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

with a dead, dark wizard? Does it matter? Not really because Aradel isn’t on the wanted list, so it’s more my issue than anyone else’s. In a nutshell, her plot failed, leaving the S.P.M.A. to live on and her sort to hide in the shadows.

“You’ve aged,” I say, sipping my tea whilst Conrad readies his counter move, sensing that Aradel might have one last trick up her sleeve.

“And you’re still a child,” she replies with a humourless smile. Her thin, gaunt face isn’t improved by the heavy, red lipstick.

“A child tasked with flushing out bad eggs, like you.”

“And taking them where, may I ask?” she prompts, looking up at the stained-glass roof as she does.

“The place for bad things and bad people,” Conrad adds in indirect reference to The Velynx — a statement that causes Joseph to whimper in fear.

“I’ve survived this long in the wild,” the evening witch states, rising out of her chair, “and I imagine I can survive a little longer.” She reveals her last move, attempting to flick open a Zombul to release a flurry of fury, but Conrad is one step ahead of her, whispering ‘Weveris’ to form a flying web which smothers the blast of vampiric birds attempting to burst free.

The sudden screech sends a wave of panic through the tea rooms, wizards and witches standing in defensive positions as swathes of light and energy burst into view … rising and circling towards the enemy force … a force many are just realising is the evening witch herself.

With Conrad muting Alice Aradel’s attack, the only option she has left is to flee, but the crowds have vacated their tables, merging their beams of multi-coloured light towards her, gesturing for Conrad, Joseph and I to step back from the table: an army of sleeping soldiers stepping into the fore once more.

“Not quite the morning I had in mind,” comes the voice of Elin Farraday: a kind, portly wizard related to a Society legend and friend.

I offer Elin a smile as I step back, realising my two swords won’t be needed. “An old foe trying to slither her way back in.”

“Well,” says Elin as he whips his charm towards the trapped figure of Alice Aradel, “it looks like she’ll be slithering her way to The Velynx. We can take it from here, Guppy.”

With a nod, Conrad and I whistle for our Williynx to return to a more majestic form which they do with elegance and ease — a vision of turquoise and powder blue gliding through the arcs of light and energy which have brought a fallen witch to her knees.

“I take it Joseph requires no attention?” Elin asks as we climb onto our feathered companions.

I leave the reply to Conrad who, after glancing at me, replies, “He’s fine. In the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Elin and Joseph exchanged a knowing glance as our Williynx take to the air, rising towards the vaulted, stained-glass roof.

“Jysyn Juice on you this evening, Joseph,” I say to ease the eccentric wizard’s nerves. It’s also a way of letting him know he’s not entirely off the hook.

With the evening witch dealt with, my powder-blue companion blows out a flume of white air — air that turns the stained-glass roof to liquid moments before we blast out of sight.

5

A Changing Cendryll

We glide through the sky, the cold air of the winter morning rushing by. The evening witch will be restricted by various charms before being questioned. Based on what she’s been up to, she’ll either be released with a clear warning or escorted to The Velynx where a slimy cell awaits her.

I doubt she’ll be there for long because her crimes don’t extend beyond illegal black market trading, and the alleged kidnap plot of young wizards who are now immersed in Society life. Only a select few know about Alice Aradel’s plan to kidnap us when the flames of war were at their highest.

Her dark deeds faded into insignificance when the dust settled, though, the collective trauma of hundreds dead, colossal creatures killed and a terrifying artefact destroyed dominating the memory.

Malevs ran for cover when wanted lists were compiled: the main figures on the list being the captors most loyal to Erent Koll: the evil wizard who perished under a blizzard of ice bullets and heroic sky urchins. The people in question continue to hide in places like The Shallows, but the realms beyond The Society Sphere are endless, and it would take an entire Society army to track them down.

The decision has been to rely on a loyal group of Night Rangers, leaving sleeping soldiers to recover from the trauma of war. Witches and wizards drawn to darkness always slither out of the shadows eventually, and when they do, I’ll be ready to re-introduce myself. The sight of swirling snow tells us we’re approaching The Winter Quarter — the hidden, magical part, at least — igniting Conrad’s desire to equal the scores in the sky.

“I gave you a head start earlier,” he says with a wry smile. “You know, always the gentleman.”

Erivan, his turquoise Williynx, morphs into a larger form, spreading its wings in expectation of a sudden surge of speed, and I brush my brown hair away from my face in preparation for round two.

I hate losing and Conrad knows it, tapping his legs against his Williynx to kick start the second race of the morning, sneaking a head start to trigger my anger: the very thing he wants to ensure the race is as fiercely contested as possible.

I race through the sky on the back of Laieya, closing in on Conrad who instructs his Williynx to release a blast of feathers: a simple trick to limit my vision, but this is easily navigated, a simple drop and spinning motion below the cloud of feathers, bringing the snow-covered streets of The Winter Quarter into view.

If only Kaira could see me now … racing through the sky with snow touching my skin, releasing my own