A Binding to Set You Free & Other Creepy Tales

A chilling collection of dark, folkloric, and emotionally charged tales, where the dead rise, shadows hunger, and compassion can be as dangerous as a curse. 

4.7/5 ★ (33 ratings)   

Snow falls. The cold wind digs its teeth into your skin, and night stirs the bones of the dead. In these five haunting tales, you’ll wander through cursed forests, abandoned mansions, and the quiet places where the dead still listen. Each story blends folklore, emotion, and creeping dread, perfect for readers who crave dark fantasy with a heart.

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This is perfect for you if you enjoy

• dark fantasy tales with medieval and witchy vibes
• eerie, atmospheric short fiction that lingers
• stories where fear and love twist together
• haunted places and the restless dead
• horror that crawls under your skin

What Readers Are Saying

“A masterclass in dark, creeping fear, horror of the mind and heart.”

“This short collection cements Popa as a distinctive voice in contemporary dark fantasy.”

“The dark forests, strange deaths, and restless spirits made me feel like I was walking through a chilling dream."

“If you love horror with heart, mystery, and atmosphere, this quick read belongs on your shelf.”

“I loved this book. I hate to use a cliche, but I have to be honest - I genuinely found it hard to put down!”

“All the stories within will grip your attention and make you wish there was more.”

Dare to bind the dead?

Read the opening of A Binding to Set You Free:

“They’re afraid of you,” mutters Leira, “or of what killed you.”

Only the howl of the wind answers back, as it strains the bindings of the tent. The voices from outside are all sporadic and distant, muffled by the constant, keening note of the gale. No one else dares approach them, not even the soldiers.

All the same, the beautiful woman can do nothing but lie stiff on the table. If she can even call it a table. It’s more like a board of sad putrid planks, devoured by woodborers. Leira treads closer and stops by her head, where one lonely taper dissolves into a cairn of wax. It throws flickers of light over the pale, still face, and reveals the faint clouds of fog released by her own breathing. She touches the dead woman’s rich hazel hair, and tucks it gently away from the candle fire. So pretty, you were. What was your story, I wonder?

From the neck downwards, the body is concealed under a shroud. It flows beyond the board, hanging halfway above the sheepskins covering the ground. Another candle near the corpse’s feet burns worryingly close to the veil. They’re so careless. She passes by the small wooden stool and picks up the taper. Casting shivering lights over the thin walls of leather and fabric, she heads back along the table.

How did you die? She knows this is the crucial question. So far, she’s only seen a few old scars on the body. Whatever killed her was not violent, at least not with her. And when?

She touches the woman’s cold brow with her fingers, and brushes aside a few strands of hair resting on her closed eyelids. There isn’t the faintest trace of a foul smell. Only the scent of melting beeswax, and a bit of sweaty, damp odour. If she were not so cold, Leira wouldn’t say she is dead. And she’s seen many, many bodies, slain by many, many different things.

Even so, this woman looks almost as if sleeping. As if trapped in a dream, ready to wake up at any moment. Maybe it’s just her beauty, oddly keeping the touch of death away from her face. What were your dreams about, when you were still able to rise from them?

She lays the second candle on the board and leans over, trying to examine her closely. The skin is still smooth. So very smooth, and not yet dry. No spots, no signs of blood pooling, no sagging, no gauntness in her features. That’s very odd.

A rush of footsteps comes from outside. She startles and instinctively moves away from the bier. She clutches the edges of her winter coat, and pins it more tightly with her simple, iron brooch. Then, she blows warm air over her fingers. Tonight she chose to wear the elbow-long, fingerless gloves, because she has a feeling she might need a bit of dexterity.

The flap opens and the wind whorls through the tent, disrupting the tranquillity of the candle flames. Alshunor steps quickly inside, his black mantle and brown hair sprinkled with snowflakes. Her chest warms up, despite the cold air seeping after him.

From behind comes a short, stubby man who sways the tent flap back into place. He has thin, greying hair, curly but flattened against his scalp. The man shivers and wraps his arms around his cloaked body, as opposed to Alshunor, who throws his mantle in a corner, over their knapsacks and tool bags.

He reveals his dark leather jerkin and the sleeves of his padded winter shirt. His trousers and travelling boots are specked with mud. Hers must be as well. She didn’t even think to look. They’ve journeyed quite a bit to get here, and while the remote roads were mantled by clean snow, most of the others were dirty sludge ravaged by carts. Their horses spattered them with mud.

“Who’s the lass?” asks the stubby man.

“My companion,” says Alshunor, before she can reply herself.

“The Commander sent for one Death Binder as far as I know, and I thought you people work alone,” says Stubby. “But I guess two Death Binders are better than one. Certainly better than none, as you can see for yourselves.”

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What Awaits Beyond the Opening Pages

In a world where the dead refuse to stay buried, Leira, a young Death Binder, must confront the tormented souls of the fallen and the fears within her own heart. When she’s summoned to investigate the mysterious death of a beautiful woman, Leira uncovers a trail of murder, of lust and longing, and curses that twist love into hunger and sorrow into power. Together with Alshunor, her lover and mentor, she descends into a dark, snowy forest, to bind an undead to silence. But this never comes without a cost.

Discover the Other Tales

Night Brings the Frost

…play a game of fate.

The Scent of Lilac

…explore an abandoned mansion.

All Those Hearts

…face the dead.

The Trouble with Death

…and confront your ghosts.

Grim, lyrical, and steeped in quiet horror, this collection of dark tales grips from the first flicker of candlelight. And doesn’t let go.

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