The Destined Chronicles: Heirs of Fate

By Noelle Morenson

Attention, boys, girls, and nonbinary sorcerers,

The enclosed chapters depict our harrowing journey to safeguard humanity from a vindictive, jealous sorcerer and his plot to resurrect the world's most deadly sorceress. Yes, really.

We bet you are wondering why this jealous man decided to raise a woman from the dead. For that answer, we suggest you start reading. This explanation is going to take a while.

Before you start, however, we do want to offer these words of wisdom: Know who your friends are. Know that they are trustworthy. And, above all, know that you will never be defined by your family tree. And sometimes, it's better to not know your roots. So put down that genealogy test. Trust us.

You really don't want to find out.

We didn't.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798885056274

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Chapter 1: Chivalry's Consequences

Chapter 2: The Lost Ones

Chapter 3: Joining Forces

Chapter 4: Secrets and Surprises

Chapter 5: Family Ties

Chapter 6: Powerless

Chapter 7: The New Apprentice

Chapter 8: Dire Disobedience

Chapter 9: The Best and Worst

Chapter 10: Final Preparations

Chapter 11: Rebirth

About the Author

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The Destined Chronicles

Heirs of Fate

Noelle Morenson

Copyright © 2023 Noelle Morenson

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2023

ISBN 979-8-88505-626-7 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88505-627-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To Mel, who encouraged me to keep writing, even on my darkest days.

Mom, Memere, and Grand-Memere—I miss you all every day. I know you would be proud of me.

This book is my heart, my soul, and my craziest thoughts all bound together in paperback. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

Chivalry's Consequences

Lights dimmed on the moldy wooden panels running beneath the feet of a dozen drunken groomsmen. Along the worn golden walls ran a pale banner reading Congratulations, Marcus pinned up by the best man—that man was Damien Blaise, and he sat alone, at the bar, drinking a decaffeinated coffee.

While his fellow companions had spent the morning drinking liquor and had shown up to the six o'clock celebration completely hammered, Damien had chosen to remain completely sober. He wanted to remember this occasion.

This day was for his friend, Marcus Vincent, and tomorrow would be Marcus's wedding to the most beautiful girl in the word: Claudia Crowne. Her perfect black hair spiraled down her back like a waterfall. She was perfectly pale, like a porcelain doll, and her blue eyes shone like sapphires. Amazingly, she had accepted when Damien asked her out last year. Now she was marrying Marcus.

Not that it was her choice. Her parents, Belinda and Dorian, had always been friends with the Vincents, Madeleine and Gregory. The Vincents were a very rich family. Damien would even venture at aristocratic, and the Crownes were not. The Crownes only wanted the best for their daughter, and Damien, coming from a poor broken family, would never be the best in their eyes. He loved Claudia, and she loved him, but hers and Marcus's families arranged a marriage before she and Damien could run away.

Now it was too late.

Not to mention that Marcus was everything Damien wasn't: resourceful, collected, and attractive. Not that Damien wasn't handsome with short, soft brown hair, golden eyes, a toned physique and sun-kissed skin. At any rate, he believed he was more handsome than Marcus, who, at twenty-six, was sickly pale with onyx hair and gray eyes. But Marcus had money, and that was all Claudia's parents desired.

If having his self-esteem crushed by the parents of the girl he loved wasn't bad enough, add the fact that Marcus's entire wedding party comprised the Brotherhood, an elite sorcery faction dedicated to pushing the boundaries of what was possible with magic, whatever the cost. The Vincents were some of the oldest members of the Brotherhood, dating back to its formation. Once, he had begged Damien to join, but Damien had refused. He was the type of sorcerer who, unlike Marcus, used magic for practical purposes and genuinely respected the craft. And the initiation to the Brotherhood was too extreme for Damien's likings. To be accepted, one would need to prove one's willingness not to shy away from dark acts and perform a ritual sacrifice to the victim of their choosing.

Marcus's initiation was five years ago. He had chosen two victims.

Damien knew Marcus's fiancée disagreed wholeheartedly with the ritual sacrifice. That was simply another reason why she and Marcus would be doomed. But by marrying Marcus, Claudia would be inducted into the all-male society, in which women were only allowed if they were related to a member.

As soon as Damien learned of Claudia's forced enrollment, he had confronted his friend, begging him to call off the wedding. But Marcus hadn't.

That was the straw that would break their friendship forever.

The bachelor himself plopped down on the barstool next to Damien and leaned coolly against the glass countertop.

Come on, Damien, he said, his words slurring, have a little. It won't kill you…

Damien rolled his eyes. I'm good, he retorted coldly.

Marcus didn't seem to feel the iciness. He smiled then, revealing his yellowing teeth. Come on, pal, it's a party! You can't sit here sulking the whole time…

Damien snorted. What choice do I have? he asked dryly. You're marrying the woman I love, Marcus. And forcing her to join this—he lowered his voice—"cult. It's not like I'm going to celebrate."

"But you're the best man, said Marcus drunkenly. I thought you'd like being close to the harlot at the wedding."

The coffee cup Damien had been holding slipped from numb fingers and landed abruptly on the glass, its contents splashing onto the table. What did you call her? he asked. His voice dangerously low.

The surrounding groomsmen were drinking themselves into oblivion, ignorant to the argument brewing at the bar.

Marcus laughed heartily; his eyes glossy. But she is a harlot, he insisted. Look at the evidence. First, the girl makes you fall in love with her, and then she makes me fall in love with her…though perhaps it was only her looks I fell in love with. But don't get me wrong, old friend, there are plenty of other broads that would die to marry me. That girl's luckier than a horseshoe. His gray eyes twinkled like the glint of a sword, and he smirked, draining the rest of his beer. It dribbled down his shirt in thick droplets, staining the white material.

Damien punched him. He hit him square in the jaw, and Marcus, for once, caught off guard, crumbled to the floor. All at once, the other Brothers stopped spinning in circles and poised themselves to attack. Their multicolored drinks suddenly vanished, colored umbrellas fluttering awkwardly to the floor.

What are you doing, Blaise? asked one of them, Gwaine, while swaying on his feet. He was a big guy, six-foot three inches tall, with large muscles and an eye that lazed to the left. His real name was Gregory Archer, but nobody called him that. The Brotherhood was notorious for its Arthurian obsession; the Brothers worshipped the legendary Morgana LaFey for her powers and willingness to do whatever necessary to accomplish her goals. In short, they praised her ruthlessness. Thus, each Brotherhood member was granted a codename based on the legendary Knights of the Round Table. Marcus was Mordred; Claudia would assume the title of the LaFey legend herself. Arthur, the Brotherhood's leader, sat quietly in the corner of the bar, either too bored or too unwilling to partake in the action.

Tristan and Lamorak, friends alike in their looks and stupidity, also advanced on Marcus, each gripping one of his arms to help him to his feet. Listen, mate, said Tristan, his words slurring, you don't want to do this before the wedding.

Why not? spat Damien savagely. Did you hear what he said?

They each exchanged a look. Marcus, regaining his composure, snarled. Blaise, he said clearly. What I call my bride-to-be isn't your business. It was never your business. Not since she chose me.

Damien would have hit him again had Gwaine not pinned his arms behind his back. She didn't choose you! he shouted. Do you even love her?

Marcus laughed. Love her? he repeated blankly. Who knows? She probably cast a spell on me, eh, boys?

Fury bubbled inside Damien's heart. He had known Claudia for years, decades, even. They had grown up together, and he had been in love with her ever since they'd been trained and tutored by their masters. She was not a harlot, and she was certainly not the wicked sorceress Morgana. He wanted desperately to attack the Brotherhood with brute force but knew that was fruitless with his arms pinned down.

He would need less conventional methods to defend the woman he loved.

Closing his eyes, he blocked every useless thought from his mind and focused intently on one goal: separation. Darkness swelled over him, feeding on his soul, his nerves, and he felt a tug and sudden lightness as he stepped outside the restraints of his body. He grinned as the Brotherhood members leapt back in surprise. Damien had been studying astral projection for seven years now, ever since he had turned eighteen. Every sorcerer, upon reaching maturity, is directed by their master to choose a field of magic to study and perfect for the remainder of their lives. Of course, this didn't mean they were forbidden to use other types of magic. These fields were more on…concentrations. Specializations. Damien's specialty was projection, and none of the Brothers had bothered learning the process.

What is this? Marcus spat as Damien walked freely around the bar, his body still held firmly in the arms of an astonished Gwaine. Are you trying to pick a fight with us? All of us? It's fruitless in astral form, Blaise.

Damien smirked. Is it? he said, and elbowed Tristan in the stomach. The buffoon doubled over, dark hands clutching at his rib cage, as Lamorak aimed a swing at Damien's head. He ducked, and the blow hit Lancelot instead, a young initiate with curly red hair and freckles on his nose. Lancelot's eyes crossed, and he collapsed, unconscious, on the damp and moldy floor. Marcus roared and took a barstool in his hands, aiming the legs at Damien's chest. This time he didn't duck and didn't need to: the astral projection made him a projection, only air and particles. The stool passed through him like smoke, connecting with Gwaine, a man who knew enough about astral projecting to push Damien's body out of the way. The chair's legs dug into Gwaine's chest and blood bubbled at the wounds as he collapsed. A moment later, he was dead.

That's enough, said a quiet voice from the corner. Damien took a deep breath and stepped back into his body, which lay slumped against the bar's counter. As soon as he was back in corporeal form, he saw who had spoken.

It was Arthur.

He certainly looked like his namesake, with golden blond hair that fell into his eyes as clear as Bahamian water. A slight spring to his step and a steady gait, toned muscles at his arms, abdomen, and legs, suggested he could kill you without breaking a sweat. He wore a black trench coat over a white dress shirt, black pants, and midnight blue bow tie. Arthur clearly hadn't planned on moving from his seat until the wedding the following day.

That's enough, said Arthur again. Mordred, he addressed Marcus, explain yourself.

Marcus looked incredibly flustered. Merlin started it, Arthur, not me.

Damien cringed. Merlin had been the Brothers' nickname for him ever since he refused to join their ranks. He supposed they meant it as a pejorative, but honestly, if naming someone after the greatest sorcerer who ever lived was an insult, they could keep using it.

No, said Arthur evenly. You did, Mordred. Do you remember the rules of the Brotherhood?

Marcus paled. Sir, of course, I…

Recite them to me.

Silence smothered the groomsmen. Tristan and Lamorak huddled around Gwaine's body; their dark faces shielding that of their fallen comrade. Marcus cleared his throat, a hand running through his hair as he blushed, embarrassed. Right, he said. Ah, be loyal to your family—

Exactly, Arthur cut him off, not needing to hear the remainder of the rules. Not that there were many more; in fact, there were only four rules to the Brotherhood code, though, admittedly, Damien hadn't looked at the code in five years. You broke the first rule when you insulted our lady Morgana. Merlin was defending her honor, and you made a mockery of yourself.

Marcus flushed. Sir, he killed Gwaine!

But Arthur shook his head, glancing mildly at Gwaine's body. No, he said thoughtfully. You did that. Merlin would have died if he hadn't been in astral form. And to think you've been studying astral projection as well, correct? You've been bested, Mordred, bested by your lapdog. He paused for a moment as the surrounding Brothers broke into disjointed, hearty laughter. Marcus turned an ugly shade of puce.

That being said,—Arthur turned to Damien then, and his eyes seemed to darken like a rising wave—we do not tolerate violence within the Dark Castle, or within the ranks of the Brotherhood, even if you were defending Morgana. You are not a member, Merlin, and yet you have been to nearly every meeting, every event, and every council ever since Mordred was initiated. Consider that privilege revoked.

Damien felt cold all over. The Brotherhood may be an evil bunch, but they were certainly pleasant enough to their own and had been courteous to Damien on account of his being Marcus's friend. If Arthur decided he wasn't welcome in the Dark Castle bar anymore, that was as good as declaring Damien an enemy of the Brothers. That as good as declared him dead.

Arthur, he said slowly, but the man held up a hand and gestured to Tristan. Without a word, Tristan wrapped his fingers around Damien's bicep and hurled him toward the exit, the remaining Brothers staring him down in silence.

*****

Rain splashed his face as dark thunderclouds rolled overhead. Tristan, the bald, dark-skinned Brother, pushed Damien out into the storm and slammed the Dark Castle door shut behind him. Damien pounded on the metal, fruitlessly pleading to be let back in, but then gave up. In trying to defend Claudia, he had become a dead man.

Deciding there was nothing left for him to do but pack his things and skip town, he skulked down the Simsbury side street, piercing raindrops plastering the sleeves of his leather jacket to his skin. Water seeped beneath the collar and slid down his spine, chilling his core. He determined that this was the weather's way of mocking him. Damien had never really been fond of rain; he much rather preferred the torrents of wind that usually accompanied a rainstorm. Marcus hated wind. One of his grandparents had been injured in a tornado when he was little, and he had hated strong winds ever since. That was when Damien and Marcus had become inseparable.

But then they had hit puberty, and the normally geeky and wiry Claudia Crowne had too, and both boys fell hard.

And now Marcus wanted him dead.

Damien shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and hung his head as he walked. He didn't see what the big issue was. Marcus had never wanted to marry Claudia; he had only ever fancied her like most teenage boys fall for the prettiest girls they see. Damien had always been the one that understood and appreciated her intellect, her compassion for others, and her fierce determination to protect those she cared about. He knew in his heart that he would still love her if she had remained the bespectacled, scrawny student she had been in their youth.

Damien?

He froze. Was he dreaming? Had he passed out at the bar and imagined her voice? Surely his subconscious would deliver him the voice of the one person he desperately needed, the one person who had the potential to wipe away all his fears of persecution by the Brotherhood.

Damien, you idiot. You're not dreaming. Turn around.

He obeyed. Even considering his current self-loathing, he doubted his mind would call him an idiot in her voice. Sure enough, as if conjured by the deepest recesses of his soul, Claudia Crowne stood there, drenched and beaming. A turquoise-sequined party dress clung to her body as if painted on, dripping water, beneath a soaking black blazer; her pale feet seemed to slide out of wet black sandals. Raven hair had been pinned into a twisted knot behind her head, loose strands sliding into her eyes.

Every inch of his composure shattered like glass at the sight of her. Claudia, he breathed, and she rushed into his arms. He held her close, not daring to let go for fear of losing her to the torrent and kissed her fiercely. They had been forbidden to see each other since her forced engagement to Marcus, and now, holding her and feeling her lips against his, he was overcome with emotion. When they broke apart, she gasped as he dissolved into shaking sobs.

Damien, she said softly, soft hands cupping his cheeks. Sweetheart, what happened?

He shook his head. I screwed up, he choked, coughing back tears. Claudia, I screwed up. Marcus—

What about him? she asked; her voice suddenly cold. What did he do to you?

But again, he shook his head. She needed to understand. No, he said, this is about what I did. He was insulting you, calling you names, and he was drunk, and I hit him, and now the Brotherhood is after me.

Why? Claudia's sapphire eyes were intense, fixed on his as he struggled to remain calm. It had been easy trudging on his own through the rain, planning his life as an outlaw. But Claudia made things more complicated. If he involved her in this, they would never welcome her into their ranks; they would never give her the protection she deserved.

Stop it, she said quickly, her voice harsh. It was at such stressful times as these that he forgot she was a telepath. I'm already involved, you idiot. I'm in love with you, and I'm betrothed to a man I hate. I couldn't get more involved if I was already married to one of you. Now take a breath and tell me everything.

Damien told her. He explained how he had outwitted the Brothers using astral projection, how Gwaine was dead now because of it. He explained how he had embarrassed Marcus in front of Arthur, and how Arthur had revoked Damien's right to be a part of Brotherhood dealings. He explained how Tristan threw him out of the Dark Castle and locked the door in his wake. He didn't need to tell her how all this made him an enemy in the eyes of the Brother because she already knew. Claudia's cousin, Annabeth, had once cheated on Lancelot's sister, Giselle, before Giselle married Arthur and assumed the name Guinevere. Anna was never heard from again.

Okay, said Claudia carefully once he had finished. So now what? Marcus is coming after you?

You know he is, said Damien, pacing where they stood. It was getting later now, and fewer and fewer cars were on the road. He guessed all this had taken place in the space of an hour or so. He holds grudges better than all of us combined.

And you embarrassed him in front of Arthur, Claudia agreed. He's not going to let you get away with that.

Not to mention, Damien added feverishly, he knows I'm in love with you. If he finds out that you're with me, who knows what he'll do to you.

Claudia gripped his hands tightly and held them against her heart. Hey, she said softly, smiling up at him. She was nearly a foot shorter than he was. Marcus isn't stupid. He knows that either I would find you, or you would come to me. We're all the other has, all we have ever had. There's as much a target on my back as there is on yours.

But, Arthur— said Damien hurriedly. Surely Arthur wouldn't punish Claudia after what Damien had done? He had been defending her honor after all.

But she shook her head. It's all about the Brotherhood's image, she said. Arthur won't care that you were defending me. He won't even care that I'm supposed to become their precious Morgana. He'll care that this whole business with you, me, and Marcus creates an image problem, and he'll want that taken care of as fast as he can. And if it means more punishment for Marcus, he'll send him out to take care of us both. There's no escaping this, for either of us.

It took all his strength not to dissolve in front of her again. What had he done? Where would they go? Where could they go where the Brotherhood wouldn't find them? In defending his love, he had endangered her life.

Claudia's eyes narrowed. Now you listen to me, Damien Blaise, she said sharply. This is not your fault. You hear me? It isn't. If things were reversed, I would have done the same exact thing. When he raised an eyebrow, she laughed shakily. Okay, she amended, maybe without the astral projecting. But I would have defended you. Damien, I am so proud of you. And I love that you risked so much to protect me. But now we must protect each other, my love.

He sighed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Marcus or another Brotherhood member hadn't followed them or was overhearing. Where will we go? he whispered, hands still covering her heart.

She smiled. I passed a high school not too far from here, she said, eyes lit up. It's still open… I think they're having some sort of school production. We can hide out in there until the rain stops, and then I'll try to get in touch with Dahlia. I haven't heard from her in about five years, but I'm sure she and her family will be willing to help us.

Damien nodded. Andrew and Dahlia Reynolds had always been close friends of the Crownes. Like Damien, they detested everything the Brotherhood stood for. From what he knew of the family, they had two little girls, both inherently possessing magic like their parents and a familial tutor who taught them how to use their powers.

Okay, he said finally. Let's go find that school.

*****

Claudia had been right; there was a school still open at this hour. From a sign poking through the grass outside the front entrance, they were about to intrude upon a talent show. How pleasant.

He hated talent shows. Not that he had ever been to one personally, but he knew enough to guess that he would hate them if he ever saw one. Just the thought of mediocre singing and dancing, kids burping the alphabet, and imitations of cheap comic-store magic made him wish Marcus would hurry up and put him out of his misery.

Hush now, said Claudia as they entered the darkened auditorium and took seats near the back. This is going to be amazing. Don't be rude.

"I didn't say anything," said Damien.

Claudia wrinkled her nose at him as they slid through the auditorium doors, and the audience applauded the latest performer. The talent show's emcee waltzed onstage to announce the next student.

Ladies and gentlemen, said the emcee, a girl with short blond hair and a silver suit, allow me to introduce our next event. Two years ago, they captured your heart by conjuring creatures. Last year, you saw her disappear into thin air. Tonight, prepare to be amazed as Danny Sterling and Victoria Carter perform a feat never before seen on this stage! I give you Daniel Sterling's Mystifying Magic!

Damien groaned. He knew it. Cheap comic-store magic. If he had a dollar for every time one of his predictions came true,