Cursed MagicThe Daughter of Nyx Series
Charlie Daniels
Moonlit Owl Press
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Charlie Daniels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First paperback edition July 2020
Book cover design by LYNC
Book edited by EC Editorial
ISBN 9798655428034 (paperback)
ASIN B086XKHB5Q (ebook)
authorcharlottedaniels.com
To my partner in crime,
thanks for putting up with me :-)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Next In the Daughter of Nyx Series
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About the Author
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Prologue
I kneel in the clearing, the dirt soft with coagulating blood, gazing down on the bodies of my closest friends—who were my closest friends. The sun bears down on me from its apex in the sky; how long has it been?
Movement at the tree line ahead draws my attention. My instincts tell me to leap up, to run, but I’m too tired. If there are more, let them come. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.
But it is Master Rostova who breaches the shadows, his expression one of glee. With a strong nose, sharp features, and oiled black hair, he is the epitome of evil. His slow claps echo around the trees, making it sound as if hundreds are clapping with him.
“Ah, my dear, Serena. I was hoping it would be you. Many were betting on Eli here to win,” he says as he nudges the young boy’s corpse with his shoe. “Such a waste, but oh well.”
He shrugs off my classmates’ deaths as if they are nothing as he comes to stand by me. “You are the clear winner and the chosen one to infiltrate the Academy of Light to retrieve the relics of the gods. It’s time for you to clean up. Your ceremony will begin in an hour, and trust me, you’ll want to be prepared.” His eyes darken. “Because the pain you’re going to experience will be nothing compared to this.”
I watch as he and the other teachers waiting at the Forest’s edge disappear before rising to my feet. My eyes draw to the faces of my friends that will haunt me for the rest of my life and my chest tightens at the pain of losing so much. And for the first time, I hate the power I’ve been given.
What I would give to be normal.
Chapter 1
Marble pillars tower before me, reflecting the golden light of the sun across the expanse of manicured grass, greener than anything I’ve ever seen. Topiary and flowers contain the white brick path leading to a pair of wrought-iron gates. Two stone dragon sentries stand guard as I pass. I avoid their eyes. The goodness in the air sends chills across my skin.
“I can’t believe I have to do this,” I groan, staring up at the monstrosity that will be my home for the next two years.
“We must all do things we do not like, Serena. You have been chosen—”
I scoff as we follow along the path. “I was chosen because I survived Headmaster Rostova’s damn tests, Lore. Not because I expressed any desire to come here.” My magic flares, flickering across my skin. The dark space behind my eyes is replaced by an image that I hastily shake away. “He didn’t exactly give me a choice.”
I inhale the sickly sweet air, letting it cleanse away the memory of the man’s sick and twisted games. Information is knowledge. Knowledge is power. I will use my time here to benefit myself, not just him.
I stop at the end of the path and gather my bearings as my fellow students move past me, toward the school. I step off the path, away from them and their pressed uniforms, happy expressions, and shudderingly blissful auras.
You’d think they were under some sort mind control because there’s no way everyone could be this cheerful otherwise. I scoff, earning a few cautious stares from some students nearby. When our eyes meet, I send them a grin that they reciprocate by walking away.
I’m not sure what they saw in my smile, but whatever it was, they didn’t like it. Or maybe they just spotted the black broach on my jacket, indicating that I’m dark. But that’s not as exciting as saying the mere sight of my face scared them to death.
Spotting a vacant bench, I plop down, heaving my luggage onto the space beside me: a deterrent. “Assimilate,” I mutter. “How in the gods’ names am I meant to assimilate in a place like this?” I signal hopelessly to the gleaming white bench I’m sitting on. Gazing around at the bright world, I drag my palms down my jeans, uncomfortable.
A writhing sensation on my forearm prompts me to pull up the sleeve of my jacket. My onyx-and-silver owl tattoo stares up at me; her wings are graced with touches of emerald green, the same as her eyes.
“Do you want to morph out?” I ask.
Her wings bristle in my mind. “Yes, if that’s agreeable. I’d like to smell the air you’re not so fond of.”
My tattoo glows a myriad of colors as Lore worms herself free of my arm. The deep prickling burn of her movement makes me wince, not so much from pain, but from memory.
Heavy chains hanging from the roof of the ceremonial dungeon suspend my wrists. I kneel on the hard floor, the cold, dampness seeping through to my knees. And I wait.
I hear the sizzle before I feel the pain. Excruciating pain.
