The Children of the Night

By Lucius Qayin

In "The Children of the Night," the second installment in the Leclair Witch Chronicles, the Leclair Sisters and The Enlightened face the Nocturna Sanguine, a malevolent vampire coven and an ancient darkness threatening humanity. The vampire coven, led by the most powerful Lord Azagon, descend upon unsuspecting towns, leaving entire populations in peril and feed energy to The Grey.
Guided by mystical forces, the Leclair Witches unearth the secrets of Aetherium, a potent magical substance, to confront the invincible vampire Lord Azagon. As battles unfold, sacrifices are made, and secrets revealed, the world teeters on the brink of darkness. Can the Leclair Witches and their allies thwart the impending apocalypse, or will humanity succumb to the relentless night? The saga continues with unparalleled suspense in this captivating installment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lux Occulta Books
• Release date: Dec 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9791222487724

Book preview

The Children of the Night

The Leclair Witch Chronicles

Lucius Qayin

Copyright © 2023 by Lucius Qayin and Bune Holdings LLC.

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the care of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher via email at the address below.

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The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

All interior pages artwork : Rasa

All Artwork © 2023 by Rasa. Used with permission.

First edition 2023.

Published by:

Lux Occulta Press (an imprint of Bune Holdings)

Contents

1.Prophetic Dreams

2.Shadows Descend

3.Bloodbound to The Grey

4.Strategies in the Shadows

5.Cryptic Revelations

6.Perilous Journey to Elderton

7.Shadows Over Shadowvale

8.Defending Against the Dark

9.Visions of Control and Connection

10.Discoveries in Elderton

11.Cryptic Mausoleum

12.Henrik's Revelation

13.Hall of Records

14.Celestial Clash

15.Awakening of Aetherium

16.Veiled Machinations

17.Chains of Shadows

18.Shadows Unleashed

19.Parley at Berkley Keep

20.Whispers in the Shadows

21.Elderton's Yard of Graves

22.Chaos Unleashed

23.Shadows Resurrected

24.BONUS: Echoes from The Stygia 2

Chapter 1

Prophetic Dreams

Moonlight seeped through the parted curtains, casting a silver glow over Selene's slumbering form. Her chest rose and fell with the tranquil rhythm of deep sleep, but beneath her closed eyelids, a tempest raged.

In her dream, Selene wandered through the narrow, cobblestone streets of Shadowvale. Fog hugged the ground, slithering between her feet like a living thing. The town was silent, eerily so, with not even the whisper of wind to disturb the quiet. Windows that should have been warm with the glow of hearth fires stood dark and empty.

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, an echo of dread that seemed to pulse through the very air. Something was coming—something malevolent. A shadow fell across the market square, and she turned to see figures emerging from the mist.

Vampires, their eyes like coals smoldering in their pale faces, fangs bared in grotesque grins. They moved with a predator's grace, encircling the town as if it were prey cornered for the kill. Selene's breath caught in her throat as she watched them close in, her feet rooted to the spot.

A child's toy lay abandoned on the cobblestones—a wooden horse with chipped paint and a frayed mane. One of the vampires crushed it beneath his boot, and its destruction felt like an omen.

The vampires began to seize control of Shadowvale with chilling efficiency. Doors were smashed open; screams rent the night air only to be abruptly silenced. Selene tried to move, tried to scream for them to stop, but no sound emerged from her lips. She was powerless, a silent witness to horror unfolding before her.

The line between dream and premonition blurred as a wave of nausea churned in Selene's stomach. Her sister's face flashed before her eyes—Cassandra, who needed her protection—but she was nowhere to be found amidst this chaos.

As suddenly as it began, the nightmare fractured into shards of disconnected images—flickers of firelight, the glint of moon on metal, and a haunting laugh that twisted around her mind like a vine.

Selene's eyes snapped open, her body slick with sweat as she gasped for air. The tranquility of her room mocked her heightened senses; nothing had changed except for the rapid drumming of her heart against her ribcage.

She threw off her blankets and sat up, wrapping her arms around herself as if they could ward off the chill that had nothing to do with temperature. Her mind raced—was it just a dream…

Selene sat in the darkness, the echoes of her nightmare still reverberating through her mind. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one slicing through the silence of her room like a blade. The silver light that had seemed so serene now took on an ominous quality, bathing her in a spectral glow that seemed to whisper of secrets hidden in the night.

Outside, an owl hooted—a low, mournful sound that twisted into the threads of her unease. Selene's gaze darted to the window, half expecting to see the shadowy figures from her dream materialize in the garden below. But there was nothing—only the gentle sway of branches in a breeze she couldn't feel.

Her hands trembled as she pushed back the sheets, feet meeting the cool wooden floor with a soft thud. She moved to the window, peering out into the night. The moon hung heavy in the sky, a silent witness to her turmoil.

Selene couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that clung to her like a second skin. Her dream had been too vivid, too visceral to be dismissed as mere fantasy. The faces of those vampires haunted her, their eyes filled with an insatiable hunger that seemed all too real.

With each tick of the clock, Selene's room felt smaller, more confining. She needed air, needed to reassure herself that Shadowvale remained untouched by the darkness that had infiltrated her dreams.

She slipped into a robe and made her way through the quiet house. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like a scream in the stillness. By the time she reached the front door and pushed it open, her pulse was a frantic tattoo against her throat.

The cool night air caressed her face as she stepped outside, grounding her in the reality of Ravenswood and away from Shadowvale's nightmare. But as she looked up at the stars sprinkled across the heavens like diamond dust, Selene couldn't ignore the way they seemed to flicker ominously—as if sharing a secret they dared not speak aloud.

A rustling from the hedge caught her attention; a black cat emerged and crossed her path before disappearing into the shadows. A shiver ran down Selene's spine. In another life, it might have been an omen or a witch's familiar on some inscrutable errand.

She hugged herself tighter and took deep breaths, willing calmness into her bones. It was just a dream—had to be. Yet as she stood there beneath an indigo sky turning imperceptibly towards dawn, Selene couldn't escape a chilling thought: what if it wasn't? What if her nightmare was a warning?

The weight of this possibility bore down on her with an urgency that demanded action. She had to warn Cassandra—had to ensure that whatever evil lurked on Shadowvale's horizon would not find them unprepared.

Resolved now, Selene turned back toward her dorm room at the Academy. Each step felt laden with purpose; she would not let fear paralyze her. Not when there was so much at stake.

In the pre-dawn stillness, Selene's mind became a battleground where shadows of the future waged war with the peace of the present. She retreated to her room, the haven where she often found solace, but this time it offered no comfort. The air around her thickened with portents as she sat at the edge of her bed, her fingers knotting in the fabric of her robe.

Outside, the world began to stir. A rooster crowed in the distance, signaling the start of a new day, yet for Selene, time seemed to spiral into itself, looping and twisting as visions fragmented before her eyes. She saw flashes—a gnarled tree with roots soaked in blood, a crescent moon shattered like glass, a raven perched atop a weather vane spinning wildly as if caught in an unseen storm.

Each vision snapped into focus then vanished before she could grasp its meaning. But one thing was clear: these were not random images; they were threads of a tapestry yet to be woven. A cold certainty settled in her heart—Shadowvale stood on the precipice of something dire.

The visions tugged at her consciousness like the tide pulls at the shore—relentless and unyielding. With each new glimpse, she felt herself drawn deeper into the web of potential futures. There was a figure cloaked in darkness, his presence a blot against the landscape of her mind. He moved through Shadowvale's streets with purpose, trailed by whispers that coalesced into an oppressive silence.

Selene's hands clenched at her temples as she fought to clear her mind. It was as if she stood at the center of a storm, chaos swirling around her while she remained untouched but trapped by forces beyond her control.

A sudden image pierced through—the market square of Shadowvale bathed in firelight, people bound and kneeling before their shadowy conqueror. A woman's cry cut through the din—a plea for mercy that went unanswered. The vision held for a heartbeat longer than the rest before dissipating like smoke on the wind.

She knew then that these were more than nightmares or idle fears—they were omens. Shadowvale was in peril; its fate hung by a thread so fine it could be severed by a whisper.

Selene rose from her bed, determination carving away at her uncertainty. She could not ignore these warnings. She needed Cassandra—her sister's strength and wisdom would guide them through whatever lay ahead.

As dawn broke and light spilled into Selene's room, casting long shadows across the floor, she gathered herself. These prophetic burdens would not be borne alone; together with Cassandra, they would confront this encroaching darkness head-on.

Selene crossed to her desk and penned a quick note to Cassandra. Words were mere vessels for urgency now; there would be time for explanations later. She sealed it with wax and called upon a trusted courier—an owl with feathers like midnight—to bear it swiftly to Cassandra's hands.

The room seemed to exhale as Selene dispatched the message; even as fragments of foresight continued to dance at the edge of her perception, she felt anchored by action. She could not see all ends, but she could stand sentinel over those she loved—and she would do so until this shadow passed or until they faced it together.

* * *

The air in the chamber hummed with an energy that seemed to pulse in time with Selene's own heartbeat. The Enlightened gathered in a circle, their faces a tapestry of concern and intrigue as they turned their attention to her. The room, lined with shelves crammed with ancient tomes and the lingering scent of burnt sage, offered a sense of seclusion from the outside world—a sanctuary where the arcane was not only accepted but revered.

Selene stood at the center, her chestnut waves tumbling over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the sterile moonlight that slipped through the high windows. Her eyes, usually reservoirs of calm, now mirrored the storm that had taken root within her. The premonition clung to her thoughts like ivy, its tendrils squeezing tighter with each passing moment.

I can't dismiss what I've seen, she began, her voice a mere whisper that seemed to carry the weight of her fears. But nor can I fully trust it. Visions of such violence and certainty... She trailed off, struggling to articulate the chaos that threatened to overwhelm her.

Gideon leaned forward, his gaze piercing yet not unkind. You've always had a gift for seeing beyond the veil, Selene, he said, his words deliberate. Perhaps it's time you embrace it rather than question its veracity.

Morgana nodded in agreement, her dark eyes alight with a fervor born of experience. The Sight is not a curse but a beacon, she added. It warns us of what might come so we may act to prevent it or prepare for it.

Elowen placed a reassuring hand on Selene's shoulder—a touch meant to steady. We've all had our doubts, she said softly. But you're not alone in this. We're here—to listen, to support.

Alistair chimed in from across the room, his voice carrying an analytical edge. Clairvoyance is an unpredictable force; we must consider every angle before leaping into action.

Selene's gaze flicked from one face to another—each member of The Enlightened offering a fragment of wisdom or solace. Yet it was Cassandra's silent presence that drew her in. Her sister stood apart from the rest, observing with eyes that had seen much and revealed little.

Cassie? Selene implored, seeking the guidance she had always relied upon.

Cassandra stepped forward, her silhouette sharpening as she emerged from shadow into light. Your visions have never led us astray, she said firmly. Doubt can be as much an enemy as ignorance. Trust yourself, Selene—trust in your power.

The words settled over Selene like a cloak woven from threads of assurance and resolve. She felt something shift within her—a yielding to the inevitable tide of her own abilities.

Then we must consider my vision as both warning and prophecy, Selene conceded with newfound conviction. Shadowvale may be at risk, and we have a duty to protect it.

A murmur of assent rippled through The Enlightened as they recognized the gravity of Selene's premonition. Plans began to form—strategies whispered back and forth like leaves rustling in an unseen breeze.

As the meeting drew on, Selene felt herself buoyed by the collective strength around her. Her internal struggle ebbed away; replaced by purposeful intent. She knew now that skepticism served no one—not when there were lives at stake.

They adjourned with plans half-formed but spirits ignited—a shared understanding that they would stand against whatever darkness loomed on Shadowvale's horizon.

As The Enlightened dispersed into the night, Selene lingered by the window watching stars twinkle against velvet darkness—silent guardians in an unfathomable sky. Her heart still raced with apprehension for what might come but fortified by trust—in herself and in those who walked this path beside her.

Her vision may have been shrouded in shadow but illuminated by The Enlightened's support; Selene found clarity in purpose. They would face tomorrow together—united against whatever darkness awaited them in Shadowvale or beyond.

In the stillness of the chamber, the Enlightened reconvened, a solemn air knitting their brows. Books lay open like silent sentinels bearing witness to the urgency that now pervaded the room. It was Gideon who broke the silence, his voice a low thrum that resonated with hidden depths.

These ancient texts, he began, his fingers tracing the aged parchment, speak of seers—beacons of light in times shrouded by darkness. Throughout history, they've stood as bulwarks against forces that seek to unravel the fabric of our reality.

Selene listened intently, her mind a whirlwind of images and emotions. Gideon's words struck a chord within her—a resonant frequency that aligned with her own experience.

Seers are not merely passive recipients of visions, he continued. They are catalysts for change, their foresight a weapon wielded in defense of the innocent.

As he spoke, Selene's visions returned with a clarity that cut through the haze of doubt. She saw Shadowvale again—the market square teeming with life before succumbing to an oppressive shadow. She witnessed the vampires' cruel machinations: strategies unfurling like dark wings, plans etched in blood and sealed with terror.

The room seemed to contract around her as she shared these newfound insights with The Enlightened. Their faces reflected the gravity of her revelations—each detail a piece in a puzzle they were only beginning to comprehend.

The vampires seek not only to conquer but to subjugate, Selene said, her voice barely above a whisper yet carrying the force of thunder. They will strip Shadowvale of its spirit before they feast upon its flesh.

Foreshadowing became their guide as Selene's dreams wove themselves into reality's tapestry. The once-bustling streets of Shadowvale grew hushed, an unseen pall settling over shopfronts and homes alike.

In daylight, merchants at the market exchanged nervous glances as produce wilted untouched on their stalls; at night, shutters were drawn tight against an unspoken fear that crept through keyholes and beneath doorways.

Gideon closed the ancient tome with reverence before locking eyes with Selene. Your visions are not just warnings—they're a call to action, he said resolutely. We must heed them or risk being swept away by the tide they foretell.

As days bled into nights and nights into restless dawns, Selene felt her purpose solidify like crystal. The shadows cast by her premonitions stretched across Shadowvale's cobblestones, hinting at a darkness eager to envelop all it touched.

And yet, amidst this brewing storm, The Enlightened found strength in unity. They were disparate threads woven together by fate—a tapestry resilient enough to withstand even the most malevolent forces.

Selene's role as seer had become undeniable—a lighthouse standing firm against an encroaching night. Her visions were no longer specters haunting her sleep but beacons illuminating their path forward.

With each passing moment, The Enlightened readied themselves for what was to come—a confrontation written in stars and shadow alike. They would stand as one against the gathering darkness, armed with foresight and fortified by courage.

As night descended upon them once more, a hush fell over Shadowvale—an eerie prelude to a symphony yet to be played out beneath its storied skies.

Within the confines of Leclair Academy of Magical Arts, Cassandra paced the length of her office, the air thick with unspoken tension. The walls, lined with portraits of former headmistresses, seemed to watch with silent expectation as she turned to face the members of The Enlightened gathered around her.

Cassandra, Selene spoke first, her voice wavering with the weight of her new burden. The visions are intensifying. I feel as though I'm teetering on the brink of understanding, yet the truth remains shrouded in shadow.

Cassandra stopped pacing and looked at her sister, noting the fatigue etched into her delicate features. She had watched Selene grapple with these nascent abilities, her evolution from a tentative practitioner to a vessel of profound foresight. It was a transformation that demanded acknowledgment.

The messages within Selene's visions are cryptic, Cassandra said thoughtfully, but they're far from arbitrary. We must unravel their meaning before it's too late.

Elowen leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed over her chest, her green eyes alight with curiosity. We've all seen our share of omens and portents, she mused aloud. But this—this is different. Selene's not just glimpsing possibilities; she's practically painting entire scenes from some unseen play.

Morgana nodded in agreement from where she sat at Cassandra's desk, fingers steepled in contemplation. There's a pattern emerging—one that we can't afford to ignore.

Alistair stroked his chin thoughtfully as he chimed in from his corner perch. While I trust Selene's intentions, he said carefully, we must also consider the risk of misinterpretation. The future is a fickle mistress; what we see may not always be what is meant.

Gideon remained silent throughout the exchange, his stormy gaze fixed on Selene as if attempting to pierce through to the heart of her visions himself. When he finally spoke, his words cut through the air like a blade.

Skepticism can be healthy, Gideon stated firmly, but not when it blinds us to the resources at our disposal. Selene's abilities could very well be our greatest asset in this fight.

The discussion that followed was a tempestuous blend of opinions and emotions—voices rising and falling like waves crashing against a rocky shore. For some members of The Enlightened, Selene's clairvoyance was a beacon in the darkness; for others, it was an uncharted sea fraught with peril.

Cassandra watched as her comrades debated fiercely amongst themselves—a testament to the bond they shared. Each member brought their own strengths and weaknesses to the table, creating a dynamic that was both powerful and volatile.

As headmistress and leader, Cassandra knew it fell upon her shoulders to guide this discourse towards productive ends. With a gesture for silence, she addressed them all.

Selene's journey into clairvoyance will not divide us, she declared with quiet authority. It will unite us—as it has in every challenge we've faced together.

The room settled into a contemplative quiet as Cassandra's words resonated within its walls. She approached Selene and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder—a silent promise that she would stand by her sister through uncertainty and revelation alike.

We are The Enlightened, Cassandra continued, her eyes sweeping over each member in turn. Our strength lies not only in our magic but in our willingness to embrace each other's talents—no matter how unfamiliar.

The group exchanged glances—a myriad of expressions that reflected their diverse thoughts and feelings on the matter at hand. Some faces softened with acceptance while others held onto their reservations like shields.

Yet amid these varying degrees of conviction, one truth remained clear: The Enlightened were bound by more than just their shared mission—they were bound by an unbreakable camaraderie that would see them through even the darkest times.

As they dispersed for the evening with plans to reconvene at dawn, each member carried away a piece of the puzzle that was Selene's visions—a challenge they would face together as protectors against the creeping shadows.

* * *

In the cloistered quiet of a room set apart for meditation, Selene sat across from Gideon, her guide in this journey into the unknown depths of her mind. Gideon's presence, both reassuring and enigmatic, was a beacon for her as she prepared to traverse the dreamscape once more.

Close your eyes, he instructed, his voice a low hum that seemed to resonate with the very walls of the chamber. Let go of your earthly tether. Your visions are not a curse but a compass—they will guide you to truths hidden in shadow.

Selene obeyed, her breathing slowing as she surrendered to the darkness behind her eyelids. The world fell away until there was nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat—a steady drumbeat that accompanied her descent into the realm of clairvoyance.

Images swirled in the void, coalescing into scenes that danced on the edge of comprehension. Selene watched, a silent observer as pieces of an intricate puzzle fell into place. There were vampires—creatures of the night bound by blood and shadow—but their dark alliance was not born of chaos. It was orchestrated, woven into existence by threads that stretched back through time to an entity whose name whispered fear into the hearts of even the most formidable: The Grey.

Gideon's voice reached her through the visions, a tether back to reality. Focus on the connections, he urged. Your gift is a bridge between what is and what may be.

Selene delved deeper, past the veil of immediate terror, and found herself face-to-face with The Grey—a being that existed beyond mortal comprehension, its essence a tapestry of malice and ancient magic. It sought to use the vampires as conduits—vessels through which it could siphon energy from this world and manifest its will upon it.

A chill settled in Selene's bones, a cold harbinger of the malevolence that sought to breach the world's fragile barrier. Her breaths came shallow and rapid as the entity's intentions unfurled before her—a plan of conquest not merely of land, but of spirit and magic itself.

Gideon's presence remained a steady force beside her, his own magic an undercurrent that bolstered her resolve. Remember, you are the seer, he reminded her. You hold the power here.

Empowered by his words, Selene pushed against the darkness, her will a lighthouse piercing through a fog of uncertainty. The Grey loomed, its presence a vortex threatening to consume all that it touched, yet she stood firm. With a surge of inner strength, she severed the connection and snapped back to consciousness.

Eyes fluttering open, Selene found herself once again in the meditation room, Gideon watching over her with an intensity that spoke volumes of his concern—and respect. She exhaled deeply, releasing the remnants of the otherworldly chill that clung to her.

We must prepare, she declared with newfound clarity. The Grey is using the vampires as pawns in a larger game—a game that threatens all we hold dear.

Gideon nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. Then we shall be the players who turn the game upon itself, he affirmed.

The days that followed were a blur of preparation and planning. Cassandra convened meetings with The Enlightened, their discussions long into the night as they crafted strategies to counteract The Grey's looming threat. Elowen's sharp wit cut through tension like a knife through parchment, keeping spirits lifted even as they delved into grim possibilities.

Morgana poured over ancient texts with Alistair at her side, each spell and countermeasure weighed and measured for its potential use in the impending conflict. The academy itself became a hub of activity—a stronghold bracing for an unseen storm.

In Shadowvale, whispers spread like wildfire as townsfolk sensed an unspoken dread creeping into their midst. It was as if the town itself held its breath, waiting for a sign—any sign—that might reveal its fate.

The Enlightened did not have long to wait for such a sign.

One fateful evening, as twilight bled into night and cast long shadows across Leclair Academy's grounds, an urgent message arrived. A raven tapped at Cassandra's window with insistent beats—a harbinger bearing news from Shadowvale.

With deft fingers, Cassandra unfurled the scroll tied to its leg and read aloud to those assembled. Her voice wavered only slightly as she relayed the message: Shadowvale's market square—blood has been spilled.

Silence enveloped the room like a shroud as each member processed the dire news. This was no longer conjecture or distant possibility; it was reality crashing down upon them with merciless force.

We move at once, Cassandra decided with steely resolve. We will not allow this darkness to spread unchecked.

The night air hummed with tension as The Enlightened gathered their cloaks and staffs. Each step they took towards Shadowvale was laden with purpose—the weight of destiny pressing down upon them like a physical force.

As they approached the town under cover of darkness, Selene felt her premonitions converging with reality—their edges blurring until past, present, and future seemed indistinguishable from one another.

The market square lay ahead, bathed in an eerie glow that did nothing to soften the scene of chaos that awaited them—stalls overturned, goods scattered like broken dreams across cobblestones slick with blood.

At the center stood a figure cloaked in darkness—a vampire whose eyes glowed with unholy light as he surveyed his handiwork. Around him lay townsfolk caught unawares—victims of a violence that knew no bounds.

But it was what lay beyond him that caught Selene's gaze—a shimmer in the air like heat rising from hot pavement. It was there and then gone—an echo of The Grey's malevolent presence weaving its way through reality's fabric.

Selene exchanged glances with Cassandra; no words were needed between them. They knew what this meant: The battle for Shadowvale—and indeed for their world—had begun in earnest.

As The Enlightened fanned out across the square, spells at the ready and hearts steeled against fear, they knew this night would be but the first of many tests they would face together.

And in this moment—poised on the brink between light and dark—they understood that their unity was their greatest weapon against whatever horrors awaited them beneath Shadowvale's starless sky.

The Leclair Academy stood as a bastion of knowledge and power, its spires reaching for the heavens as if to pull down the very essence of the stars. Within its walls, Selene found herself adrift in a sea of arcane lore, her senses attuned to the whispering secrets of a world unseen. Her mind, once a sanctuary of calm reflection, now echoed with the cacophony of visions that surged and receded like tides pulled by an invisible moon.

As she wandered through the academy's ancient library, her fingers brushed against leather-bound tomes imbued with the wisdom of ages. The very air was thick with magic, each breath she took laden with the scent of parchment and the lingering trace of spellwork. Selene's heart beat in rhythm with this place of power, her own abilities an ever-present thrum beneath her skin.

In a secluded alcove, Gideon awaited her, his eyes reflecting the flickering light from a solitary candle. He watched Selene