The Dread Descendant (The Dread Descendant, #1)

by Lauren Cate Leake

Her Elven hair spiraling past her shoulders, shiny as silk.

Her features were delicate, like those of a bird, with subtly pointed ears and glowing skin, She had only been a child herself when she came to be a servant in their house. Years before Maeve was born.

Is this a part to fulfill the prophecy?

He took her hand across the chess board and squeezed it three times. This was an act of affection Ambrose had done with her since she was a child. Each squeeze represented a word in a silent “I love you.”

“But the High Lord is not the only one at play here.”

“You don’t think the Humans pose an actual threat do you?”

They are killing each other by the thousands. It’s only a matter of time before Magicals are in danger too.”

“Pure Blooded Magic is dying out, and has been for quite some time. When our people fled to Earth there were over fifty Sacred Families that made it out alive. Now there are seventeen. Magic is finding a way to preserve its existence despite our failure.”

“I mean our failure three hundred years ago. My forefather’s failure to defeat the darkness that drove us here.”

“After my twenty-second. When I leave this household. Does she come with me?” “Her enslavement curse lies with your Mother.”

Keitl’s grasp at power, true or not presents a entirely new set of obstacles for us. His intentions of dominance over the human world causes me to believe he isn’t fighting for Magicals. Rather he is fighting for his own glory.

Why doesn’t he go directly for the government himself? The Orator’s Office? I think he’s bound to fail because of this. If his destiny is to reestablish the old order of Magic, why isn’t he?

The Dread Lands, our home lands, aren’t sustainable for human life.

“Magic calls to magic. Darkness calls to darkness. Blood calls to blood.”

impossible. And the door was magically sealed shut by order of The Double O.

A beam of bright light swirled from the gold linked bracelet on her wrist as they entered the darkness, lighting their way. It floated alongside them, its light wafting and waving between white and blue.

it talks about Dread bloodline being able to speak and converse with serpents. I wonder if Kietel can?”

He defended his actions, calling out The Orator’s Office and her father even for conspiring against Magicals to obtain power. It was a call to action for all Magicals. And a threat to Magicals who opposed him.

Maeve’s hex hit Grisham square in the chest, sparks of blue splattering across his shirt, ripping the fabric as he grunted in pain. A hex she sent with two fingers. An audible gasp rang through the room.

Mal leaned back in his chair and stretched. She took a moment to scan his long torso. Something in her stomach flipped over as his button down slid up, exposing his skin.

“What am I looking for?”

He stepped towards her, but Maeve threw up her hand. “Stop.” She sunk back into her seat. She wasn’t there to verify a memory. “You want me to jump.” It wasn’t a question.

“Or do those German radicals you associate with not play?”

“No,” said Rowan lazily. “But I have other skills.” “Like being a spy?” Rowan looked across the table at him. The dark-haired man scowled now. “Yeah, mate. People talk.” “They say I’m a spy for the Double O?”

“Rolf,” said the German. So that was his name. “Chancellor,” replied the dark-haired man, Rolf.

“The human leader. Hitler. Kietel was there.

“Did they tell you you’d be jumping to Kietel’s right hand? Straight to one of the most powerful dark wizards to date?” “No,” said Maeve quietly.

“You’re now stationed here until further notice.” Maeve and Mal looked back at him. He was older than them, but younger than Ambrose. Green eyes and dirty blonde hair and a shiny C badge on his chest. He didn’t look at them. Only at Ambrose. “If you insist on staying here,” said Ambrose as he stepped back towards her, “I’ll have them breathing down your neck.”

She didn’t care about the exam. She didn’t care about the newspaper that sat on her bedside table. She didn’t care that anyone was dead. There was only one thing on her mind. Her hand crept to the nape of her neck. Where an unfamiliar and unwanted feeling still lingered. And she knew it meant trouble.

“You pulled me out, didn’t you?” She asked, hoping he wouldn’t press her. He nodded. She looked away towards the windows that lined the common room. Sunlight poured onto the plush sapphire floor. “How?” She looked back at him. “How did you know I was in danger?” Mal answered with certainty. “Like calls to like.”

“Have you noticed how many of these Magical experiences happened on the Dark Planet?” Maeve asked Mal. Mal nodded. “I have.” “Father says that was the origin of Shadow Magic.”

“All the parties my father throws, all the high ups, wealthiest purebloods and Double O officials- it could be your introduction to them. A way into that world. Not to mention Father’s expansive knowledge of the Magical Arts, his library, and the entire basement of the house- dedicated to Dark Magical artifacts, objects, and readings.”

“Manticores are actually capable of human speech,” said Elgin.

“How is that possible?” “The line will be lost,” recited Maeve. “There is magic in his veins. It just lies dormant.”

“The one to free your golden blood will come when the Dread line is restored.” “Sacred blood.”

“I think it is you who has saved me,” he said. Without hesitation, he lowered his lips to hers. White light erupted in her vision and cool, refreshing trickles of magic slithered down her neck and arms and legs.

She wanted to be drenched in the long awaited feeling. She wanted his all. His silent shadow and his passive protection. His unwavering and unnerving calm. There was no feeling but him. He was all consuming.

Finally, their lips parted and Maeve gazed up at him with adoration. He brushed his knuckle across her jaw. Maeve reeled at his touch, tossing her head back and pushing her cheek into his hand. “Now, Little Viper,” the husky way he called her brought a smile to her lips, “the reason I brought you here.”

She had only Obscured with her father. But Mal successfully moved them both safely.

Between two strips of destroyed buildings stood a three story building. Perfectly intact. As though the bombs somehow missed it all together.

“I have no desire to lead the life that is expected of me,”

She froze. Unfamiliar Magic swirled around her. Solid as steel. Foreign. But a sister to her own. To Mal’s even. Like called to like.

Across the ballroom, in full black, was an Immortal. But not just any Immortal. Reeve, The High Lord of Aterna. The most powerful being alive.

“We need to call a Hexadic,” said Reeve. “I don’t know why it’s still called that,” said Ambrose. “Only four realms truly remain occupied and you know as well as I do we will be lucky if three even attend.”

Mal would die before she did. It was now written in Magic. Unbreakable magic sealed in an unbreakable bond between them.

“The Dread Lands?”

The Queen of the Elven Realm was in attendance. She brought with her an audience, as did Reeve. Their inner circles and courts and high ranking officials all came.

“I was a child when that shadow overtook the Dread Lands. My father was a picture of strength. I never saw fear in his eyes until that shadow came for us. Rest assured, young wizard, it is still there, lurking in the Dark Peaks, sinking in the Black Deep and buried in the vines and roots that snake across the land.”

with eight octopus legs flailing about. It was pale green, at least twenty feet tall, with a large mouth and razor-sharp teeth. Two wiry arms with scaling long fingers slammed into the ground. Its glassy eyes locked on her.

Grendel. Grindylow. They were called many names. But Maeve knew one thing for certain: as terrifying as its teeth and claws were, it was going to try to drown her.