Burned out by a life she’s supposed to be grateful for, Iris retreats to a snowbound cabin to finish a novella she never believed in. She tells herself the isolation will help—that the hollow ache inside her will quiet if she can just finish this story.

Snow piles high. Days blur together. Iris loses track of time, of meals, of herself. And when the nights grow too long to endure alone, a presence finds her—patient, kind, always near. She believes it to be a kindness sent to help her survive.

But the forest is not empty.

The women of the woods watch. They remember things Iris was never taught—of her bloodline and bargains, of debts sworn by forces older than time itself. The presence beside her knows more than she wants to believe. Other forces begin to stir the longer she stays—colder, achingly familiar—and Iris learns a bitter truth. She is not ordinary—she is destined to matter—and she’s wanted by more than one immortal hand.

But endings are patient things. And Death will come for what he wants.

A dark, intimate reimagining of the Persephone myth, The Kept Pomegranates is a haunting story of devotion and desire, and of what it costs to belong to forces older than time itself.