Daughters of Legianne, page 1
Daughters of Legianne
Realms of Covens
H.S. Sullivan
Contents
Warnings
Untitled
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses and business names, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 H.S. Sillivan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by This Bitch Reads Media @thisbitchreads_
Hardcover: 979-8-9901349-1-1
Paperback: 979-8-9901349-0-4
Ebook: 979-8-9901349-2-8
Cover photo: Wolf Quillin
Cover design: HVS
hssullivan.com
Printed by Crocketts Point Press
For those who feel lost or forgotten.
Warnings
This book contains depictions, references, and/or themes of trauma, grief, violence and sexual assault as well as carries an underlying theme of generational trauma.
Pronunciation Guide
Róisín - Row-sheen
Madigan - Mad-ah-gan
Lina - Lee-na
Aoife - Ee-fah
Brenna - Bren-nah
Shasta - Shass-tah
Nanette - Nah-net
Lucius - Lew-shuss
Matthew - Math-yoo
Lily - Li-lee
Legianne - Lee-jhaa-ahn
Molennius - Ma-lay-nee-us
Ely - Ee-lie
Roidon - Roy-dawn
Alleyette - Ah-lay-ett
Aunellion - Awn-ell-ee-awn
Shianshani - Shee-awn-sh-awn-ee
Trifoa - Trih-foe-ah
Baijiola - Buy-jee-oh-la
Prologue
The woods were dying. Not one that slumbered, awaiting to waken as spring sunk its roots into the soil. But one full of death and decay. It clutched at Róisín’s chest, leaving her with that bone deep weary feeling of sickness edging in.
She breathed deeply, the foulness of it burning her senses, before stepping from her backyard and into the darkness. In the wake of each footfall, the earth sprouted green, and Róisín moved deeper, leaving a beacon to safety for anything left within.
The late April sun stretched out across the sky overhead, and pain radiated from the trees, the silence deafening. Her hands flexed at her sides, and she reached out with her senses, trying to locate the source, but found nothing.
A strong rancid smell slammed into Róisín as she stepped around a rotted stump with a black substance coiling up its base, bringing a sharp sting to her senses. Her magic of earth and life within began to weep in sadness causing her to struggle to keep her steps steady. She didn’t fail to note how the yellow and orange rays of the spring sun failed to reach through the trees. How its warmth did not penetrate.
It had been like this through the entire town of Greens Glen, Maine. No longer was it the cozy small town, tucked away in the northwestern region of the state, with its tall maples, cedars, hemlocks, or pines. The once vibrant green landscape had become muted. When winter came, the gray of the season settled in and never left. Birds and wildlife fled, in their wake only silence remained.
She crouched low, her bare feet mere inches from a pungent ooze that seeped from the ground. The hem of the dress she wore brushed against the edges, immediately staining the spring green colored fabric black.
Inhaling again, she smelled more than the rot. The disease that caused evil tickled at the back of her throat.
“He drains us,” a quiet voice said from the colorless brush on her left.
She rose, smoothing her dress, and turned. “Who does?”
“The humans call him Stewart, but that’s only because of the face he wears,” the voice replied.
“Madigan,” came the response in soft whispers around her.
Fear. She could feel the fear here. Faint, but it reached for her, begging for help.
Alert and prepared, Róisín moved closer to the brush. After a moment, a small white rabbit carefully came through the bramble. Extending her hand, she waited, studying it. The rabbit hopped into her outstretched palm.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” it said.
She tipped her head back, the bare branches stretched over them. “He’s using the life here to build his power.”
The rabbit’s pink nose wiggled, letting her know she was correct.
“My grandmother…”
“Before the birds left, before they stopped singing, they sang Norah’s song, feeling Aoife pass and Norah’s magic release back to us.”
Norah had been Aoife’s mother, Róisín’s great-grandmother. Nature embraced her the way she had embraced it with her elemental magic.
Róisín continued to absorb her surroundings, noting two tall cedars wrapped around one another like lovers, stretching for the sky. Their trunks were a swirling blend of blacks and grays. All that remained of the life within were the dots and splashes of umber.
“So much pain, so much fear, so much… everything.” The dull throb that started in her chest when she stepped into the woods had become a sharp, piercing pain. She fought to keep her breathing even. She needed to hold in her power. Needed to remain hidden.
“It came slowly at first. We didn’t know what was happening. Then the waters changed.”
“Show me.”
“This way.” It hopped down and bounded around the sludge-like puddles.
With one last glance at the cedars, Róisín made her way deeper. She knew she was close, the stench overpowering. The elemental magic within her began to scream, begging to be released to heal and rebirth the wood.
She knelt on the ground at the edge of the small pond. Its water was green and murky. A red film floated at the top. The disease within reached out and grabbed at her so quickly, she reared back to avoid its grip and fell onto her bottom. Pushing her hair from her face, she narrowed her eyes at the pond.
“He’s strong,” the rabbit said.
“Madigan is an elder. He’s—” She frowned, her pulse dancing just over her eye. “He’s not supposed to be here.” She choked on a breath and squeezed her eyes closed, fighting off the wave of power that came at her again. “He’ll know I’m here soon.”
“Then we must work quickly.”
She staggered to her feet, taking the rabbit up with her. “We must get back to my house. It’s protected. I’ll be able to let the others know what I’ve found. We need to plan. Now that we’ve found him, we can finally do something.”
The rabbit twitched its nose in response.
She made quick work retracing her steps back to where she had found the rab bit, pausing at the entwined trees. She laid a hand on the cedar bark, feeling the last traces of life deep inside.
“Save my love,” the taller one whispered to her.
“I’m going to save you both.” She soothed it with a stroke of her hand over the bark. Then she dug her fingers around the grooves of the trunk and closed her eyes.
Drawing her magic from her core and through her limbs, the warmth of her magic greeted and embraced her. It pulsed at her fingertips, and she pushed it outward. The ground around her greened with small flowers springing up, creating a carpet of purples, pinks, and yellows.
The rabbit scampered down from her shoulder to the lush ground now around them, its eyes full of delight at the sight.
“The stories were true.” It bounced between the blooms, nose twitching.
Róisín pressed her other hand against the tree, and slowly, her power moved inward. Snaking coils of red spread up her arms. It slithered along her skin, moving towards her neck. She hummed Caru Canu, a song from her childhood about two dogs her father had taught her to help keep her focus.
Overhead, a hawk circled, calling out. Her power surged and the rabbit ducked its head behind a rock, shielding itself from the light that now broke free from her body.
The trunk became hued in shades of deep brown, its branches bloomed—leaves green and vibrant. A small release of air sounded, as though the two trees sighed.
Slowly, Róisín’s skin drew in the coils, feeling the magic within her singe the darkness of them and healing its disease.
“You’ll be protected.” She stroked her hands over the bark. “He cannot harm you again.”
The rabbit came to a rest at her feet. “What will you do now?”
“We’ll go home and let the others know. We need to end this. And—” She looked up at the trees canopy, just as twined together as their trunks. “I’ll keep coming back, when I can, to fix this.”
“But…” The rabbit took one of its ears between its paws, rubbing the tip of the ear. “Can you do that? All that power?”
“I can try.” She drew in a deep breath, nodding. “I can try.”
Róisín bent to scoop the rabbit up and tried to quiet the rising voice of doubt within her. The power from the magic she’d inherited from her grandmother’s passing months before was still new to her. It felt so much different from the magic she’d been born with. From her mother’s. Not just the immense power of it, but it was like it’d been relieved to have found her.
Aoife’s passing had left so many unanswered questions, especially the ones Róisín had about her mother, Brenna. Brenna had held secrets. Secrets that had impacted Róisín’s life.
This, in Greens Glen, had been only sign of him over the last several decades of Madigan. He’d drained resources from the humans in efforts to cause illnesses and death. Slowly, painfully, siphoning the energy from nature and humans alike to expand his power.
They’d lost their tether to him as an elder witch of the Council when he severed it, and somehow he had cloaked himself so that even intense spell work could not locate him.
Until now.
Something about this place had held him there long enough for them to find him.
Róisín could only hope that they were not too late. That the council of the Covens could end this before there was nothing left in any of the realms.
Chapter 1
Kincaid McGrath stood with his arms crossed at the back of the packed gymnasium of Greens Glen High School. A steady, throbbing beat had begun at his temples and his ears rang.
He didn’t want to be here, but Lina had tossed her hat into the ring for the new town select board members. Tonight was the night they would vote. So here he was, being a supportive older brother while she was determined to take a seat up for election, currently held by what the townspeople had deemed a “lifer.”
Bill Smithfield had sat on the board for forty years and held the title as Chair for the past thirty. Despite the hammering of his gavel and his shouts for quiet, the volume level continued to rise in the room.
Bill was also the reason the volume level in the gymnasium was at screech, having suggested that before they vote on the select board seat, they vote on allowing the expansion of Munson Technologies on the outskirts of Greens Glen.
Caid rolled his eyes.
At six-foot-four, he towered over most of the people there, giving him a virtually clear path to find Lina. She’d pressed her lips into a thin line, her blond hair, almost the color of sand, tucked into a neat bun. Her back was rigid, and her hazel eyes stared daggers at the other side of the room.
Stewart Munson sat quietly, a dark and ominous presence between his broad stature, black hair he wore slicked back, and deep slate colored suit. He wore a slight upturn of his mouth.
“We can’t even drink our own water anymore! Why would we allow an expansion?” someone shouted.
“None of our problems started until he came and set up shop here.” Another pointed an accusing finger at Stewart.
“Has anyone called the EPA to test what’s seeping through the ground from the factory?”
“Bill will let us die just to make a quick buck for himself,” another shouted from the far side of the room.
The heavy wooden doors to the room swung open, knocking against the wall with a reverberating clang. A cool gust of air followed, and Caid savored the feel of it in the sweltering gymnasium.
The entire room fell quiet with hushed whispers full of questions and unease. Every single resident, children included, had squeezed into the meeting that night, so the late arrival even had Caid quirking his brow.
A younger woman with hair the color of autumn stuttered to a stop. Her bright blue eyes were wide, and her throat bobbed when she swallowed hard, visibly nervous with all eyes on her.
She brought a hand up and rested it at the base of her throat. “Is this where the town meeting is?”
“Yes, yes, it is, little lady.” Bill rose from his seat, hurrying around the long meeting table toward her. “And you are?”
“Róisín McKenna.” She took his extended hand and shook it.
“Ah, yes, the young lady that moved into Kitty Lagree’s house earlier this spring. Welcome.” His eyes lingered on her, his smile edging toward a leer. “I’m the Chairman of the Select Board, Bill Smithfield.”
Caid’s hackles rose, and he clenched his sweaty palms—either from the heat of the gym or the way Bill gripped her hand and licked his lips while eyeing her.
Chairs scraped over the floor, pulling his attention from the pair. Several men and women rose and moved toward the aisle, eyes on Bill.
He clearly wasn’t the only one with that feeling.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smithfield.” She attempted to free her hand, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“Give her some space, Bill,” someone called out.
“She’s half your age.”
