Author

Marie Brennan

Marie Brennan is a former anthropologist and folklorist who shamelessly pillages her academic fields for material. She most recently misapplied her professors' hard work to Turning Darkness Into Light, a sequel to the Hugo Award-nominated Victorian adventure series The Memoirs of Lady Trent. The first book of that series, A Natural History of Dragons, was a finalist for the World Fantasy Award and won the Prix Imaginales for Best Translated Novel. Her other novels include the Doppelganger duology of Warrior and Witch, the urban fantasies Lies and Prophecy and Chains and Memory, the Onyx Court historical fantasy series, the Varekai novellas, and nearly sixty short stories, as well as the New Worlds series of worldbuilding guides. Together with Alyc Helms as M.A. Carrick, she is the author of the upcoming Rook and Rose epic fantasy trilogy. For more information, visit her website, her Twitter @swan_tower, or her Patreon.

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https://web.archive.org/web/20200918234200/https://www.swantower.com/

The Faces and the Masks

In every labyrinth in Vraszan stand the Faces and the Masks. They differ in their materials: some wood, some clay, some metal, some stone. They differ in their details, though the general appearance is the same: the abundant petals of the Face of Roses, the shattered pieces of…

Never to Behold Again

Beauty is a consumable thing. We eat it with our eyes, wear it down with our gazes. A sunset or a flower may take our breath away because we see it for so short a time; the next day the flower has wilted, and the next evening's sunset is not the one we saw before. But everyone…

The Old Woman and the Tea

When the soldiers arrive, the old woman is waiting. "Sit down, sit down," she urges them, gesturing with her free hand. There are cushions spread on the floor, one for each soldier. "The tea will be ready soon." The soldiers grip their rifles. Their leader says, "Old Lady Meng,…

Cruel Sisters

The harp is a gruesome thing. Long bones for the pillar; breastbone for the board; the curve of a spine for the instrument's neck and knee. At the head sits a skull, grinning eyelessly at all who flinch away. I saw it when they paraded it through the streets after the revolt,…