Dana Ilic and the Shadow Door (Lightwielder Chronicles #1) | ✔️

4| Mommy Dearest

Still prone, I stared at the white tiles my nose had smacked—a nose throbbing from the impact.

"Err, I'm awfully sorry," Max stuttered at someone out of my field of view. "But I... I think you have the wrong kid?"

"Nonsense, darling. Why, I would recognize my son anywhere." The voice, now far from sweet, scraped the inside of my ears like fingernails on the chalkboard.

I scrambled hard to get back on my feet and uncover the owner of that grating voice, but the movement brought pain to my banged head.

Then two sharp fingers jabbed into my neck and lifted me like a newborn kitten.

"Why don't you let me help you with that, dearie."

"Um, thanks," I muttered awkwardly, finally standing straight. "Err..." I wiped my jeans off and looked up to address my rescuer, and my next words got stuck in my throat.

A top-model tall woman who looked as if she'd just stepped off the catwalk stood before me. Her long, tight, glittering-white dress and crystalline high heels were drop-dead gorgeous.

She had a Morticia-Addams sleek black mane which fell super obediently well below her waist. Every single hair followed the course of that dark, stunning river.

I had to fight my instinct to pull my hoodie over my head and hide my strawy dirt-blonde spiderweb.

Sheesh. This lady's beauty was intimidating.

"Ah, feel free to call me Mo, darling. No need for silly formalities." She cackled, extending her arm towards me, and the air around us got noticeably chillier.

I blew on my hands to keep them warm; Max didn't appear to be cold at all.

Clogs clattered behind us, and a pair of mop-trained fingers grabbed Mo's hand and swatted it away.

"Uh-uh, now, Morana. You know the rules." Gamayun pursed her lips.

Wait a minute...

O.M.G.

Mo stands for... Morana?! Aca-scuse me? As in: goddess of death, winter and misfortune.

Yikes.

I gulped.

Morana wrinkled her nose as if she'd just smelled something putrid, and pulled her manicured fingers away from Gamayn's reach. 

"Yes, of course, sweetie." she bared her teeth, spitting out the final word with a low guttural growl.  A stray lock fled her perfect hairdo, giving her a bit of a Bellatrix Lestrange look. "No touching the halflings unless in human form."

"The correct term we employ would be the godlings, or demigods, if you will, Morana. I am sure you are quite familiar with this. On another note, as you well know, when a God or a Goddess is on daily guard duty, they are not permitted to leave the Throne Chamber, or switch their form." Gamayun pushed her no-nonsense black rimmed glasses higher up her nose, glaring at Mo.

As I stared on, fascinated by the eye-wrestling match these two were locked in, I sensed a tug on my sleeve. Max pulled me to the side, his face scrunched in fear.

"D? D, talk to me. What exactly did they mean by 'godlings?' Why did that woman call me her son?" He whispered into my ear.

 Thoughts sprouted in my head. "Okay, let's see. A godling, or a demigod is a child between a mortal human and an immortal god or goddess. That would make us... "

"Half-gods?" He left his mouth agape.

The look of disbelief on his face made me smile. "Do you think there could be some truth to it?"