Silver Soul: A Historical Paranormal Romance
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About this ebook
Life at the edge of a Roman garrison isn't always a guarantee of protection. When ancient rituals come up against modernization and a new way of life, it seems easier to dismiss the old ways and forget the superstitions.
Epona has never believed in the gods or the warnings of the Druids and their acolytes. But one summer, when a stranger is sacrificed to the loch, she will have no choice but to believe—and she'll have to make a choice between following her heart and saving her village from a legend she barely believes to be true.
Silver Soul is a paranormal historical romance set in Roman controlled Britain.
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Silver Soul - Avery Maitland
Silver Soul
A Historical Paranormal Romance
Avery Maitland
FireHive MediaCopyright © 2021 by FireHive Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Silver Soul: A Historical Paranormal Romance
More from Avery Maitland
Silver Soul: A Historical Paranormal Romance
Roman Occupied Britain
They had blamed a fox at first.
One or two chickens had gone missing from their pens, and then a goose from the village flock. The hunters had been sent out to comb the nearby forest for a den, but they had found nothing that could have explained what was happening in the village. Nothing out of the usual, and certainly nothing to arouse suspicion.
But the following week, more chickens were taken, and another goose.
One morning, a child ran into the village. He screamed and jabbered nonsense about a bear with the eyes of a man. The bear had chased him through the forest, growling and snapping and had only given up pursuit when the boy had reached the clearing.
The village elders consulted with the holy men, and after much deliberation they had determined that this ‘creature’ tormenting the village was just a man and not a forest spirit as the people had been saying.
Like everyone else in the village, I stood on the shore of the lake to watch the strongest men in the village, armed with heavy spears and Roman swords, plunge into the forest to find the rogue and bring him back to face the justice of the village council.
It was an entertaining spectacle, but the crowd dispersed soon after they had departed. I did my best to keep myself busy with chores, but, like everyone else, I was waiting to see what would happen once the sun set.
Everyone knew that bad things happened in the forest after nightfall, but the men returned at dusk with a prisoner. The man stumbled behind them, his wrists tied with linen rope.
He was an outsider, that much was clear even from a distance, and the grumbling of the elders in the village seemed to be focused upon that fact.
The men had found the stranger wandering in the woods just outside the village walls with the remains of one of the stolen birds clutched in his fist. His black hair was matted and his pale gray eyes were wild; his bare feet crusted with weeks or more of grime from wandering the coille.
The crowd watched with interest as the stranger was dragged to a small hut behind the Holy House. The people who whispered beside me said that the Druids would question him at dawn.
We were all curious, but no one on the council would answer any of our questions, and the men who had dragged the stranger out of the woods stayed silent about what they had seen and done.
As night fell, the village rang with the man’s howls and cries, and the people lay awake and fearful, myself among them.
He was a monster, surely.
At dawn, the entire village gathered at the Holy House to hear whatever judgement would be passed. They filled the great room and spilled out into the muddy courtyard. The people sighed as the stranger was dragged before the Druids who questioned him about his origins.
Why had he come to our forest?
Where had he come from?
Why had he howled into the night?
But the man did not try to answer the questions and instead chafed at his bonds, leaping and snarling at the men who held him fast. One of the hunters stepped forward and swung his wooden club, and the crack as it struck his temple echoed over the silent crowd. He crumpled to the ground, moaning and growling as blood trickled into his heavy eyebrow and down his bearded cheek.
The Druids stared at the man for long minutes, listening to his growls and sighs before one stood and spoke.
The gods do not know you, and so, you will be given to the loch.
The Druid’s voice rang out over the villagers, and a small child grabbed at my skirt and held it tightly.
"At the setting of the sun, your life and your