Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
It worked.
Until it became a curse.
On the battlefield fighting against the Philistines, King Saul fell on his sword, taking his own life.
When all had fallen quiet, death surrounding him, and with the new moon exactly four years on the leap year later, King Saul rose from his sword.
He wasn’t himself.
No longer the ruler of Gibeah.
No longer living.
His tongue flicked over the sharpened points of his eye teeth, the thirst for blood sending him into a rabid frenzy of both disgust and need.
He didn’t know the monster he’d become.
This was never meant to happen.
Before he could feast, there was one thing he needed to do first—kill the Witch of Endor.
That night, as the few surviving books tell us, King Saul—who was now a vampire—sought out the Witch of Endor and took her blood while she slept. He feasted on her with an insatiable thirst. He found her taste addictive, the witch’s potent blood coursing through his veins, making him feel more alive than ever. By the time Saul made to leave, the empty vessel of the deceitful woman beneath him, he had vowed he would destroy every living witch on earth.
King Saul was then on a warpath, ending human lives until the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Like him, they rose from the dead with no pulse, no heartbeat, sharpened teeth, a paler skin than their surviving Arabian family, and an unrelenting craving for blood. Many lost their lives, and the only ones who noticed the stealth-like figure in the night were the werewolves. They watched from afar, their yellow eyes tracking the movements of a murderous man who’d taken the life of their ally—the Witch of Endor.
For years, the wolves and vampires battled each other.
The wolves were advocates of peace.
The pales, as the wolves referred to them, only cared about one thing—building their army. Eventually, their army was so great, the vampires forced the wolves into slavery, which lasted for centuries.
Fast forward to today, and the resentment and hostility between the two clans is still raw.
Then we have the humans. There aren’t many of them left, but the ones who did survive the angel fallout live a lowly existence. A life dependent on the vampires. In order to stay alive, the humans offer a percentage of their blood to feed the vampires. Each token grants them an extra month on earth. This isn’t a gift given for a chance at their own survival, it’s purely because if the vamps suck their bodies clean, they would soon run short of humans to feast on.
No humans equal vampire death.
No humans mean that we, the witches, will become the next target.
Then lastly, we have the angels. Strong, beautifully fierce creatures who can rage with the wrath of God one moment and nurture the weak the next. They are rulers of their realm and rulers of shifters and witches on Earth. The angels created and enforced the law of the land, which happened when I was only a child, just eleven years old. I can’t remember the time before them, but the glimpses of what my sisters say make it sound beautiful.
The males, like most creatures on Earth, are more magnificent than their female counterparts. Their strong, angular jaws speak of power and a presence that can both fascinate and intimidate. They are fiercely built, capable of winning any war, not only with their muscled strength but their agile minds. We, my family of witches and I, haven’t had much to do with them, keen to avoid their scrutiny.
Until today.
Today, everything changed.
Today, we felt the wrath of the angels.
It wasn’t a day I expected to come, it wasn’t a strange day, or anything out of the ordinary. Our routine was the same. Every morning, Tatiana heads our training, pushing us to our limits. It is essential training in order to survive living so close to volatile wards of shifters and vamps.
“You know Tatiana will be pissed if you aren’t dressed in ten. So, hurry up,” Tanya warns, storming out of my room.
More reluctant than usual, I crawl out of bed and dress in casual black clothes—what everyone seems to wear. Wearing color outside your ward makes you stand out, which is something to be avoided at all costs.
Our house is small, boarded, and plain in a deliberate effort to avert attention from the outside world. It has three bedrooms, one for each of us, and a communal living area where we eat our meals.
We don’t own any of the electronics I read about in my books. They are a thing of the past and something I never had a chance to experience. Instead, I read novels by authors long since passed, about mythical worlds and once-famous people.
Training is grueling but necessary. Tatiana teaches us what she has learned from books I found at the library and from what our mother taught her. She can’t read, so the pictures are interpreted as best as possible.