Tale of The Seasons’ Weaver – #NewRelease @DWallacePeach #Fantasy

I am thrilled to host another Story Empire colleague today to talk about her newest release. D. Wallace Peach has won awards for her pristine storytelling abilities and this new book is another fantastic example of her work. But, I’ll let Diana tell you all about it. Having had the pleasure of reading this book, I can highly recommend it. You can read my review HERE!

Thanks so much for offering to host me on Day 4 of my tour, Jan.  It’s a pleasure to visit with you in the great state of Texas. I have two magical beings from the Tale of the Seasons’ Weaver to share with your readers.

For this story’s characters, I drew from Celtic, Germanic, Scandinavian, and Slavic folklore, as well as the rich lore of the Arctic, Japan, Greece, and Native American cultures to create my own similar, but different, characters. Today I’m going to focus on the original lore behind two characters: Nelithi (one of my favorites), a dangerous winter spirit borrowed from Japanese folklore, and the Oak Witch, a character drawn loosely from Scandinavian lore.

Nelithi

Yuki Onna, meaning “Snow Woman,” is a mystical and eerie figure from Japanese folklore, deeply associated with winter and snow-covered landscapes. She is often depicted as a tall, ethereal woman with long, flowing hair, pale or icy-white skin, and a kimono as white as fresh snow. Yuki Onna glides over snowdrifts without leaving footprints, embodying both the beauty and danger of winter. In many tales about her, she has no feet at all.

Her nature varies across legends. In some, she is a vengeful spirit who preys on travelers, freezing them with her icy breath or luring them to their deaths with her otherworldly beauty. In other tales, she is a tragic figure, caught between her supernatural existence and human emotions. Yuki Onna is sometimes portrayed as sparing those who show kindness or keep promises, revealing a more compassionate side.

The Oak Witch

The Huldra is a beguiling figure from Scandinavian folklore often associated with forests and a wild, untamed nature. She’s typically described as a strikingly beautiful woman with long hair and a captivating presence who entices travelers or woodcutters with her beauty. If treated kindly, she can bring blessings and aid. However, if disrespected or wronged, she can be vengeful, leading people astray or causing them harm.

Unlike the Oak Witch in my tale, who can shift into a crow, in Scandinavian folklore, the Huldra’s supernatural nature is betrayed by her hollow back, resembling the inside of a tree, and sometimes by a tail—often that of a cow or fox.

Nelithi

Blurb:

“Already the animals starve. Soon the bonemen will follow, the Moss Folk and woodlings, the watermaids and humans. Then the charmed will fade. And all who will roam a dead world are dead things. Until they too vanish for lack of remembering. Still, Weaver, it is not too late.”

In the frost-kissed cottage where the changing seasons are spun, Erith wears the Weaver’s mantle, a title that tests her mortal, halfling magic.  As the equinox looms, her first tapestry nears completion—a breathtaking ode to spring. She journeys to the charmed isle of Innishold to release the beauty of nature’s awakening across the land.

But human hunters have defiled the enchanted forest and slaughtered winter’s white wolves. Enraged by the trespass, the Winter King seizes Erith’s tapestry and locks her within his ice-bound palace. Here, where comfort and warmth are mere glamours, she may weave only winter until every mortal village succumbs to starvation, ice, and the gray wraiths haunting the snow.

 With humanity’s fate on a perilous edge, Erith must break free of the king’s grasp and unravel a legacy of secrets. In a charmed court where illusions hold sway, allies matter, foremost among them, the Autumn Prince. Immortal and beguiling, he offers a tantalizing future she has only imagined, one she will never possess—unless she claims her extraordinary power to weave life from the brink of death.

PURCHASE LINK

Excerpt: Erith and Nelithi

The path climbed through evergreen boughs and under the limbs of leafless oaks grasping at winter’s rare blue sky. Trees gave way to a stone courtyard where exquisite ice statuary surrounded the otherwise austere towers of the palace, the place a defensible fortress more than a fairytale castle. Dark windows stared down at us, far from welcoming, and I couldn’t shake the thinly veiled dread inching up my spine.

Felix accepted my satchel from the antlered shifter and drew me aside as our entourage continued up the path. They filed through a filigreed gate standing in the woods without the support of walls. It marked the border between winter’s eternal realm and the Court of the Seasons, a white landscape that in a little more than a day would blossom into spring.

The crow squawked from atop the head of an exquisitely carved ice sculpture at the courtyard’s center. The frozen likeness of an ethereal girl graced a low pedestal, her features so finely crafted I almost expected her to turn and meet my gaze.

“Who is she?” I asked.

Felix scratched his jaw. “The girl or the crow?”

“The girl.”

“Nelithi. Winter’s angel of death. Surely, you’ve heard of her.”

A chill prickled my skin. Memories gathered behind my eyes of shawl-wrapped grandmothers whispering warnings to little faces. “Every child knows the legend of Nelithi. She was a human girl who’d lost her feet to frostbite, and useless to her family, they’d left her to perish in the snow. But the Winter King took pity on her and made her immortal. She appears to people dying in the cold and ends their suffering with a single breath.”

“A mercy.” Felix gazed up at the frozen likeness. “To spare them her torment. She may also pass by good-hearted souls who keep their promises.”

I puzzled over the fates of those compassionate oath-keepers. In letting them live, did Nelithi abandon them to a slower, more painful death? I angled my head for a peek at her gown’s ice-bangled hem. Sure enough, she had no feet. “The villagers say she kills in their homes as well. Even when the hearth is warm.”

“Only if invited in,” Felix said. “No different from any of the old spirits.”

The crow cawed and took flight. It landed before the lone gate and transformed into a black-haired, ruby-lipped beauty in a diaphanous gown, sheer as smoke, her shoulders cloaked in ebony feathers.

I stifled a squeak. “She’s not…. She’s a….”

“Oak witch.” Felix shrugged as if he’d just informed me of the existence of spoons. As the witch stepped through the gate, she fluttered her feathery lashes at him and bared a sly, sharp-toothed smile. Then she darted uphill toward the island’s crown.

Bio

Best-selling author D. Wallace Peach grew up surrounded by her father’s well-loved paperback books. Fantasy was a staple, but it was Tolkien’s The Hobbit that planted the seeds which would grow into a passion for writing.

 Peach started writing later in life when years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books. She was instantly hooked.

In addition to fantasy books, Peach’s publishing career includes participation in various anthologies featuring short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. She’s an avid supporter of the arts in her local community, organizing and publishing annual anthologies of Oregon prose, poetry, and photography.

Peach lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two owls, a horde of bats, and the occasional family of coyotes.

Links

Tale of the Seasons’ Weaver

Amazon Author Page

Myths of the Mirror Blog

D. Wallace Peach Books

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