The Shadow World: The Shadow World, #1

By Erica Henderson

They live among us unnoticed, though they are sorcerers and werecats, and feed on humans.

The most powerful witch in the world is an orphaned sixteen-year-old girl in hiding.

She is otherworld.

Terrified, she ventures into her world, reigned over by a secret society of witches who hunted her family to extinction.

Arke should be her greatest enemy. He could feed on her. He could kill her, just like her mother, who died at the hands of an Avalon. However, fate is cruel, and despite her sensibilities, she cannot walk away from him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mika Publishing
• Release date: Feb 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223229346

Book preview

Chapter 1

Fledgling witch, Klaus Albrecht Rheinhart, woke up early that morning, eager for the new chapter in his life.

Born into a great heritage of witches where his future was decided even before he was conceived, he wasn’t new to the otherworld. Change was rare for him, so starting school at Drachenburg and fledging were exciting milestones.

He was ready to leave home as early as 5am. Unfortunately, they were to meet by the main harbour at midday. Klaus sat back on his bed, the only backpack he’d take with him by his feet, and stared at the clock, wishing he knew a spell that could hasten the hours away.

When the clock struck 6:25am, he left without his bag. Breakfast at the Rheinhart manor was strictly 6:30, and it remained a solemn affair even for that important day.

His mother was her usual aloof self. He sat across from her, the large table and the great room overemphasizing their miserably small family.

She was a grand woman in both stature and reputation. She was the tallest woman he knew, and was of a strong build. She was also acclaimed the greatest witch alive.

She was one of the most celebrated leaders of their time, joining the high council at only thirty-three, after serving in the Law Enforcement Agency for nearly fifteen years. She exited while holding the enviable position of inspector commissioner of the investigation unit. She’d been one step away from chief commissioner, but her grandfather’s death prompted her to move into politics.

Like most mornings, he found her waiting at the table, sipping a dainty cup of tea, with a stack of the day’s newspapers before her. At the top was the Otherworld Today, but as always, she waited until breakfast was cleared from the table before reading.

Klaus ate in quick discipline, hoping to be excused early from the table. The councilman was not in a hurry, it seemed. At the end of their meal, she poured him a cup of tea, oblivious of how much he detested the brew, then refilled hers.

She read quietly while Klaus burnt his mouth in his desperation to empty his cup quickly. Councilman Rheinhart turned the page, then frowned at something that didn’t please her.

Those fools, she muttered, dropping the newspaper with more passion than she typically entertained. They should ask why Count Sanguine is intent on keeping his position as headteacher.

Klaus remained quiet and very still, hoping his mother didn’t expect him to answer.

Don’t you use your mouth anymore?

His mother was a frightening woman. She’d once asked him the same question, and in his hesitation to answer, she spelt his mouth away, leaving him with continuous skin between his nose and chin. It was the most frightening two hours of his life.

Maybe he hopes to leave behind a legacy, Klaus offered, talking with practised quickness to hide his anxiety.

Don’t state the obvious. All in a position of power want a legacy.

Klaus turned back to his tea, hoping to disappear.

Is your answer in your cup?

Her flat tone was scariest of all. Klaus looked up quickly, met her gaze, and then chickened out again.

This time when he looked away, she, impossibly, grabbed him by his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. Klaus, eyes wide with horror, stared at the distance between them, then at her hand, which had, impossibly, lengthened at least five times its normal length, for her fingers to reach him.

His mother was the most frightening person he’d ever met. He knew it as a child, and each day that went by, he grew more certain of the matter. Magic was not an impossible idea, but when worked by his mother, it seemed grotesque.

Her fingers tightened their hold, and his attention shot back to her eyes.

Listen to me, and listen good, she began gravely.

Soundlessly, he nodded.

I suspect the last Maiga will be your classmate.

Klaus's eyes widened in a panic. He knew the name Maiga, and the contrariety of her words was puzzling. His mother couldn’t have lost her mind, could she?

Cautiously, he said, I... thought... all Maiga witches are dead.

All, except this one.

She was losing her mind, he decided. Just like his grandfather. There was madness in their family, and it was assumed genetic.

I certainly hope she’s a witch. I’ve banked a lot on her existence.

If she’s Maiga, doesn’t she have to be a witch? He was growing very worried for her now.

I want you to befriend her.

Me? Klaus failed to hide his terror. Why?

Because I order it.

Chapter 2

A re they vampires? Sophie asked with a shudder.

She was staring at the photo of long listless beings taken at an exclusive convention held the day before. Her parents weren’t invited to the event, but it was publicised in the otherworld media for the rest of society to follow.

Sophie turned the page of The Other Lifestyle, a publication available to otherworld beings at a fee. Until she turned sixteen, she hadn’t been able to read the magazine, because she wasn’t fledged. A spell ensured its pages remained blank to her and all humans.

Don’t call them that, her mother warned. "Vampires are mythical creatures of human fiction. They are Avalon, otherworld like us."

They look strange, she muttered. And they drink blood.

Sophie was a faerie. She’d inherited her parents’ perfectly round face and rosy cheeks, complimenting her striking green eyes.

She’d grown up knowing she was other but unable to tell anyone because of a curse that forbade her to speak of the matter. As a restless little girl, every time she tried to tell her friends that her parents had wings, she couldn’t speak. Her mouth, oddly, stopped knowing how to form sounds. And when she’d tried to write it down, she found she forgot how to hold a pen, chalk, or whatever medium she wanted to use.

The secret of the otherworld isn’t yours to tell, her father tried to explain numerous times. You can’t speak it, because the secret won’t allow itself to be revealed.

How?

Her father’s words made as little sense to a five-year-old, as to a sixteen-year-old now, but she’d learned to accept the strange phenomenon.

It’s magic, he’d claim. It’s reason why I can’t fly among our neighbours, or heal myself in front of customers.

Sophie eventually grew accustomed to the double life. Her best friends lived on the same street and attended the same schools, without realising that in her sixteenth year of life, she’d fledge, and become faerie.

When do I get wings?

She was anxious about her new life in the otherworld. Her sixteenth birthday was weeks ago, but she still couldn’t do magic, and she hadn’t sprouted wings yet.

Hard to tell, her father said from the worktop where he was grinding weeds on a mortar. Her mother, still pouring over the magazine spread between them, didn’t bother to answer.

It happens after you turn sixteen, and before you turn seventeen. It’s a process.

A licensed herbal healer, he was renowned in the area. Most ingredients in her parents’ herbal remedies came from the garden in their backyard. Though small, it felt like a botanical museum with its odd assortment of plants. Her parents ran their alternative medicine apothecary from their living room. The neighbourhood kids teased her for it, and her odd parents and their hippie lifestyle. Now grown, the teasing didn’t get to her as much.

What of Drachenburg? she asked curiously. Am I allowed to attend school before fledging?

Anyone born to an otherworld woman and turning sixteen this year must attend Drachenburg.

If mama were human, I wouldn’t be faerie? she asked surprised.

Her parents rarely talked about the otherworld. They were on poor terms with their extended family, and she still didn’t know why. She knew her maternal grandmother was alive, but she’d never met her. Her father’s sisters sometimes visited, but it was rare. And her aunties were elderly, a decade, one two decades older than her father. Consequently, her paternal cousins weren’t close to her age, so she didn’t know them well.

Otherworld beings can’t be born to human mothers, her father said simply. They can have human fathers, but not human mothers, because humans can’t manage the twenty-month term. It’s a painful death.

Sophie shuddered at that, yet another important bit of information she hadn’t known.

Beside her on the consultation bench, her mother turned the page. Something on the new page caught her eye.

What’s a wailer?

A witch, her mother said too quickly, already flipping to the next page.

Why not just say witch, if witch and wailer are the same...?

Hurry up and pack, her father interrupted. We leave in an hour for the airport.

There’s nothing to pack, Sophie argued, but her mother had spelt the publication away and she was rushing to the kitchen, claiming lunch was ready and they should eat before they left.

Papa...? she began.

You’ll find out soon enough, her father countered before she voiced her question.

But...

That’s enough, Sophie, Lachlan snapped. There’s nothing to be curious about.

On the contrary, it sounded quite curious already. Sophie wondered why the witch caused her parents such discomfort, and why she deserved the centre spread.

Chapter 3

It was a beautiful summer morning in Hamburg, but the Maiga witch didn’t have the luxury of marvelling at the delightful weather. She took a cab to the city centre and spent the better part of an hour looking for a public phone.

Promise me, her grandmother urged nearly a decade ago. Promise that you’ll never go there, not even when you turn sixteen and they come for you.

If they come for you, you must remain in Mong’ena. They can’t touch you here. The magic of our ancestors will keep you safe within our home, and those strong enough to break such magic are long dead.

She promised to stay away from their world, the otherworld, yet here she was. Mong’ena was her everything - her home, her kingdom, her school, and her playground. In Mong’ena everything belonged to her, yet she couldn’t help but realise that it was a little like a prison.

She’d lived there all her life and was quite content, but as she watched tourists drive through, and their children delight in the safari, she wondered if staying in Mong’ena forever was right.

After researching the matter in the Mong’ena journals, she found that past scholars had tried to campaign for their witch clan to join the otherworld society, and even run for a high council seat in society, to stop the war with the high coven through politics. Unfortunately, the leadership in Mong’ena refused to listen, convinced that joining society would mean they were admitting defeat. Now she was the last Maiga, and it was indisputable that Mong’ena lost the war with the high coven.

It was perhaps too late, yet doing things the same way didn’t seem like the right choice. Also, a simple rule in the otherworld, claiming all otherworld fledglings had to attend Drachenburg School between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, had troubled her family this last century. Anyone who failed to attend school was not a member of the otherworld society. Any otherworldly being who was not a member of society was convicted to death without trial.

Due to a centuries-long war between Mong’ena and the high coven secret society, few from Mong’ena attended Drachenburg. Unfortunately, this gave the high coven legal ground to keep hunting and killing them.

She mulled over the matter for months, making up and changing her mind frequently, before finally deciding. It was dangerous, but she was convinced it was worth the risk. If the high coven attacked her in school, she’d give up and return to Mong’ena, find a human when she was of age, and have Maiga children. But until then, there was no risk in trying a different strategy.

Boke walked quickly through the unfamiliar busy streets, trying not to panic. It was frightening to leave Mong’ena, but as long as she avoided using magic, she found she was practically undetectable. Living as a human was tiresome, but she suffered it because it allowed her to stay alive.

In the world outside Mong’ena, she’d learned that when her laces came undone, she bent and tied them. If her pen fell off a table, she pushed back her chair and picked it up. If she needed the bathroom, she walked there. It was odd, very unlike life in Mong’ena, where everything was a simple spell away.

Though orphaned, she was from a once-powerful ancient family and had a sizeable inheritance to maintain her. Her great-grandfather, a brilliant man she never met, registered Mong’ena as a conservation trust that ensured the property couldn’t be seized. He also created a fake identity for his daughter, which Boke inherited. Her grandmother, officially Nyangwi Maiga, was to humans a still-living being called Pendo Mara, guardian of Ira Mara.

Boke never knew her mother. There was little information about her parents in Mong’ena, and perhaps that was part of the reason she’d embarked on this very dangerous mission. She hoped to uncover anything about her parents while at Drachenburg.

She found a phone by the main railway station. She dialled a number she’d memorised, let it ring twice and then cut the call. When she next rang, she let it ring once and then cut the call. On her third attempt, a raspy voice answered after it rang six times.

Drachenburg School.

Boke Maiga.

How may I help you...? the voice on the other end faded away in shock as her name registered.

I want admittance to Drachenburg.

We didn’t know... the woman on the other end of the phone began, then faltered. ...You’re sixteen. Of course, you have admittance.

The fact that they knew her name and age unsettled her, but she schooled her voice and went on.

The school year begins today?

It does. Let me talk to the headteacher briefly, the woman urged. Stay by the phone.

Barely a minute later, just when Boke was deciding that this was a very bad idea and she should go back home, the phone rang.

Miss Maiga?

Who are you? she asked very sternly.

Drachenburg headteacher, Count Eikyr Sanguine.

When Boke said nothing more, he added, All fledglings have admittance to Drachenburg. We feel very privileged that...

Will I be safe there?

He took his time to answer, his breathing laboured. At school, yes. But travelling here will be dangerous.

Oddly enough, she felt she could trust him. Are you a witch?

I’m Avalon.

She frowned at the thought of relying on a blood-sucking being, but at least it meant he was impartial to witch affairs.

Should I send LEs to escort you to school...?

I’ll manage.

You can’t port into Drachenburg, he pointed out unnecessarily.

She already knew that. She’d read it in one of the journals, her primary source of otherworld information.

I’ll be fine.

She stepped out of the booth when the call ended, and nearly collided with a boy heading for the train station.

He stopped just before he crashed into her, and she found his reflexes impressive. Then her adrenaline kicked in. Something about him was very off. He was too pale, and yet also, his countenance was too dark. His hair, cut close to his head, had a lifeless quality to it that seemed near perverse. When he looked up to apologise, his eyes were so pale that she stepped back horrified.

Are you also bound for Drachenburg...? he drew off in surprise, and she was surprised too, that he could say the word Drachenburg to her. It meant only one thing, and that seemed to make him relax slightly.

I suppose you are. He bowed, oblivious to her discomfort. We have a couple of hours more. I know a good ice shop in the area.

He stepped forward, and Boke stepped back.

Don’t be frightened, he said quickly. Have you never met an Avalon before? Are you a werecat?

She shook her head.

A witch then?

Though she tried to stop herself, she nodded.

I’m Arke Nyre.

She nodded again.

When he kept watching her, she realised he was waiting for her name.

Boke... she began, then drew off hesitantly.

Boke?

It was her second time telling her real name, and it was strange to hear it spoken out loud.

Odd name, he offered, then said it again, as though trying to decide its degree of oddity.

Come with me. We can wait at the ice shop by the harbour. Klaus will join us there.

Klaus? Boke asked uncertainly.

His mother is also a councilman. Councilman Rheinhart. My father is Councilman Nyre.

A council of eight rules the otherworld, a spirit had coached her during her studies in Mong’ena. This boy’s father was one of the eight who ruled the otherworld which destroyed her family. She wanted to hate him.

You can trust me, he said, then turned and began walking. After a few paces, he turned back and waved. Come on! They have very nice ice.

She knew it was insane, but Boke found herself following him.

There are two types of monsters, gogo told her when she was barely seven years old. There are witches, and then there are Avalon.

But we’re witches, gogo, little Boke countered.

We can be monsters if we aren’t careful.

Shouldn’t the beings that turn into beasts be monsters too?

They don’t kill at will, her grandmother argued. But Avalon, and witches, do.

Boke followed the little monster, feeling very stupid. Just yesterday she’d left Mong’ena, and now it seemed she’d forgotten all its teachings.

She followed him through a narrow street, a shortcut to a square along a canal, until he stopped before a small ice shop.

They have the best ice cream in the city, he declared with a comforting voice that seemed ill-fitting against his odd features. What do you like?

She wasn’t sure what she liked. Ice cream, like most things outside the confines of home, was a new taste she was still trying to get used to.

Wait here. I’ll buy you my favourite.

Before she could argue, he disappeared into the shop. Boke stood awkwardly by the door, and then feeling stupid, she began to walk away. What was she doing following around an Avalon? Was she insane? What if the high coven discovered where she was and attacked? Should she hide?

She was still trying to decide what to do when the boy caught up with her by the canal steps.

Good idea! Let’s sit out here. The sun isn’t too harsh yet.

Before Boke could tell him that she didn’t want to sit or eat ice cream, he settled on one of the concrete steps and pushed into her hands a cone topped with the most beautiful swirls of colours she’d ever seen.

He guessed at her expression and smiled. It’s the best ice cream in town.

She sat down self-consciously, making sure she was at least a hand length away, and ate her ice cream.

Arke tried not to watch her. He’d read the list of new students to attend school, and she was not on it. Her name was strange enough that he’d have recognised it if she was on the list. Either she was lying about her name, or something very unexpected was about to happen.

Unexpected was rare in a society where everyone knew everyone. He hadn’t met all witches in the world, but he knew all witch families, and this Boke didn’t seem to belong to any of them.

His head told him to call his father and tell him about her, but another side begged him not to. She seemed to want to keep her identity a secret. He didn’t know how long she’d manage it, but he didn’t see the harm in letting her.

In Hamburg yet? Klaus texted.

Arke did something also very unlike him. He ignored his best friend and silently ate ice cream with the beautiful stranger.

Won’t we be late?

Two hours later, she finally spoke. He’d wondered how long it’d take her to say something, and though they risked running late, and their ice cream was done, he’d waited for her to talk.

She reminded him of Blue, one of his kittens. Most cats were wary of Avalon, and when Betty had kittens, blue was wariest of Arke. Arke liked the kitten so much but didn’t know how to get close to her, so he spent days sitting across from her and waiting. Weeks later, Blue finally curled up by his feet. Weeks more, and she finally gained confidence to sit on his lap.

This strange girl reminded him of blue. He feared if he pushed her, she’d run away. He wanted her to want to be his friend.

It’s almost midday, she tried again.

I know a shortcut, he said, rising to his feet. We have to run.

They had less than ten minutes and he wasn’t sure how fast witches ran.

I can run... She sounded unsure, and it made him want to smile.

Chapter 4

Sophie, perched nervously at the edge of a metal bench at the meeting point, wasn’t the only one about. Beside her was a boy with his hair neatly parted and slicked back. Two benches away sat a girl with large headphones, bobbing her head to music only she could hear. Sophie found her there when she arrived nearly an hour ago, and the girl hadn’t spoken or returned her greeting.

Then she noted the two running towards them.

Nyre? I’m surprised you’re almost late, the boy beside her exclaimed when the running boy stopped before them, not at all out of breath. Where were you? I texted.

"Sorry, I must