Witching Games: The Fire Witch Chronicles 1 by R.A. Lindo (best sales books of all time .txt) 📕

touch of their feathers. Our feathered friends glide down in an elegant quartet: fire-red, yellow, turquoise and powder blue. It’s time for the evening surveillance to begin.

We climb onto our Williynx, tapping our legs lightly against their bodies to signal flight and off we go, rising through the hollow chamber of The Cendryll towards the skylight we vanish through seconds later.

The evening skies are relatively quiet, silhouettes of other Night Rangers in the distance, moving towards the realms within their remit — realms beyond the eyes of the above-ground world which operates on its own axis of unimaginative routine. We fly in a synchronised line, passing over Society Square before we reach its margins.

The people entering and leaving buildings are mainly Society members locking up for the evening, either returning to their above-ground dwellings or disappearing into the recesses of the shops … through Periums and the faculties they’re attached to.

I press my face against Laieya’s blue feathers as the wind lifts, listening to her heartbeat as we pick up speed. We blaze past The Winter Quarter and beyond, seeking out a realm few of us have spent any time in: Noah being the exception. It’s the reason Noah recognised Olin and Neve Blin when they appeared in Poridian Parlour, looking out of place the moment they sat at the table in the corner.

Noah’s brief visit to Drandok was to check on the condition of the soldiers said to be hiding the extent of their injuries — injuries sustained in battle or their taming of the Riadek. As always, the Domitus offered little, taking Noah and his old Night Ranger crowd to the stone shelters the soldiers were recuperating in.

Healing remedies such as Srynx Serum were soaking into their skin, bandages covering arms and legs to either accelerate the healing or cover up deeper wounds. Tonight will tell us more now the Domitus have decided to leave their realm, stepping into less depressing places like The Shallows, looking for company or trouble.

With my long, brown hair lifting as we fly through the dark skies, I look along the line formed by my Night Ranger comrades … a touch of excitement rising in me at the thought of meeting Olin and Neve Blin again. Bullies don’t last long in the Society so if they end up falling into this category, they’ll be dealt with accordingly.

“Quivvens at the ready,” Conrad says, sensing we’re closing in on Drandok.

A Quivven is what we use for protection once we’re beyond The Society Sphere, the colour of our penchant stones fading as we do so. A Quivven is a small, brass hexagon that you push into your flesh — not as bad as it sounds.

Once buried safely, it glows in the colour of your penchant stone, mine glowing a bright blue underneath my right wrist. I doubt we’re going to need any protection, but no Society soldier ignores their instincts. Drandok deals in danger — of the creature kind — so it’s better to be safe than sorry.

The mountains framing Drandok dominate the night sky. I can just make out cells cut into the stone at the foot of the mountains where, I imagine, the Riadek are kept. We choose to stay in the sky on our arrival, lighting up the darkness with a string of Promesiun charms: ribbons of light to signal solidarity. Whatever awaits us below, our focus is investigation.

If we end up in a fire fight, it will be in retaliation to an attack. A duel is to be avoided, if possible, our aim to see exactly how the ferocious Silverbacks are tamed and the cost of such a choice. Authorised by the S.P.M.A., it’s a job that attracts a certain type of character.

Strings of light appear from the ground, circling as they rise above the mountains, followed by an incredible roar flooding the air as one of the cells cut into the mountains opens — the sight of a vast, armoured creature whipping against its chains ready to face its captors once more.

“Slow and steady,” I say, nodding for us to make our descent, our Quivvens glowing underneath our skin as we do.

“Still in the mood for a duel?” Noah prompts, glancing at Conrad who remains silent on the back of his turquoise Williynx, clearly troubled by a recurring thought he can’t shake.

Our descent continues, staying within the rings of light that hover above the mountains: a taming chamber acting as safe space for submission. There’s no sign of Odin and Neve Blin yet so I study the figures in grey, circling the restricted Silverback. As black smoke appears from their hands, I begin to understand how they work their magic … a combination of pure and dark charms … authorised by The Orium Circle to contain threats.

This in itself isn’t a shock. One of the key changes to Society law was the acceptance that dark magic could not simply be banned and ignored: it had to be mastered and understood, to be used in exceptional circumstances.

How and when it should be applied is a more complex question, the distorted power of Gorrah (dark magic) having a hypnotising effect on underworld creatures. Something about the sight of black smoke — a symbol of the Niavak curse — makes me uneasy, though.

It’s cruel and unnecessary … as if the Domitus are enjoying punishing the Silverback which roars in pain. There are other ways to tame giants so I kick my legs against Laieya, instructing my Williynx to descend further, ready to engage the emotionless soldiers in more than distant recognition.

“Guppy?” comes Conrad’s call, but I don’t look back, my instinctive dislike of cruelty kicking in. Maybe a duel is going to be needed after all.

As I hover above the taming cell, I feel the tension in Laieya’s body, her powder-blue feathers standing to attention at the sight of a threat below. My whispered reassurances are enough to keep her in position, holding off any sudden ice blasts that will