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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Sarah Zimm
Read between
January 13 - January 19, 2025
“It’s one of three relics our gods gifted Magies at the beginning of our world. Fifty years ago, Osiris Lestat used them to steal the throne.”
“Before the Gray King, Magies reigned. There was one throne with three seats, for the three guilds: Witchists, Matterists, and Morphists. It was a time of mostly peace, so only a small army was needed. They had a council to represent the non-magic born, and they had the relics to keep power balanced among the guilds. Until Osiris led a siege, stole the relics, and used them to kill and trap the magic of the guild leaders who sat the throne.”
“Killed them and trapped their magic? Why both?” “Because the bastard’s smart,” Falcon spits, coming back around the carriage. “Because the guild leaders were Descendants,” Rune answers as Hart rejoins their group, too. “They were directly descended from the gods, Fellie. Either Erebus, Selene, or Luna. Any Magie who sat that throne was born of one of their lines. Ruling was their birthright—they had god magic in their veins. And Osiris couldn’t just kill them. Descendants’ magic is immortal. If they died, their magic would pass to their kin—the next in line—and they’d ascend the throne.
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“The Gray King is half-Magie. An abomination.”
“They act as amplifiers or siphons. The dagger, though… For fifty years it’s held the power of the last Witchist guild leader, descended from the god Erebus. A shadow magic more powerful than any in our world.”
“Magus began by their will, Fellie. Erebus, the god of darkness. And Selene and Luna, the twin goddesses of light. The texts paint them as bored with the mortal world, so they pooled their powers, twisted the planes of time, and made a kingdom they filled with magic. Our histories say they populated it by mating with chosen humans. Some of their offspring became Magie.
Some, mortal. And to sustain the kingdom, they spelled three moons. Erebus, the red moon, which bore the first pure Witchists—the spellers. And Selene and Luna, the gray moons, which gave us Matterists and Morphists—our influencers and transformers.” “It’s been centuries,” Rune says, “but the moons still feed our magic, and every other season when the red moon shifts, it feels chaotic and unstable, like anything can happen, till the moons and the new season settle in a couple weeks.”
“Oh, I assure you I’m real, Ophelia. And you’ll never be rid of me.”
“Someone once attempted…a siege against me…years ago,” the king says darkly. “How fortunate…I had the foresight…when the seer predicted this curse…to bind my very life…to the trees.”
The only three left of anyone at Asenti are those who her heart spared.
remembers now, she’s born of her mother and her mother’s mother. Because she is… “I remember what I am, Grimm.” But she can’t say it aloud. The very idea of this mythical magic is terrifying. Untamed, it’s sheer madness. In the right hands, unstoppable.
“What if I can’t control myself?” she worries aloud. Rivmere dishes that private smile. “Just listen to the voice in your mind.”
Making a circle on her forehead with her finger, Ophelia says a quick protection prayer to the goddess of her line—the goddess Selene. Closing her eyes, she lets her instincts
