Book 1 of The Courts of Daemonium.
Alexander 'Xander' Duran, the world's first Lamia, has been in charge of the Courts of Daemonium for decades. After being turned into a shadow-wielding, blood-thirsty Daemon in 1649 by Lilith, his only purpose in h...
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1874
The gentle summer breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves and sending Adriana's hair dancing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of the cool wind against her skin under the hot sun.
She'd rushed outside as soon as her governess had left the room. She had no interest in sitting in the small classroom inside her family home learning how to be a lady, she did not care for the formalities of society or the expectations of her as she would grow to become a woman. She needed to be outside, to feel her connection to the wind and the earth. This was where she belonged.
Adriana was only twelve years old, and yet her father, Lord Arthur Clarke, wanted to plan her entire future for her already. He was her only remaining parent, his dear wife, Lucia, losing her life during childbirth. Adriana looked the very replica of her mother, with her grey eyes and dark blonde hair, though Adriana never felt as beautiful as the photos of Lucia.
She knew her mother had been the perfect lady of the house, as her father and the staff seemed to enjoy reminding her every day, as if that would persuade her to aim for such achievements. If anything, it spurred her on to follow the opposite path to what had been laid before her. She wanted to live her own life, be her own person.
Arthur only wanted the best for her. He knew that she was special, not just because she was the daughter of a Lord, but because of her gifts, and he knew she had to be protected from the cruelty of men who would exploit her powers. Her great grandmother, Striga Amara, was much more understanding. She understood Adriana's love of the outdoors, she understood why she always felt at peace when she was surrounded by nature. They both shared a special connection to the world they lived in, to the elements of nature, to the power that flowed in their veins. They were Incantrices.
Striga had watched her daughter and granddaughter live and die without showing any sign of the abilities she hoped to pass down. She had thought her powers would die with her, until her great granddaughter, little Adriana, was born. She had been such a small bundle of energy wrapped up in a blood-stained blanket, the blood of her dear, poor mother, too weak to give birth to such a powerful being. Striga knew, even before she saw the faint outline of the marking on the babe's back, that Adriana would continue her Incantrix bloodline.
Striga and Thomas, her great grandfather, would tell her stories of Daemonium, including the powers of Incantrices and Lupi. Whilst some believed Daemons were mere fairytales, told to children to scare them into obeying their parents or provide them with the most wonderful dreams, Adriana knew the truth behind the fairytales. Her great grandparents were living proof of such creatures. Striga was one of the first Incantrices, and Thomas was the first Lupus to walk this world.
Daemons did not scare her, and so the scary stories about Daemonium the children in the nearby village shared did not frighten her either. What concerned her was weakness. She did not want to be weak, she wanted to be as powerful as her great grandmother, to wield the elements as she could. But she had never been able to, no matter how hard she had tried, she had never even been able to direct the wind or flicker the light of a candle.
