Anne Ribeiro

No, this is no longer a story of princes and princesses, from ordinary fairy tales. This is actually my life. In it there are no ornaments, no glitter, no crown. Crown? I want distance from her!

AnonimamenteNew Author

Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again. Helena is in no hurry, nor is she afraid, and she does not let herself be swayed by pretty words. But every rose has its thorn. When two such different presences cross her path, she will discover that it is not possible to keep everything under control at all times. One calms, the other sets ablaze. One is shelter, the other is storm. For even the gentlest calm holds a flame, and within the storm itself there is already a harbinger of tranquility - each heart carries within itself both the flame and the breeze that can extinguish it. Be careful not to lose yourself. The labyrinth is yours, and only you will find the way out.

Lari Nunes

Some memories don't need a name to become impossible to forget. One night. Two strangers. No promises. Beatrice Cross never imagined she would run into the man who, for a few hours, made the world disappear. With no names or expectations, that night should have stayed in the past. Until she recognizes him. Ethan Harrington is everything she should avoid: arrogant, impeccable, and dangerously capable of awakening feelings she spent a year trying to forget. Now, however, there is an obstacle between them: Mark Sterling. The man Beatrice chose. The best friend Ethan never thought he would have to lie to. Between inevitable encounters, lingering glances, and a tension impossible to ignore, the attraction threatens to cross every boundary. Beatrice knows what she could lose. Ethan knows the weight of loyalty. And Mark trusts them both without imagining that the danger is closer than he could ever suspect. Because some choices don't just destroy relationships. They destroy everything you tried to protect. And sometimes, the cruelest lie is pretending nothing happened.

Moonday

Nicolas has always been a difficult child to keep up with. At five years old, he has energy to spare, an appetite that seems endless, and a collection of questions that his mother doesn't always know how to answer. Lately, however, some things have begun to worry Jaqueline. Her son complains of pains that no one can explain, spends restless nights, and displays behaviors that are increasingly difficult to understand. Between appointments, tests, and medical recommendations, she tries to find an explanation. When an incident in a class leaves another child seriously injured, Jaqueline begins to fear that she is missing something important. She just doesn't imagine how right she is.

ANNA VESPER

Clara dá aulas de português para estrangeiros e faz magia desde pequena. Joana só sabe da primeira parte. Até aparecer para um café dizendo que visitou a escola onde a amiga trabalha, numa cidade que não aparece no mapa. A primeira pista está num material didático: alguém está ensinando pessoas comuns a encontrar lugares mágicos sem explicar o que vão descobrir. Os percursos levam a uma biblioteca fechada, documentos alterados e moradores que não querem ver suas casas transformadas em cenário de exercício. Com a confiança da amiga abalada, Clara precisa descobrir quem está distribuindo aquelas instruções e por quê. E explicar há quanto tempo vinha deixando Joana do lado de fora.

worrel

A photography student opens a metal box forgotten at the back of his grandfather's closet. Inside: old negatives, notebooks his grandfather never let anyone read, a sheet music dedicated to someone no one in the family knows, and a little red beanie that, after thirteen years stored away, is still warm. The grandfather can no longer travel. The answers stayed in the North, in a village that may not even exist anymore. So the grandson goes in his place, in the middle of the Círio de Nazaré, with a camera, a best friend who refuses to stay home, and the feeling that some photos hold more than they show. Twelve photos. Eleven empty places. And what was left out of the frame.