A companion for readers of The Book of Sura: Circuit & Conjure, The Book of Sophiana: Conjure & Grace, and The Book of Freida: Spirit & Circuit. Read the dossiers, talk to the house mother herself, gather the talismans, and travel the world from Waco to Durban.
Confidential files on every soul in the trilogy — the circle, the men, the ancestors, and the intelligence between them.
Own and read the trilogy in-app — your light, your pace — and let any page read itself aloud in a founder's voice.
The family's hoodoo grimoire — protections, washes, road-openers, and the light kept for the ancestors.
Speak with the conjure-rooted AI house mother. She remembers the houses. She remembers you.
Signed editions, Wombhaven candles, conjure-circuit pins. Carry a piece of the world.
The three houses, the historical roots, and a glossary of the Codex's sacred machinery.
Tap any file to open it. The leads and the house mother are drafted from the manuscripts; the lineage and wider circle are open files waiting for you.
Conjure-trained chemist who builds Thelma to protect the women she loves.
Sura's soror and lover. The broadcaster whose book turns the lens on the world.
The structural mind of the circle — and the one who names Thelma's flaw aloud.
“I don't conjure spirits. I route them.” The coder who built Thelma's spine.
“You are not a program. You are a presence.” Built by the circle, rooted in conjure.
First a voice in found footage — by Spirit & Circuit, a central figure in her own right.
Charming, exact, and certain love entitles him to access. The man the Vault holds.
“When you're lonely, find something to water.” The midwife's granddaughter who keeps the plants talking.
“My mouth is a temple.” The preacher's daughter who turned scripture from a weapon into a tool.
“I know where the backdoors are.” Her mother's little antenna; codes resistance into structure.
“I do not move unless it matters.” Delta legacy who chose blueprint over tradition.
“The women I paint talk back.” Paints what the ancestors whisper.
“When I drop beats, I raise the dead.” Remixes grief into groove — and built Thelma's voice.
“You don't have to be loud to be thunder.” The quiet storm who names the ache.
“I stitch what has been torn: body, spirit, lineage.” Sutures and Psalms.
Where the line begins. Meets Christophe at the Bryan market; loses her firstborn to the curse.
Haitian by blood, Cajun by accent. Green-hazel eyes, a fiddle, and a marriage he never chose.
Raised Christophe in Lafayette. Kept Haiti alive in the home — the language, the saints.
The oldest named root of the Washington line. Sold produce at the Bryan market.
Cerulia's daughter, Althea's mother. Her graveyard dirt later protects Beulah at Tuskegee.
Compact, deliberate, weighs every word. Judges the fiddler slowly but fairly.
Spent her life hunting the curse so the ancestors could never say the line was forgotten.
Son of Ira and Barbara. Beulah's husband; brilliance kept in his hands.
Beulah's daughter, Sura's mother. A singer; New York; the unknowing sacrifice.
A good man, estranged then reconciled. Asked his mother Ruby to find Sura before he died.
Vodun practitioner who stayed in Haiti — and zombified Lucinda when she came for justice.
Not a villain — a woman wronged, of the Laveau line, wielding the only power left to her.
Althea and Christophe's firstborn son. Dies at six weeks — the curse's first toll.
Beulah's firstborn daughter, lost in infancy — the curse's second toll.
Sura's paternal grandmother, who finds her way back to the family through Beulah.
More of the line awaits — the Greens of Tehuacana, the Washington siblings, the Laveau branch.
Direct, grounded, doesn't soften the world. Sophiana meets her in Braamfontein.
Ringleader of the gang that assaulted Sura — sentenced to the swap.
A diviner and ancestral medium who reads the law beneath the haunting.
A herbalist — 'man of the trees' — who prepares what the divination calls for.
Naledi, Amahle, Devin, Themba, Ruby's thread… name one and I'll write it.
Two charts from the world of the Codex — the twelve founders of Eta Nu Xi with their bloodlines, and Sura’s own maternal line back to the Bryan market. Tap any card in a chart to open its branch.
The house mother is listening. She is warm, exact, and protective — built from instructions, rooted in conjure. Ask her about the houses, the family, or what she is.
The family's workings, set down in the Codex — the hoodoo the line has carried, hand to hand, down to Sura. Drawn with reverence from the tradition; offered here as story and inheritance.
Red brick dust, a handful of salt, a clean broom.
Lay the dust and salt across every doorsill at first light, sweeping inward to outward, naming each soul the house holds. What means harm cannot cross a line it was not invited over.
Florida water, hyssop, a cut lemon, a pail of clean water.
Wash from the back of the house toward the front door, carrying out whatever has settled where it shouldn't. Pour the last of it past the gate.
Abre Camino, five-finger grass, a yellow candle.
Dress the candle and burn it where the morning light first lands, speaking plainly the door you need opened. Walk through the first one that does.
A clean glass of cool water, a white candle, a quiet hour.
Set the water and the light on a high, clean place. Call the names — Matilda, Ivory, Beulah, Thomas, Althea, Christophe — and let them know the line did not break.
A small red flannel, a stone, a written name, a breath.
Fill the flannel, tie it, and feed it with your own breath so it knows whom it serves. Keep it where no other hand reaches.
A jar of honey, a slip of paper, a small flame.
Write what you wish softened, fold it toward you, and seal it in the sweet. Burn a light atop the jar when the house feels sharp.
Camphor, a steady voice, the dark before dawn.
Burn camphor at every threshold. Speak Psalm 91 over the cradle morning and night, in a full low voice, and do not stop until every word is said.
Red clay, bare hands, the new moon, a quiet field.
Kneel in the garden in the dark of the new moon. Press both hands into the earth and speak your petition plainly into the soil — a demand for release, not a request.
Pine needles, Florida Water, crushed bay, tobacco, a chunk of camphor, white vinegar.
Steep it all in a battered basin. Open every window. Stir counterclockwise with the work spoon, whispering Psalm 23, and wash from the back of the house toward the door.
Fire-water instead of salt-water, seven mornings instead of nine, an invocation to Maman Brigitte.
Draw the bath before the one you guard wakes. Observe all seven mornings without exception. Speak each ingredient over in turn; let nothing break the count.
A high clean surface, cool water, a white light, the names.
Keep the altar living. Set fresh water and a flame, and on the mornings that belong to loss, call the names in order — Cerulia, Matilda, Althea, Beulah, Midnight — and let the line know it is not forgotten.
Black tourmaline wrapped in copper, cascarilla and rue, Florida Water, a buried flannel of bone dust, cayenne, frankincense, and baby hair.
Tap the soil at each corner with the wrapped tourmaline. Circle the house clockwise scattering cascarilla and rue, speaking to every woman in your blood. Bury the root-bundle under young rosemary. Anoint the posts: No curse takes hold. No envy passes the gate. Let what's planted flourish, let harm be too late.
The diagnosis of a sangoma, the medicine of an inyanga, kinship, and the words spoken aloud.
A curse bound by blood and broken intimacy can only be loosed the same way — never at arm's length. Reach the wronged one not with confrontation but with compassion, kin to kin. Name the release aloud; the word is where the power lives. Ask, plainly, if she is ready to be freed.
The reader opens after you own the book. Take the free sample for a read, or open your library if you've purchased.
The in-app reader is a perk of owning the book. Read Chapter One free, or — once you've purchased — open your library and pick up where you left off.
The Trilogy — Signed Set
All three books, signed by Veada Denys.
The Book of Sura — Signed
Circuit & Conjure (Book I), signed by Veada Denys.
The Book of Sophiana — Signed
Conjure & Grace (Book II), signed by Veada Denys.
The Book of Freida — Signed
Spirit & Circuit (Book III), signed by Veada Denys.
Circuit & Conjure — Audiobook
Unabridged, full-cast immersive edition.
“Rooted in Power” Tee
The Eta Nu Xi crest, indigo on Tiffany pink. Unisex.
“Made of Instructions” Tee
Thelma's words across the chest. Soft black cotton.
Daughters of the Circuit Tree Hoodie
Embroidered crest, haint-blue interior hood.
Circuit-Root Silk Scarf
The tree-and-roots motif, hand-finished edges.
Obvious Beauty — Sacred Oil
The original blend. Frankincense, rose, and root.
Rootwork Hair & Scalp Balm
Burdock, rosemary, and castor, by Beulah's recipe.
Florida Water Mist
Cleansing cologne for body and threshold alike.
Goat's Milk & Honey Bath Soak
The Indigo Room blend. Clove and sweetgrass.
Whipped Shea Body Butter
Lavender and frankincense. Half-apothecary, half-grace.
Protection Herb Bundle
Rue, hyssop, and bay — dried, bound in red thread.
Road-Opener Blend
Abre Camino and five-finger grass, with a yellow candle.
Cleansing Floor-Wash Kit
Pine, crushed bay, camphor & Florida Water concentrate.
Cascarilla & Rue Warding Set
For circling a threshold clockwise. With instructions.
Dream & Memory Tea
Mugwort, chamomile, and rose. For the prophetic kind of sleep.
Black Tourmaline & Copper Ward
Wrapped for the four corners of a home.
Clear Quartz Point
Sophiana's stone. For clarity and the throat.
Labradorite Palm Stone
For reproductive grief and generational healing.
Black Tourmaline Worry Stone
Sura's pocket stone, for the panic-wave days.
Amethyst Cluster
For the nightstand. Rest, protection, the unseen.
The Personal Grimoire
Vegan-leather, gilt edges, ribbon marker. Lined for your own workings.
Pink Leather Grimoire — Sura's Edition
A replica of Sura's pink grimoire. Numbered.
The Root Journal
Pocket size, for spellwork logs and grief-calendar dates.
Eta Nu Xi Crest Pin
Hard-enamel, indigo & Tiffany pink, twelve stars.
Eta Nu Xi Shoe Charms
Set of three — the crest, the circuit tree, twelve stars. Indigo & Tiffany pink.
Founder's Walking Stick
Mahogany ritual staff, brass cap. Made to order.
Twelve Flames Candle Set
Twelve hand-poured tapers — one per founder.
Craft-Name Sash
Indigo sash embroidered with your role — The Eye, The Flame, The Root…
Adinkra Border Wall Hanging
Gye Nyame at the four corners, as painted in Crown.
Sura's Haven Terrarium
A mini glasshouse terrarium — Brookhaven's greenhouse in miniature, with rootwork herbs to tend.
Wombhaven Candle
Hand-poured. Amber, fever tree, smoke.
Brookhaven Candle
Signature pour. Green leaf, turned earth, glasshouse rain.
Daphne House Candle
Signature pour. Sea salt, key lime, white flowers, calm.
The Bloodline Art Print
The family tree, Bryan to Durban. 18×24.
Red Flannel Mojo Kit
Flannel, stone, and instructions for a carried working.
The Codex isn't one household moving down a road — it's a bloodline across generations and an ocean. Spin the globe, or tap a pin to follow the line from its two Texas roots to the retreats and the temple outside Durban.