A Priestess of Death or a Bringer of Life? 

Sresca has lived her whole life in service of Dana—the Goddess of Death and Lady of Sorrow—following in the footsteps of her sister, the High Priestess. Yet she yearns to free herself and step out of her sister's shadow. When a former duke comments on Sresca's resemblance to the lost princess, a plan is hatched to take down the new democratic government and restore the monarchy with Sresca as the new Tsarina. But Dana doesn't let her children abandon their vows so easily, and duke's plans may be darker than Sresca can even imagine. 

Complicating matters even further is the strange, winged creature that has made Sresca's mind its home—a creature that has memories of Sresca that can't possibly be true and whispers of vengeance for deeds Sresca can't remember, leaving her wondering if she is wrong about everything, even her own past. Sresca must unravel the mystery of her identity before opposing forces meet upon the battlefield otherwise her home—and her future—will be destroyed. 

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Official cover coming soon! Please note: this book was previously being advertised under the name "Shackles and Secrets" but has since had the title changed.

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The next novel in the Scions and Shadows series will release October 5th, 2025.

Itchio exclusive pre-order! Snag it now at a lower price and get it 1 week earlier than other retailers.

Catch up on the series with this omnibus! Get everything currently released!

• Curiosity and the Cat of the Imperial Capital (short story)
• Shades and Silver
• Stars and Soil
• Scorched Scars (novella)
• Shrouded Sight (short story anthology):
  • Daughter of the Desert
  • Temple of the Stars
  • The Qatu with No Name
• Smoke and Steel
• Bonus material!

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Excerpt from Chapter One

The Rose of Oblivion is dead, and the scent of salt floods the gossamer halls of the temple as each priestess, each acolyte, and each novice takes their turn wailing and screaming, the youngest still unsure of this calamitous display of grief. I wander the corridors of the temple, screaming along with my sisters, making my way to my office in the back—I still have duties to do, even as I wail.

It has been over two hundred years since last a Rose wilted, since a final petal fell and turned to dust in the dark depths of Dana’s Temple. We have no guide; we have no frame of reference for this disastrous departure. Death is Dana's gift, but it is one she rarely bestows to her most loyal servants. Mortality is her Blessing, but it is one she keeps at bay for her most ardent worshipers. Even her High Priestesses live normal, mortal lives, but her Roses—Oblivion, Sorrow, and Mercy—inexplicably surpass all in longevity.

And that is what I want. I scream as I enter my office and open the window, I raise my voice to the sky and shout at the ice, my sorrow echoing across the snow-capped mountains of Sekristal. Today, I mourn. But tomorrow I will speak with the High Priestess and tell her that I will undertake the trials. I shall relinquish my name, my memories, my identity. I shall become a Rose.

She will accept me, she must. I take a steadying breath, clutching the window sill, knuckles white as I listen to my own screams reverberate back to me. She must let me undertake the trials. My sister would not deny me this, not after all we have been through together. I have been nothing but a diligent follower of Dana—an acolyte, and then a priestess, and now. We arrived here, orphans of the Storm, at such a young age. For two and a half decades, we have done everything our goddess asked of us, and last year Yelena ascended to High Priestess upon the passing of Mother Marija.

She will not understand why I want it, why I want to forget everything, everyone—even her. We had no identity before we came here, street urchins who lost everything when the revolutionaries stormed Krylla and threw down the tsar. But there are things—people—I want to forget. Things I need to forget. I shall embrace Oblivion and dedicate myself only to Dana if she will free me from these shackles, I will be her Rose and protect her secrets if she will help me put myself back together, collecting the scattered shards of my identity and making me anew.