Meeting Aggie

Prologue.

In a world cloaked in secrecy and shadows, where my very existence as a nineteen-year-old witch-angel-fairy demanded a life hidden away, the longing for a taste of normalcy consumed me. My witch blood marked me as the epitome of ignominy. Like that word? I picked it up at Yale.

Below the gods themselves, the hierarchy in the supernatural realm consisted of four light species and four dark species. Mixing light and dark species was considered immoral, making me one of the few to grace the entire universe.

Angels—of course—ranked the highest due to their purest blood and unlimited power. The gods—creators of all beings—first bestowed the royal titles on the angels. Next came the fairies, followed by the mermaids, and then the elves. These four species make up the light species.

The dark species did not hold any royal positions. Vampires and werewolves ranked equally with each other at the top. Despite their contrasting natures, these formidable creatures stood at the pinnacle of power, each possessing an unfathomable strength that mirrored the other.

The werewolves excelled during the day while the vampires excelled at night. Though powerful, they wielded only a fraction of the angels' power.

Following them were the sirens, the treacherous counterparts of their aquatic relatives, the mermaids. Sirens lured people to their deaths, an evil practice.

Mermaids who chose to use their abilities for evil turned into sirens, the more powerful of the two. If sirens were able to live out of water, they would easily outrank vampires and wolves.

Witches, despite possessing powers second to the angels, were regarded as the lowest among the dark species. They bore the weight of disdain from both the light and dark species, with everyone unanimously viewing them as the most tainted bloodline to tread upon the earth.

Though despised as scum, the angels would rather keep a witch by their side for protection than a vampire or werewolf. All other species lacked in power and ability compared to witches and angels, so what other creature would best fit?

My mother, Iridessa Nightingale, was the sole heir to Emperor Richmond Nightingale, an angel, and Empress Clarissa Nightingale, a fairy. Fairies were the only species legally allowed to marry angels.

Iridessa cared about her title and all the luxuries of the ruling class, but her as a primal creature proved to be her weakness.

She craved love and attention. Her angel husband, Duke Reynoso Asmodeus, focused more on ruling than having a relationship with her.

Roughly a year into her marriage, she became reckless. Since she was disallowed to be around others, her eyes wandered to my father. Who than her bodyguard and trusted confidant? He met an insatiable hunger.

Lucius Youngblood was my beloved father and caretaker until his demise when I was ten years old. He named me Agatha.

My father grew up poor in the slums until the angel army chose him at seven years old. He excelled not only in war, but in intellect as well. Eleven years later, my mother's father handpicked him to be her personal bodyguard.

Their affair continued for three or four years. When my mother became pregnant, she claimed I was Reynoso's baby, but she could no longer hide the lie once I was born.

The truth was out there for everyone to see. She forgot all witches were born with light green skin. Reynoso held his suspicions about their affair until that moment.

To protect her image and title, my mother told the empire I was stillborn then sent my father and I away. She could have taken responsibility and raised me, but instead chose to pretend as if I never existed.

My mother sent me away and erased any reminder of the affair. Since then, I've hated my mother and all her .

My mother could've found a way to make things right for my father and me. If I wasn't part witch, I would've been raised in the supernatural empire. Growing up would've been an entirely different experience, and father would still be alive.

I was anonymous, a nobody with magic, until recently. My mother, the Empress Iridessa, lay dying without a named successor.

Her hand would be forced soon. If a successor were not chosen, the empire would descend into chaos. Without a ruler in the supernatural empire, there was no order.

My wicked mother gave birth to two sons and a daughter to make up for "losing" me. Their ages ranged from one to three years below mine. However, she could not crown any of them, per the fates' rules.

The fates alone crowned the true heir of the empire, and that right belonged to the firstborn. My mother's firstborn was me, the result of her affair and her disgrace. But if I were dead, the honor would fall to the next older sibling, my half-brother Sven. My focus for now is on surviving.