Tag Archives: fae

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Wrap up some delicious dark fantasy romances for special friends on your gift list.

Gift a copy of Mind Your Goddess!

 

Gift a copy of Guardian of the Deep!

 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Seeds

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a dedicated group that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is seeds. My snippet is from a dark fantasy romance in which the heroine’s sister has been kidnapped. When you’re done here, please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

“Mother of all, ancient heart, ancient mind, keep us safe in the light as we journey through the night.”

From the east, she walked into the middle of the circle and faced north.

Legs braced, she drew in several deep breaths and centered herself. Briskly rubbing together mitten-clad palms to heighten the flow of energy within her body, she chanted opening words of praise and supplication to Mother Earth in whose frozen bower she played. Deep underground, she sensed winter’s sleep beginning to subside and give way to seeds of spring. Soon the white landscape would ripple with green shoots and riots of color. She swayed from side to side, feeling the measured, immense heartbeat of the earth beneath her. Like a bass drum it sounded in her senses. Her heartbeat slowed to match.

She warmed and relaxed as she slipped into an altered state, alpha brain waves opening to the legacy of her witch heritage, as well as her faery lifeblood. That blood flowed and surged, a powerful river within her. It called to the ancient world of faery, a state before and in between matter where possibilities swirled in indefinable simplicity and grace.

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Her face lifted to the sky and her head filled with the silent music of the lights cascading from the north.

When faery heat suffused her from head to toe, she removed the mittens and stuffed them in her pocket.

She opened to her special goddess, calling upon the familiar essence she knew so well. Swaying from side to side, she allowed the words to come forth freely and unbeckoned.

“Goddess Rhiannon, bless this casting and encircle me with your power tonight as I seek to enter and safely retreat from the dim underworld of the soul eaters. In the throes of dark sorcery, those unclean aggressors captured our sister. Their action is unsanctioned and out of kilter. It is not the way of things. Be with my companions and me as we deliver her back to the world of the living. Give us safe journey there and here.”

Her heart pounded as a figure cantered from the forest on a grey and silver dappled horse. Like a revelation of spring, the goddess known for riding side-saddle gracefully guided the unbridled mare. On one slender arm was a basket that overflowed with fruits, flowers, and other rich bounty from the earth. The Wytchfae lowered her head in thankfulness to the goddess, inhaling the intoxicating scent of roses, grapes, and cinnamon.

I hope you enjoyed my snippet based on the word seeds. Thanks for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Crush

It’s good to be back with Tuesday Tales, after the stress and aftermath of Hurricane Irma. Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is crush. The excerpt is from a paranormal fantasy romance. Visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Realization settled like a stone in her belly. She was in the hands of the dreaded Firbolg, mortal enemies of her lineage, the Tuath. She had to figure a way out of this predicament.

Her stomach roiled from nerves and the rough trip Rhade insisted was necessary to escape the enemy. Without warning, he swung her from the mount and leapt down beside her, still clasping her arm. Shouts pierced the air. Their two escorts reacted with urgency, unsheathing their weapons and rushing toward the din.

Rhade hauled her up an incline toward a row of large rounded boulders and shoved her through a crevice and into a tight, enclosed space, landing on top of her. “They could not have seen you. You’re safe for the moment.”

Breathing was hard with his weight atop her. She pushed up at him as best she could, but her wrists were still tied together. She scrubbed the cloth from between her lips, and managed a hoarse whisper. “Damn you, barbarian. Get off. Are you trying to crush me? Who’s after you now? The Tuath?”

Grunting, he shifted his muscular form and maneuvered to the narrow crevice, peering through. “It’s the Fomor, not the Tuath, damn your eyes. Didn’t you hear their war cry? I’ve a good mind to toss you out to them.”

Her heart thudded. “You said I was safe.”

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“Your wagging tongue makes me reconsider.”

“You have no reason to fear me. I’m not the priestess you think I am.”

He snarled. “I fear no one.”

“There’s no reason to hate me either.”

Blue eyes flashed. “Have you forgotten I saw you at the battle of Boyne?  Face of an angel, heart of obsidian. Your lies won’t work on me.” His voice hardened. “And don’t try any magic either, if you want to live another day.”

His words swirled around her like strums of music. He thought she would use magic on him? Human manipulation was against all she had been taught. Her lips parted, and her gaze narrowed, sorting out possibilities. Damn right she would. She just had to figure out how.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt crush. Thanks for stopping by. Make sure to visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Fae Friday: Spenser’s Belphoebe

What is more wondrous and expressive of spring’s energetic regeneration than a lovely verse and exquisite painting?

Her name means Beautiful Moon.

Johann Heinrich Füssli 058

Henry Fuseli [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

But to this fair Belphoebe in her Birth
The Heavens so favourable were and free,
Looking with mild Aspect upon the Earth,
In th’ Horoscope of her Nativity,
That all the Gifts of Grace and Chastity
On her they poured forth of plenteous Horn;
Jove laugh’d on Venus from his sovereign See,
And Phoebus with fair Beams did her adorn,
And all the Graces rock’d her Cradle, being born.
The Faerie Queene, Edmund Spenser, 1590

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Mythic Monday: Dancing Fairies

When my son was little and I drove him to school, we always commented on the “foggy mist” appearing out in the meadow on damp autumn mornings. We knew that’s where fairies had been dancing all night. How wonderful to contemplate the little people and their musical merriment.

August Malmström - Dancing Fairies - Google Art Project

Dancing Fairies by August Malmström [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Evidence of dancing sprites also appears in fairy rings, mushrooms that grow in a circle. Pixies love to use them as shelter and miniature maypoles.

Fairy Ring 0004

Fairy Ring by Aviddoghug at English Wikipedia (Original text: David Gough) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 An old folk tale from the Isle of Man tells the story of Billy Beg, Tom Beg, and the Fairies. When Tom first sees the little people, they come trooping and dancing into his view:

“The sound grew louder. First, it was like the humming of bees, then like the rushing of Glen Meay waterfall, and last it was like the marching and the murmur of a crowd. It was the fairy host. Of a sudden the glen was full of fine horses and of little people riding on them, with the lights on their red caps shining like the stars above and making the night as bright as day. There was the blowing of horns, the waving of flags, the playing of music, and the barking of many little dogs.” 

Derek and Brandon Fiechter certainly know how to convey the melodies of the magical old ones.

My wish for you: May you always have lilting music, sweet violets in the rain, and all the fairy sightings you can handle.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Mythic Monday: Why You Need Pillywiggins

702Pillywiggins

Spring fever has struck hard this year. Half the folks I know are currently digging in their gardens or sprucing up their lawnscape. Everyone’s goal is to add vibrant colors and pleasurable scents to their outside space. It’s good feng shui, and it’s good for the soul. Maybe you have a green thumb as my mother did. She could grow anything from a watermelon to a field of peas to a hollyhock. I am not that way. I need pillywiggins. I am all thumbs when it comes to plants, and none of the thumbs are green. If you are like me in that respect, you need pillywiggins, too.

Pillywiggins are the tiny winged fairies that tend to our spring flowers. They are playful creatures but not at all prankish or malicious. They are not much interested in humans at all, except to encourage spring fever and entice toward beautification of the outdoors. Originally they spent most of their energy on meadows of IMG_3087wildflowers. However, today they assist with human grown blossoms as well. Out of the corner of your eye, you can sometimes catch a glimpse of a pillywiggin hitching a ride on a bee or butterfly in route from flower to flower. Why do most spring blossoms multiply into lushness? It’s because of the nurturing activities of pillywiggins.

The queen of the pillywiggins is named Ariel, and although she has not been seen in a long time, she is reportedly a glorious sight to behold. Her appearance is tiny but perfectly formed, with blonde hair and a luscious, womanly body. Her white gown is so gossamer as to appear semi-transparent, and her eyes are periwinkle blue. She is known to seek 1693restful sleep in the folds of a cowslip. Oftentimes Ariel will sit sidesaddle atop a bat as she flits about keeping a watchful eye on the unfolding blossoming of spring. From her lips come the most melodious songs, and the winds are her harp music. She sings to awaken the flowers into beauty and to honor the goddess of spring. Nowadays, the pillywiggin queen spends most of her time in the summerland of fairy. Perhaps our spring fever and intentions to beautify our space will coax her forward into the earthly realm and bring a smile of delight to her lovely features. I like to think she approves of our efforts.PurpleDayFlower

What about you? Would you like the pillywiggins to assist in your garden?

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Beat

Tuesday TalesTuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Our prompt today is beat. The snippet is from a paranormal romance currently being reworked and featuring the goddess Epona, as she is preparing for a lover’s tryst. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

“Come in. Hell’s blaze, there is no need to beat down the door.”

The old woman blustered inside. She wrung her hands together and prattled. “Milady, there is a child begging for a moment of your time. I tried to send her away, but she’s in such distress that I…well…I know you’re anxious to be on your trip, but it’s an emergency.”

Epona stifled an urge to scream. Expelling a long breath, her voice was sharp when she answered. “Oh, all right. Allow me a few minutes to prepare myself.”

“Yes, milady.” Selde backed out of the room, easing the door closed behind her.

Her lips tight, Epona shoved aside clothes in search of her magical bag. Ah, there it was beneath the orchid chemise. Peering inside, she extracted her favorite crystal wand and tied the pouch to the belt of her gown. How fortunate she hadn’t changed out of her ceremonial attire. A few moments saved anyway. She secured the lid over the incense holder on her bedside table and snuffed the ebony candle in the front room before stepping out into the night.

The luscious scent of roses and night blooming jasmine permeated the air, lifting her spirits as she hurried down the hill. She craned her neck upward. Her lingering grumpiness at the unexpected interruption evaporated at the stunning array of stars glittering in the inky blackness of a moonless night.

An errant stone wobbled beneath her foot, and she flailed her arms to save herself from an awkward tumble. Cursing beneath her breath, she swirled the wand. “Come, fire fae, and light my way.”

Hundreds of tiny whirring wings rushed to answer her bidding, and sparkles of light danced around her, creating an iridescent green glow above the meandering pathway. Epona’s lips creased in pleasure. “Thank you, wee ones.”

A few moments later in the gemstone grotto, she resumed her seat on the cushioned floor and accepted the ornate chalice offered by her trusted servant. A sip of blackberry wine might be just the pick me up needed to get her through the additional supplications.

I hope you enjoyed my take on the prompt beat and seeing Epona in her goddess domain. Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other talented authors at Tuesday Tales.

GuardianoftheDeep_SM (1)Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Romance

Tuesday Tales: #Writing Box by Flossie Benton Rogers

“She walks in beauty like the night.” Lord Byron

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Our prompt today is box. The snippet is from a paranormal romance currently being reworked and featuring the goddess Epona, who has been injured and cast from her fae realm into the human world. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

She sucked in a deep breath. I’ll feel better once I get dressed. Fingering the old-fashioned outfits hanging in the chiffarobe, her hands lingered on a delicate confection. Like a cloud. The sparkling blush hue reminded her of fresh, dewy melon, causing her mouth to water. She groaned, remembering her lost cornucopia.

After slipping on the dress, she glamoured her hair into an elegant French twist. A satin ribbon from the bedside drawer served as a poor substitute for her lost rose quartz necklace. Beneath the hanging clothes were shoes that were a little too big, and she stuffed tissue in the toes.

Uncorking a bottle of amber colored liquor on the bedside table, she wrinkled her nose at the strong scent. She poured a draught into the accompanying glass, sipped, and then shuddered. Vile. With a pang, she thought of Eshigel’s preference for fine brandy. Not a liquor connoisseur, the sharp taste told her this was of inferior quality.

Darla’s accusations continued to simmer in her mind. Eshigel had never mentioned a word about the deranged woman. Why didn’t he tell me? Her thoughts meandered like the blackberry brambles in her gardens at home.

In the kitchenette she rummaged around for a bite to eat. Water and cheese from the ice box would have to do. She longed for a cup of hot tea, but wounded demi-goddesses couldn’t be choosers.  While appeasing her hollow stomach, a newspaper stuffed into the chair caught her attention. She pulled it from between the cushions and gasped at the banner. The Sapphire Beach Ledger. 1925.Tuesday Tales

I hope you enjoyed my take on the prompt box and seeing Epona begin to cope with her predicament. Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

GuardianoftheDeep_MED (1)heers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Grim by Flossie Benton Rogers

fotorireland6“Then stealing with the muffled oar,
Far shaded by the rocky shore,
Rush the night-prowlers on the prey.”
from The Giaour, Lord Byron

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Our word prompt today is grim, and the snippet is from a paranormal historical romance set in ancient Ireland during the historical origins of the fae culture. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

     The chieftain thrust out his hand as if to prevent her retort. “Aedar captured you. I, Sreng, as Chieftain of the Firbolg, place you in Aedar’s charge. Follow his orders, understand?”
     Lightheaded, Seraphina nodded, releasing a deep breath.
     After such a traumatic beginning, she stayed well away from Sreng and all the men.
     Aedar erected a rough tent for her and left her to her own devices most often, after a stern reminder that she was not to speak or get involved with anyone. “If you give me cause, I’d just as soon tie you to a post and leave you to the buzzards.”
     For some reason that callous pronouncement had burned the back of her eyes before a streak of adrenalin shot up her spine. It got her out of the strange lassitude that had come over her, brought on by shock she guessed. Leave her to the buzzards, would he? Mister high and mighty warrior had another think coming. She would watch and learn, and gain her freedom when he wasn’t looking. Escape would be her middle name.
     Still, she breathed a sigh of relief when he set up his bedding just outside the tent.
     There were few women and no young children in the camp. Once when she and Aedar were alone, she asked about it and he explained they were safely tucked away further inland. “The Tuath have pushed us from our shoreline and into the hills,” he said with bitterness permeating his voice. “Those of us remaining, that is.”
     On the fourth day Symeon and the horse boy came riding in. Aedar rushed over, and she followed, despite his gesture to the contrary. Aedar reached up to help a flagging Symeon dismount. “What about Umor?”
     A grim twist deformed the older man’s mouth. “No sign of him. I doubled back twice to look for him but by then…” Groaning, he clutched his side.
     She quailed at the sight and smell of the blood on Symeon’s tunic.
     He stumbled and likely would have fallen without Aedar’s assistance. Several Firbolg men crowded around, and Aedar passed Symeon over to them. “Take him to his tent. Careful now. Dress his wound. I’ll be right along.”
     She tugged at Aedar’s sleeve, and he turned upon her with a fierce look. She knew she wasn’t supposed to speak for fear they would think she was bespelling them, but this was an urgent situation.
When he bent down, putting his ear near her mouth, she whispered, “I may be able to help.”Tuesday Tales

Thanks so much for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed my excerpt with today’s word prompt, grim. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Romance

Mythic Monday: Salamander Fae by Flossie Benton Rogers

LordofFire_MEDcroppedEYEeyeIn magic and fairy lore, salamanders are elemental fire spirits that are named after the lizard like amphibians called salamanders. In fact their appearance is identical to the amphibians. Only a person with second sight or heightened sensitivity or who is trained in the magical arts can distinguish the elementals from their biological counterparts. Salamanders are ancient spirits and are well aware of their value to the order of the world, as well as to those versed in spell casting and magic. Salamanders are favored by witches and ceremonial magicians for their great power, adaptability, and facility of being able to come and go from a magic circle that has been cast. If you think about magic as one method of communicating with unseen parallel dimensions, you begin to discern the true habitat of elemental salamanders.

Salamanders govern the direction of South in a magic circle. They are often sighted around candle flames, hearth fires, or outdoor bonfires. When a magic circle is cast, invoking the four directions, specifically calling the South direction is to beckon the fire elementals to appear and serve as guardians and power enhancers of the circle. They are great allies for all ritual and spell work. If the fire elementals are allowed to remain once a ritual is completed, however, energetic disruptions will surely ensue. Instead, they need to be enticed to return or firmly sent back to their own dimension.

The origin of salamanders is quite interesting, in that they come from a watery environment but are in charge of the opposite element of fire. Over 3,000 years ago in the Middle East, after much observation and study, revered mystics proclaimed that the astral version of the salamander existed not of water but of fire.

In some magic lore and philosophical studies as well, everything is in the process of moving toward and actually becoming its opposite. There is a magnetic attraction between the two, and each dances toward the other. Reality is shaped by this endlessly flowing energy and matter. To me, the salamander is a good example of a universal antithetical framework.

Compatriots of salamanders (fire) are sylphs (air), gnomes (earth), and undines (water).

In Demoness Dreams – Wytchfae 6, salamander fae serve the Goddess of the Underworld. After the Goddess leads him to the sequestered sanctuary deep within her mysterious abode, the fire elementals first appear to the hero Bane Heughar:

At last they came to a rounded crystal enclave where gleaming spears of quartz grew in wild abandon from the rocky walls and ceiling. The crystal luminescence created a dazzling bombardment amid the strategically situated torchlights. The power generated in the room heated his blood until his ears pounded. He cleared his throat to alleviate the pressure.

Helle made her way to a great tripodal cauldron perched on an array of low rocks. “Salamander fae, forged of earth’s blood, ye living fire, be at peace.” She fluttered her fingers, leaving a shimmering ripple in the air.

The flames beneath the tripod curled blue tendrils around the edges. Bane stepped closer. The tiny salamander fae, tenders of the sacred element, faded into the shadows, giving way to the Goddess. Their movement resounded in the enclave like the faint whispers of hissing steam.

The Goddess Helle swirled her hands back and forth over the cauldron and recited a strange incantation.

Even with his magical fae ability to understand foreign tongues, Bane couldn’t make out all the words. The language probably died out before humanoids rose on two limbs.

The water in the ancient cauldron churned and spewed in the presence of the Goddess of the Underworld. A shape formed in the vessel. The image blurred with the movement of the liquid and then stilled to reveal a stunning face. The woman’s hair glimmered like a halo of spun gold. A light kindled her exquisite features as if she looked upon a dazzling sight. A pleasurable thrill thrummed in the middle of Bane’s chest. When he spoke, his voice came out a whisper. “Who is she?”

Helle’s tone became cold and distant. “This is the visage of a Wytchfae named Neva Jaxony.”

Which type elemental are you most drawn to– salamanders of the fire, sylphs of the air, gnomes of the earth, or undines of the water?

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Fantasy Romance