The Lost Daughter: Hells Hallow Book One

by Bo Reid

  “Revelare,” (Reveal) I whisper. The stones shimmer before me, and I watch as the names of each coven member is etched into them.

  Khalida Morass, The Deathless Mother.

  Azrail, The Angel of Death.

  My parents, they’re here, but they’re not. They’re close enough that I can still feel their magic, but I’ll never meet them. They will never hug me or hold my hand. My mother never got to teach me her favorite spells. And my father will never get to walk me into the gates of Hell.

  They’re all right here, my family.

  Yet, I’m still alone.

  Chapter Three

  Javaraya

  “Bloody Hell,” I huff as I look out my bedroom window and watch a lightning storm flash across the barrier's sky. This has been going on for close to half an hour, and I am sick to death of that dragon’s moody attitude. I don’t know what they do on those fucking cliffs, but whenever they start up with their lightning, they can’t seem to help themselves. At least this time, he is only sending it across the sky and not down to the ground. Last time Ernesh had a fucking fit, we lost some of the beach huts because he destroyed them. Good thing none of the sirens happened to be on land that night, or else we would have had a much bigger issue than a few ruined buildings.

  “Oh, leave the bloody dragon alone,” Sasha purrs from my bed.

  I turn back around and cross my arms over my chest, “you can go, we’re done here,” I tell her and her face curves up into a sinister smile. I really fucking hate her, why do I still fuck her? She’s an excellent little plaything to use when I need to get all my frustrations out, she likes a little pain as long as she’s also on the receiving end of a proper dicking.

  “Are you sure? We could go one more round…” she trails off as she starts to hum. I cock my head to the side and raise one eyebrow in question as she begins to attempt her siren song on me. A move that doesn’t work and only proves to further piss me off. Sometimes I can’t tell if she’s too stupid to remember her tricks don’t work, or her intent is, in fact, to piss me off.

  I stride over to her, and when I reach her, I grip her throat until she is clawing at my hand to let her go. Pulling her close to my face, I feel my eyes flame as my hand heats up, and I tighten my grip further, “we’re done, you’ll do best to remember your tricks don’t work on me,” I growl, releasing my grip on her throat.

  She drops to the bed and coughs as she tries to bring air into her lungs.

  “Anyone else find it strange that the sirens still need air when they’re above water?” Kalayavan remarks as he strolls into my bedroom, bastard doesn’t even fucking knock.

  “What do you want?” I growl as he plops onto my couch.

  “Catch the lightning show?” he asks as Sasha scrambles off the bed and out of my room.

  “Yeah, Ernesh is at it again,” I grumble, scrubbing a tired hand down my face, I’m beyond sick of his moody attitude.

  “Catch the color?” Kalayavan asks and motions towards the window.

  I pinch my eyebrows together, turning to once again glance out my window as another shot of lightning licks across the sky.

  “Purple?” I ask, confused. “Since when is it purple?”

  “Do I look like a dragon to you?” Kalayavan states. I shake my head and roll my eyes at his sarcastic attitude. “Well ... plans?” he presses.

  “Why do I even keep you around?” I grumble.

  “You like my ass,” he deadpans.

  I roll my eyes but feel a slight smirk pull at my lips — he’s not wrong — and brace my hand against my four-poster bed frame. “We’ll do a meeting in the morning.”

  “Just Ernesh?”

  “No, I want a full Hells Hallow Council meeting. All this bullshit needs to end, and he’s not the only one that has been throwing temper tantrums lately.”

  He nods and pushes himself off my couch, “catch you tomorrow, boss.”

  Instead of sleeping, I head down to my home office and decide to dig through some of the old records. I find the dragon shifter family tree, pulling it out and skimming it. It lists parents, birth and death dates, abilities, and even if the dragon has relocated outside of Hells Hallow.

  Most remain on the Gehenna Cliffs where the dragon shifters rule, but a few have left Hells Hallow entirely. The elders remain in town, no desire to branch out, but the younger generations have decided to leave town. It’s not uncommon for many of the races' younger generations to want to explore what else lies beyond our walls. For the most part, the Heads and Elders allow them to leave. Nine out of ten come back home when they realize whatever it was they were looking for isn’t out there.

  As I go over all the powers the dragons have, I note that out of all the elemental dragons, Ernesh is the only one to have possessed lightning in the last ten generations — and I know for a fact his lightning isn’t fucking purple.

  Then what, or who could be causing our barrier to be going haywire?

  It has to be the dragons; there is no other explanation, and reading family trees at three in the morning is not what I need to be doing.

  What I need to be doing is sleeping.

  Instead of going to bed like I should do, I pull out an old leather-bound journal from behind my desk, running my palm over the dusty cover.

  I flip open the first page and read the note.

  Javaraya,

  Dear boy, I know you will grow to be a wise ruler one day. There will be many trials and tribulations along the way, and a great deal of time spent cleaning up the messes the elders have left for centuries. Those that you surround yourself with will be the key to the success or failures of Hells Hallow, and the world as we know it.

  This book contains harsh truths, secrets, and the magic you will need to create a new generation of Hells Hallow. The pages will be released as you need them; do not try to break the spell that seals this book. In doing so, the spell will recognize you are not who I believed you could be, and in turn, the words will be erased. In the event that this happens, you will never be able to retrieve the words again.

  Think about your actions before you make the first move, consequences cannot be undone.

  Khalida Morass.

  I was given this journal in secret when I was just eight years old by the most powerful dark witch that this realm, and any other, had ever seen. She entrusted me with whatever is in this book and knew in her soul that she couldn’t trust my father with it.

  She trusted me, a child, to hold onto this, to never share it with anyone. And for twenty-five years, I haven’t told a single soul. For twenty-five years, this book has been locked. Only the first page's inscription was ever readable.

  Until now.

  I flip the page over, revealing the note on the next page. I stare at the words, my brain unable to process the fact that it actually opened. The pages will be released as you need them.

  The time has come. I genuinely hope you are ready, for she will destroy you if you are not.

  For she will destroy you if you are not. What does that even mean? Who, who will destroy me? Me specifically or like a general me?

  I have waited twenty-five fucking years, and all I get is one lousy line? A single cryptic sentence? Thanks, a-fucking-lot Khalida.

  I huff my frustrations, slamming the cover of the book closed and tossing it onto my desk. Growling as I scrub my hands down my face.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me right now,” I manage a humorous laugh as I stare at the small journal.

  “Is this some kind of twisted joke, Khalida?” I ask no one.

  “Give a small hopeful child the answers to every question he doesn’t even know to ask yet, string him along for decades, and then deliver nothing? It seems like a twisted dark witch joke to me,” I grumble, growing more and more frustrated.

  I give up, pushing myself to stand from my desk and walk out of the room. I pause in the doorway, looking back over my shoulder at the journal on my desk. I shake my head and continue out into the hall.
I barely make it four steps before turning back around, marching across my office floor, grabbing the journal, and roughly slamming it back into its place on my shelf.

  “There, you happy now?” I growl at it.

  Now I’m talking to an inanimate object; clearly, the lack of sleep is getting to me.

  Ernesh

  “She’s back,” I hear my grandfather say softly. I press my hands against the balcony of our castle that overlooks the mountain we live on. Purple sparks of lightning continue to flash across the sky.

  “Who’s back?” I ask him as he steps out onto the balcony with me.

  “The Lost Daughter.”

  “Who?” I press.

  My grandfather turns to me, a grim smile on his face. He reaches out, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving me a gentle squeeze before turning and walking back inside without any further answer.

  “Well, thanks for all the insight,” I grumble. I swear he’s losing it.

  I continue to lean against the railing watching the lightning flash across the barrier sky; it’s a vibrant purple color. I look down and allow my hands to spark with lightning. Deep blue sparks jump between my fingers, running over my hands and up my arms. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, calling my dragon to the surface. Letting a roar rip from my chest, I flap my wings and take off from the balcony to fly into the sky. I fly towards the lightning, attempting to get as close to it as I can. But the closer I’m able to get, the more power I feel. It’s been a long time since an elemental power could even begin to phase me, but there is something about the purple sparks that are lighting up the sky that both call to me, and urge me to stay away. The power in them could get me drunk just off of a single graze.

  The sparks call to me, urging me closer and closer, but I know it isn’t safe, so instead, I turn and continue to fly over the town. I’m well hidden in the darkened sky, even as the purple lightning adds a glow over the town. My body and wings are onyx in color, the underside of my wings are amethyst, which matches my underbelly. I have the faintest shining white spots that look like stars as I fly through the night sky.

  My large wings spread out as I glide through the air effortlessly. Taking on the night, feeling free. It’s in these fleeting moments — these late-night flights over the town — hidden in the sky’s shadows, that I feel at peace. There seems to not be a single moment in my day when someone doesn't need something from me. But I guess that is the price we pay for the power we have received.

  I fly over the town, viewing Siren Bay as the calm waves crash over the shore. The water from the Gehenna Cliffs’ waterfall spilling into Shipwrecked Cove. I turn, flying towards the Gate of Hell, viewing the River Styx, and hearing the screams of the Lost Soul Lake even from the air, even over the crash of thunder that follows the lightning. The thick trees of the Forbidden Forest darken the ground and make it impossible to see past them to the forest floor. The Pitch Forest is more open; I can view the dens and cabins for the werewolves, bears, and wolves as I fly towards the town's line.

  The large homes that house the other beings that live here, the cemetery on the edge of town, and the buildings on Main Street are still lit up even at this late hour. I fly back towards the beach then head for my home.

  Something pulls me back towards the Forbidden Forest, but I shake my head and go home instead. I land on the balcony of my room in the castle, pushing my dragon form back under my skin. Feeling my scales turn back into smooth skin as I shrink back down to a more manageable size to roam the castle.

  I stand on the balcony, resting my hands against the railing once more and looking out over the town. The lightning dies down, stopping the show from flashing across the sky. I scrub a hand down my face, exhaustion setting into my bones, and I can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. And we’re not going to like what that something is.

  Turning around, I walk into my large room, the cold stone floors of the castle stinging my feet as I cross the floor. I strip out of my clothes, glancing in the full-length mirror. If I look past my brawny muscles and large stature, I see how tired I am.

  The weight of being in charge of an entire race of people takes its toll. The reality of having to deal with other leaders in a cohesive manner is exhausting. The additional pressure of having a deadline to finding a mate and no one that even remotely sparks an interest is draining. I lay down in my large bed, the perfect size to share with someone. Unfortunately for me, my bed is empty, just like it is every single night. It’s not that I don’t have anyone willing to share my bed, it's that I don’t particularly care to keep any of them around. I actually don’t even invite any of them into my own bed; it’s easier for me to sneak out of their rooms than to try to get them to leave mine. Plus, I mean, a little quickie in the hallway is really all I need, and they don’t seem to complain. Not that I would care if they did.

  I rest my hand against my chest and stare up at the high ceiling in my room. Glancing over at the other side of my bed, the side that is always empty. Then I roll over, turning my back to the space where my mate should be — if I had one.

  There is a myth in our culture that says if you’re visited in your dreams by the same person night after night, they’re your soulmate.

  When I was a teenager, I used to dream of this girl; it was the same girl that visited my dreams every night. She was stunning with dark, purple hair, a bright smile, and always adorned in black. I would dream of holding her in my arms as my lightning wrapped around us, mixing with hers. The blue and purple charges intertwining together as I kissed her lips. I have searched for her for most of my life. Another dragon with the ability to manipulate the lightning, but I’ve never found her.

  I have never been able to get the vision of her out of my head, and then one day, the dreams just stopped coming. At first, I thought they stopped because she was close by; because I was going to find her. But I never found her, and I’ve never been able to stop looking for her. I feel her in my soul, embedded deep down into the very fabric of who I am. It’s as if she is a part of who I am at my core. But what if I never find her? What if she isn’t who I think she is?

  I close my eyes, yawning as I fall into a deep sleep and beg for the dreams to visit me once again.

  I open my eyes, taking a moment to blink as I look around my room. I glance towards the open doors that lead to my balcony, and I see her. She’s dressed in nothing but one of my long black button-up shirts, the hem stopping at her mid-thigh, leaving her bare legs on full display. Her long, dark purple hair whips around in the wind from the ocean below us.

  I get up and walk towards the balcony, bracing my hands on the railing on either side of her. Pressing my chest close to her back, and she leans back into me.

  “Where have you been?” I ask her.

  “Around,” she whispers.

  “Not here.”

  “No, not here,” she confirms.

  “How do I find you?” I ask, leaning down to rest my chin on her shoulder. I watch from the corner of my eye as purple lightning sparks just over her skin. I reach my hand out, covering hers with mine, and let my blue lightning mix with hers.

  “You’ll find me soon,” she whispers, relaxing further into my chest. I close my eyes and take a deep breath; her scent is a mix of lavender, jasmine, orange, and vanilla. I breathe her in, holding her close to my chest.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” I ask, watching as she lifts her hand in mine, intertwining our fingers together as our lightning mixes together.

  “Probably,” she whispers. “I promise to make it worth the pain,” she says, twisting in my arms and pressing her mouth to mine before I catch a glimpse of her face.

  I grip her hips, pulling her closer to me. She wraps her hands around my neck, gripping me and pulling me down to meet her lips as I work my mouth over hers. I tighten my grip on her hips, lifting her and setting her on the railing as I step between her legs, and she wraps them around me.

  “Come find m
e,” she whispers when she pulls back from my lips. It takes me a moment to register the loss of contact, and I’m too late. She leans back, falling over the railing. A deep roar rips from my chest, and I pull my dragon to the surface moments before jumping off the railing.

  I free-fall, attempting to reach her, but she’s already gone.

  I wake up in my bed, cold sweat dripping from my skin and soaking my sheets. Taking a few deep breaths, trying to pull air into my lungs. I close my eyes and slow my rapid breathing.

  “She’s here,” I whisper.

  Chapter Four

  Tanda

  Sleep didn’t come easy last night; it’s strange to sleep in a home where your family died to save you. I can feel the blood that has long-since soaked into the earth under the cabin. The magic calling to me and vibrating through to the very core of who I am. Their magic radiates off the walls; it’s seeped into the wooden floor, and I swear if the wind blows just right, I can smell them. As if they’re still here — as if they’re going to walk through the front door at any moment and tell me it’s all been a big joke.

  But I know that is never going to happen; they’re never coming back. I’m all that’s left of my family; what a fucked up revelation to have. A single person does not make up a family. A house does not constitute a home. Maybe, had I been born and raised here surrounded by evil and darkness, I wouldn’t crave others as much. Maybe it can be brought back to that whole nature-versus-nurture debate. Maybe I was nurtured into thinking I needed a family, that I needed a coven, and that love made a house into a home.

  Maybe the longer I stay away from that thought process, the easier it will be to accept that I will never have that.

  Hell, even for the last seven years, I had Deimos. We weren’t a family, fucking far from it, but at least for a little while, we did have each other. Now neither of us has anyone. We knew the day would come when I would have to leave; if I didn’t, we would just die anyway, so I might as well try to fix this shit. But for some reason, leaving him, walking away from him, was harder than walking away from the white witches. I guess on some level, he really did feel like family when they never did.