Guest post by Ofelia Gränd

Guest post by Ofelia Gränd

Guest post by Ofelia Gränd

I’m here today because I wrote a story, a Halloween story … sort of. The thing is, I’m Swedish, and we don’t celebrate Halloween. I’ve never been to a Halloween party in my entire life, and I have no Halloween decorations apart from one tiny pumpkin lantern. So why on earth would I write a Halloween story?

What we celebrate here is All Saints’ Day. Though it’s not saints we’re remembering on that day, it’s family members. It’s nothing special — no one is dressing up, no one is giving out candy, but if you’re ever in Sweden on October 31st, visit a graveyard. There are candles everywhere.

As a child, I thought it incredibly boring to walk around and find the graves of dead relatives I’d never met or couldn’t remember so Mum could light candles. Now, I make sure to walk by the church every October 31st.

This has very little to do with my story, and yet it’s related. Many of the holidays we see at the end of October or the first days of November are related to death — the death of harvest season or the remembrance of the dead. It can be All Hollow’s Eve, Samhain, Día de los Muertos, All Saints’ Eve, or something else. In the dark of October, the spirits are near, and they are in Soul Eater too.

Thaddeus Ezax is a wizard, a mage to be exact, but a lousy one. He’s never been able to do the spells he’s supposed to master, has never accomplished anything that has impressed the wizarding world. He is a detective working in Rockshade’s Paranormal Investigations Department, it’s the end of October and a case has him going to the black market to ask some questions.

As a mage, he has no connection to the spirits of the dead, and yet his entire being buzzes when he touches a skull. The seller at the black market claim it’s a werewolf skull. Against his better judgement, Thaddeus steals it. When he accidentally releases the spirit trapped in it, he realises nothing he believed about himself is true.

Sorcerers have connections with ghosts, not mages, and yet Thaddeus finds himself in possession of a ghost werewolf. Or perhaps it’s the werewolf who has possession of him.


Sandulf Hunter howled. Indescribable pain had stolen his mind and a terrible realization of no longer being sane haunted his heart. Fire licked at every part of the body he no longer had. Fear mixed with hope of this being the end made him scream.

Little by little, a world formed around him. He didn’t know how long he’d been trapped in the darkness, fighting to get out, but now he could see.

It was night, and there were candles …

Memories threatened to drown him, and he snarled. Standing, he shifted into his human form. The wizard had forced him into his wolf form and had kept him there no matter how much he’d struggled to shift back.

A whimper had him whirling around. There, by one of the candles, was a man. He had his back to Sandy, swaying where he stood. Sandy didn’t recognize him, but it didn’t matter. All wizards needed to die.

His teeth grew, claws formed at his fingertips, and he relished having the power to change at will again. He leaped, ready to snap the man’s slender neck.

Right as he was about to make contact, the man turned. His chestnut hair falling into his eyes, his face contorted in pain.

Sandy didn’t care. He opened his mouth to tear out the man’s larynx and placed his clawed hands on his shoulders, only to fall through. The impact never came, and one confusing second later, he was sinking his teeth into thin air.

The man fell to his knees, screaming.

Had he bitten him? There was no taste of blood. He pulled in a breath, trying to scent blood — there was no blood, no fresh blood at least. Those candles smelled disgusting.

He scented the man again — divine. No!

The world spun around him. Clouds twirled on the night sky. His blood was on fire, but not in a painful way anymore. Instead, he was pulsating with need. He needed the wizard; the wizard was his.

But all wizards must die.

It didn’t matter what he smelled like. It didn’t matter who he was. Sandy pulled in another breath and groaned. His. The murderous little wizard was his.


Detective Thaddeus Ezax is in over his head. He’s the only wizard in Rockshade’s Paranormal Investigations Department, and it was his name that got him the job. The Ezaxs are known as some of the most powerful wizards in the world, but Thaddeus isn’t your average Ezaxs. Is it any wonder his family shuns him?

When a kidnapping case is dropped into his lap, Thaddeus must act fast. While most five-year-olds can cast a location spell, Thaddeus can’t and is forced to get creative. When he finds himself in possession of a black market werewolf skull with a ghost trapped inside, accidentally releases the spirit, and somehow forms a connection with it, things get even crazier.

Sandulf Hunter doesn’t remember dying, but he remembers the last thing he saw before everything went black — a wizard. All wizards must die! The only problem is, the wizard standing next to him smells too damned good, so good Sandy thinks he might have to keep him.

And since wherever Thaddeus goes, Sandulf finds himself yanked along, he might not have a choice in the matter anyway.


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