Magic Unchained: Omens and Curses, #1

By Emery Cole

Samara's a fire witch with a legacy. She's a royal and she's an heir to the seat of the fire witches on the council. The council ranges from from the more human-looking mages and witches, to the beautiful light haired fae and dark-haired vampires, as well as the more feeble, ashen skinned shifters alongside red-eyed demons with their charred flesh.

Because her brother was murdered, her parents have become overprotective. She's grown, by damn, but they don't want to allow her to attend the Eternal Light Academy, which has been her dream for nothing short of forever.

Until they change their minds and allow her to attend. Under one condition. They chain her magic. That's right. Put it in a prison of sorts, one controlled by a magic bracelet. Oh, and she has to have a bodyguard. One that follows her everywhere. One that's hot.

Things just became a whole lot more complicated.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: EmCo
• Release date: Feb 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224614271

Book preview

1

The small fire dragon wove around Samara’s fingers while the council meeting droned on for the second hour. She was holding her head up in her right hand while the dragon crawled and flitted around her left.

She was supposed to be paying attention. As always, it was hard to stay focused. The fae who was talking had a very monotone voice that was not even close to engaging. He’d started speaking what had to be twenty minutes ago by now. There was no clock in the council chamber, so there was no way to check. Apparently, there was an infestation of some sort of creepy crawly pest that had been carried into the northeastern states.

The fire dragon let out a tiny, roaring yawn at the same time Samara tried to stifle hers. Gods, she loathed these meetings.

Feeling eyes on her, she glanced to her right and immediately sat up straighter in her seat. Her father narrowed his eyes at her, then gave the dragon a pointed look. Silently apologizing to the dragon, Samara recalled the magic that had created him. He popped out of sight with a tiny eruption of sparks. Her father returned his attention to the fae, and Samara tried to ignore the way her ass had already gone numb from sitting on the wooden seat. Her parents at least had full chairs with cushions on them. She was relegated to the bench with an equally hard back and too short armrests to be useful.

The council room was old. It had been built at the same time the supernatural sanctuary city of Crimson Falls had been nearly three hundred years ago. While the humans had been doing whatever the humans had been doing, the supernatural races of the region had been dealing with conflicts of their own. Peace had been reached again, and the council was formed.

Again.

Samara inwardly sighed. Why all the supernatural races felt the need to go to war every few centuries always confused her. What was the point? But there had been peace for the last three hundred years. With any luck, there’d be peace for another three hundred. She glanced around the chamber, taking note of who was present. The mages, who always appeared far more regal than they acted half the time, occupied the set of tiered benches directly across from where Samara and her parents sat. Their benches, too, were broken up by sets of chairs reserved for their leaders.

To the left of the mages were the numerous fae. Some merely had pointed ears and tiny fangs. Others, though, were harder to blend in with the humans. Fae, after all, was a broad term. The few black-eyed goblins couldn’t exactly wander around a city without heavy amounts of glamour hiding their true appearances. The demons beside them had the same issue. Each bore a set of horns that ranged from short to curling well above the tops of their heads. Most were also covered in intricate tattoos that decorated their faces, necks, and pretty much every available inch of skin.

The vampires, much like the mages and witches, were able to blend in without trouble unless they decided not to. Their differences were easy enough to hide. And given the fact that they did not burst into flames in the sunlight, they could pass as humans. As could the shifters who occupied the next section of seats. The only giveaway they had, when it wasn’t a full moon and they were forced to shift, was their glowing eyes. If they kept their emotions in check, they appeared like ordinary humans wandering around.

And last, there were the witches, where Samara currently sat. From outer appearances, there was nothing truly remarkable about them. The only strange thing about her was the gold streaks that ran through her black hair and the embers that appeared in her honey-colored irises. Both aspects were thanks to the fire magic that ran through her veins. She took after her father more than her mother, who had curly auburn hair and green eyes, though both were still run through with the same golden hues.

There were four royal bloodlines, one pertaining to each of the elements. Each house was ruled over by the royals. Samara’s parents, Lady Catherine and Lord Drex Wilcox of the House of Scorch, presided over the fire witches in the region of North America, covering the Rockies and everything to their east. The same went for the other three houses of Glacius, Azura, and Tera—water, air, and earth.

And unfortunately for Samara, she was the heir to her parents’ seats.

The witches gathered were her parents’ advisors and other leaders within the Houses. The fae and demons also had royal bloodlines. The vampires had covens, while the mages had schools. The shifters, of course, had their packs and various alphas. Playing politics wasn’t something Samara had ever been interested in. There were too many names to keep track of and too many relationships to remember. She’d always thought herself too brash and impulsive to be much of a negotiator.

Samara leaned back in her chair. She wasn’t an official member yet and was merely here to observe her parents. Once she was old enough, they expected her to take their place. Throughout most of her teen years, she’d been forced to accompany them. That number of expected attendances increased even more after she turned twenty last year. Soon, she’d be forced to attend every meeting each week rather than once a month. Samara dreaded that time. There was only so much boring talk of legislature and politics one could take, at least without having any actual say in the matter, before she snapped.

And it took away any possible free time she had to check into a different matter she’d been trying to find answers to for the last three years.

Blowing hair from her face, she looked along the rows of benches at the other witch heirs, trying to tell if they were as bored as her. It took a little while to find them among all the varied faces, but she did eventually.

Off to Samara’s right, past her stoic and attentive parents draped in their red and orange refinery, were the Lady and Lord of the House of Glacius. Their blue and silver clothing was in stark contrast to that of the House of Scorch. Rhona, their daughter, wasn’t in attendance today.

Lucky her, Samara thought. She and Rhona weren’t exactly friends, but they did always manage to find each other during parties and gatherings. She was one of the few people Samara got along with.

Four seats down from the water witch council members was the House of Azura witches. Their heir was Aamina. She was two years older than Samara. Just like her, though, the young woman set to inherit her parents’ council seat. She was also slumped over in her chair. Her light grey eyes stood out against her grey clothes and dark skin. Her eyes were shifting back and forth, observing something above where the demons sat. Curious, Samara looked up to see what it was. There was a small insect fluttering near the ceiling. It looked like a fairyfly—the little white creatures that were a cross between a moth and a wasp.

Satisfied that the air heir was just as unhappy and bored as she was, Samara returned her attention to her black boots with red laces under the table. She had no plans to make eye contact with the earth witch heir, Dorian, since he wasn’t exactly her favorite person in the world. He was the snobbiest of the four heirs, acting like his prestigious family was somehow better than the rest of theirs even though they were all part of royal bloodlines. His attitude toward his fellow witches was on par with the mage heirs.

Thankfully, none of them were here today, and she hadn’t had to endure their sneers throughout the meeting on top of being utterly bored.

Twenty more minutes in, the council discussion had shifted toward the city sewer lines. Ten minutes into that conversation, Samara worried she was going to fall asleep in her seat.

We have one more issue to discuss today. There was an attempt on Rhona’s life.

At Rhona’s mother’s words, Samara’s head jerked up. She had no idea there had been an attempt on the heir’s life. Was that why she wasn’t here today? Was she alright? Aamina and Dorian looked up, too.

What happened to Rhona? Samara’s mother, Catherine, asked. Is she safe? She glanced Samara’s way for a moment, worry flickering in her eyes.

Yes, she is perfectly safe, Rhona’s mother answered calmly, though the side of her mouth twitched. We, unfortunately, have no idea who set the two attackers on our daughter. We don’t know what they wanted or what they were. They managed to escape the grounds before they could be caught and questioned. Our tracking spells have failed to lead to a culprit. Her gaze turned accusing while she glanced around the room. I would hope that no one here would wish harm to come to our daughter.

I can assure you, none of the fae families would seek to ever bring harm to your daughter or the other heirs, one of the fae women said, her dark skin glistening like the night sky. The light glimmered in her violet eyes. Samara strained to recall her name, but it stayed out of reach.

Various others spoke up as well. To Samara’s ears, they sounded sincere, all except the mages. If history was anything to go by, they were the most likely candidates for an attack. They never quite got along with the witches. They had to spend years studying and mastering through hard work to achieve greatness with their magic, whereas witches were born with a natural affinity to it. Samara couldn’t think of what good it would do them, though, to attack Rhona. They’d gain nothing from it.

We are currently working to find the culprits and bring them to justice, a fae man spoke up. We want to ensure everyone that we are doing what we can to stop this from happening to anyone else. For a moment, his gaze lingered on Samara’s parents. They stiffened in their seats.

Samara openly glared at the fae. Yeah, sure you will. Just as you figured out what happened to my brother.

Though he was fae, he wasn’t with them now. He, as well as numerous other beings, made up the security force that guarded not only the council but the city of Crimson Falls and every other supernatural-only town in this region. The Silver Hand were a part of the council and spoke with their own voice. Each one of them was damn intimidating to look at. If Samara wasn’t the heir to her House, she would’ve joined them the moment she turned eighteen. They protected people far more than the council did. That was how she saw it most days.

Discussion about the investigation went on for a few more minutes. But with not much to report, the council meeting ended with a final warning to keep eyes and ears open for any leads on the attack. Samara didn’t miss how her parents turned a pointed look in her direction. This meeting might be over, but she was about to land herself in another one the second she was alone with them.

A fiery spike was about to be stabbed into her plans.

Damn it, Rhona, Samara thought. Why did you have to be attacked? I was so close.

If one of the heirs was attacked, it meant Samara’s security, which was already overbearing and suffocating, would be increased. She’d grown up with guards nearby. But their presence and attention in her life had increased in recent years. She’d been cooped up in the royal estate and watched constantly by guards. It was beginning to drive her mad.

The magic academy she had been preparing to attend in a few days, Eternal Light, was supposed to be Samara’s first chance to live without people constantly following her around or telling her what to do. It was to be her first taste of freedom, though that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to attend. She planned to solve the case the Silver Hand had failed to. And she could only do that if she was at Eternal Light. The academy was located outside the boundaries of Crimson Falls but only a few hours north by car. Seconds, if her parents used one of the portals provided by the academy. There’d been no reason for her parents to