Paramor: Chronicles of the Shadow School, Book 1 Coven of Outcasts: Paramor: Chronicles of the Shadow School, Book 1 Coven of Outcasts, #1

By M. Mason

Paramor follows the misadventures of three teenagers: a witch, a vampire (Malfaire), and a townie whose roads cross in a small Virginia town called Avery. Only Avery holds a dark secret that is unknown to outsiders. It is home to a doorway to the Caster school, Paramor, that commands over the supernatural world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M. Mason
• Release date: Oct 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223841418

M. Mason

M. Mason is a father of three. Who married the woman of his dreams and calls Las Vegas his home. I have worked in the kitchens at The Excalibur Hotel for almost 25 years. I have been writing stories and telling tall tales since I was nine. I am a role player and accustomed to building worlds, and maybe just a little bit of a romantic.

Book preview

Ascendancy Warning:

This book is the property of The Paramor Academy.

With the express intention to only be read by Paramor students.

The narrative contained within these pages has been taken from Diaries, Personal Journals, Scribblings,

First-hand eyewitness accounts, and Peer Recollections in an attempt to better understand the chain of Errors and circumstances that led to

The Event,

That our world is still recovering from, this Chronicle was put together For educational purposes that these events or any of their like may never be repeated.

If this book is found in error, please return it to your local authorities. If you are not a Paramor student and have read from these pages, then expect us shortly.

As we are already at your door and in the next room.

We have your name, and you will not survive this.

Asmodeus Dregard

Sentinel Prime of the Onyx Ascendancy

Prologue

Fall from Grace

Breathing. All I can hear is my unsteady breathing and the voices. I must have been crying all evening. I've been crying since she took me from my warm, safe bed in the middle of the night...

Los Angeles, five years ago:

I don't know what to say or how to explain why this nightmare began with me, only she came in the middle of the night after we had all gone to bed. Then, very forcefully, used one of our pillowcases to cover my head, tying it around the back of my neck so tightly that I almost couldn't breathe. At first, I thought it was all a part of some cruel joke, as my younger sister can sometimes be thoughtless at times. Only the arms that held me down were way too strong. The pillowcase covering my head was way too chilling. No, this wasn't Alexis; our father was still out of state and would never do such a thing. Absolute terror set in as I was suddenly lifted from my bed as if I did not weigh anything at all. My heart filled with dread when an unfamiliar female voice said in a whisper,

Scream, and I will kill you. If you make me kill you, I will just have to take your sister Alexis in your place. Think it through and decide, little girl. Only make no mistake, I can snap you in half like a twig. Make any sound, and I will have to hurt your caretakers and housekeepers; their blood will be on your hands. Nod your head if you understand.

Head covered, tears flowing, I nodded, praying that this was all some insane nightmare. While upright, I was dragged out from my room to the end of the hall, then down the stairs and toward the sitting room. The pillowcase was still over my head, but I was born and raised in this house and knew it too well.  Only one voice spoke to me. Our hallways, although significant, could only accommodate two of us at one time. So, I wondered how any woman could be doing this?  How can she possibly be dragging me about like some rag doll? I am almost sixteen years old and weigh about one-hundred-twenty, tall for my age. Yet, the way she manipulated me, I could almost swear I weighed less than 40 pounds to her. We freeze when voices can be heard from outside.  Harmon? Blake? Gate security was coming. I felt so relieved at the possibility that this insane night might be coming to an end. Suddenly, the whole world seemed to shift away from me as I began to fall horizontally. I am barreling sideways and away from my so-called rescuers. The sudden pull and change of direction turns my stomach, like the descending sensation you feel in an express elevator going down. To me, the entire world had flipped sideways, and I was just another object caught up in the fall. Then I realized that She-na, the Power Princess, had taken hold of me, pulling me like a paper doll as she ran away much faster than possible. I do not know if it was the shock or how she manhandled me. I only know that everything suddenly went black. I thought for a moment that I had died...

I suppose I must have fainted as I awoke to voices arguing. I was cold, and on my back in a wooden box, I could not open. I shuffled around in the dark and got the pillowcase off my head. I could hear the sounds of the city night beyond the voices without knowing exactly where I was. A box?! A wooden box?! Who are these people who would treat me as if I were cargo or a package from Amazon? And even though I was terrified way beyond rational thinking, I decided to try to listen in on their conversation. The woman who had taken me was arguing with a man. He was mad at her for something she did. She kept saying things about collateral damage in a war. I internally hoped that he was angry over her kidnapping me, that maybe he would make her let me go. Instead, whoever he was had left when she finally opened the box.

Stand, now! she ordered.

It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust, as the rooftop was well-lit. I began to cry again when I realized it was one of my father's buildings.

Shut up! SHUT UP!! Stop your whiny blubbering! I am not going to hurt you, Kitten! she said. As for my kidnapper, she was a tattooed, raven-haired emo girl, perhaps in her mid-twenties, only 5 feet, maybe 100 pounds, so I Instinctively looked around for anybody else. We appeared to be alone, so I contemplated running, only I was in socks and had probably been in that cramped box for hours. I was in no shape to compete against her in anything. Even less when she grips the front of my shirt, pinching one of my breasts as she freakishly lifts me with one arm and moves me toward the edge. I beg for my life while flailing my legs, trying to get any footing, when she sets me to stand on the ledge, still holding on. In a stagnant puddle from a leaking AC unit on the roof, I get my first real look at myself since coming out from inside the box.  My hair is a disheveled mess; my cute boy band pajamas are almost completely tattered up rags. There is blood on me from where I don't know. It makes sense, as she wasn't exactly gentle with me.

Look at me, child, she asks, smiling psychotically. I look down at her, my blonde hair blowing frantically in the evening breeze.

My, my, you have such pretty eyes, Topaz almost.  You would have lived such a prized life.

Would have?! I panicked and grabbed a hold of the arm holding me.

Survival instinct? That is so cute. Do you think it will save you?  She asked sadistically, making me feel small, as she tore my hand off of her like I was a newborn infant. Struggling to hold on, I started to cry out.

Please, you said you wouldn't hurt me! I pleaded with her as she reached over slowly to help straighten my hair and cup my cheek.

That's true, I did say that. She paused briefly to look over the side and then back to me.

Only I never said anything about the street below. And with that said, she shoves me right off.  I remember not having time to cry out or for self-pity as I stared at her face.  The world goes into slow motion, and everything begins ascending around me.

The entire world moves to the pace of life. Crazy, the things you think about when you are about to die. It's from an insurance commercial, Something local. Anyway, those words have never rang more true than when this goth bitch decided to push me off a thirty-eight-story building, as if kidnapping and terrorizing me wasn't bad enough. I try to scream but can hardly catch my breath in my panic. My ears pop, and my eyes begin to water as my arms try frantically to grab onto everything and anything. I reach thirty-two feet per second as I think about mortality for the first time in my brief life. I am almost sixteen, and I am going to die. What a joke I was in this world. Just a tiny footnote in the Book of Life: a quick decade and a half intermission in the lives of those around me. I should have done more, maybe been more proactive. I should have tried to have been closer to my father and spent more time with him. He is never going to understand this. I should have let Marcus Collins kiss me after such a long, drawn-out stare. I liked him, and he wasn't a jerk. As I pass the structure's halfway point, my body begins to roll with the winds.  Only to start to contemplate if it would hurt or whether I would suffer. Will anyone know who I was? Or has anybody even noticed I was gone? Will anybody care?  I wonder what kind of corpse I will make. What a strange thought, but it just popped into my head. Like, will I die profile or full face? Will there be anything left of me at all? Or will whatever is left be torn to shreds by the glass top lobby below? At that thought, I began to panic all over again. 

Is it getting warmer out here?!

I think to myself as my mind explodes with moments and images weaving a tapestry displaying my entire life. Great birthdays and bad break ups, my best friend Chrissy and my sort of boyfriend Mark mourning my loss together.  When I am hit again with a blast of heat, my descent shifts slightly.  I look up, and to my surprise, I am not falling alone, as now a man on fire is falling with me! He looks like some angel set ablaze, falling from the Heavens above. The sight is both beautiful and terrifying. Only I have attended enough Sunday school to know not to take hold of his burning outstretched hand. He locks eyes with me with an almost sympathetic expression. Only I knew what it was. My time had finally run out...

Okay, here's the thing. You know how when you are young, you think you will live forever?

Well, lucky for me, that is an option.

- Erica Hurst of the Malfaire

Chapter: One

Charlie

My name is Charlene Amelia Renaldi, but most friends call me Charlie. I am just a typical sixteen-year-old girl living an atypical sixteen-year-old life on the road with my father. Finding and removing supernatural entities from unwanted places.  I should probably mention to you early on that I am a witch. It might be a good idea right now to clear this part up for you straight away that when I say I am a witch, it doesn't mean I am a goth, emo, or just a Hot Topic shopper, although I do wear black on special occasions and dates sometimes. I am trying to convey that it's not entirely what you think it is, as there are Seven finite rules to being a modern-day Witch/Warlock or Caster.

Rule one: Bloodline

To be a genuine Caster, you need to be a descendant of certain older bloodlines. Without that, you are just another poser waving your fingers, calling out JK Rowling's gibberish words. Birds fly because they were born to do so, and fish swim because it is in their nature. Such is with the ways of magic; there's a sort of physics to it. So don't fight it, Harry.

Rule two:  Awareness

You need to be born with an innate sense of the cosmos and where you are in it at all times. Weather can also be a factor, and Magic is empathic, meaning your mood can affect your casting and conjuring. So idealistically, it's best to be almost stoic when casting, as it will yield a much better result.

Rule three:  Speak clearly.

Learn to enunciate every word while casting. More often than not, a Witch, Warlock, or Caster of today must attend speech classes, as any magic or spell must be spoken clearly and without accent. Mumbling or mispronouncing any part of a cast can result in a disastrous outcome, as the forces you are attempting to invoke do not take kindly to having to make out what you said. A Witch that can master both speaking clearly and quickly would dominate an entire room of Casters that cannot.

Rule Four: Posture is very important.

With more advanced incantations, your entire body must become the passageway from another world.  A bridge of sorts, as only the older bloodlines straddle both worlds.

For we don't cast with words or the waving of hands alone, but with everything that is, offering up everything we are. -The Nightingale Tome, third chapter, verse six.

We cast with our entire body; sometimes, it can look a bit like a dance.

Rule Five: Cost

Power carries its own price. Magic is a driving force in the universe. It has been around before the sun was lit and the world cooled. Long before the skies and way before the Earth. All creation might have once been crafted on the back of magic alone. So, with all that said, I hope you can understand when I tell you that all magic draws a toll. Yeah, sorry, it's nothing like it is in the movies. Manipulation over the Arcane arts is much like writing poetry. It's not just the act of putting pencil to paper but leaving little pieces of yourself with every word. Even the most minor cast can be exhausting sometimes.

Rule Six: Invocation is everything.

The gathering of life energies takes time.  Sometimes, a witch or caster needs an extra