House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

The Caster standing by Franchesca’s body requested all the descendants excluding Clare and Nathan who wished to participate, to say specific words.

It was when she lifted her head finding her brother that a sharp pain jolted through her spine, rocketing straight to her brain. She screamed as thousands of needles poked through her whole body falling to the ground. Not one of them came to her aid. Endless time passed. What felt like forever, before it stopped, just stopped, and left her out of breath, covered in sweat. Her torso ached like she’d ran a marathon. Getting up off the floor she sat back on the old wooden chair.

The descendants were all in a trance, their feet lifted off the ground, as they slowly moved in a circular ring, creating a closed circumference around Nathan, her mother and herself.

They all held hands, some of them had blue and green neon lights coming from their eyes, chanting, “araeh mareal barah masah jibraeel amara,” the words chanted over and over again.

Clare looked at Nathan, his eyes closed. His body a sight of peace whereas hers ached all over, something had to be wrong, her hands getting hotter, feeling sweaty, she stared at it. Veins protruding out through Clare’s flesh, as a beam of light emanated from Franchesca’s corpse, like a spirited blue electric wave. Splitting like a slower form of lightening, she watched as the beam struck her brother before it forcefully penetrated the tips of her own fingers.

The pain was death-defying, she screamed her lungs dry, the depth of which left her body shaken.

neck slowly draining itself through her veins up to

onto the floor still screaming, as she scratched her chest, attempting

choked down, her stomach burned, like it was getting eaten, she pulled at her hair, as she kept

body electrified by the current as it penetrated flesh and bones. What was happening to her, she couldn’t stop moving, spine twisting, neck pulling. The bright light bursting out her chest shocking her with electric

a figure. A chill set of hands landed on her chest. Forcing her heavy lids open, a tall figure loomed over her.

as his hand removed the light that had come into

second passed, but the emotional brainstorm which consumed her regarding this man was sending her dangerously close to the end of her rationality. How could she feel so strongly about a stranger that she had met just one time, yet let him embrace her, kiss her? The more he

who he was, he was the same one, who saved them that afternoon, the same one who she had asked, “Who

the same mantra that had played in her mind, “That princess is for you to decide.”