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

we can and get out of here. At least we had the Domitus and Silverbacks to entertain us in Drandok.”

“We don’t need to go looking for trouble, Guppy,” Conrad adds, picking up his pace to catch up with me.

“True, but trouble seems to find us either way. Come on, let’s find out who the silent witch is.”

We reach the mound of earth but see no sign of the figure who waved us on, wondering what charm’s required to enter. After placing our penchants on the outer edge of the mound, we try the ‘Entrinius’ incantation but nothing happens, making me wonder if we should just return to The Winter Quarter, checking in on Noah.

Will he get his long-hoped from kiss from Zoe or not? Is the date going well in Velerin’s? Neither question really helps the current situation, and I doubt Lucy would thank me for taking us back there.

“Any ideas?” Conrad asks as we look around to see if the silent witch is evident in the darkness ahead, but there’s nothing but our active charms and other mounds of earth dotting the landscape.

If my understanding of The Royisin Heights is right, each mound houses reclusive Society members who rarely leave their dwellings, which doesn’t bode well for getting any assistance … assistance which finally comes in a line of soil that runs down the side of the large mound … forming around our feet and running up our bodies until it covers our penchants.

“Maybe we should give up on looking for Neve tonight,” Conrad suggests, his impatience getting the better of him. “I’m not really in the mood to deal with another group of people who can’t communicate without dragging us through places in silence.”

“You sound like you didn’t enjoy our little dance with the Silverbacks last night,” I joke, giving into my natural curiosity to find out more. It’s only a matter of time before the moving soil grants access or morphs into a dangerous creature: a typical night for a Night Ranger.

“I think she’s trying to help us,” Lucy suggests as the soil forms a rope between our penchants and the mound of earth, pulling us closer. Our feathered companions perch on the ropes of soil, fluttering their colourful wings as we approach the mound of earth.

“Really?” Conrad queries. “A woman appears out of nowhere, walking barefoot over ice fragments before vanishing back into the earth, and you think she’s trying to help us?”

“It’s The Royisin Heights, Conrad. The people are recluses, remember. What did you expect: a party?”

“We were actually having our own party in The Cendryll …”

“Shut up, Conrad,” I say, my stern look warning him not to rub in the fact we’ve got each other. Lucy’s still hurting and taking out his impatience on her isn’t fair or kind. “We’ve signed up for this, remember, ranging at night to keep the peace, so let’s get on with it and get out of here. We’re almost in.”

With that, we grab onto the rope of soil pulling us closer to the large mound of earth … our charms still active … fire framing my figure and circles of light swarming around Lucy and Conrad’s arms … ready to be pulled through the earth into a silent witch’s lair.

The interior of the space is a surprise, to say the least, carpets adorning the walls and floors with a clear view of the sky on all sides. Like all magical spaces entered via Periums, the difference between the space you leave and the one you enter is striking. This space in The Royisin Heights is no different, candles on the fireplace that flicker, offering faint light.

It’s as if you’re standing in an open space — no sign of windows as you look out over the landscape with no sound either, meaning charms are at work to make a characterless land come to life from within. The figure who appeared in the dark outside hasn’t made an appearance yet so we take the time to look around, Conrad remaining on guard whilst Lucy and I study the intricate detail of the place.

A Follygrin rests on the small table near the fire — the shelves to either side of the fireplace lined with remedies of various colours. Pink and green powder marks the floor, suggesting our absent host hasn’t completely removed herself from Society business: the bottles of remedies suggesting magic is alive and well here.

Our Williynx inspect the coloured powder, maybe reminded of the role their species play in the testing of new charms, squawking if the charm is a success and passing out if it isn’t. No harm done, of course.

“Who do you think she is?” Lucy asks, always keen to understand the complex family ties weaved through the S.P.M.A.

I’m less interested in who she is than why she’s chosen to live out here. Like the Domitus in Drandok, there’s a story behind each wizards and witches chosen path. Kaira’s on one of these paths at the moment, choosing constant movement over static duty: a phrase she coined to explain the Society burden you carry as a sleeping soldier.

Kaira’s had enough of duty for now and so, it seems, has our strange host who finally appears from one of the passageways leading who knows where?

“Sit,” she says, her soft voice in contrast to her general look of wildness.

She’s still barefoot, dressed in a floral nightgown decorated by a silver necklace: her penchant, no doubt.

We do as she requests, taking up the three seats by the fire — as if she knew we were coming. Obviously, the fact there’s three seats doesn’t mean anything on its own, but then there’s the silver tray on the floor near one of the chairs. Three teacups rest on the tray, each cup filled with a Society remedy: one colour for each of our penchant stones. I’d say this isn’t a coincidence — what she says next confirming it.

“Your missing your comrade,” the lady states, her long greying