Door Lock

In 1306 A.D., young Eadric and his family flee their ravaged village of Goznorvan, decimated by northern invaders. They find sanctuary in Mozdeville, a mysterious village said to be cursed-untouched by Norsemen raids yet shadowed by secrets. Eadric meets Emie Zinnethush, an enchanting woman unafraid to wield dark magic, who urges him to embrace forbidden powers to defend his loved ones. Bound by his Catholic faith, Eadric struggles to resist her allure and the chilling rites she performs with Viking blood, summoning creatures from the dark beyond. But as the Vikings grow fiercer, Eadric faces an impossible choice: let his people fall, or wield the powers Emie offers. In the depths of Mozdeville, however, he may unlock a doorway to the most vile realm in all existence and encounter terrors far darker than any Viking blade.

Contains vividly described violence and detailed spell incantations.

"Led by a strong female protagonist, the story delves into themes of power and moral ambiguity, making it a chilling and thought-provoking read." Olivia Von Holt

"It's a tale of seduction, betrayal, revenge, and redemption that shifts seamlessly from poetic beauty to chilling horror, including vivid, sometimes gory descriptions-definitely not for the faint of heart. " Oliver C

Emie's fingers, slick with the Viking's lifeblood, trembled not from fear but from anticipation as she traced the intricate sigil upon the sodden earth. The knowledge she possessed was anathema to the time-a forbidden legacy bequeathed by her mother, whose own hands had danced over ancient texts in clandestine hours. Such dark wisdom surpassed the crude understanding of human anatomy that was common in Mozdeville; Emie's mind held secrets that could unlock the very fabric of flesh and spirit.

As she placed the freshly harvested eyeballs and spleen onto the sigil, they glistened like macabre jewels set into the mud. The organs, still warm, seemed to pulsate with a residual life force, obedient to their new master. Emie regarded them for a moment, her bewitching eyes reflecting the embers of resolve.

The blade, now an extension of her will, kissed her palm with a sharp caress. She welcomed the sting, watching as her own essence spilled forth-a crimson tribute-to mingle with the remnants of the fallen warrior. With the last drop, Emie's voice rose above the din of battle, her incantation slicing through the air with dire intent.

"Kes'thunus Vel Oknierae Ton'Zubius Emie Zinnethush Fak'Norenth!"

The words, archaic and sonorous, coursed through Mozdeville like a tempest, bending trees and sending debris spiraling into the night. Reality buckled at the command of her tongue, and from the ruptured earth emerged two behemoths born of shadow and sinew.