The Wattys Boot Camp Mentorship Program is back for 2023! Have you written a story that you plan to submit to the Wattys? If the answer is yes, you've come to the right place. This program helps you prepare your submission to make it the best it can...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Logline
Marty, a lonely barista who craves normalcy, unwillingly becomes the apprentice of the two greatest sorcerers of all time: Merlin and Morgana, in order to fulfill an ancient prophecy and return Albion to its former glory.
Blurb
Marty Wyllt is neither looking for an adventure nor does he have any interest in destinies, especially since he is super busy co-running a café and craving 'normal' life above all.
Unfortunately, fate has other plans.
It is now up to Marty to learn the tricks of the trade and save Albion before things get too bad to fix.
Of course, he is not alone. He has Merlin and Morgana, two of the most powerful sorcerers to ever exist (who are now conveniently residing in and as his coffee table and don't take no for an answer), to guide him.
It is all pretty simple really, all he has to do is start believing in magic again and become the masters' apprentice, whether he likes it or not.
A mighty storm raged outside, drowning the screams that left Queen Igraine's chamber. The labor was proving difficult for the soon-to-be first-time mother. Taliesen, the royal healer, barked instructions to the midwife to make the woman as comfortable as possible. The gentle-looking, wrinkly man with an unkempt mane of graying hair was one of the reigning King, Uther Pendragon's two most trusted advisors, and friends.
"Your Majesty, please, I implore you to reconsider." Taliesen approached the woman drenched in sweat. Her usually bright golden tresses were stuck to her forehead and lined her oval face. "I can't save you both. Just say the word, and I can end your misery. You are young; I am sure Balinor will be able to find another way to beget Camelot a Prince. An heir-"
"-with eyes as blue as the ocean and hair as golden as the rising sun." The pale-looking woman finished between shallow breaths. Her brows creased.
The royal healer could tell the immense pain the woman was going through by how her hands shivered, clutching the quilt covering her modesty.
"Child..." Taliesen's shoulders slumped, "I am aware that I am probably fighting a losing battle here but trust me, Uther needs you, and so does Camelot."
"No, Sir Taliesen," the blue-eyed woman held out her frail, trembling hands that the latter accepted and knelt on the gray floor, "everyone, including my husband, needs this child to be born. He needs to be born so Camelot can prosper."
"A child who will have to grow up without his mother, do you truly think it wise, Your Majesty?"
"Uther can remarry." Igraine turned her head away; she spoke more to herself than to the man who knew that prophecy aside, Uther Pentagon needed his wife.
