Lunar witch phases of th.., p.1
Lunar Witch (Phases of the Moon Book 1), page 1
LUNAR WITCH
PHASES OF THE MOON
M. SINCLAIR
LOST & BOUND PUBLISHING
Lunar Witch: Phases of the Moon #1
Copyright © 2022 by M. Sinclair in USA
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced/transmitted/distributed in any form. No part of this publication shall be shared by any means including photocopying, recording, or any electronic/mechanical method, or the Internet, without prior written consent of the author. Cases of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law are the exception. The unauthorized reproduction/transmitting of this work is illegal. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Created with Vellum
The Union of Love & Madness
CONTENTS
Description
Prologue
1. Deva
2. Deva
3. Deva
4. Deva
5. Deva
6. Deva
7. Grimshaw
8. Deva
9. Aleksander
10. Deva
11. Deva
12. Deva
13. Deva
14. Micajah
15. Deva
16. Deva
17. Deva
18. Deva
19. Deva
20. Deva
21. Lazaro
22. Deva
23. Deva
24. Deva
25. Osborn
Series Within The Universe!
M. Sinclair
Published Works
DESCRIPTION
No man would ever own me again.
A simple promise I’d made to myself after escaping a brutal childhood of abuse and being trained to enact violence on unblessed witches. Since that moment, I had managed to survive on the streets by successfully pickpocketing.
Unfortunately, after years of hiding, the monster who starred in all of my nightmares was closer than ever and I was faced with only one option - seeking refuge at the Dark Imaginarium Academy.
Filled with the elite witches of our society, I should have expected to run into some of my previous targets and that normally wouldn’t have been a problem. It wasn’t like they’d known I’d stolen from them.
Except for my last hit.
What I stole from him was something I would never forget because it was literally embedded in my chest. Yeah, he was a bit upset about that one... as in acting absolutely psychotic. Except he's not the only one...
A blood witch who has an addiction to my taste.
A lunar witch who takes pleasure in trying to scare me into submission.
An unblessed that wants to dissect me, literally.
A shadow witch that relishes in marking up my body to show ownership.
These men want to claim me, own me, and the treasure that I now possess, but I would never break the promise I made to myself.
But when my past follows me right into the place I considered a safe haven, I find that these psychos may be the exact key to getting rid of my problem forever. The only problem? These men are convinced that I've never experienced the type of horror that would be required for that to happen, that they have to protect me from it. What they don’t realize?
Killing left a stain on the soul and mine was pitch black.
Lunar Witch features characters that are all 18+. This is not a high school academy book and the contents are intended for mature audiences. This book includes violence, mature content, PTSD, flashbacks of abuse, and sex. There is no bullying from the harem, just psychotic men trying to claim their girl.
Lunar Witch is book one of three in the Phases of the Moon series, which is set within the shared universe of Dark Imaginarium Academy. All series can be read independently, but characters have crossovers and it is highly encouraged to read all within the universe to understand the world in its entirety.
Series within the universe:
Phases of the Moon by M. Sinclair
The Creatures We Crave by R.L. Caulder
The Storm Dragons’ Mate by M. Sinclair
Blood Oath by R.L. Caulder
PROLOGUE
DEVA
June
Moonlight illuminated my line of sight, creating a bright silver glow that shone down and across the gothic monstrosity I was supposed to be breaking into. I easily tracked the guards that were walking the estate grounds, knowing that it would take little to no effort to get past them. Not only were they not expecting me, but even if they were—no one had ever successfully caught me, and that wouldn’t change today.
Especially for such a small job. My last job, at that. My last job and my last night sleeping on the streets. Although, I suppose it wasn’t really on the ‘streets’ as much as a fire exit above an alleyway. Something that was far more comfortable than it sounded…sort of. Not that comfort had ever mattered before, but maybe it would start to mean something. Maybe it would start to be a luxury I could afford.
For the second time in two years, I would be starting a new life. Starting over. That wasn’t a pattern I wanted to consider too closely because honestly, I didn’t have the best track record of finding long-lasting situations, something that was starting to wear on me. I was very much hoping that this new one would be more permanent.
After all, it had the potential to change the course of my entire future, and since I hadn’t had one of those until I broke free from my captivity when I was sixteen, it wasn’t an opportunity I planned to waste.
My fists tightened as I tried to shake off the simple reminder of how often I’d had to run since escaping my past. How many nights I’d been terrified as a teenager, afraid to do anything, knowing that he had eyes everywhere.
A cold chill ran over my skin as a vibrant memory, more akin to a nightmare, slammed into my consciousness, nearly leaving me breathless.
Darkness permeated my awareness as I lay trapped within a frozen state of paralysis, the silence of the void echoing through every part of my being, warning me of what was to come. Warning me of what had already happened and the potential danger that greeted me once I awoke from my icy slumber.
It had happened again, and like always, I had been helpless to stop it. Helpless to stop him. How many times had he killed me? How many times had he played Dr. Frankenstein by terminating me and reviving me, pulling my tarnished soul from the sludge-filled void that it was sentenced to for all of eternity?
I suppose no one had said that exactly, but I knew where I belonged. I didn’t fear my damnation; I ran towards it with open arms, knowing it would be a reprieve from this.
At this point, he had to have performed this ritual over ten, maybe even twenty times. Truth be told, I had stopped counting after he’d done it three times within a year. No longer did I fear this state of being where I was technically dead but still conscious in a dream-like state; I knew it was only temporary. He needed me far too much to get rid of me permanently.
Unfortunately.
At least like this, I couldn’t feel any of the pain associated with his treatment of me or the guilt of how I lived my life. No, everything was coated in a cold numbness where there was just…nothing.
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, quiet chants reached my ears, the language both familiar and foreign. I knew what was coming next as dark magic infused the space, awakening every element of my being. The sensation was warm and almost languid, like I was being dipped in honey… Until it wasn’t.
Searing, unbearable agony dragged me forward as a scream caught in my throat. My entire body shuddered to life, a strangled gasp pulling from my lips as I tried to take in as much oxygen as possible, my back landing hard on a cold marble surface. It rendered me momentarily breathless.
Feeling something slither up my throat, I rolled over and began to dry heave. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing I didn’t want to see what was leaving me, the scent of darkness, a magic composed completely of evil, filling the space like poison, mixing with the chants that now vibrated through my very bones.
My skin felt like it was on fire, something shifting underneath it, the sensation like worms slithering. Tears welled in my eyes, not out of pain, but out of frustration—I knew my show of weakness would only cause more pain in the end.
When a large hand gripped my hair and forced my face up, my gaze opened upon a pair of nearly white silver eyes filled with a sickening amount of pride. I felt a snarl build in my throat like a wild animal as he crouched down in front of me, his hand wrapping around my throat.
He never hid his emotions from me. No, he was very clear how he felt about me, and every moment of pain he put me through, even what could be construed as good in his mind, was bad—was evil.
I was well aware of my fate—I was going to die by this man’s hands.
“There’s my Ayla. Welcome back to the land of the living.”
My Ayla.
Those words radiated through me, making me realize he really did consider me his. His property. I shouldn’t have been surprised—I had known subconsciously that he felt that way—but for some reason, this hit differently. Maybe it was because I had reached the end of my rope; maybe it was because I was so damn tired of dying.
Fury surged over me as I made a p
I had a right to be terrified, even to this day. But I wasn’t going to allow him that control—not anymore. I had been a different girl back then, a child rightfully terrified and desperate for escape, even if it meant true death. I wasn’t a child anymore though, and I wasn’t going to allow the memory of that bastard to tarnish my future.
Which is why I had taken it directly into my own hands.
It had been a slow process, breaking from that darkness, and after hiding for what felt like weeks, I’d ventured out because being hungry was a far greater motivator than most gave it credit for. Now, after almost two years of exploring this vast territory, I was ready to be done with it.
This place would always carry traces of lingering fear, the feeling that I had to watch behind each and every corner, and I couldn’t live that way. I didn’t ‘do’ fear as it was, but he had the direct power to summon it in me, and I was ready to break that spell. He had trained me to be like this, to fear him and nothing else, not even death. I was just glad he wasn’t around to see how effective his tactics had been.
The sound of someone laughing in the distance broke me from my dark thoughts and drew my attention back to the task at hand. Immediately, I let my magic leave through my fingertips, the iridescent silvery light slithering along the surface of the roof ledge that I was positioned on. My magic, much like most powerful users, worked as an extension of myself, and even now it was scoping out potential threats I could come across.
The tactical mindset had a serene haze slipping over me as I assessed every inch of my body, making sure it was primed and ready for the mission ahead. As usual, silence greeted me, absent of even a pulse or heartbeat.
Yeah, that had been a bit of a shock. Apparently, being killed one too many times and infused with a shit-ton of dark magic meant that you could survive without a heartbeat or pulse. It made it a bit difficult to feel like I could be just your normal, everyday eighteen-year-old.
Closing my eyes, I opened my magic up to the full moon. Its natural power seeped into my skin and made my fingers shake with the overwhelming force that surged through and back out of me, luckily never staying for long. It was enough, though, that I knew my magic would be charged for weeks to come.
I should have felt far more alive, almost hyper, than I did right now because the phase of the full moon was one that fueled my magic—that fueled all lunar witch magic—but I felt far from that.
My mind cleared completely and my body stilled, the normal state of being far more comfortable to me after years of being forced into it. I didn’t have to work through or think about anything. No, there was only one thing that I needed to work on, and it was the job ahead of me.
There had been a small part of me that had feared, when I’d run, that I’d been tainted with a darkness so permanent that I would never have a chance at normalcy. That any part of me that could survive or flourish within society was ruined after years and years of abuse, and nothing about that would ever change.
I hadn’t been wrong, in a sense. After the first day of running, experiencing what life was like for others, I had realized the darkness was tattooed underneath my skin, ingrained in my being and synonymous with my own name. Well, my old name.
With that realization, though, I had also realized how strong I’d become.
I was broken on the inside, marred by scars both visible and hidden, but no one had to see those. No one looked for those anyway. I could live with some semblance of normality, even if that included sleeping in alleyways and stealing. I was strong enough to deal with my trauma, and if I couldn’t deal with it, I shut that shit off and shoved it into a ‘better not risk opening that until you’re alone’ cabinet.
I was able to wake up every day and see the same person without fearing that I would turn into some bloodthirsty killing machine just because I’d been trained to do exactly that growing up. It wasn’t a perfect existence, keeping that part of me locked away, but sometimes it was better to deal with the darkness that way. Sometimes it was better left unspoken, unheard, and ignored.
My body jolted just slightly upon the return of my magic, giving me the go-ahead. I released the tension in my legs from where I was crouched on the ledge and dove forward, off of the three-story roof and over the spelled wards that shimmered in the moonlight.
The cool, wet winds brushed over my skin as I reached out to grip a pipe that was posted between two large buildings of the main house. A grunt almost escaped my lips as I latched on, my grip nearly slipping because of how slick it was.
Only deterred for a moment, I used my momentum to swing down and land silently on a balcony on the west side of the house, my form completely hidden within the shadows. Something that was simple, considering my appearance.
With the exception of my eyes, everything was covered in black, making it fairly easy to avoid attention. I knelt down in front of the set of french doors, my magic slipping underneath and scoping the space out as I easily picked the lock and stepped back. I walked into the room once assured that there was no one present to witness my crime. Unfortunately, the object I sought wasn’t so easily captured—although it would have been ideal if it had been in this room, waiting for me.
No, even for this small job, I would need to work a bit harder.
Making my way across the room, I opened the door and stepped into a dark candle-lit hallway. The flames were a soothing cool blue that bounced off my magic, which slithered ahead of me. I listened to every sound in the vicinity around me, only hearing the slight shift of weight from someone a few rooms away—most likely a household servant.
The family who lived here, according to my intel, was traveling through a different territory of the realm, leaving this particular treasure here for the picking. This small item would provide more than enough coins for my upcoming venture. It wouldn’t last forever, but it was a guaranteed opportunity. Not for the first time, I felt a stab of shame that I had to steal in order to live.
I suppose it was better than killing.
When I reached a juncture where the hallway split to go right and left, I crouched down and felt the stone underneath my fingers, my magic swirling around them in a hypnotic pattern, trying to sense a draft. Smiling in victory, I walked towards the left and let out a small exhale, the cold, drafty building, icy enough that my breath would have fogged if not for my mask.
My gaze darted towards the large windows that showcased an empty courtyard at the center of the estate. I fought the urge to let my gaze wander and appreciate the beauty of the peaceful garden. You didn’t see that often in our territory. No, Carmina was only pleasant for those with the wealth to wall themselves off from the rest of the population.
My fingers traced along the stone wall, and when I met a warm stone, I paused and crouched down, feeling a draft seeping out from beneath a hidden door. Closing my eyes, I stepped back and allowed my lunar magic to sink back into my skin.
For as long as I could remember, I’d known I was a lunar witch. The orphanage I’d been raised in had first experienced me using lunar magic when I’d called forth a small glowing white orb during a storm because I’d been afraid of the dark. It had been unusual for a child to use practiced magic so early on… But even more odd was that now, it wasn’t the only form of magic I had.
No, now I had magical abilities that I’d developed through training. Although ‘developed’ and ‘training’ was a rather misleading group of terms. The truth was far darker than that.
