Emmy R Bennett

Writer of Paranormal, Mystery and Fantasy.

My mind reels with possibilities of how to escape this place. I can’t let her know my plans. Sarmira has taught me a lot about dark magic these past years. It became more prolific when I turned thirteen. That was nearly five years ago. My birthday is coming up this summer. I don’t want to think of the prospects of what she will do to me after I turn eighteen. All I know is it’s my moment of awakening. Awakening to what exactly? She hasn’t told me much about it. Most of what she has planned, she keeps to herself. I don’t trust her, and my gut tells me it isn’t good.

My problem, where will I go? Shadow walkers lurk everywhere. Beings that are usually a nocturnal hybrid of some sort. A cross between a necromancer and another species. Sarmira has taught me to know that much. One isn’t born into necromancy, it’s learned. Unless of course the bloodline comes straight from Vothule’s lineage, Sarmira’s father.

She told me once about a great battle where the heir to the throne—a necromancer princess was killed by a knight. Sir Bryce Storm ruined any chance for hierarchy to their coven. Vothule is still king, but he seeks to help his dead daughter in finding the right vessel. Well, if my suspicions are correct, they’re plans are to have her hop into my body until the quest for the right bloodline reveals itself. I will not be her puppet.

The only I have—and this came from Sage: she said, each child born receives their gifts at eighteen. And on their birthday at the stroke of midnight, they must choose a side. Good or evil. This has to be what Sarmira is up to. My fear, she plans to possess my soul, like she did my mother’s.

A howl outside my window startles me. Wolves. They don’t normally come this far east. I’m reminded by the werewolf Sarmira killed earlier. Does it have something to do with that, I wonder?

I look out my bedroom window and view the silhouette of a wolf upon a cliff, cry out at the full moon. Several more wolves form behind him and they join in a song of howls. The performance is spectacular, and terrifying in the same breath. “They’ve claimed revenge,” I whisper.

I shut my window. The cool spring breeze is nice, but the thought of one of them jumping through the frame terrifies me. One gash, not a bite, but a slash that breaks the skin, of any living creature will turn to a werewolf.

How could she be so stupid to kill a werewolf on a full moon night? She’s smarter than that. What is her ulterior motive? No this was purposeful. She knew they would come.

I watch through the window, as they charge towards our house. There must be at least a dozen or more.

We don’t have an army here. Nothing to protect us. It’s just my nanny who I have grown to love, Martha, my mother and me.

I have a feeling I won’t survive the night. They will get through the door and have their revenge.

Terrified, I burst through my bedroom door and down the stairs to warn mother, but I find her standing in the hall meditating. She has a smile on her face, and says without breaking her concentration, “This is going to be a wonderful lesson for you, Maura.”

Lesson? We’re under attack and she thinks this is some sort of home school lesson?

The door thuds violently. I can hear the vicious growls from the other side.

“How can you say that? You triggered revenge by killing one of their own. Now we’re going to die.”

“Hardly.” She huffs, keeping her focus. “They won’t get in here if you’re worried. My magic is too powerful. Watch and learn, my daughter.”

Daughter? I think not! Still, I observe her next move.

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