Book Blitz: SHADOW STALKER by Renee Scattergood

 

Hunted by an empire, haunted by prophecy—

Auren's power could save or destroy the world.

Shadow Stalker - Episodes 1-6

Shadow Stalker Bundles Part 1

by Renee Scattergood

Genre: Grimdark Fantasy

"This is the first time I’ve read a serial and I didn’t know what to expect. I was pulled into the story right away. The pacing was cleverly crafted so that while the action had the pages turning, there was enough back story to keep you rooted in the plot." ~ Melissa Barker-Simpson, Author of the Morgan and Fairchild Series

"Scattergood's writing style is simple and straightforward and her characters very believable." ~ Grant Leishman, Author of Tortured Minds

"One of the best things about the series are the characters, who are human and sympathetic. The heroine is both a tough, capable young woman, and a naive and self-centered teenager; the tension between the two sides of her personality as she is suddenly forced to leave childhood behind and enter into adulthood is often well-captured, as is her ambivalent relationship with her foster father." ~ E.P. Clark, Author of The Zemnian Trilogy

“Hunted by an empire, haunted by prophecy—Auren’s power could save or destroy the world.”

The shadows are calling—and they know her name.

For eighteen years, Auren Trask has lived under the watchful eye of her foster father, Kado. He’s trained her in combat, wilderness survival, and strategy, but never explained why. His strict rules and secrecy have left her feeling trapped, desperate for freedom and a normal life with her friends.

That all changes the night she sneaks away for a simple camping trip. When the Galvadi Empire invades, burning villages and capturing innocents, Auren’s world shatters. She and her friends barely escape with their lives—thanks to Kado’s sudden appearance and skills that suggest he’s far more than a reclusive courier.

As the Galvadi tighten their grip on the Serpent Isles, Auren discovers she is at the center of a prophecy that has haunted the empire for generations. She is the delohi-saqu, a shadow stalker destined—according to Galvadi belief—to plunge the world into darkness. To stop that future, they will hunt her without mercy.

But the truth is far more dangerous than the Galvadi know. Auren’s powers are awakening, shadows whisper secrets in her dreams, and even Kado can no longer shield her from the path ahead. To survive, she must confront the terrifying legacy of the shadow stalkers and decide whether destiny is a prison…or a weapon.

Shadow Stalker Part 1 (Episodes 1–6) launches Renee Scattergood’s dark fantasy serial, a journey through treachery, prophecy, and the struggle between fear and hope. Perfect for fans of epic adventure, morally complex heroes, and worlds where light and darkness are never simple.

 

**Get it FREE!!**

Amazon * Ream * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

 

Episode 2 — The Delohi-Saqu's Fate

Chapter 1 | Something in the darkness

I tried to think of something else, but my mind went blank. Looking around, I suddenly grew agitated at not being able to see anything. If I didn't keep my mind occupied, I'd risk a panic attack. All I could think about was the darkness and how much I wanted to get out. I was about to scream in frustration again when I heard pebbles crunch.

"Who's there?"

No one answered.

It was just my imagination, I told myself, until something cold and wet brushed my neck. The thing sniffed at me, sending shivers through my body that had nothing to do with the cool, damp air. I gasped and stiffened. My first instinct was to move away as fast as possible, but my training took over. I slowed my breathing and held myself as still as I could. Yet my heart pounded uncontrollably, and I would have sworn the sound echoed off the cavern walls.

It sniffed me again, nudging my face with its nose and emitting a low, guttural growl. Its foul breath suggested it had eaten recently, so it likely wouldn't be hungry for a while. If it had meant to harm me, it probably would have by now. But what was its purpose? And how did it get here? I tried to move away, but it growled and pushed me forcefully with its head. When I remained still, it clamped its jaws on my arm and started dragging me along the floor.

"Let me go!" I cried, punching the animal's thick fur.

It yelped and snapped at my hand. I scooted away as fast as I could, but it grabbed my arm again and pulled me the other way. This time, it dragged me along on my knees. To keep from falling forward, I had no choice but to go where it wanted me to go. It didn't let go until we reached the stream. Then it nudged me a couple of times towards the water.

"What do you want with me?"

I shook my head. Now I was talking to an animal, as though it would answer. I tried to back away again, but it snarled and clamped down on my ankle. Though it didn't bite me hard, I cried out. It didn't let go until I stopped fighting, and I curled into a ball, hoping to wake from this crazy nightmare.

The lapping water beside me distracted me from my panic attack. The animal nudged me, then resumed drinking. Suddenly, all I heard was the stream gurgling. Although I was, in effect, blind, I knew I was alone. Whatever that thing was, it seemed to vanish as quickly and quietly as it had appeared. To be sure it had gone, I cautiously reached into the space it had occupied moments earlier. It wasn't there, so I listened for pebbles crunching on the rock floor.

"Huh."

Was it all just my imagination? Given that studies indicate hallucinations can start within fifteen minutes of sensory deprivation, and cognitive functions could be affected within hours, it wasn't an unreasonable conclusion. I had no idea how long I had been here, but it must have been at least an hour or two.

I rubbed the welts on my arm where the animal's teeth had raked my skin. For now, I could dismiss any thoughts of insanity. Something had been down there with me. But where did it go? The stream's murmuring sounded louder now, perhaps because I had nothing else to concentrate on. Or maybe it was simply because I realised my throat was parched. I leaned over the water and cupped my hand to drink.

The flavour was unlike anything I had ever tasted, and it left me wondering if it was water at all. It didn't matter. With each sip, I wanted—no, I needed—more. My hand was too small to hold enough to satisfy me, so I put my face to the surface and sucked it in. I gasped for air and noticed the cavern had grown warmer. Even stranger, a faint, odd glow surrounded me.

Now I must have been hallucinating. A greenish mist enveloped me, and shadows moved in the distance. They resembled the shadow people I remembered from my youth. I tried to push myself up, only to realise I was already standing. Huh! Believing I had somehow died, I looked down at where my body should be, expecting to see my lifeless form. But there was nothing—not even the stream.

Renee Scattergood lives in Australia with her husband, Nathan, and adult spawn (yes, that’s what they like to be called). She has always loved fantasy and was inspired to become a storyteller by George Lucas, but she didn't start writing her stories until her late twenties. Now she enjoys writing dark fantasy. She is currently working on a novel series, Shadow Guardians of the Serpent Isles, based on her serial, Shadow Stalker, and a new series called The Emperor’s Blades. Aside from writing, she loves reading (fantasy, of course), watching movies with her family, and watching YouTube Videos with her spawn. Visit her site for more information and a free copy of Shadow Stalker Part 1 (Episodes 1 – 6): https://reneescattergood.au

 

Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Bluesky * TikTok * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Follow the blitz HERE for special content and a giveaway!

Excerpt: ARABESQUE by MG da Mota

 

Excerpt – ARABESQUE by M G da Mota

 

Prologue

 

Southeast England, Late November 1998

 

She looks out of the window. Dark night. Black but clear. Twinkling dots punctuate the raven velvet of the sky. Stars shimmer cold and icy. Their light slightly wavering. She knows it is the Earth’s atmosphere. But that’s neither here nor there. It doesn’t matter a jot. Not at this moment anyway.

Darkness is the important thing. No moon. New moon. Why do people refer to a new moon when there is no moon or when one cannot see the moon from our revolving, ever turning blue dot? The moon is still up there in the sky. It’s just that at some point during its orbit its farther side from us is facing the sun. So the side facing us is dark and we can’t see it. As simple as that.

Tonight is new moon. An ideal night. She opens the window quietly and glances at the houses to her right first, then to her left. Like hers they are all immersed in silent darkness. People sleep. She looks at the luminous hands of her alarm clock on the side table. The shorter hand points at the number three, or close to it, and the long hand at somewhere between ten and fifteen. Probably around 3:12 in the morning.

Her house stands almost but not quite alone on top of the hill. To her right, looking from her bedroom window that faces the back garden, there are two houses. The one closest to hers is empty. No one lives there but it is up for sale. The old man who owned it died seven weeks ago. His son and daughter came down from London, cleared up and cleaned. Three days later the sign FOR SALE appeared in the front garden. It has been there for the last eighteen days but so far no one appears to want it. The owners of the next house are a couple with two young children. They are always exhausted, so nothing and no one will wake them once they hit the hay.

To her left, separate from hers by a small stretch of land with a handful of allotments, six detached and four terraced houses form a row on the poorly lit street. The last few already on the slope. The street has thirteen houses on her side, the highest side. People say it’s unlucky. They mean the number 13 is unlucky. A bad omen. She laughs silently. What a whole lot of bull! Besides, there are another eight houses on the lower side facing hers, making twenty-one in total, so the silly superstition makes even less sense.

With an empty place on one side and the allotments on the other, her house is fairly isolated. Should someone peer out of their first floor windows they will not glimpse a thing in her back garden. Not without the moon. The night is nearly pitch black and too cold; the temperature plummeted once the rain stopped. Nothing and no one moves. No light. The world appears deserted, enveloped in darkness and silence. Perfect.

She glances at the alarm clock again. Twenty five past three. Must get going. Without switching on the lights, with only her small torch, she walks slowly down the stairs and directly into the lounge, quietly sliding open the French doors. The tiny copper beech tree she bought lays ready. It is little more than fifty centimetres high, appears fragile and thin. But it will be fine. She knows it will. The difficult bit is what she has to do now. Before starting she hovers a moment by the doors, standing without moving a muscle for nearly half a minute. Listening. Listening. A distant owl hoots. A quiet bat brushes the top of her head. And then silence. She turns off her torch and waits for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. A faint glow from the streetlights at the front of the house gives the shapes in the garden the appearance of spectres. It takes her a couple of minutes to see enough to complete the task.

She shivers. The air feels wintry. The forecast mentioned frost just before dawn. No problem. The soil is still soft though no longer muddy from the rain of two days earlier. She looks up and around carefully. All the first floor windows she can see are black. Curtains and blinds from where people may spy her garden are shut. Nothing. The fence framing her garden is taller than most, above two metres, casting long shadows when there’s moonlight. But tonight it just adds to the blackness. A fence built for privacy. She likes it.

A sudden pair of luminous dots appear at the far end of the garden. She freezes. Alarmed. It takes her a moment to realise it’s a cat. The glowing eyes of a cat. Her cat, Diabo. She named him with the Portuguese word for the devil after a brief holiday in the Azores years ago where she learned the word. Diabo is black, like a mini panther, with bright green eyes. He trots quietly towards her, meows, rubs her legs for a moment, then shoots up the stairs, probably to find a comfortable, warm spot on her bed. Fine. Taking a deep breath and carefully glancing around one more time she begins her task silently. It’s more difficult than anticipated but she manages. It takes her over an hour but she accomplishes her objective.

When the task is complete, she admires the tiny copper beech. It stands erect and proud, reaching for the sky, as if it wishes to touch the stars. It will grow into a fine tree. She straightens, wiping perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. No longer cold. The effort has made her hot.

She stands staring at the little tree for a moment longer. So small. So fragile. But it will soon grow. She’s read copper beaches can grow up to forty metres in height. That would be enormous but she hopes hers will stay smaller. She will get someone to prune it. Any more than ten to fifteen metres high and the neighbours may complain it is too tall and dangerous. She loves copper beeches, always has. On clear days the sun makes their leaves shine a deep, metallic red. Beautiful. She has wanted one for a long time. Now is the right moment. She smiles, then taking a deep breath goes in, shuts the French doors and walks to the kitchen.

She undresses in the dark. Her clothes are stained from the dirt. She throws them in the washing machine and sets it going at a high temperature. Without flicking on the lights she walks upstairs to her bedroom. Diabo is soundly asleep on her bed. She touches the cat gently, then goes to the bathroom and showers quickly. Slipping into her pyjamas and crawling under the bedcovers she wonders whether sleep will come. She needn’t worry. Her eyelids drop heavily, firmly shutting her eyes to the world and the annoying voices in her head. Within seconds she falls into a peaceful sleep. The sleep of the innocents as her mother would once have said.

 

Purchase on Amazon:  

https://www.amazon.com/Arabesque-M-G-Mota-ebook/dp/B0D7CMSD5F/

Blog Tour: THE RUINATION OF RAMONA STONE by Lisabet Sarai

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Lisabet Sarai will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Juliet seized my hand in both of hers. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she murmured.

“I heard you cry out. Are you hurt, or ill?”

“I had a dream—a nightmare, really. I screamed to wake myself up.” She shook herself, like a dog emerging from a pond. “By the saints, it was terrible!”

I stroked the back of her hand, feeling strangely awkward. “Dreams mean nothing. They’re just illusion.”

“I don’t know. I barely remember my mother, but I know she used to question me about my dreams. ‘Sleep is the portal to truth,’ she told me once.” My friend half-giggled, then a shiver ran through her frame. “I had no idea what a portal was.”

“It’s hardly surprising you’d have bad dreams, given what you’ve been through.”

Juliet frowned. “Yes, I can see how that awful dinner tonight might have fed this dream.”

Shame twisted inside me. “I’m so sorry about the way Edward treated you. He was horrible. And the worst thing is, he doesn’t even realise how cruel and offensive he’s being.”

“Why do you stay with him, Ramona?”

“Oh, Juliet! Of all people, how can you ask? Without him to support me, I’d be in the same straits as you are. I have no independent income. I’d have no money, no place to live... Plus there’s Will. I couldn’t stand to be separated from my little darling.”

She looked grave. “It is a weary thing to be a woman, is it not? The world is arranged for the convenience of the husband. We are but ornaments in his house.”

“Edward is not an evil man. He provides for our needs. He does not physically abuse me. Indeed, he believes himself to be a model husband. I think he finds my impatience and frustration puzzling. After I stormed out of the dining room, I suspect he retired to his study, poured himself a brandy and tried to understand why I was so contrary.”

About the Author:Lisabet Sarai writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. In addition to her single-author lesbian romance and erotica titles, her Sapphic credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Best Lesbian Erotica 2015, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian Desire, and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing.

Lisabet’s Fantasy Factory (website): http://www.lisabetsarai.com
Beyond Romance (blog): http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Lisabet-Sarai/e/B001K8PADS
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LSarai
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lisabet-sarai
Twitter/X: https://www.x.com/lisabetsarai
Bluesky: https://https//bsky.app/profile/lisabetsarai.bsky.social
Medium: https://medium.com/@lisabet_63394
Mailing list signup: https://lisabetsarai.eo.page/kqyq4

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HMD46TBH
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0HMD46TBH
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-ruination-of-ramona-stone-lisabet-sarai/1151622599
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/2120525
Bookstore.org: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-ruination-of-ramona-stone-lisabet-sarai/8e6f6e43c5dd1504