The
Hazel Tree
Julia
Debski
Genre:
YA Fantasy Romance
ISBN:
1493510789
59,990
words
282
pages
Cover
Artist: Julia Debski
Book
Description:
The
Hazel Tree revisits a classic Cinderella tale of abuse and sought
after freedom from the confines of a cruel life.
Ivy
Lune is not your ordinary girl for within her blood flows the secrets
of an ancient species of werewolf; a secret that also foretells of a
great war and a struggle for ultimate supremacy.
Ivy
lives a life of isolation torment at the hands of her aunt and
cousins for the majority of her life. Mistreated and neglected, she
longs to escape the shackles of her prison-like life. And in that
longing, she learns the truth of her identity. She learns her place
in a long line of events that were set into motion many years ago.
She finds intimacy and belonging in a much larger family.
All
the while, unknown to her, there are dangerous forces are at work;
old blood ties and murderous plots threaten her chance at happiness
beyond her current life.
The
Hazel Tree is a tale of mystery and romance set against a
supernatural backdrop of terrifying and awesome power.
Book
Trailer: http://youtu.be/a6y2fro8eG8
About
the Author:
Julia
Debski was born in Warsaw, Poland in 1996. Her family moved around a
lot during her childhood before finally settling down in Chattanooga,
Tennessee. It wasn't until the 8th grade that she found her passion
for writing. It was thanks to a particularly inspiring English
teacher and a story that needed to be told. So she began to write,
and she never stopped.
Four
years later she found herself with nearly a dozen started novels and
short stories. As junior in high school she was introduced to Greg
Wilkey, a self-published independent author of four novels. He soon
became a mentor to her as she worked to write and self-publish her
own novel. After two years of hard work, and a nearly a year of
mentorship The Hazel Tree was published in October 2013.
Website:
http://juliadebski.weebly.com
Pinterest:
http://www.pinterest.com/julponey/
Prologue
Nestled deep within the dark mountains
that neighbor the Black Sea lay an ancient castle in a valley,
forever hooded by a swirl of thunderous clouds. It looked as
though some god or deity had taken an inkbottle and poured the
contents into the dip between the mountains. It cloaked the ground,
the water, the stone, and even the air. To each molecule of oxygen
clung a droplet of shadow, tinting the air so black no torch could
pierce it. The air hung heavy, masking Waelwulf Castle and its
residents. Any sign of Mother Nature’s beauty had long escaped this
land, all vegetation long gone. In its place resided an evil force,
something far more vicious and deadly than any visitor could imagine.
It belonged to the family who lived within the impenetrable
stonewalls: the royal family of Wulf, the head of the Black Sea Pack,
the sole survivor of the Great Wars, the most ancient and powerful
pack on planet Earth.
In front of their home was a vast plain,
stretching deep into the darkness. Two massive wolves emerged from
the shadows simultaneously. Upon catching sight of each other’s
glittering eyes in the blackness, their hackles rose and growls
erupted from deep within their chests. Circling slowly with teeth
bared, each step was calculated, measured, carefully placed. Wolves
crossing paths on the barren grounds that surrounded the castle were
rare. A direct challenge such as this was always met with death for
the offending party. Both wolves had this in mind as they faced each
other off.
A howling wind brushed across them then,
curling around their paws and tails and the hills of their tense
raised shoulders before sweeping into the darkness. With it though
the wolves caught each other’s scents and relaxed with recognition.
They moved in unison towards the castle.
They reached the scarred metal gates
that stood a few dozen paces from the castle’s front door. For
centuries all that had stood between the foe in battles and the
castle had been these gates, somehow untouchable by the enemy.
Warriors believed it was protected by magic.
The wolves shifted into their human
forms. "Axel," one said, nodding. His appearance was
much like his wolf: black hair, confident brown eyes, square jaw,
long legs and a tall frame. Even his gait was like his wolf’s, the
slow cadence of a predator.
"Robinson," Axel said in
return. He was short with a brush of red hair across his head and
jaw, and small, nervous eyes. He didn’t have any of the grace his
comrade had, due to his short stature.
After the brief exchange, they took the
time to make themselves presentable, straightening the rumples in
their clothing. The old gate creaked open, allowing them to pass and
approach the castle’s front doors. Robinson stepped forward then
and knocked evenly three times.
After a long pause, one of the doors
slowly creaked open, revealing a thin young man dressed in plain
black clothing with royal red embroidering, leaning heavily on a
wooden cane. Recognizing the two men, he quickly hobbled aside. They
strode past him without any acknowledgement. It was later, after they
had moved out of earshot of the handicapped porter, that Axel said
something.
"Learn a lesson from Dane,
Robinson. Never ever question your superiors. Look at him, once
one of the kingdom’s finest warriors. And now condemned to a life
of servitude, and with a damaged leg! He doesn’t even have the
option of marrying, poor fellow."
Robinson merely nodded. There was not
much too be said, in any case, as he knew more about Dane’s offense
than Axel thought or knew himself.
Any chance to continue the conversation
was ended as they reached the end of the cold corridor. Axel reached
out almost hesitantly, and knocked a specific beat on the plain
little door. A peephole was opened, revealing a menacing eye staring
down upon the two men.
“I am here to see King Cronan. He is
expecting me,” Robinson said confidently, silently challenging the
eye to deny him.
“I am also here to see His Majesty,”
Axel added, a slight quaver to his voice.
The eye flickered from one spy to the
other several times before taking a few slow, long blinks. After a
long minute, the eye finally withdrew itself and the peephole slammed
shut. Then the door opened to reveal the owner of the eye, a large
man, taller than Robinson and thicker than Axel’s height, with an
array of battle scars that shone in the light as he grunted at them
and led them down a narrow hallway.
It eventually opened into a large,
majestic room. The walls were covered in looted swords, shields,
heads of enemies, and other treasures; priceless paintings of the
kings who had ruled over Waelwulf Castle long ago were hung over the
multiple crackling fireplaces. Yet even with the candlelight and the
fires burning, the room was still dark, darker than much of the
castle Robinson and Axel had traveled through.
The most ornate chandelier hung over a
painting of a bearded man standing beside a dark brown wolf, their
shoulders touching. In the center of the room was almost an exact
replica of the portrait, minus the wolf, who had simply been the same
man posing in his other form. In fact, it appeared as if the King had
barely aged a day since the portrait was finished over sixty years
ago.
"Axel. Robinson. I trust you bring
news?" King Cronan asked, sipping wine from a silver goblet.
"Yes, Your Highness. I have
returned with information of the Orarius Pack, as you requested,"
Axel announced puffing his chest out grandly.
"And you, Robinson? What do you
return with?"
"I return with good
news, Your Highness," Robinson replied with a shadow of a smirk.
Cronan chuckled slightly, mildly impressed by Robinson’s word
choice. Axel didn't find it amusing.
"Your Highness, the descendant we
have been watching—his mate is with child," Axel said,
disgruntled.
The King’s expression grew somber once
more and he focused a penetrating gaze on Axel. "And do you know
the sex of the child?"
Axel hesitated before bowing his head.
"I do not, Your Highness. My deepest apologies."
"Your apologies will not tell us
the gender of the offspring, Axel, no matter how deep they may be,"
the King said in a cold, detached voice. Axel swallowed audibly.
Suddenly the King snapped his fingers
and a dozen wolves emerged from the shadows of the room. They prowled
forward, snarls erupting from them one by one as they closed in on
Axel.
"It will be a she-wolf, Your
Highness," Robinson said calmly, as if the proceedings around
him didn't bother him in the slightest—which, knowing Robinson,
actually didn’t. He knew that in light of Axel’s disappointing
performance, he would be rewarded for the morsel of information.
King Cronan held up a hand, signaling
the wolves to halt and return to their designated spots. "And do
we know anything about the garden?" he asked, looking thoroughly
pleased at the vague wording of his question.
But Robinson understood perfectly. "The
tree has sprouted, but it can barely be distinguished from the
weeds," Robinson replied.
"So we will have to wait,"
said the King, making it sound more like a statement than a question.
He locked his eyes onto his spy’s. Robinson did not waver, holding
his gaze calmly as the atmosphere in the room grew tense until,
finally the King began to chuckle and they both looked away at once.
With a flick of his wrist, King Cronan
dismissed the two men. Axel was the fastest to bow and turn his back
on the king. Eager to leave the room, he didn’t notice the change
of his superior’s expression.
Robinson had been slower, and paused at
the subtle shift in the air. “You must be wondering why I told both
of you to report to me at the same time.” While the question was
directed at both of them, the king’s gaze did not waver from Axel’s
back. The ginger man had frozen, eyes closed, still facing the door,
though there was no denying the fear that trembled through his body.
Cronan continued as if he had not noticed. “You see, I suspected
that one of you was, perhaps, a spy. An infiltrator.”
Robinson froze as well, despite his best
efforts. No, surely no…
Another snap of Cronan’s fingers and
the wolves re-emerged, more aggressive and terrifying than before.
Half moved towards Axel, the others towards Robinson. Axel turned to
his king. “Your Highness—please—I don’t understand.” The
words slipped from his tongue and into the room before he had a
chance to stop them.
That was a mistake.
Cronan’s nostrils flared and a hand
twitched towards the goblet. “How can I be more clear, Axel?”
“Yes Axel, what has His Majesty said
that you find so difficult to understand?” Robinson said, against
his better judgment. The king’s eyes snapped to Robinson, growing
ever more black but still holding a sparkle of amusement. What boring
company he must keep for Robinson’s words to hold such humor.
Axel looked at Robinson, eyes full of
betrayal and fear. In return Robinson looked back with remorse.
A second snap of fingers signaled two
wolves to grab each of Axel’s arms. The cries echoed around the
room as sharp teeth sunk into tender flesh. “You see, I think that
you know more than you are revealing to me. If Robinson was able to
discover the gender of the child and find the tree, surely you would
be able to as well. So why not tell me? Ah, yes. Because you had
something to protect. Because your loyalties lie elsewhere—with the
Orarius Pack, the Coastal Pack,” Cronan spat at Axel.
“You are mistaken, Y-your Highness.”
Axel’s voice hitched as the wolf holding his right arm tightened
his grip, sinking his teeth deeper into the muscle. Axel’s knees
gave out, and his face paled.
“I am not mistaken, Axel. You are. You
pledged allegiance to the wrong pack,” the King deadpanned before
drinking the rest of the liquid in his goblet. He smacked his lips a
couple of times before returning his gaze to the man on his knees,
now quietly sobbing. Robinson discreetly bowed his head, but turned
it at a slight angle so he could catch Axel’s eye. Through the
tears, the doomed man watched as Robinson mouthed sacred words to
him: Father Moon, may you carry
my brother’s spirit and his wolf safely to the Sacred Land and may
you-
Robinson
stopped and turned his head away as droplets of blood splattered
across his face and screams pierced the air. The sound of tearing
flesh was not unfamiliar, but it still made Robinson feel a deep,
inconsolable sadness. He finished the prayer in his head, hoping it
caught onto Axel’s spirit in time. Soon the screams stopped and
silence fell, except for the quiet drip-drop
of blood. Robinson slowly raised one hand and wiped away the red
stain on his cheek. It smeared instead.
“Well then, I suppose we will just
have to pay them a visit. Go find Prince Naples and tell him to get
ready,” Cronan, said, continuing the conversation as if nothing had
happened. And indeed, it appeared as if nothing had, the wolves
having returned to the shadows while King Cronan and Robinson stood
facing one another. The stench of death was easy to ignore if you
tried hard enough. The sound of dripping blood, however, still
echoed.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Robinson said.
He stowed away his remorse and grief for Axel. They had only known
each other briefly and compassion was not welcome in the Mara Negra’s
court. Turning his head away, Robinson allowed himself a small
triumphant smile. Everything was going according to plan.
The king rose from his seat, empty
goblet in hand. He approached Axel’s torn and mangled body and
lowered the goblet into one of the deeper pools of blood, making sure
to fill it as much as he could before he took a sip. So perhaps it
had not been wine.
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