Magical (Mystical Series Book 3) Read online

  Magical

  The Mystical Series, Book 3

  By Michael Weekly

  Magical

  Copyright © 2017 by Michael Weekly.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: April 2017

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-066-4

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-066-1

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To the ones who aren’t afraid to be different,

  the ones who are magical.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

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  Prologue

  My hand warms up from the metal against my palm. Footsteps run behind me and someone pants harshly. Donovan runs toward me, but he’s late. It’s not his fault I’m choosing this. It’s no one’s fault, and I know the longer I stay around him in the Shade, a part of me will be lost, struggling in this maze I’ve been trying to escape from my whole life.

  “Rose, don’t!”

  All I can make out are the screams of people being killed. I know that death is soon to approach them. The wind presses against my cheeks and I need to do something.

  It’s too late. The air is pulled out of my lungs and I am sucked into the world of corruption.

  ***

  From my view, there’s a red chair and a crackling fire.

  A man walks in and I glare at him like a cornered animal. My nose flares at his stench. I can tell he’s a mystic but I don’t know which kind.

  “You’ve grown,” he says.

  His black blazer looks like it came out of dry cleaning, and he’s wearing jeans with holes in them. His shirt is a blue, wrinkled up button down. He sits in his chair, crossing his legs.

  “Tell me, how’s your mother doing?”

  I wonder how this man knows my mother. I study his face. I’ve seen him before. He reminds me of the strange man I’ve seen in my projections.

  These eyes stared at me in the field, back when I projected myself in Vaelle.

  He’s the man who ran away with my mother.

  The room becomes still as we breathe in unison, watching each other.

  Chapter 1

  There is no such thing as fear in my life; intimidation and any sort of discomfort are nonexistent. A witch doesn’t believe in that. We follow our instincts and mine tell me to go for it, to be that daredevil and risk my life doing so, because there really is nothing to lose. I’m already lost. It was different going through this portal than the Ellevil one; my arm sizzled as I went through. My markings burned, they didn’t freeze for once; it’s overbearingly painful. The portal spits me out on a hardened surface, scraping the sides of my arms.

  My eyes are still closed from the surprising pain. I cough; my throat is dry and I can hardly breathe from the smell of dead flesh and smoke.

  I place my hand beneath me, only to jerk it back in shock. I know the feeling right away. My eyes immediately open, knowing that I’m on top of a dead mermaid.

  I glance down, noticing that I’m on a pile of several dead mystics, their open eyes gazing lifelessly up at the pitch black sky, and their skin pale from being here.

  They haven’t vanished into mist.

  I need to vomit. My hands cover my mouth as I look around at this new world. My knees somehow support me, then I circle around. The sky is black but has a hint of purple and gray—a storm approaches. It drizzles, only the rain sizzles against my skin burning me with searing pain.

  The mud bubbles, popping onto my ankles like hot grease from a pan. I run under a monstrous tree to protect myself. The bodies of the dead mystics fade away from the rain’s heat. Surprisingly, trees live here in this world. How can they survive in the stiff burnt air? How am I surviving here? What am I doing in this world?

  Each time I breathe my throat burns, the oxygen thick and corrupt.

  I feel my pocket for my ring, remembering what Alice told me. I’m not that stubborn. I place it on my ring finger. I’m more relaxed now and exhale through my nostrils.

  The heavy wind blows my hair across my face.

  My back presses against the bark behind me, burning against my jacket. There’s a snap of a twig from the forest. I turn around at the darkness crawling out. There are colorful wings twitching and the smell of rotten flowers slithers into my nose.

  I step back slowly, allowing the creatures to float out from the darkness.

  His ashy gray hair is untamed, and his ragged wings flutter violently against the wind. I trudge backward slowly, my eyes locked on his appearance. His face is still and lifeless, the ends of his nails sharp and pointy like the edge of a knife. The two others walk out of the forest right behind him, one an elf and another a mermaid.

  I turn around at a large field of dead grass, I feel the warm mud swallowing my boots.

  “A pure witch in Ravamere?” The elf speaks, her white nails tracing the tips of her lips. Her light green markings travel around her neck and collarbone. Beside her blue markings glow; the mermaid next to her stands still. His markings outline his v-cut on his abdomen and above his belly button.

  The girl waves her fingers in the air, the ground becomes alive, and thick vines wrap around my legs. The mermaid winks at me; the mud latches on my calves, burning me.

  I exhale slowly and search for my broomstick in my back pocket, pulling it out. Activating my purple sword, I cut the vines from my legs, glancing up at an icicle darting for my neck through the air. I swipe my sword up, blocking the attack. Forming my broomstick into a whip, I need to kill the fairy first; he’s causing me to become drowsy from the scent.

  I don’t have much time. I flick toward his neck, coiling the whip around him. He pulls on the metal, forcing me forward and showing his teeth. I yank back, allowing the purple electricity to flow on the metal strand, shocking him. The fairy falls to the ground. I stumble back.

  My broomstick deactivates. I take off toward the dead field in front of me.

  The elf runs by my side faster than I can; she eventually leaps in front. She twirls around and kicks me to the ground, and the mermaid appears beside me from the mud.

  “You see those markings on her skin? They’
re different,” the mermaid hisses.

  “I think Marcus needs to take a look at this.” The elf presses her foot on my cheek. I roll over, causing her to trip, pressing my broomstick into a dagger. I pull the elf’s hair; she reaches up for my wrist, grunting.

  The mermaid shoots another icicle at me. I sidestep.

  The mystic readies another icy blade, but this time I don’t move as the icicle punctures the elf’s chest. She chokes, splits to the ground with her flexibility, and forces me on my back. I slice her neck with my dagger, trying to save my life.

  I know this isn’t going to kill an elf, but it’ll give me time to figure out what to do.

  The mermaid shoots another icicle in the air. I jam my knee into the elf’s gut, sliding over to my side and wrapping my arms around her neck, blocking another attack.

  This time, I force my dagger on the right side of her chest.

  Feeling her heartbeat, I jab my dagger deeper, vanishing her into green mist.

  I stare at the mermaid in front of me, breathing irregularly. He steps forward, I step backward. My broomstick morphs into a sword, he chucks an icicle at me. I rush backward, blocking his many attacks.

  I turn around swiftly and run down the field. My legs are numb while my lips quiver.

  Frost develops on my arms. I’m being slowed down.

  Shocking pain rushes from within my throat down into my lungs as I drop to the ground.

  I slide my gaze to my right, seeing the mermaid appear from his water. I cough, and can’t breathe. My fingers dig themselves into the mud only to burn my fingertips.

  ***

  The heat I felt as soon as I arrived in Ravamere suddenly fades from my skin. I roll over to my side on a cold, wet, and sticky surface. My eyes open as I remember this is not a dream. The palm of my hand lifts as a dark red line of slime wiggles in the space between the ground and my hand. It’s dark and I sense another presence in the room.

  I see a red chair and crackling flames in the fireplace.

  A man walks in from my right. My gaze jumps to him like I’m a cornered animal. My nose flares at his stench, I can tell he’s a mystic but I don’t know which. His markings are covered except for a distinct one on the side of his neck; it’s a circle with an ‘X’ overlaying it.

  “You’ve grown.”

  His black blazer looks like it came out of dry cleaning, he’s wearing jeans with holes in them. His shirt is a blue wrinkled up button down. He sits in his chair comfortably, crossing his legs, and circling his index finger in the air. The slime I lay in starts to get into my clothes, stinging my skin. I twitch from the pain and start to breathe heavily.

  “Tell me, how’s your mother doing?”

  I glare up at him. I wiggle around in the stinging slime. I move, trying to avoid the liquid. We catch eye contact, him waiting for my answer. He has a scruffy gray beard and light green eyes, the same color as mine. He takes his other hand and picks at the hairs on his chin.

  “Aren’t you going to answer?” he says, amused.

  “How do you know my mother?” I hold back my anger.

  “Grace and I go way back. She really was rough to handle.” His gaze leaves me as he wanders off into his memories. His deep voice makes me shudder from its vibration.

  He snaps out of his memory with a smirk and looks at me. “Tell me, Eliza. Is she still feisty?”

  He watches me carefully. I study his face, I’ve seen him before. The way his lips scrunch together immediately reminds me of the strange man I’ve seen in my projections. The way he presents himself, all the way up to his scruffy, hairy look.

  He glances at my fingers. “I see you’re wearing my ring.”

  I notice the mood ring, its color turning red, glimmering his reflection.

  “Once I get out of here, you and the rest of your corrupt mystics will be the first to die.”

  He chuckles to himself as he crosses his fingers together in a business posture above his knees.

  “Is that any way to talk to your father?”

  Chapter 2

  Each movement is silent, and the room becomes still as we stare at each other. The sound of the flames crackling, all the way up to me breathing, is unsettling.

  I hold my tongue, he looks away. There’s a loud noise of grunts and screams of anger coming from the hallway by the office. My eyes watch him get up and walk calmly to the door. Before he can reach it, a male mermaid falls inside, splattering into water as he hits the floor. Soon after, several corrupt mystics run to the right, passing our door’s entrance.

  Seconds later a mystic approaches. “Master Jared. He knows she’s here.” The mystic removes his focus from the man in the room to me, the mystic who gave the message unlocks his red glare from me. The mystic then runs along with the many others in the building.

  My father looks at me, he splays out his fingers. The slime travels up against my neck and covers my mouth. The bars around the cage glow red. I feel the heat within my jail. His face immediately changes from being mischievous to an eerie strategist. His irises fade into a light purple as he leaves the room.

  After his exit, I proceed to fight against this substance that holds me tight. I moan in distress from the pain. I can’t breathe, my vision blurs in and out. I can’t believe that all of this is real right now, that leader or king or whatever he is here. It’s my father. I scoot back and forth, trying to free myself from hostage.

  A corrupt elf with dark green markings around his neck watches me fight against the substance. He finds this entertaining. He’s oblivious to all the commotion in the hallway that is happening right now.

  “So you’re the soon to be queen.” His dark, rough voice rings in my ears.

  I stop what I’m doing and look up at him. The elf walks slowly toward me, pulling a knife from his pocket.

  “I wonder what the rest of the mystics here would think of me if I killed our only queen. I would be looked upon as a hero.”

  I’m breathing heavily from my nose, trying to stay alive. I hear every word he says. I know for a fact that I will not die tonight. Especially by a corrupt mystic like him. He splays out his fingers, allowing the metal to cool down. He chuckles to himself.

  “You don’t seem corrupt at all…even better. I wonder how you’ll taste.”

  My eyes narrow at him, as I act in distress.

  “Even when you’re acting like a human.”

  I’m not sure if he’s aware that I’m a witch.

  He twirls his finger in the same motion as my father did. I notice flashes of different colored lights behind him as the commotion grows louder. Is Jared really here? How could he cause trouble with his flimsy little body? I shake my head in disbelief.

  The slime slowly slithers off my body as the mystic kneels down to stare at me. His green eyes watch me carefully. He taps the knife on the metal bars softly.

  “Aren’t you afraid of your master finding out you murdered his daughter?”

  He stops tapping the knife and raises his eyebrows. This new information causes his emotions to rage against my head.

  “That would be even better, I’ll kill him too!”

  He rips apart the metal bars and grabs my neck, holding me in the air. I didn’t think corrupt elves could be so strong. I struggle to breathe. The skin on his palm burns against me. The pain surges from my neck and travels down into the middle of my chest. I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack.

  “That’s right, you are. That’s one thing about being corrupt. Mysterious power that makes our prey’s pain unbearable.” He then chucks me against a wall. I crash to the floor.

  The corrupt mystic approaches me with his knife. My eyes immediately open. I’m aware where the knife will strike from. I lift my hand, stopping him from stabbing my neck. The fear in his eyes proves to me that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I crack his wrist, he grunts in pain. The knife is forced out of his grip as he falls to the floor. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me in a choke hold.


  I whisper into his ear, “Why couldn’t you just cooperate?”

  I toss him over and shove my knee against his neck. He moves around ferociously, trying to free himself. I flip my hair to the side of my neck, my knee still shoving against him. I search my pockets for my broomstick, I don’t feel it. Maybe I left it back in the cage? I glance over to see nothing. The elf’s dagger is on the ground. I calmly reach for the sharp weapon, hearing his pain-filled gurgling.

  His eyes become lifeless from the shortage of air.

  “I’m a witch, it’s second nature killing you.” He releases the last grunt of pain and distress before I slice his neck. Green blood splutters out against my jacket. I can hear him choking on his own blood.

  I smash his head against the ground with a disgusted look on my face, making sure he’s dead. I exhale a deep sigh, taking his knife and placing it in my boot. The elf rolls over on the ground, the noise from the hall in the building fades away. I walk slowly to the edge of the doorway. No one is in sight, darkness is around me, but little golden lights above create a path of light. I walk over to a large window at the end of the hallway.

  The smell of burning flesh still fills my nose. Little pots of flames burn in a circle in front of the building I glare down from. There’s large glowing purple trees around the periphery. The land leads far into the darkness, far into the unknown. The mud bubbles, steam rising into the air, and scattered flame sparks from within the crackling pots outside.

  The window fogs up from my warm breath. I wipe it clear, narrowing my eyes. To my right there’s another building, and on the rooftop’s edge is a black figure running swiftly. Several mystics are chasing after this shadow, some are flying and some are just incredibly fast.

  The figure then stops for a moment and leaps off the building’s edge. My heart drops, afraid the height of the building will cause it to splat to its death. I watch the figure fall gracefully, landing on its four paws. The height didn’t bother it one bit and neither did the mystics who jumped right after it.