Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
He tosses me a testy look, his purple gaze flicking briefly between the matching mating marks healing on both my and Maven’s necks before he speaks through the bond again.
I considered all kinds of uses for dragon leather over the last couple of days. But seeing as how I possibly drove your dragon a bit mad in Limbo, we’ll call it even.
Thanks, buddy, I tease.
He rolls his eyes.
We’ll make friendship bracelets later, right before we make an Eiffel Tower with Maven.
An Eiffel…? Oh—got it.
I’m down if she is, I grin.
Maven is clearly confused about what we’re talking about, which reminds me that there are gaps in her knowledge about the mortal realm. There’s a big chance she’s never heard of the Eiffel Tower.
Hellion, that’s when we’re on either end of you and I start to explain telepathically.
“Oh, my gods. Baelfire Finbar Decimus, why didn’t you tell me about this?” my mom demands, looking between us…because we’ve clearly been having a totally silent, telepathic conversation.
Oops.
“I knew your dragon was different—it’s because your curse is gone. You’re bonded?” she demands, looking at Maven in fascination. “How is that possible?”
“Because we’re fucking perfect together,” I say confidently at the exact same time Maven mutters, “Because the gods are playing games.”
Games? What is she talking about?
My mom obviously has questions, but when Maven changes the subject, pointing out the dark marker on the board and asking if it represents the Nether, the commander focuses.
“Yes. As you can see, ever since Del Mar’s death, it has grown steadily to encompass more land area. The human government is now in full crisis mode with their military on standby past these markers,” she points at a few dots on the map and then gestures at a few other green markers on the West Coast. “These are cities where emergency aid is available for those evacuating from the East Coast.”
We all examine the map. Silas tips his head, motioning at Alaska.
“You have the Sanctuary marked.”
“After the bounty hunter massacre there, it made the news in a big way,” she sighs. “Hard to keep such a place secret with that level of resources sent from the Legacy Council.” Then she looks at Maven, pointing at clusters of orange and blue markers, respectively. “These are Remitters. These are Reformists.”
I blink as I take in what she’s saying. “Holy shit. All of the little blue Reformists are still on the East Coast. Why haven’t they evacuated?”
“They’re waiting on a decision.
My decision, based on whatever Maven tells me she needs.”
Hold the fucking phone. I gawk at my mom. “You’re a Reformist?”
“Bael, honey, I love you, but how the hell did you not put that together?” She shakes her head. “You’ve seen the fights I’ve had with the legacy government. You know how messed up the system is and how corrupt things have become. Of course, I want to find something better—and I think your incredible mate is the gateway to change we’ve been waiting for.”
We all look at Maven, but she’s studying the map with a cunning eye. I can practically see the plans spinning inside her pretty head. She points at blue markers in Nebraska.
“This cluster. It’s the Bairds, isn’t it?”
My mom nods.
“There’s a lot more blue on the map than I expected. How are there so many Reformists?” Maven asks.
“With the rising political tensions, legacies have been joining the cause in droves—but so have many humans. They can tell that something big is about to happen, especially because two large rumors have been circulating. One rumor is that the Nether is about to be unleashed on the mortal world. The other is that humans from the Nether are about to finally escape. So…which should I tell them it is?”
Maven meets my mom’s eye, considering. “You’re showing me this to express that…I have your support.”
My mom smiles. “Not just mine. A great deal of support from even the unlikeliest of people, should you need it.”
“I thought everyone feared the telum. From what I’m told, I’ve been in prophecies for a long time. I’m supposed to bring about the end of times and a lot of death and suffering.”
The commander shrugs one shoulder. “Prophecies are fluid. They change and can even be avoided altogether. We all thought the telum would be some faceless, unspeakable evil spreading plagues and destruction wherever it went. Instead, it’s you. The abducted girl I researched fifteen years ago, who survived in hell and came here for a damn good reason. I know you have a plan. I also know that the Nether has grown wildly unstable. Many people are terrified?—“
“They should be,” Maven asserts quietly, looking at the Nether on the map. “Not succeeding in my plan would result in all the horrors in the prophecies. Which is exactly why I won’t fail.”
She straightens her shoulders, looking at my mom again. “Are there capable Reformists who can mobilize quickly for a fight?”
“Yes.”
“How quickly?”
My mom tips her head from side to side. “Given all the casters who may be capable of transportation, I would bet they can gather within an hour if the destination is anywhere along the Divide.”
“Good. If we need them, Baelfire will call you. All other Reformists who aren’t fit to fight shadow fiends should retreat to the west with everyone else.”
My mother smiles. “I’m glad to hear that. This is the start of something new. Even if it gets messy, I believe it will be worth it—and it’s about damn time something changed. I’ve seen far too many horrors at the Divide to think this endless cycle of legacies living and dying young could possibly be the gods’ ideal plan.”
Maven grumbles under her breath about the gods and then pauses. “You said you researched me.”
“I did.”
“Were there any records of me being selected as a saint at birth?”
Oh, fuck. Does she think Everett’s theory might be right?
Come to think of it, maybe he is right. I mean, she stabbed a fucking wraith with a bone, and it hurt the damn thing even without being blessed. I can’t think of another explanation for that.
It’s a big question, and we all look at the commander in the room.
My mom frowns, brow furrowing around the strap of her eye patch. “It’s possible records like that exist, but I have no access to temple data. Not to mention, living saints are notoriously under-recorded. Why do you ask?”
Maven fidgets with her gloves, blowing a strand of dark hair out of her face. “No reason. Out of curiosity, can we count on help from any of the saints out there? There’s a high chance more wraiths will break loose once the Divide is weak enough, and only casters possessing holy magic can take them out.”
If they’re anything like that motherfucker Gideon, that’s a horrific thought that makes me grimace.
My mother makes a face. “I doubt it. Saints are frustratingly hard to pinpoint—they’re famously into giving without getting any recognition and tend to fall off the radar of any government entity entirely to carry out their gods-given missions until they choose to show up again. They’re also pacifists who wouldn’t want to engage in combat. It doesn’t help that any holy magic is untraceable, even for someone like Douglas.”
Perhaps that explains our prophetess friend slipping past Silas’s magic wards after First Placement,
Crypt muses telepathically.
Silas frowns.
Just because someone’s magic is untraceable does not mean they are. My wards would have stopped a typical prophetess. It still makes no sense how she was able to get into our apartment.
Maybe your magic’s just not as impressive as you think,
I tease.
Or maybe Maven is right, Everett sends through the bond, frowning at the map as he adjusts one of his sleeves repetitively.
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.