were forced to labor in Zeno’s fields?

As Philothea prayed for guidance, tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with her laughter. She was a mess and felt completely humiliated in the presence of the cool, controlled emperor.

“It’s alright,” Zeno said soothingly. “You don’t have to cry. Just give me Mother’s seal, and we will both go home.”

Philothea glanced around at Zeno’s men. They stood at attention watching their emperor, but Philothea recognized the fear in their eyes. It was the same fear in the eyes of the fae villagers, though hidden behind a mask of professional stoicism. These were his men, and they were living in fear. No. She couldn’t trust Zeno.

She ripped her hand out of his and violently shook her head.

Zeno’s gentle smile relaxed.

“Alright,” he shrugged.

In one swift motion, Zeno ripped his sword from its sheath and tried to bring it down on Philothea’s head. He might have been successful if it weren’t for a great force that tore her backward from his reach.

The force left Philothea lying on her back in a crumpled heap, her mind rushing to make sense of what just happened.

As she sat up and looked around, she noticed the landscape had changed. No longer was she standing before an army on the temple grounds. She was in the midst of a forest of thorny vines.

“Up, Thea.” Raven’s hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, he’ll be right behind us.”

“Where are we?” Philothea breathed.

“On the hill just outside the village. The thorns are a little illusion of mine; they won’t hurt you.”

As they ran in between the vines, great flames suddenly leapt up, consuming the thorny forest, withering it almost instantly. Philothea stumbled as Zeno appeared directly in their path. He stood alone, sword clasped in his hand.

“You think I don’t recognize an illusion when I see one?” he grinned at Raven. “You’ve got some talent, but you must realize you don’t stand a chance against me.”

The hills around them began to tremble, to crumble in on themselves. Rain poured down from the sky in sheets, but Philothea couldn’t feel it on her skin. Zeno spoke in the same calm, almost friendly voice he had used when he first introduced himself to Philothea. It was like he was projecting all his anger away from himself into the chaos around him.

“How about this,” he continued. “You surrender the girl, and I’ll let you go. Or better yet…” he added, a grin brightening his face. “I’ll give you a lesson in the art of illusion myself!”

“Or instead,” Raven replied. “You could show me a little mercy and just tell me all the different ways I’m ugly. It would be less insulting.”

The sarcasm emanating from Raven was as much an illusion as any of her others. Her tone was dry, her lips set in a slight frown, and she regarded Zeno’s grin with one eyebrow raised.

However, Philothea couldn’t help but notice how her hand trembled as it clasped her dagger’s hilt. Raven knew she was facing a foe she couldn’t defeat, but that did not stop her from drawing the blade and stepping in front of her student defensively.

“I want you to realize how absurd you’re being,” Zeno continued. “I can kill you with a mere thought, you know.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Raven dared.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair,” Zeno explained. “I’m not a monster. I don’t want to kill you.”

“Oh, I forgot, you only kill helpless little girls,” Raven remarked.

Zeno’s lips tightened very slightly.

“You’ve made your choice,” he sighed.

The ground opened up beneath them, and Philothea felt her stomach flop as she dropped down onto something soft. Was it grass? Everything around her was pitch black.

A warm hand grasped hers from somewhere in the darkness and pulled her to her feet.

“Don’t worry, little one,” came Raven’s voice. “This illusion is mine.”

Philothea stumbled along through the dark, hoping that Raven had some idea of where they were going. All the while her mentor was grumbling things like, “‘...give you a lesson in the art of illusion…’ I was doing illusions before he was born.”

They ran for a moment or two before Zeno’s cold voice spoke from somewhere in the darkness.

“The thing about illusions,” he said cheerily. “Is that they don’t actually change anything.”

At first, Philothea thought the voice was coming from her left somewhere, but with every word he uttered, it seemed to change positions. It was like he was in the air all around them.

“You are running up the hillside, east of Cedar Valley, toward the forest,” he continued. “It’s a large expanse, but… not so large that I can’t find you. Even in the dark.”

“Ignore him,” Raven hissed. “Keep moving.”

All at once, the darkness broke, and in the same moment, several things happened simultaneously. First, Philothea slammed her eyes shut to avoid being blinded by the late afternoon sun. Then, Zeno spoke from directly ahead.

“There you are.”

Philothea forced her eyes open to see him standing a mere arm’s length in front of her. All illusions were now broken, leaving them surrounded by the reality of the orange and green autumn hillside that rose up above the village of Cedar Valley. The roofs of the houses and the white towers of the temple were all plainly visible below.

Philothea, however, was blind to all of it, seeing only Raven’s crumpled form lying motionless in the grass behind Zeno. With a cry of horror, Philothea tried to dart past Zeno, but he caught her by the shoulder and held her fast.

A torrent of violent emotion flooded Philothea’s mind. She was in the clutches of an enemy who was, at any moment, going to kill her, but all she could think of was saving Raven.

If she could cure Princess Keti and the two fae guards she’d wounded, surely, she could undo whatever Zeno had done.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a glint of silver. Zeno was bringing down his blade. In the split second, as it fell, anger and frustration boiled inside her–Philothea wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not until she saved Raven.

At the very moment the emperor’s blade made contact with the back of her neck, Philothea willed a burst of power outward. Her powers combined a tsunami of emotion with a focused will to create a burst of energy that sent Zeno flying off his feet.

She did not even look to see where he landed. The moment he was gone, she fell to her mentor’s side. Raven had no breath or heartbeat that Philothea could find, but no visible injuries either. It was like Zeno had simply plucked the life out of her.

Yet, if there was any chance at all she had some life left, Philothea was going to find it. She laid a trembling hand on Raven’s forehead, then, through her tears, she focused and prayed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zeno stumbling to his feet. He seemed puzzled, looking himself up and down as if trying to figure out what had happened. Then it must have clicked, because he stormed toward her, hand outstretched, and in that very same moment, Philothea felt a tightening on her throat.

He was using his magic to strangle her in the same way the fae guards had done. Now was not the time; she was so close to saving Raven. She looked up into the face of her approaching adversary.

His hair was disheveled, and he was a little muddy, but aside from that, he seemed unaffected by her outburst.

“I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy,” he laughed, as he tightened his invisible grip on her throat. “I forgot that you’re a half-fae too!”

Philothea fought against him as her frustration built. If he would just let her save Raven… Raven had to live. She resisted the grip of his will with her own, but her attention was divided–she was both healing Raven and trying to fight him off.

Despair welled up in her as she was crushed more tightly in his invisible grip. His powers raised her up off the ground, away from Raven’s side. Philothea fought against him with every ounce of her weakening power, thinking always of Raven. She had to protect Raven. Zeno’s gaze was locked on her and brimming with admiration.

“I’m glad I got to meet you,” he said pleasantly. “I’ve never met anyone close to my equal, and I doubt I ever will again.”

The force around Philothea constricted. She couldn’t breathe… it was almost over.

“Unfortunately,” Zeno sighed. “This world only has room for one god.”

Then, on the ground, Philothea noticed Raven stir. Another moment, if she could fight Zeno for another moment, then maybe Raven could escape…

“Wha-, whe- where is Mother?” Philothea gasped, trying to keep her enemy’s attention away from her mentor.

“At home,” Zeno explained, “I’m a good son. I take care of her.”

As he spoke, Philothea directed the last of her strength toward him, willing him to release his grip. He held fast.

“This would be easier for both of us if you’d just give up,” he laughed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but instead released a horrible cry and stumbled forward.

At once, the air around Philothea dissipated, and she fell down onto the grass, gasping for breath.

The next thing Philothea knew, Raven was pulling her to her feet.

“What happened?” Philothea gasped.

“I stabbed him in the back,” Raven shrugged. “Should keep him down for about two and a half seconds. Let’s move!”

Philothea didn’t have the strength to ask where they were going.

Right before Raven transported them both, Philothea glanced over her shoulder to see the emperor lying face down on the grass with a wound in his back that would have been lethal to any ordinary man. Unfortunately, Zeno didn’t fall into that particular category.

Who is this devilishly handsome pirate?

Katy Campbell — Fri, 22 May 2026 00:51:05 GMT

I am about to shock you all.

This devilishly handsome bluebearded pirate is not, in fact, a pirate. This is none other than, wait for it… AUTHOR EMILY DEADY IN DISGUISE!

You might be thinking, “But look at that magnificent blue beard! How could Emily Deady grow such lucious facial hair?” HA! Again, we have deceived you! That blue beard is made out of the blue pictures ya’ll sent to us last week!!!!

We have tricked you into deceiving yourselves, which is incredibly piratey of us.

I would apologize for the deception, except that pirates never apologize for anything.

What I will do is tell you that…

Scallywag or Scoundrel is now LIVE ON AMAZON!!!!!!!!!

Read Now!

This fun, fast, light romance is a perfect weekend read! Our hope is that it will make you swoon and/or laugh your head off! Also, for a book about sailors, this has surprisingly little cussing, and by that I mean ZERO. So you can enjoy it with your kids and grandkids too!

My 11-year-old daughter read the early version and did this amazing illustration. What’s happening in this picture? You’ll have to read the book to find out!! And speaking of illustrations…

If you are the artsy type, or if you know an artsy type, there is a not-so-small chance we might be having a fan art contest related to this book in the near future, so keep that in the back of your mind as you read. :)

Thank you so much to everyone who sent in blue pictures and to those of you who signed up for the ARC! Now that the book is live, you can leave reviews on Amazon!

I hope you all enjoy!

Happy reading!

Katy

An Unpleasant Surprise

Katy Campbell — Mon, 18 May 2026 04:01:52 GMT

If you would like to support this free ebook, consider sponsoring a chapter. Thank you!

Previous chapters:

Keeper Nathan brought the two to the monastery adjacent to the temple. There, he had them sit down in a little dining room. They had hardly taken their seats when he spoke.

“Many years ago, while I was helping a neighbor in his vineyard, I caught a strange man stealing grapes.”

Philothea and Zoe glanced at each other, but Pouli, lacking all subtlety, said, “I ate the grapes because I saved the baby! I am a good boy.”

Keeper Nathan again looked at Pouli, his brows scrunching even tighter.

“I thought he was some poor madman because he kept saying he was a bird.”

“I am a bird,” Pouli added.

“I can see that now,” Nathan replied, regarding him curiously. “Must be fae magic…”

“It is,” Philothea assured. Poor Keeper Nathan looked like he was questioning his sanity; the least she could do was reassure him.

“And you must be the baby,” Keeper Nathan ran his hand through what was left of his hair thoughtfully. He had had such a carefree air when they met him in the temple a few moments prior. Now, he seemed anxious and distracted.

Philothea couldn’t exactly blame him. Her reappearance must have been a lot to process. Especially since someone he knew as a human was now a bird.

“Why did you come back?” he asked.

“I am looking for my parents,” Philothea answered.

Keeper Nathan bit his lip and tapped his thumbs together thoughtfully, then he mumbled, “I’d better talk to the head keeper, he’ll know what to do.”

Then he asked them to wait and left the room.

“A moment only,” Zoe said to Philothea. “We’ve got to get back to the temple to meet Raven.”

“But he knows my mother,” Philothea objected.

“Doesn’t seem like he really does, though,” Zoe pointed out. “Pouli, does Katina really know Keeper Nathan?”

“Keepers are Katina’s friends,” Pouli chirped. “He let me eat the grapes. He is a good boy.”

“Yeah, but does Katina know Keeper Nathan specifically?” Zoe pressed.

“The keepers are Katina’s friends. They will hide the baby! They will save the princess!”

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Zoe stated.

“But what about that prophecy Pouli sang when I got here?” Philothea pressed.

“I’m not convinced that was a prophecy,” Zoe remarked.

“What do you mean?” Philothea hissed.

“Think about it,” Zoe continued. “That whole prophecy thing about you destroying Zeno or whatever, didn’t sound anything like Pouli’s usual songs.” She pointed a confident finger at Philothea. “That song he sang when we got here, however… sounded just like all his others.”

“But–” Philothea started to object.

“I think Pouli remembered there were grapes here and that this Keeper Nathan let him eat them, and made up that song to get us to go to James’s vineyard.”

“Pouli wouldn’t lie to us,” Philothea defended.

“He’s a bird,” Zoe pointed out. “It’s not like he has any kind of moral sense.”

“I am a good boy,” Pouli explained. “I will get a grape!”

Philothea looked at the little bird thoughtfully. He certainly wouldn’t lie on purpose, but… well, she just sort of assumed his song was some kind of a prophecy. But he sang about all sorts of things that interested him. If his mind was on grapes (which it almost always was), he might have made the whole thing up to get them. Still, perhaps all this was meant to be. Perhaps the Holy Creator had put that song into Pouli’s heart so they could meet Keeper Nathan and he could help them.

“We will wait a few more minutes,” Philothea said.

They waited and waited and waited. After a short time, a young keeper brought them some refreshments and then left them to wait some more.

“I’ve had it,” Zoe remarked. “If Keeper Nathan does not come back by the time we’re done eating. We should leave.”

Philothea reluctantly agreed. When the Keeper did not return, they both stood up and started making their way back to the courtyard. As they walked, Philothea suddenly got a very odd feeling. It was like the icy tingling she’d experienced when Zeno’s men first closed in on her, but just a tad warmer and less forceful. She was so stressed, overwhelmed, and frustrated. Perhaps all of those feelings combined were just making her jumpy.

She sighed, trying to calm herself, as Pouli happily whistled on her shoulder. They didn’t meet any other Keepers in the halls, which disappointed Philothea. She was hoping she could leave a message with someone. It seemed so rude to disappear without saying goodbye.

When they finally stepped out into the courtyard, they found Keeper Nathan. It would have been a welcome surprise if it weren’t for the army of brutes he had with him. He was speaking to the man at the head of the army, whom Philothea recognized immediately as the very man she’d spent weeks trying to avoid.

“There they are!” Keeper Nathan said, turning and pointing toward Philothea.