The Godskin Codex (A Mage of the 13th Legion Novella) by Michael Gilbert
In a world where gods can be flayed and their skin stitched into grimoires, the 13th Legion was the empire’s most feared weapon until they were erased from history. Only one survivor remains: Kaelris Vaunt, a battlemage bound to a living tome of divine flesh, its pages inked in the screams of fallen deities.
When forgotten horrors claw their way back from the void, Kaelris must reunite the Legion’s shattered remnants:
- A half-mad war priest who bleeds plagues
- A surgeon-saint who rebuilds corpses into abominations
- The Black Regalia, sentient armor forged from a god’s bones
But resurrection demands bloody tribute. Every spell burns memories, every ritual claims flesh, and the grimoire whispers a terrible truth: The Legion wasn’t destroyed for their crimes—they were buried to keep what they worshiped, contained.
Now, as Kaelris leads her damned brothers-in-arms toward a final, apocalyptic battle, she must choose: Unleash the 13th’s full power and drown the world in divine blood. Or destroy them forever even if it means erasing herself from existence.
Buy Here
Skinchant by Michael Gilbert
The battlefield was not a graveyard. Graveyards are orderly. They have markers, rituals, and the decency to let the dead lie still. This place was a butcher’s hymn. Corpses stacked like firewood. Mages melted into their armor, their final spells still crackling in their teeth. The air stank of iron and lightning, the aftermath of a war that had eaten its tail.
And in the center of it all, the last sorcerer of the Third Legion knelt, his skin a living scripture. Vaele saw him from the wreckage of a war-mage’s pyre, her own body a map of burns and half-remembered curses. The sorcerer’s hands were buried wrist-deep in the mud, his lips moving in a chant that made the earth shudder. His skin was a latticework of runes, each one weeping black fluid.
Then a sound like a thousand needles tearing through silk. The sorcerer’s tattoos peeled from his flesh. Not sloughing off. Not rotting. Crawling. The runes twisted like serpents, slithering free of muscle and tendon, folding into the earth as if the ground itself were a mouth.
The sorcerer collapsed, his body suddenly bare, his face frozen in something between agony and ecstasy. By dawn, the battlefield was empty. No bodies. No spells. Just Vaele, her chest burning with a scar she didn’t remember earning, and the creeping certainty that something had been awakened. Something beneath her skin.
Buy Here
Book Title Here
Write your book synopsis here. Summarize the story or content in paragraphs. Use
lists if needed for character highlights or features.
Buy Here