Amy N Kaplan

Here is an excerpt from the fantasy novel I’m currently working on.

The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy of the Elderwood, casting dappled shadows across the ancient stone ruins where Elara and her companions had set up camp. The crackle of the fire mingled with the night’s symphony of crickets and rustling leaves. They sat huddled around the warmth, faces illuminated by the flickering flames.

Elara, a young mage with eyes like polished sapphire, passed a glance at her companions—Rafe, the rogue with a smirk as sharp as his blade, and Thalia, a priestess whose gentle hands were capable of summoning divine wrath.

Rafe skewered a piece of meat with his dagger and held it over the fire. “We should reach the Hollows by nightfall tomorrow,” he mused, eyes glinting with anticipation.

Thalia nodded, her golden hair catching the firelight. “The sooner we retrieve the Heartstone, the better. I don’t fancy being out here when the Night Howlers start prowling.”

Elara shivered at the mention of the creatures—beasts born from shadow and malice, rumored to roam these parts after dark. She drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders and turned to Thalia. “Your visions… are they certain? The Heartstone is truly within the Hollows?”

“As certain as the stars above us,” Thalia affirmed. “But remember, it’s guarded by the Spectral Sentinel. We’ll need more than steel and sorcery to best it.”

Rafe chuckled, tossing his now-charred meat aside. “Good thing we have brains then—or at least some of us do.”

Elara shot him a look that could curdle milk. “Careful, Rafe. Brains are no good if you lose your head.”

A silence fell over them as they contemplated their quest. The Heartstone was no mere gem—it was said to hold ancient power capable of bending fate itself.

Breaking the quiet, Rafe leaned back on his hands, studying the constellations above. “We’ve faced worse than ghosts and fairy tales.”

“True,” Elara conceded, pulling out her mother’s grimoire from her satchel and flipping through its worn pages. The tome was filled with spells passed down through generations—some not cast in centuries.

Thalia peered over Elara’s shoulder at the grimoire. “What are you looking for?”

“A spell… something that might give us an edge against what lies ahead.” Elara’s finger traced along an intricate symbol on one page before she snapped the book shut with resolve.

“We rest tonight,” she said firmly. “Tomorrow we face whatever awaits in those cursed Hollows.”

As dawn broke over Elderwood, they doused their fire and packed their belongings. With Elara leading, they set off toward their destination—a gaping maw in the earth known as the Hollows.

The forest gradually gave way to barren land where twisted trees clawed at a grey sky. An oppressive silence hung heavy in the air as if even birds dared not sing.

They stood at last before an immense chasm—the Hollows—its depths swallowed by darkness.

“Cheerful place,” Rafe quipped while securing his leather armor.

Thalia gripped her staff tighter. “The Spectral Sentinel knows we’re here.”

“Then let’s not keep it waiting,” Elara replied with a steely edge in her voice.

Descending into the Hollows was like stepping into another world—one devoid of color and warmth. A chill crept into their bones despite their steady movement.

At last, they reached a vast cavern where an ethereal glow pulsed from its center—the Heartstone.

And there it stood between them and their prize: The Spectral Sentinel—a towering wraith wrapped in tattered robes that seemed to drink in light.

Elara stepped forward, raising her hand as arcane words spilled from her lips like a river of light.

The Sentinel’s hollow eyes fixed on her as it drifted closer without sound or breath.

Rafe flanked left, daggers gleaming with poison he’d prepared for spectral flesh.

Thalia whispered a prayer, light coalescing around her staff like dawn breaking through night’s grip.

With a thunderous roar that echoed through eternity, they clashed with fate itself—bound together by hope and desperation—for power, for survival… for destiny unwritten but theirs to claim.