Welcome to Myrtlewood, a quirky town, steeped in magic, tea, and mystery…

Life’s a struggle for Rosemary Thorn and her teen daughter, Athena. But their regular troubles are turned upside down after Granny Thorn’s mysterious death.

Despite her cousin's sinister maneuverings, Rosemary returns to Myrtlewood and the sprawling, dilapidated Thorn Manor. There's more to the old house than meets the eye, as Rosemary and Athena soon find out—in a whirlwind of magic, adventure, mystical creatures, and endless cups of tea.

Life in Myrtlewood would be bliss if Rosemary could only clear her name in a certain murder investigation, solve the mystery and stay out of mortal peril—for at least a little while!

A small town with endless secrets, strange activities, and a house with a mind of its own.

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Stories that enchant... Magic that transforms... enchanting fiction based on real magic, seasonal festivals, and mythology!

Thunder roared and lightning crashed through the sky, illuminating the clouds above Thorn Manor. The sky darkened again and all that could be seen was the light from the manor’s tower, shining above the dark forests of Myrtlewood and the restless sea along the Cornish coast.

“Ah… that’s it,” Galderall Thorn muttered. 

The storm raged outside, shaking the very foundations of Thorn Manor. Lightning flashed again followed by a loud boom of thunder, as if the gods themselves were at war. Inside the tower room, Galderall stood upright and proud, her white hair tied back in a red scarf as she gazed out into the night with shrewd eyes. She may be an old witch, but she had a deep connection to the magic that flowed through the earth, and pooled, concentrated, around the village of Myrtlewood. She had lived here her entire life, and had dedicated herself to protecting it from the darkness that threatened to consume it.

But on this night, the darkness was closing in. Galderall could sense the malevolent forces approaching, drawn by her power and the ancient magic that flowed through her veins. She knew that she had to act quickly, before it was too late. She gathered her ingredients and began to mix them together in her cauldron, stirring them with a powerful hand. Fresh herbs and protective crystals, mandrake root, obsidian and colloidal silver – mixed with the power of the moon and the strength of the crone goddess, Cerridwen.

She would fight off her enemies if she could, but she was no fool. She knew she was old, and her magic was beginning to wane.

She searched through her shelves of occult implements until she found it, its dark surface gleaming against the light: her black mirror. She used it often, to check on her wonderful bubbly granddaughter, Rosemary, and her great-granddaughter, Athena with the acerbic wit. She hadn't seen them in person for years, for their own protection. Tonight she was relieved to see that they were safe, in their shabby flat in Burkenswood. She watched them, sitting around their battered kitchen table eating a simple meal of beans on toast and commiserating about their days. If only they knew what was coming.

They were safe, for now, but Galderall could sense that something was wrong. Lightning struck again and the scent of danger hung heavy in the air.

Like many witches, Galderall Thorn knew that nature had its cycles and patterns; the full moon always rose at sunset; the high tide would be an hour later every day and, observing the seasons, garlic should always be planted on the shortest and longest days and harvested accordingly. She knew when her time was coming to an end. However, like many people who look up and suddenly realize it's a full moon, Galderall had been busy, distracted by life. She hadn't noticed the sand running out in her own hourglass until a short time before it happened.

The clouds cleared above and Galderall looked at the moon. She realised that her time was coming to a close, just like other natural cycles. She knew that she could not hold off her enemies forever. She had to prepare one final spell and a message for Rosemary and Athena that would guide them on their journey. She had to trust that they would take on the Thorn legacy, and save the town of Myrtlewood from the darkness that threatened to consume it.

With a fierce determination, Galderall began to chant. She used all of her remaining strength and magic, pouring it into the words and the incantation. The spell was a powerful and ancient incantation that had been passed down through her family for generations. The words flowed from her lips like a river of power, filling the room with a sense of ancient magic. She could feel the energy gathering around her, swirling and pulsing with a life of its own.

I call upon the powers of the earth

To protect the Thorn family, and give us strength

I call upon the powers of the wind

To keep us safe from harm outside and within

I call upon the powers of fire

To burn away the darkness, and never tire

I call upon the powers of water

To cleanse and purify, and make us stronger

By the power of the ancient ones

As I do will it shall be done

By all the powers of land and sea

As I do will, so mote it be!

With a final flourish, she cast the spell, a shield of pure magic that enveloped the manor and all within its walls. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that she had done what she could to protect her family and her home. But she knew that it was not enough. She could sense her enemies approaching, stronger than ever.

A blinding light filled the room. The magic flowed through her, filling her with a sense of peace and calm. She knew that this was her final act, and she was ready to face her fate.

She could feel the magic gathering around her. She spared one last glance towards the black mirror, and her dearest kin. 

"Everything is about to change, my darlings," she muttered.

A crashing sound alerted her that it was time. But Galderall Thorn, despite her respect for natural cycles, wasn't going to go without a fight, and her enemies had no idea what was coming to them – not now, and certainly not in the future. Rosemary would have to make sure of that.

The light of her spell might be fading fast, but Galderall Thorn was at peace. She knew that her time had come, and she was ready for the next stage of her journey into the realm of the ancestors. Her granddaughter, Rosemary, would have to take on the legacy that her own children had never accepted.

"You might not be ready, my dear, and you might want a nice quiet life, but fate has other plans for us."