LOVE OF A QUISLING- A Blazing Inferno

LOVE OF A QUISLING- A Blazing Inferno

Dumpling.

5.0
Comment(s)
308
View
30
Chapters

Lia Harrison is a witch who cannot use magic. Her poor aptitude for magic is a stain on her mother's reputation. That is until a wrong turn in the bustling city of New York leaves her stranded and in the company of a Demon. Travis, a high-ranking demon, is on a mission to kill the Jade witch. The first face he sees when he arrives on Earth is Lia's. Lia thinks that he is a human. The fact that she has no knowledge of a demon's traits only makes matters worse. Travis doesn't sense any magical aura from Lia and also assumes she is human. And so the Demon and the witch become friends, both being none the wiser. In a world where witches and demons walk separate paths, will their love end up like the dying embers of a flame, or will it transform into a blazing inferno?

Chapter 1 Student Lia

"The assignment will be due by next month. You may come to see me if you have any other questions. Good day, class," Mr. Declan says before exiting the class. Only then does everyone pack up and leave. His reputation as the most handsome teacher in Manville High is the only reason the students didn't leave immediately the alarm signaling the end of lessons sounded. Being hot surely has its perks.

Lia bolts out of the class as fast as her legs can carry her. It doesn't help that she has to squeeze through tightly locked arms and sweaty bodies. "Ow! What a bitch!" exclaims a brunette with freckles. Lia doesn't bother apologizing; she abandoned such courtesies a long time ago. Besides, staying back to say sorry would only make her later than she already is.

"I don't even know why I chose this school in the first place," she huffs as she walks out of the close her school is situated in, irritated by the smell of sweat on her. Her senses may be weaker than that of a normal witch, but they're still quite sharp. At least they're sharp enough to detect the number of humans whose sweat has touched her clothes, and that isn't comforting, to say the least.

"I think the same thing from time to time too," Sandara says, slightly scaring her as she whirls around so fast that she almost suffers a whiplash. "Aunt! Would you stop appearing so randomly? It'll be hard to explain how you suddenly appeared out of thin air to anyone who comes by. I keep telling you to exercise caution, but you never listen..." "Oh shush, dear. I've lived among mortals long before you were even born. I should be the adviser, not you. Besides, if a certain person had shown up on time, I wouldn't have come looking for anyone," Sandara replies, cutting her short.

"I couldn't leave while the teacher was still in class. It's not like I own the school or anything," Lia responds with as much sass as she can muster. She is no match for her aunt though. "Of course, you do, silly. You could tell the principal to vacate his office for you and he would do so without a word of complaint. What's a mere teacher compared to that?" "He's the hottest teacher in school," Lia argues. "So? Don't tell me you're crushing on him or something." "I'm not." "Then what's the problem with leaving the class if he doesn't want to stop teaching? I've always told you that a sophisticated, private high school is the right choice for you. But no, you'd rather settle for that shitty shack, all because you want to prove a point. A point that isn't worth all this stress."

Lia wants to argue but thinks better of it. Until she can match her aunt's acerbic tongue, she's better off quiet. If there is one thing witches are famous for apart from their unparalleled control of magic, it's their haughtiness. Sandara says it's an acquired trait, but Lia finds that hard to believe. She has never seen any witch who isn't naturally arrogant- it practically runs in the blood.

Upon reaching the point where the road diverges into two paths, the duo momentarily stop. "Go now, witchling. Don't take too long," Sandara squeezes Lia's shoulders a little too tight for her liking and then vanishes. Lia walks straight ahead into a portal made by her aunt for her use alone. The unassuming passer-by would simply think she took the path on the right and made a sharp turn.

As soon as Lia appears on the other side, she rushes to a makeshift room and changes into her mining gear. Armed with her magical drill and a sack that looked like it had seen better days, despite being relatively new, she exits the makeshift room and heads for her mining site. Her trusty magiconet- a device for sensing objects imbued with magic- hangs loosely around her neck. Those who don't know better would assume it is a camera.

After walking for a mile, she arrives at the point where she previously stopped searching. She placed a marker there to indicate the end of her search, so it is easy for her to continue. Using her magiconet, she tries to locate anything that hints towards magic. All she requires is a clue in the form of a blue light for her to bring out her tools and commence excavation.

The next three hours are spent scanning the earth's surface and various caves for magical clues. Like several days before this, she is unable to find any more pternē. Pternē are magical devices, used by ancient, pure-blooded witches to store minuscule amounts of magic. Undeterred by her poor luck, she keeps searching until it is well past dusk, something she realizes upon making her way out of a particularly deep cave. "How time flies," she muses, as she heads back to change.

She goes home to find her aunt fast asleep on one of the sofas in the living room. Her heart melts at this. Even though Sandara would never openly admit it, she loves her niece dearly. Lia takes only three steps when she hears her aunt whisper into her ears. "Why are you late?" "I got caught up scanning a really deep cave and lost track of time. I'm sorry." "Not as sorry as you would've been had things gone awry, I assure you. Why do you have a wristwatch if you won't use it?"

Lia doesn't apologize. Not because she isn't sorry, but because she knows that it will only make matters worse. Upsetting an already worried Sandara is not something she would ever consider doing. Not if she can help it. "I'm feeling quite merciful today, but you won't be so lucky next time. Go wash up and come down for supper. If you found any pternē, though I'm sure you didn't, leave it in my study."

Continue Reading

You'll also like

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

SHANA GRAY
4.3

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book