CHAPTER 1
Makaela’s heartbeat hiccupped as the sharp bolt of purple magic nicked her shoulder.
Before she knew it, her arm was hanging at her side like a wet noodle. The feeling had all but vanished, replaced by a dull sensation that reminded her of TV static. Blowing a stray black curl out her face, she glared at her cousin—who was standing on the other side of the elevated dueling platform. “That was a mistake.”
Remy yelped, inching backward as he flashed her a nervous smile. His hands trembled. “Sorry?”
He wasn’t sorry.
But he would be.
She advanced, throwing a volley of knockback spells in his direction. Her fingers performed the sequences with speed she didn’t know she possessed. Remy yelped, the golden tattoo in his palm pulsing as he conjured up a shimmering golden shield. Makaela’s attacks bounced off. A scowl surfaced on her lips.
Her arm remained at her side, dangling uselessly. Though, the feeling returned with every passing second. With Remy on the backfoot, it was time to end this.
After forming the sequence for another stunning spell, a violet stream of light shot from her palm and hurtled toward Remy.
He dove to his side, landing hard on his shoulder. The bright spell exploded next to him, momentarily dazing him.
Makaela smirked and continued onwards. She closed her eyes, tapping into the vitalae coursing through her veins. A surge of power rushed through her and she opened her eyes. Bringing her hands together, she then pushed outward, conjuring a strong burst of wind.
The powerful gust surged towards Remy and knocked him on his behind.
She quickly closed the distance between them. He shot a blue spell at her. She somersaulted over it without even breaking stride. As she twisted in the air, she directed another stunning spell at him. This time, it found its mark.
Remy’s body seized against the dueling platform’s faded canvas. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out an annoyed groan. Makaela landed inches away from him, her wild mane of black curls settling into her face. She pointed her casting hand at his chest, the golden brand in her palm pulsating with magic ready to be unleashed.
“Alright, alright,” her cousin grumbled. “I yield.”
She beamed at him triumphantly. “Another win. What is that now? Has to be at least fifty. Will I ever be beaten?” She glanced at the dark grey sky for an answer. “The clouds say no.”
“That’s enough, Makaela,” Olivier said.
Her uncle trotted up the wooden stairs leading to the platform and knelt by Remy’s side. After reversing the effects of her stunning spell, he helped his son to his feet. But not before casting his niece a disapproving glance.
“What?” She crossed her arms and turned away from him.
“You know, dueling used to be about class. Honor. Respect.”
Makaela snorted. “Yeah, I know. You’ve only said it for the hundredth time.”
“And yet you’re still arrogant.” Her uncle shook his head. “You have talent. There’s no denying that. You’re just as talented as your father was when he was your age. But the difference between you and him is he had respect for his opponent. He wouldn’t want you to act like this—”
“Well, he’s dead,” she snapped. “What he wants doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
A sad look filled Olivier’s bronze-colored eyes. Sighing, he rose to his feet.
Makaela cursed under her breath. Rubbing the back of her neck, she glared at her dirty sneakers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
He nodded. Then he smiled. “That was a good session today.” He glanced at Remy and ruffled his short, brown locks. “You need to work on your aim.”
“Yeah, well, you know dueling isn’t my area of expertise,” Remy replied with a shrug. He gestured toward Makaela. “She’s the prodigy. Not me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’d be better if you practiced more.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Olivier made his way to the rickety stairs leading away from the dueling platform. “Alright, let’s head inside. Xander says it’ll rain soon, and he just finished lunch.”
Remy breezed past his father and practically bounded down the steps. Both Makaela and Olivier shared a bemused look. The two of them walked side-by-side as they approached the massive mansion a few yards ahead.
Olivier cleared his throat awkwardly, dispelling the silence that had settled between them.
“I’m sorry for bringing him up like that,” he told her. A shaky breath left his lips. “I don’t mean to use him as a weapon against you. It’s just…he was a much better parent than I am. A better teacher. He was strong, wise, and patient. He knew how to keep his family safe.” His eyes watered. “I miss him every day.”
Makaela kept quiet, afraid that if she started talking the tears would follow.
She hated crying. It was an act for weak little girls.
And she was not a weak little girl.
Stealing a glance at Olivier, she couldn’t help but think about how much she looked like her father. They were brothers, after all, but one might’ve mistaken them for twins. While her uncle was three years his senior, they both had the same chin-length chestnut hair and stubble dotting their sharp jawlines. Their golden eyes were nearly identical. Everyone from House Lumai shared the same eyes—even Makaela.
Though, those were the only features she shared with her housemates. Their skin was that of porcelain dolls. Hers was obsidian. Dark and glossy like onyx. Her features were rounder, softer. They were tall like titans while she was small in stature. Had it not been for her eyes, no one would’ve believed she was a member of the clan of light magicians.
Makaela sighed at the memory of her housemates. Her father. The thought of her late mother seeped into her troubled mind as well. She thought about them all every day. Their faces plagued her dreams and filled her nightmares. The night they were taken from her haunted her like grim reapers lurking in the shadows.
That was ten years ago.
She was nine years old then.
Her wretched dreams often took her back to the place they were buried—a small village in Monaco. The gravestones of her parents, dull and nameless, taunted her whenever she closed her eyes. She should’ve been right beside them. Most days, she wished she was.
Their funeral was one of the only memories she remembered vividly from that time. Everything else was murky, muddy like river water. The biting breeze filtering through the tall trees hanging over the small procession like dark angels. The smell of death in the air. The tears of the few relatives she had left on this earth.
She remembered it all.
She hated that place.
And she didn’t have any plans of returning.
#
Makaela followed Olivier toward the back door of their secluded mansion. Massive maple trees surrounded the French-styled chateau, their leafy canopies and wide trunks shielding them from the gaze of any passerby. Coupled with the powerful cloaking charms Olivier and Xander set up around the estate, they were invisible to the outside eye.
They had to remain hidden. Their survival depended on it.
The mansion once belonged to another member of House Lumai, a scholar who preferred to seclude himself from the rest of the world to focus on his studies. Thus, it showed on no maps. Only a select few magicians from their house knew of its whereabouts. Most of them were dead now. Murdered by Shades.
It had been abandoned for decades until ten years before. Now, it served as a safehouse for some of the last living members of House Lumai.
Sandstone and polished quartz made up the walls of the old mansion. Multiple windows composed out of yellow stained glass with intricate designs decorated the chateau. Rows of trimmed hedges lined the sides of the three-story building.
Makaela and Olivier passed through the greenhouse, which housed a plethora of plants—both magical and mundane—which were maintained by a combination of Xander and Remy.
She was never one for the agricultural side of magic. Nor was she one for magic theory like Olivier. Her interests resided mostly in battle magic. Of course, she was naturally skilled in light magic—as all Lumaian magicians were—but something about battle magic called out to her. She often wondered if she was meant to be born within the ranks of the battlemages of House Brynjir.
“I’m starving!” Remy called out from a few feet ahead. He turned the corner from the main living room into the dining area. Pealing portraits of Lumaian magicians decorated the wooden-paneled walls. A glass chandelier hung from the high ceiling, dust clinging to the crystals.
“You’re always starving,” Makaela pointed out. “I’m surprised we haven’t run out of food yet.”
“What can I say?” Remy said. “I’m a growing boy.”
He was right. Remy was two years younger than her. His sixteenth birthday was coming up. In their culture, sixteen was a big year for a young magician. It was the day they graduated from their house’s academy and embarked on their journey as a full-fledged member of their hidden society.
But the Moreau’s had been cut off from the rest of their brothers and sisters for nearly a decade now.
Birthdays meant little to any of them these days.
With a shake of her head, she glanced at her uncle. “Hey, how come you never duel me or Remy?”
Remy poked his head out from behind the corner of the hallway to the kitchen. “That’s a great question, Kae.” He squinted at his father. “Why don’t you duel us?”
Olivier smiled at the two teenagers, tight wrinkles forming around his eyes. “I prefer to teach.”
“Oh, so you’re scared to lose. Got it.”
“A critical hit to his fragile ego!” Remy exclaimed. “How will he ever recover?” The two cousins slapped hands, grinning at each other.
Olivier chuckled. “Believe me, I’m not afraid. I just can’t duel against the two of you.” Grinning, he folded his arms. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
“You’re right,” Remy said.
Makaela nodded. At least he knows.
“I meant it would be unfair for you two, not me,” her uncle clarified.
She rolled her eyes.
After the trio arrived in the kitchen, they were greeted by Xander Keystone, the last piece of their fractured family. He wasn’t directly related to their clan—the Moreau’s—but he had been an advisor to her father before the purge.
The man was well into his seventies. Tufts of gray hair sprouted from his balding head like weeds. Deep creases and wrinkles were etched into his face like a mountainside weathered by decades of erosion. Intelligent blue eyes peered through the thick lenses of his circular-framed glasses.
“How was dueling practice?” Xander inquired, taking a sip from the cup of tea he held close to his chest. His potbelly poked out slightly from his golden bathrobe.
“Pretty good,” Makaela answered, smirking at her cousin. “Remy got his ass handed to him. Again.”
“What did I just tell you about respecting your opponent?” Olivier scolded. She ignored him.
Remy waved off her claims. “She got lucky, alright? I’ll get the next one.”
Yeah, sure you will.
She playfully stuck her tongue out at him, and he returned the gesture.
“Sounds like a good session,” Xander said with a smile. He turned to Olivier. His smile vanished, his expression darkening like a cloud passing across the sun. Makaela frowned at him. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
Makaela shot her cousin a confused glance. He simply shrugged before heading over to the dining table where Xander left their lunch.
Xander tapped his foot nervously against the white tile. “I’d rather discuss this matter in…private.”
Olivier stiffened. He turned to Makaela and Remy. “Enjoy your lunch. We’ll be in my study if you need us.” Without another word, both and Xander hurried out of the kitchen and down the hall leading to his study.
Makaela watched them walk away, her mind already beginning to obsess over the subject of their impromptu meeting. Whatever it was, though, she knew it couldn’t be good. The look in Xander’s eyes told her that.
“This sandwich is really good,” Remy said as he stuffed food into his mouth. “Might be Xander’s best yet—”
“What do you think they’re going to talk about?” Makaela kept her eyes on the door to Olivier’s study at the other end of the corridor.
“Huh?”
“You didn’t just hear that?”
Remy shrugged. “I dunno, I was eating.” He wiped mustard from his mouth. “It’s probably nothing.”
Nothing?
She resisted the urge to facepalm. Her cousin was a smart boy. A genius, actually. His photographic memory meant he knew almost everything there was to know about magic and its history, courtesy of the massive library hidden deep within their mansion.
Still, he could be incredibly stupid at times.
“It’s not nothing,” she told him. “Whatever it is, it’s important.” She pursed her lips. “And I’m going to find out what it is.” Without another word, she took a step for the hallway.
“Er, do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, if they wanted us to know, they would’ve invited us to join them.” Turning around, she pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips. He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Stop that. I hate when you get that look.”
“I’m going to find out. With or without you.”
Remy sighed and grumbled something under his breath. He stood up from his chair, sandwich in hand, and walked over to her. He towered over her by a few inches. Despite only being fifteen, his wiry frame stretched just above six feet. It also didn’t help that barely cleared the five-foot mark.
He studied her for a moment. She shifted uncomfortably under his golden gaze.
“Fine,” he told her. “We’ll go find out.”
A smile broke out across her face.
“But if we get in trouble,” he continued, “I’m blaming you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” She grabbed his hands and tugged him along.
#
Upon arriving outside Olivier’s study, the pair crouched behind the door and pressed their ears to the wood. The voices inside were muffled, barely making it through the thick wood of the door. Makaela couldn’t tell if it was due to them whispering or if a charm was being put to use.
“I can’t hear anything,” she hissed.
“Me neither…” Remy’s eyes widened. She watched as the metaphorical lightbulb appeared above his head.
“Talk to me.”
“I saw this spell in a book,” he told her. “If a charm is being used, it’ll cancel it out. If not, their voices should come through clear as day.”
Makaela patted him on the back. “This is why I keep you around.”
Rolling his eyes, he ignored her and prepared to cast. His fingers twisted and formed the shapes of the charm he mentioned. A thin, transparent film coated his casting hand. He carefully placed it on the door. His free hand performed another quick sequence.
Seconds later, Xander’s voice came flooding through.
“—another two dead.” Xander sighed.
Makaela sucked in another breath. More of her housemates had been murdered. Soon there wouldn’t be any more of them left to kill.
She shuddered at the thought.
Despite not even knowing most of those who fell to the Shades during the purge, a piece of her heart broke every time she learned of their deaths. They might not have accepted her when she was alive, but they were still family. And all she could do was watch as they were slaughtered.
All because of her.
“Where were these two?” Olivier inquired.
Xander took a moment to reply. “Closer to us. They were hiding in a human town out in Ottawa.”
Makaela paled. Her blood ran colder than ice. Ottawa was only two hours from Montreal, the location of their hideout. The Shades and their forces were getting closer. Too close.
She peered at Remy. His face was pointed toward the floor, angry tears filling his eyes. Makaela rubbed his back, silently consoling him. She wasn’t the only one who lost people during the purge of their people.
“He’s getting bolder,” Olivier said. His tone was dark, bridled rage lingering beneath his words. “He’s breaking our rules.”
“Since when has he been one to follow rules?”
“Still…even he knows to keep away from the Untouched.”
A short silence passed between them before Olivier posed another question.
“Do you think they know our position?”
“It’s hard to say,” Xander answered. “But judging by the nature of their deaths, Ophelia and Alec may have relinquished information to the Order. The Shades can be…quite persuasive.”
Makaela bit down so hard on her lip that she drew blood. But the pain flaring in her mouth and the blood trickling onto her tongue was nothing compared to the pain erupting inside her heart.
She knew Ophelia and her husband, Alec. They were cousins of her father. Guilt swelled in her chest. She clenched her fists, fingernails digging into the skin of her palms. People were dying, dying for her, while she hid away. Like a coward. Like a scared little girl.
It made her sick.
“Did he do it personally?” Olivier asked.
He? She pressed her ear harder against the door.
Xander scoffed. “You know he would never.”
His name didn’t even need to be spoken. Makaela already knew who they were referring to. They were talking about the leader of the Shades. The famed head of the secretive Order of the Black Lotus. The murderer of her parents. The butcherer of her family.
The image of his black scythe ripping through her father’s chest exploded into her brain, filling every corner of her mind like a raging flood. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the memory out.
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Thorian will be coming for us soon,” Olivier said.
She sneered at his name. Venomous thoughts invaded her head, snaking around her psyche. It squeezed her lungs like a boa constrictor, suffocating her until all the oxygen left her body. All she could think about was killing him. She fantasized about standing over his still, bleeding body.
She would avenge her parents. She would avenge her house. Whatever it took, she would do it.
Thorian murdered her parents. And she would murder him when the time came.
The first day of the purge was seared into her brain. She remembered how the alarms within House Lumai’s palace caterwauled through the night as the Shades invaded her home. She remembered their silver masks glinting with the moonlight as they mowed down her housemates with their dark magic.
She remembered weeping over her parents’ dead bodies, screaming into the night. No one heard her. Before the purge, she prayed to Lumi—goddess of light and prophecies—every night before bed. But after that horrid night, she stopped praying. It was clear the gods weren’t listening.
She remembered Thorian’s ghoulish face when he killed her father.
It still didn’t make sense. The Tedorofs and the Moreaus were allies. Despite their houses having been at odds in the past, they were friends. She even used to have a massive crush on Thorian’s son, Sebastian. Her heart ached at the thought of the boy. She hadn’t seen him since they all received their marks during The Marking ceremony.
Her scowl deepened.
She wouldn’t have been surprised if he was among the Shades ranks these days.
Beside her, Remy’s ear slipped off the door, causing his head to crash into the wood. Wincing, he cried out and held the side of his face.
Makaela froze, her eyes widening.
“You idiot!” she hissed.
As she got up to run, the study’s doorknob turned. The door swung open, revealing a stoic-looking Olivier beneath the doorframe. Xander lingered in the background, his liver-spotted hands clasped across his midriff.
“Stand up,” Olivier ordered. “Both of you.”
Makaela sighed. She and her cousin did as they were told. They hung their heads, refusing to meet his scathing glare.
“Before you say anything, I just want you to know that this was all her idea,” Remy blurted out. She glared at him, earning a dismissive shrug in response. “Hey, I warned you.”
She lifted her head toward Olivier. Wringing her clammy hands, she cleared her throat. Suddenly the ground looked a lot more appealing to look at than her pissed-off uncle. Still, she managed to hold his burning gaze.
“We just wanted to know what you were talking about.”
He said nothing.
Her mouth twitched. She didn’t need silence. She needed answers.
“More of our people were killed?”
Olivier ran a hand across his tired face. He looked more drained than usual. “I suppose it’s time for you both to know.”
Remy blinked, his brows knit together. “Huh?”
Makaela narrowed her eyes at her uncle. “Know what?”
The two teenaged magicians exchanged looks of confusion.
“I haven’t been completely honest,” he revealed.
Makaela’s heart fell into her stomach.
“Honest about what?”
“The purge…and why it’s happening.”
She stiffened. Her hands settled onto her hips. For years, he never told her why this was happening to them. All he told her was that they needed to stay hidden. That they couldn’t let Thorian and the Order find them.
She assumed he didn’t know why it was happening either. But that wasn’t the case. He lied. He was the last person she expected to lie to her.
Sighing, Olivier stepped aside and gestured inside his study. “Come along. We have much to discuss.”
Gulping, she entered the room.
