Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email required Address never made public. RoughBandit joke lol haha funny hilarious. Reader Witch Read, review, repeat. Books and book related topics. What's Inside a Madman's Hat? The Naptime Author Anne Clare explores the world of writing, one stolen minute at a time. Journeyman's Legacy Letters from Outpost Platform Number 4 Becky Ross Michael: Spine Cracker Love your books, break their spines.
The mystery behind who Ellenessia is and how she is going to affect Candale in the long run has me itching to get my hands on the second book in this promising fantasy series. Find this review at storywings. Dec 29, Steven rated it really liked it. Prince Candale is ill. He has been deathly ill for some time and the fear is that he will soon die.
Candale himself is barely able to comprehend anything around him. Those who come to see him are whispered phantoms of people he thinks he knows. Can anyone save him? Other things, deadly things. There is a shadow over the past that is now reaching into the present that whispers of dark visions and fallen kingdoms. Prophets have foretold the coming of the Shadow Seer but their warnings have been mostly ignored and now only a small collection of scholars know the portents of these dark oracle.
Yet Sorron must do what he must do or Candale will die. So, the witch Mayrila is brought to the castle to save the young prince and in doing so the fulfilment of long forgotten prophecies ignite into a blaze that will quickly spread through the whole kingdom.
The Shadow Seer has awakened!
Fran Jacobs has written a spell-binding fantasy that plunges the reader into a world of dark secrets and strange visions. Her characters are both well defined and meaningful. Get this e-book, download it, print it out and settle in for a great read. Sep 04, Derek White rated it it was amazing. The story opens with Candale, nearly eighteen and a Royal Prince of the realm desperately ill, and having proved impossible to be cured by healers.
You soon learn that his mother is not the Queen, but Mayrila, a witch his grandfather the King knew and paid. Myrila is called to the palace and, for more payment, cures Candale and we are observers as he learns of the legend that he may be the Shadow Seer. This is ridiculed by his parents but from then on he devotes every waking hour to looking into it, acquires friends and travelling companions to help him, a female bodyguard, Trellany, and a travelling bard Teveriel. Neither believes Candale but both are very loyal to him and are both great helps. However, whilst there is no cliff hanger to leave you frustrated it is obvious that there is much more to come and I, for one, look forward to reading about the further adventures of Candale and his friends.
Review has been done in conjunction with Nerd Girl Official. For more information regarding our reviews please visit our Fansite: Nov 18, Joanne Hall rated it really liked it. The book has had a long gestation, but was finally published by Writers Exchange in Summer , and has been worth the wait. Candale, Prince of Carnia, is a sickly boy, plagued by fits.
Far from being a hero, when the reader first meets him he is on his deathbed, and is only saved by the magical intervention of the witch, Mayrila. But she has revived him for her own purposes, believing that he is the Shadow Seer, the long-heralded prophet for a demon, who will foresee the end of the world. This twisting of long-established tropes puts a refreshing spin on the genre, and Candale is an endearing character, likeable and convincingly human. This is an assured, confident debut, and I hope the ongoing story lives up to the promise of the first volume.
Aug 23, Elle rated it really liked it. The book is a terrific introduction to her elaborate fantasy world of Carnia and a long forgotten prophesy that now affects the unlikely hero, Prince Candale. At the beginning of the novel, Candale lies on his death bed and only the solitary and not well loved witch Mayrila can save him.
Her presence in the castle stirs up all sorts for intrigues and plots that Candale must wade through and decipher as he recovers and comes to terms with what Mayrila claims to be the truth, that he is the long prophesized Shadow Seer. Jan 21, Franz McLaren rated it it was amazing. Most first fantasy novels are fairly predictable. The protagonist is either a good guy or a rogue forced into playing the good guy.
This novel is a pleasant surprise. Candale is a bit of a spoiled brat with unpredictable, and usually self-centered, moods that seem to work against him most of the time. This dubious hero is forced by prophesy into a role he is ill-equipped to serve.
Ellenessia's Curse Book 1: The Shadow Seer
I found myself fascinated by his plight, his need for the support he constantly rejects, and his drive to find out w Most first fantasy novels are fairly predictable. I found myself fascinated by his plight, his need for the support he constantly rejects, and his drive to find out what his destiny has forced him to face. This is a great start to a multi-volume tale. I look forward to seeing how the author resolves the challenges set before this reluctant hero. Nov 19, Rosa rated it it was amazing.
I just finished the Shadow Seer, and I think it is a great book! It's a new story, a different main character there aren't that many who can't fend for themselves at all , and it got me addicted ; Being the author's first book it has some flaws in the way characters adress each other, particularly within Candale's family; otherwise it's a consistent, engaging plot, and you quickly get over the flaws ; Anxiously waiting for the next one!
Jessica rated it liked it Dec 27, Sagajo rated it really liked it Apr 09, Jeff Chapman rated it liked it Aug 05, Meghan rated it it was amazing Jun 02, I can tell them not to argue about me. What are they saying? Father insists that you're not going to die, that you're just weak and she's overreacting. Then Mother mentions this woman, Mayrila, and Father gets really angry at her and the argument usually ends with one of them storming off and slamming the door Sometimes Father will accuse Mother of not making a big enough effort with the evening meal, with the occasional banquet, or the plans for the Summer Dance.
And she will then accuse him of being a 'cold and callous bastard', and demand to know how she can possibly make an effort when you're ill and that they should cancel the damn dance anyway. Then they go on arguing about you and about this Mayrila woman. They're so worried about you and I don't think Mother can sleep. She cries all the time. It just makes things hard for them. The relaxing sound of the birds was starting to become a loud intrusion in my ears, the peacocks crowing like a screech for the dying. I longed for some peace and quiet. Darkness was swelling around me. I needed to sleep.
I closed my eyes. She finds it easier. Sleep well and have good dreams. And maybe when you feel better, because I know that you will, you'll come swimming with me. It really isn't any fun without you splashing me and pulling on my legs. I struggled to grin at her, though I didn't open my eyes.
They fell silent for a while to let me sleep. I woke up as the world suddenly moved around me. I gasped, opened my eyes and found myself staring up at the bearded countenance of Davn, one of my father's men. He had lifted me up into his arms and I could hear my sister berating him behind his back. Please bring in the blankets. Don't leave them out here to get wet.
Davn looked down at me. His brown eyes were cold, hard, almost black. He looked weary of me, as though being sent outside to fetch me was more effort than he could be bothered with. I got the feeling that he wished that I would just die to make things easier for him, and for everyone else. I really want to stay outside.
The prince is fine. We are looking after him. However, Prince Gerian doesn't consider it 'looking after' and, as I take my orders from him, I'm taking Prince Candale back inside and putting him to bed. I started to struggle in his grip, wriggling about, trying to strike his shoulders, demanding that he just put me down, but my blows can't have felt like anything more than a snowflake falling on a snowman, and he just ignored me.
I was painfully aware of the looks passing servants and courtiers were giving me as I was carried back to my chambers in my nightgown and robe, begging to be taken back outside. They were looks of pity and I had never been looked at like that before. I was fine; it felt good to be outside, in the fresh air. My room smells of sickness, a-and it's so hot in there.
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You should have stayed in your room. No one should have to see it, yet you let yourself be taken outside and flaunt it to the entire Court. You're supposed to be Prince Gerian's heir, a prince, second in line to the throne, and you should be acting like it. You should keep yourself out of sight so that no one has to see how weak and pathetic you are now, like a child. No, you're worse than a child because at least most children can walk, feed and bathe themselves.
You're weak and pathetic like an old, old man. I just goggled at him. In the seventeen years that I had known him, Davn had never once treated me with any respect.
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Oh, in public, in front of my parents, he might bow and use my title, but there had always been a mocking glint in his eyes. And in private he would be dismissive of me, ignoring me as if I was nothing more than a servant boy, making his dislike of me all too clear by his actions. I had no idea what I had done to make him hate me but I'd always tried not to let him bother me. And usually that was easy enough to do, but not this time. This was very different, because he had never spoken to me like this before.
Before I had fallen ill, I had, for the most part, been treated how a prince should be treated, with respect, dignity and awe. As a sick prince I had become a patient, someone to scold for not taking his medicine, someone to prod and poke, to strip and wash, without any regard for my embarrassment, someone who wasn't even worth talking to, as most of my healers spoke about me over my head as though I wasn't there. Now it seemed I was less than that. Now I was nothing, a no one, and Davn felt he could talk to me however he wished.
Davn walked away from me and picked up my silver framed hand-mirror from the top of my dressing table. He returned and held it up in front of me. See why they argue so much and why you have to stay in your room, out of the way, so no one has to see what you look like now. I reached out to take the mirror from him, struggling to curl my fingers around it. I couldn't hold up the heavy weight of the silver frame so, with a muttered oath, Davn took it from me and moved it closer to my face. I blinked and then I found myself staring at a face I barely recognised.
When I had been well, my dark hair had been thick and inky, with loose curls, like my mother's, and it had hung down to brush my shoulders and frame my face. My eyes, large and violet, had been bright, and with my pointed chin, my face had been somewhat feline in appearance. I had been told that I was rather attractive, although I had never had much reason to think about the way that I looked at all. But now the changes were so drastic I barely recognised myself.
My hair was limp and dull with grease, it even felt thinner as it rested against my head and it no longer curled so wildly around my face, just stuck there. There were shadows around my bloodshot eyes, and they appeared dark and empty, not violet anymore, just a flat, muddy colour. My lips were white, almost colourless, and my cheeks were sunken, showing up my high cheekbones even more drastically. My pale skin, which used to burn easily in the summer if I went out and about for too long uncovered, was now a sickly unhealthy colour, almost yellow in hue.
There was a thin, patchy layer of youthful beard on my face, which was neither full nor healthy. I looked like the living skeleton that Aylara had called me. I had thought she was just teasing me but now I knew that she hadn't been. I looked as though I was already dead. I touched my face gently with my fingers, feeling the bones, the sunken cheeks, and then I saw what my illness had done to my hands. I had seen them before, of course, seen my whole body when the healers washed me, only I hadn't stopped to think anything of it.
Now that Davn had drawn my attention to it, I noticed them. My hands were thin, the skin was nearly translucent and I could see the bones and the tendons beneath.
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They looked delicate, as though the skin was just wispy yellow paper wrapped around my fragile skeleton. I had always been slim, but now I was wasted. Tears started to run down my face. They wish that they had someone stronger to call their own, not a boy prone to fits, not a boy who is now wasting away, not a boy who just left his room and showed the whole castle how sick and wasted he really is! They love you, but only because they have to.
I longed to yell at him, to tell him that this wasn't true, but I couldn't. Fear had gripped me. What if this was true? What if this was the way that my own father was talking about me behind my back? And my grandfather, the man who had taught me to ride, who had given me my first horse, who came to see me as often as he could while I lay sick, and secretly brought me sweet cakes and biscuits from the kitchen. What if he secretly resented me, too, and spoke about me, like that, to others? I couldn't stand that. They want you to die and it would be easier on everyone if you did, instead of dragging it out like this.
Again I stared at him, unable to believe that he was saying things like this to me, but then it hit me. Davn saw this as our last meeting, the one before I died, and because of that he felt that he had nothing to lose by speaking freely to me. But I was damned if I was going to lie back and let him. I struggled upright and Davn stood there, with his arms folded across his chest, watching me. He was almost amused by my struggles, by my gasps of pain and the sweat that beaded my forehead, ran down my face, and started to soak my nightshirt.
The Shadow Seer (Ellenessia's Curse Book 1) by Fran Jacobs
Sitting upright was costing me more strength than anything should, but I was determined. And finally, when I was upright, I lifted my eyes to meet his. I am a prince. I am Sorron's grandson and you will respect me, or I will have you flogged. Davn just stared at me and for a moment I feared that he wouldn't do as I'd asked and I knew I wouldn't be able to force him. Even when I had been well, I hadn't had the strength, physically or mentally, to make this man do anything that I asked, and I was far from well now. But he took the mirror from me, his eyes spitting with anger and there was a hard line to his shoulders that was his rage barely held in check.
I feared that, perhaps, if I were well, he might have actually hit me. Davn turned away, set my mirror down onto the table with over-exaggerated care and then he left my rooms. The bedroom door slammed shut behind him and, with a gasp, I collapsed back against the pillows and started to cry. I wept for a really long time. My body shook with sobs beyond my control, and the pain I felt, deep inside my stomach, seemed endless, a giant hole that threatened to swallow me.
I was going to die. I had feared it, and thought it, and considered it, as I lay in my room at night, unable to sleep. I had believed it and, yet, it hadn't seemed real to me, but now that I had seen my face in the mirror, seen the ravages that my illness had done to me, I knew I was going to die. I was going to wither away to nothing, if I could, indeed, wither away anymore.
I was going to slowly rot, lying in this red-draped bed, with the smell of my own illness and rotting flesh in my nose.