Cornwall 1786. For years the villagers of Mirecoombe have turned to their Keeper the old
and battle-scarred Lord Pelagius Hunt mediator between the worlds of men and fey for help.
But this is a time of change. Belief in the old ways in the piskies and spriggans has dimmed
kindled instead in the Reverend Cleaver’s fiery pulpit. His church stands proud above the mire
God’s name is whispered hushed loved. And now death stalks Mirecoombe on the moor. There are
corpses in the heather. There is blood in the gorse. Nancy Bligh is determined to do what Pel
will not: maintain the balance between the fey and the human world be the Keeper that he
refuses to be. Blessed with natural sight friend to spriggans piskies and human locals of
Mirecoombe Nancy has power that Pel never had and never lets her use. But as Mirecoombe falls
into darkness perhaps her time has come. A poignant and lyrical examination of faith love
and grief Gorse asks what do we choose to believe and how does that shape who we are?
