Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
My daughter…”
His voice breaks as emotion clouds his face. He turns back to the Immortal Quintet. They all watch him coldly, except for the earth elemental, who frowns at the sight of the human with tears on his cheeks.
“My little miracle of a daughter was just two years old when she was taken from me in the surge that destroyed my hometown. Please, I have to get her back. I know in my very bones that she is still alive in the Nether. I need to rescue her.
Please,” he begs raggedly. “You must believe me!”
Somnus DeLune, another member of the Immortal Quintet, arches a lazy brow, observing the frantic father as if he’s studying an injured ant.
“Even if I did believe that the Nether is spiriting away humans—which I don’t, by the way…go on, amuse me. How could your little mortal runt have survived for seven years in that hell?”
It sounds so impossible that even I shake my head. I’ve never been to the Divide, but I’ve heard the stories. I know it’s otherworldly and deadly, even for powerful legacies. And that’s only where the Nether starts to seep into this world.
A child surviving in that lifeless plane of existence? Impossible.
But Pietro Amato seems to believe it with every fiber of his being. Why execute someone for choosing to believe his daughter is alive when he has nothing else to believe in? Can’t they just put him in a cell so he doesn’t do anything else against the law?
Watching these monsters judge a desperate human who has no power to fight back just feels…wrong.
I wonder if I can leave the room, but when my mother notices that I’m compulsively readjusting the same sleeve over and over, she shoots me a savage warning look that makes me go still.
Pietro looks at each council member and the unforgiving Immortal Quintet before straightening. Sudden confidence punctuates each of his words.
“My daughter is far more precious than you can possibly imagine. I don’t know how she has survived, but she has. And if I am not permitted to pass through the Divide and fight to get her back…the wrath of the gods will be upon you tenfold. They will smite your kind with fury unlike anything you have ever seen.”
Insulted gasps and outcries flood the room once again. One of the angry casters hurls a magic attack at Amato. The guards beside him do nothing to stop the flare of light, and I cringe when the human is hit by the spell, crumpling to the floor with a hoarse, pained cry.
Corbin, my other father, grips the back of my collar in warning. He doesn’t like that I reacted. The courtroom is still filled with yelling and swearing, but Pietro gets to his feet again anyway, grimacing.
“Behold, the lies a desperate madman clings to,” Somnus muses as things finally die down.
“A madman who dares threaten us with a pretended knowledge of the will of the gods themselves,” Melvolin Hearst adds with a sneer on the other end of the Immortal Quintet.
Natalya holds up her hand, and everyone goes deadly silent. She slowly moves to stand right in front of the pleading human. Her words are soft as rose petals, as usual, but the look on her face has me shrinking into my seat even more. My hands are covered in frost inside my pockets now, and I’m getting increasingly sick as eagerness sparkles in the eyes of all legacies watching, including my cool, collected parents.
“All parents think their children are precious,” Natalya says, studying Pietro with no empathy on her face. “That is not reason enough to get involved with demons. Yet you did. And before you die for your crimes, I will tell you the truth. The demons lied to you. They misled you so they could use you as a tool to stir up mistrust and violence among humans and our kind. You are nothing but an easily manipulated pawn for those who prey on the innocent.”
He shakes his head. “No, I know the truth. My daughter is?—“
“Dead. No human could survive in the Nether, least of all a toddler. The crimes you have committed far outweigh the insanity you claim to believe.” She raises her voice slightly, circling him like a shark. “I call all legacies present to vote. Shall I put this mad human to immediate death for the atrocities he has committed against our law and our kind?”
Screams of assent permeate the air that I can no longer breathe as the dread in my stomach builds. I want to hide my face. I want to run out of the room so I won’t have to see this. But showing weakness in front of my parents is not an option, so I force myself to sit still and watch.
I watch as the desperate father turns his pleading face to the rest of the room, his gaze connecting with mine momentarily.
I watch the hopeless tears falling from his dark gaze, his heartbroken, silent plea cutting into my chest until moisture wells in my own eyes.
And then I watch as Natalya rips Pietro Amato’s head off in front of a room full of cheering, bloodthirsty sadists.
MAVEN
Growing up in hell, I was taught to appreciate a beautifully broad spectrum of pain. I was conditioned to have a high tolerance for it and learned it can be a great distraction. A tool.
Although right now, my world is nothing but pain—nothing but blazing agony emanating throughout my limbs and blurring every thought in my head until I’m paralyzed and delirious.
Which is why, at first, I’m certain I’m imagining things when I hear them shouting from some watery, distant universe.
“
Maven!”
“No!”
An ear-splitting roar like a dragon’s is cut off suddenly by the sound of an explosion. I wonder if that explosion damaged me in some way. If it did, I can’t feel it over the agony encompassing everything else. There’s more shouting before I realize two of them are at each other’s throats.
“She’s in pain. I’m healing her.
Move.”
“She said no one.
Lay a single finger on her, and I’ll rip it off and shove it through your eyeball.”
Their fighting blends into the background as I hear a soft voice above me. Cool fingers stroke over my face tenderly, the only pleasant thing I’ve been able to feel since coming back with this damned poison scorching through my system.
“I’m sorry. This is my fault. I was selfish with you. Dear gods, I’m so, so sorry.”
His broken whisper turns into a prayer to Galene, the goddess of healing. Which is how I know I’m more delirious than I thought. Because that one would never pray for me. None of them would because I was nothing but the target of a bet to them. This must all be wishful thinking in my poor, pain-addled mind.
The voices blur together. Someone snaps that they have to get me out of the room, and someone else is swearing profusely. There’s also nonstop screaming in the background…oh wait, that’s just me in my own mind. I can’t make my mouth move to make that sound, so I suppose I’m stuck with it echoing in my head.
Nightshade root powder is a bitch.
Finally, I reach my limit, and my mind starts to drift the way it always has when I’ve disassociated to deal with pain. I’ve been here many times—it’s my own particular form of subspace, free of my harsh reality. In this oblivion, there’s no looming, blood-oath-bound mission with a tragic end waiting for me. There’s no ache in my chest from naively allowing four gorgeous legacies to fuck me for sport.
Right now, it’s just me and my inner darkness.
So peaceful.
But when I rouse again, the excruciating pain is still coursing through me. The softness at my back must mean I’m lying on a bed, no longer in the headmaster’s office. I keep my breathing even and listen carefully. For a moment, there’s nothing, but then it sounds like a door opens.
There’s a quiet shuffling sound as if someone is setting things down, and then a hand brushes hair from my forehead. That hand drifts down to press just below my clavicle, the touch so brief and methodical that it doesn’t trigger my haphephobia.
Silas’s hoarse voice murmurs, “I don’t understand. You’re breathing, so where is your heartbeat?”
It’s obviously a question for himself, and I’m surprised by the raw frustration and vulnerability in his tired voice. Then he begins chanting in fae, and I know he’s casting a potent healing spell because my hair stands on end. But otherwise, I feel nothing.
Because only one type of magic can heal me, and it’s not blood magic.
That’s why I’ve been hell-bent on avoiding any situation where this might happen—because it just raises more questions I can’t afford to answer.
But he doesn’t know that his magic is useless on a creature like me, so he tries and tries. Again and again and fucking again. It’s a wonder he hasn’t died of blood loss himself at this point.
“Why can’t I heal you, ima sangfluir
?” he whispers.
His desperation is…touching.
At least, it would be if my muddled brain didn’t choose now to remember Everett’s words at the inn.
We thought getting you in bed would be a challenge, but here we are. One day of fawning over you, and it opened you right up. Now we just have to decide who won their prize.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.