Page 3 of Magic & Secrets (Twisted Magic #1)

THESE DENSE WOODLANDS of Arbdorre Territory were once controlled by an ancient god called Solme Divige.

This powerful creature dug deep into the ground long ago when the sun warmed Lavinia.

She was a mighty beast, owning a devious mind and unquenchable bloodlust. Solme Divige was also the ancient one used to make my kind.

As I ran through the thick brush, her words echoed in my mind. She had no use for my training at the Citadel. Solme Divige possessed far grander plans for my kind.

As a thorn sliced my cheek, I didn’t dare slow down to wipe away the blood. Behind us, the instructors gave chase, and they were in an exceptionally aggressive mood.

I crouched down, catching my breath and sensing the instructors. My hand went to my cheek torn open by the thorn. Blood remained, yet my wound had already healed. The New Armgard warriors weren’t designed to bleed for long.

At my side, my raven-haired sister Mina signaled with her fingers to our right, where an instructor prowled closer. I smelled Vica’s Witch scent dancing along the warm breeze.

Solme Divige’s whispers became more frenzied until she was all I could hear. My vision grew hazy. The woodlands around me faded. A chill crawled across my flesh.

Magic yanked my spirit from my body, up above the woods in Arbdorre Territory. I saw my body down below, still crouched next to Mina. Our scarlet-haired sister Enya crept away from us and toward Vica floating above the ground in our direction.

“Listen,” insisted the ancient one.

The world fell away under me. Solme Divige’s magic sent my mind traveling far from the Citadel to a place I’d only seen in my dreams. High above a quaint village, I watched as a variety of predators crept closer to the unsuspecting townsfolk.

A violent storm raged above me, staining the sky. A Sorcerer and a Necromancer wielded the potent magic of an ancient one. Their storm distracted the Bane Shifters up in the mountain while weakening the townsfolk.

I could only watch helplessly as Lion and Wolf Shifters rushed from the thick woodlands in their beast forms and burst into the cottages. Hideous Chauve Vampyres skulked from the darkness, tittering with bloodlust and pouncing on any victim attempting to escape into the night.

Becoming defenseless in the magical fog conjured by ancient magic, the villagers couldn’t plan their escape or counterattack, leaving them lambs for the slaughter.

The massacre left the victims torn apart and their organs removed. I realized the attackers sought something specific from these peaceful creatures.

“Why am I seeing this?” I asked Solme Divige whose magic gripped me.

“ Listen ,” she hissed.

The battle below me ended with a whimper.

A half-dead Bane Shifter crawled away from the square.

I felt him begging for more time. The ancient god dropped me to the ground before the doomed creature.

The Shifter’s gaze stared through me as a snarling Lion Shifter tore him open and took what it wanted.

“Sacrifice,” Solme Divige whispered, sounding almost amused.

As the attackers fled, I felt the presence of another ancient god. Tyathossau slumbered deep within Mt. Elysium, unbothered by the chaos happening above.

I stood at the base of the Bane Shifters’ sanctuary. The mighty warriors rushed at me, called to arms by their pack leader, Tempe. I learned all their names as part of my studies at the Citadel.

“The old Armgard warriors were torn from this world by the Murade’s monstrosities,” Warlock Gregory told my class of young warriors so many years ago. “If the Bane Shifters ever learned of your existence, they would waste no time ripping you out of this world.”

Now, the lab-grown Shifters roared together at the sight of their fallen friends. I tried to back away from the carnage and the angry beast-men. These monsters were my sworn enemies. I had no reason to grieve their fallen, yet their pained cries left me reeling.

I turned away from the heartbroken pack and saw the male from my dreams. I knew him as Roque.

His presence was overwhelming. Roque’s bare chest, carved like stone, rose and fell with quiet control.

Thick chestnut hair fell in loose waves around his shoulders.

His jaw was square and covered in a thick beard.

His cheekbones were sharp and his lips full.

His eyes were what truly stole my breath. They were pools of thawing ice that glowed silver when his emotions were unleashed. Unlike his fellow Bane Shifters, his musk was distinctively sweet like cinnamon. Roque felt like a creature of ultimate beauty destined to end me.

“Embrace your destiny,” Solme Divige hissed before tossing me back over thousands of miles to Arbdorre Territory.

Jolted into my body, I stared at a concerned Mina. My sister understood how Solme Divige played with us, revealing to the New Armgard what others could not see. Most ancient ones weren’t dead or even slumbering. Many enjoyed crawling their way into our dreams.

The Armgard warriors of the past were the magical offspring of a horned beast named Athorvath and designed by a devious group of humans and magic folk called Von Ehlinger.

Those warriors were barely five feet tall and possessed thin, unbreakable limbs.

Despite their size, the Old Armgard were impossibly strong.

They'd possessed inky black hair and eyes that burned the color of saffron. On their heads jutted two horns, onyx at the base and copper at the tips.

Their skills with the blade were unmatched. They could track their prey as well as the finest predators in all of Lavinia. Their wounds healed quickly, and they were said to feel little pain. They never laughed, rarely slumbered, and preferred tree bark to any other food.

Von Ehlinger sent their army into the world to bleed it dry until no one would stand in the way of a new age. Except the Bane Shifters had refused to bow, instead ending the bloodline of the Old Armgard.

“We don’t belong to the Gathering,” I told Mina, who covered my mouth and shook her head as a warning.

“The Gathering gave us life,” she insisted. “We owe them our allegiance.”

Mina’s words were true. We were unnaturally spawned into this world.

The Gathering used their immense magical power to raise the New Armgard.

They summoned the magic of Solme Divige rather than Athorvath, whose scent was known to the Bane Shifters.

Witches were used to gestate us. Three girls were born to each female.

None of the Witches survived the delivery.

The process of creating my kind had been treacherous.

Even more reason to keep us a secret from the world until the time came for the Gathering to step in when the Murade fell.

Right now, Solme Divige hummed in my mind as I regained my bearings. I struggled to my feet, still reeling from my vision of Roque. His sweet scent lingered, and I felt like he was close enough to touch.

Nearby, Enya challenged Vica. The Witch’s magic brushed aside my sister’s sword and sent her flying against a tree. Mina heard Enya’s cries and rushed forward.

“Too emotional,” Vica cursed before her magic tossed Mina into the wind.

The Gathering claimed their New Armgard warriors were weaker than those who'd come before us. I had long suspected they created us this way. A mighty weapon was no good to its master if it had the power to rebel.

We might not be as powerful as Von Ehlinger’s warriors. However, we could handle a Witch like Vica. Unleashed, we might be capable of laying siege to the world.

Of course, Vica knew we would never harm her. She was the closest thing we had to a mother. My earliest memories were of her singing old hymns about the fallen first generation of Armgard.

Despite my fondness for Vica, I charged toward her. My boots barely touched the ground. Moving like a gale within a brewing storm, I hurried to protect my sisters.

Vica’s magic reached out for me. Rather than dodge it or fall under its power, I sailed through its blazing heat.

Solme Divige’s power awakened inside me. I leapt into a tree and jumped over Vica. In my mind, Solme Divige showed me how easily my sword could slide through the Witch’s flesh.

The ancient magic tingled at my fingertips, aching to break free. I was spawned by a species with no concept of defeat or submission. The New Armgard were designed to conquer. Restraining my power against Vica felt like a betrayal of Solme Divige.

Roque’s face flashed in my mind. I could almost feel his fingers across my skin. The magic inside me fizzled out. I couldn’t focus on Vica. My mind lost track of Solme Divige. The Bane Shifter wielded the power to rip away everything in the world, leaving me in a void with only him.

Vica took advantage of my distracted mind and wrapped me in her magic. Stunned by Roque’s hypnotic gaze, I could only submit and fall to my knees before the Witch.

My gaze met Mina’s and then Enya’s. This submission was our lot in life. The Gathering demanded power over our magic.

“The ancient gods would destroy this world out of boredom,” Gregory once explained. “You are not the ancient gods. You are the welcomers of a glorious future. We will bring peace to the Territories one day.”

The Gathering weren’t like Von Ehlinger. They had no intention of overthrowing the Murade and claiming the seven Territories for their personal kingdom. The Gathering viewed themselves as peacekeepers within the very best species of Lavinia.

“We will bring freedom for magic folk and humans alike,” Gregory insisted during one of the Gathering’s rallies.

To claim freedom, they would use us, the New Armgard, whose only true enemy were the retired Bane Shifters.