Autumn of the Grimoire (Sisters Solstice, #1)

by J.L. Vampa

For anyone who has ever had to claw their way forward.

The Sisters Solstice gathered around a blazing fire Seleste conjured, each of them facing the flames from whence their magic came: Wendolyn from the Nord, Sorscha from the Est, Seleste from the Sud, and Agatha from the Ouest.

Our blessed Mother, Maiden, and Crone’s imbued power—the Sacred Grimoire.

It’s good for the soul to have something to crave; to tend; to strive for.

There shall come a day, as the nights lengthen and the leaves hath begun to fall, that a Daughter of Autumn shall join a Son of Gem and Bone.

“She shall come,” he recited, “shrouded in black, but not of mourning…” With a continued look of astonishment, he reached out and pointed to her black skirts before looking at her face. “With eyes of the honey moon.” His disbelieving gaze remained fixed, and it was a struggle not to let her own eyes go wide. “And Autumn in her locks,” he continued, watching Mabon use his teeth to withdraw a tiny ruby leaf from where it was unknowingly tangled in her hair. “She will come, escorted by a creature of the night.” They both looked at Mabon upon her shoulder. “And a raven shall descend upon her.”

Black dahlias defied the common rules of vibrant flora and pushed through the dirt to bloom in their darkened glory.

More than magic, or duty, or blood, may love be what binds us.

“The prince within the castle is not the same man outside of it. Open your eyes.”

One must take pains to remember that life deals in greys. What is white to one might very well be black to another. It matters not who is right or wrong, but how we mutually treat one another in the midst of the grey.

“Yes. But the nights are often very difficult for me. I’m pleased to see them over. To let the sun chase the monsters away.”

The greater good will always be the path less traversed. Let it be mine.

Kindness is a strength all its own. Peace and tranquillity should never be misinterpreted as meek or feeble.

Just because something is learned, does not mean it is right.”

He’d sell his soul for that smile.

“A woman may not have need of a man, but if he does not take care of her anyway, he is no man at all.”

Death is not to be feared. It is not evil or torturous. It is life that deals those things.

The world is cloaked in grey, not black and white.”

Light might, at times, resemble the darkness. It is not the sinister thing it appears.

“Bind the light, keep it from sight, to come forth in new life,”

Gods, he would rip the world apart for her.

“Don’t you dare leave me here, reaper. If I’m alive, so are you. Our grave will be dug as one, and we’ll climb in together. Do you understand me?”