Lanne Garrett

“Once quaking with the thunderous hoofbeats of the Wild Hunt, the ground was now littered with the broken limbs of the fallen, swept into the fray by the raging beasts. Bodies fell like autumn leaves, painting the mossy floor red. Their lifeless eyes stared up at the darkened sky, frozen in time, as yet another plea went unanswered by the goddess. They tried, in vain, to do what no other had done before, to rise up against an enemy made of shadows and hate, magic and malice.”
― Lanne Garrett, The Cost of Curses: A Cursed Magic Novel

“The gore and death blanketed the mounds, a snowfall of final moments celebrated by the pale ones with each new soul that crumpled under the weight of the Tuatha Dé Danann. The smell of blood and smoke mingled with the cries of the wounded. It was a gruesome symphony of pain and despair that echoed for miles, edged with the laughter of their enemy.”
― Lanne Garrett, The Cost of Curses: A Cursed Magic Novel

“There would be no survivors come morning. There never were. The Hunt left no hearts beating. There was no escaping the Sidhe. Not even the Fomorians, the powerful demons from below the sea, had outrun the pale ones and were driven back into the bellies of their waves and waters. But the Milesians were not demons like the Fomori. When they had come to Éire, they had a goddess blessed right to claim, and claim it they would. With spilled blood, unthinkable bargains and curses that would stain generations to come, the Milesians stood their ground.”
― Lanne Garrett, The Cost of Curses: A Cursed Magic Novel

“We locked their doors. We forced them to kneel. We stopped their games and hunts. Underestimating what that anger could do would be our ruin.”
― Lanne Garrett, The Cost of Curses: A Cursed Magic Novel