Chapter 1: Tara

The scimitars flowed one into another as she struck at the beast in front of her, fast. The weapons were like an extension of her hands, and with the addition of her magic she was once again in her element; at one with the world.

Her skin glowed gold where the arcane marks appeared, signifying the magic running through her like opium and almost making her giddy. But she held the magic tight to her with powerful control born from years of training and discipline.

She feinted to the right as the beast struck for her face, its inhuman growl accompanied by a scent of earth. It knew it was fighting a losing battle and was beginning to get agitated.

Time to end this.

She twirled very fast, moving into the beast’s next strike so it missed her by just a hair's breadth. She then raised herself off into the air like a gymnast, pivoting with her back stretched taunt and her scimitar held straight out.

The scimitar cut a fine thin line on the beast’s neck, and she let herself fall back to the ground just as its paws and long razor-sharp claws came back in a strike which turned into its death struggle which she quickly evaded.

A few seconds later, the beast shape-changed back into an obsidian-colored man looking to be in his late thirties, going still.

Seven minutes.

It took her seven long minutes to kill this one, a Beta at that. She scoffed, mentally reprimanding herself.

A scream took her attention from the dead body to the witches of the smaller covens to her far-right facing off another beast. This one was an alpha, about twice the size of the one she just brought down. The witches could only scream and try to run since their meager magics and skill could do nothing to stop the alpha from tearing through their ranks.

A quick teleportation spell brought her before the beast and she struck fast as it turned to her with an angry growl, sensing her arrival. Up and down, up and down, her weapons moved. She quickly fell into a rhythm as she lost herself to the music of the Mother, her footwork not unlike a dance.

“The song of life,” Leke, the hard-master had called the song those long years back when she and her batch first began training and they all sought to attune themselves to it.

“Why call it the song of life when it helps us to become a better fighter and a better killer,” She had hissed sarcastically one day. But Leke’s super-hearing had caught her words, making him turn his sharp brown eyes and dark chiseled face to her.

“Life and death are one part of the same circle. Death leads to life, life to life. Death is false, but only life is true,” He explained. “That is why you must be one with the song of life and never fear death.”

He had left them others more lost with his cryptic words, and subsequent search for answers from other quarters brought about similar results.

But she chose to call it Songs of the Mother. Because for unknown reasons she felt like it was a woman singing; maybe mother earth, maybe nature, or maybe a goddess.

“Die!” she screamed as she jumped into the air, her scimitar connecting with the alpha. The beast whined as the blade dug into its collarbone, merely stopped by its dense tightly packed muscles and bone.

She moved out of the way as the alpha directed its large paws at her chest and went back in for the kill. The alpha suddenly increased its speed, evading her killing blow, and a talon tore at her, digging deep into her left arm to the bone just below her elbow and coming away with a huge chunk of flesh and blood.

Pain lanced through the core of her being as that single strike threw off her feet to land far away, the scimitar in that hand flying in an opposite direction. She bit back the scream rising from her throat, bringing her magic to heal the wound while falling upon the alpha once again as it arrived to finish her.

Seeing her blood made her angry, very angry.

She moved faster, drew her magic more deeply, and struck harder.

A minute later, the head of the alpha flew into the air to land meters away, morphing into that of a human.  

She barely had any moment to rest before a figure struck at her from behind. She somersaulted out of the way and turned around as another tough battle began. The music of the Mother had changed, now chaotic. Her muscles quivered from weariness, her breath coming in short sharp gasps. She was losing this battle, she would fall here.

An irregular twang suddenly sounded from the song, and a moment of epiphany hit her. She smiled evilly to her opponent as she suddenly stepped into his attack recklessly to allow the scimitar in his hand to stab at her shoulder and dig into her flesh.

The scimitar ended up being stopped by her shoulder bone and magic while the sharp edge of her blade rested against the neck of her opponent to lope of his head.

“You lose, battlemage,” She hissed, looking into her opponents’ eyes which were marked with amusement and a bit of worry. The soft crimson pupils that stared back at her near drowned her into oblivion.

“If I had used magic or got real serious then you would have been severely injured,” He replied, quickly removing the scimitar.

“But you weren’t using magic.” She gasped as the scimitar came along with a steady spurt of blood from a cut vein.

He took her into his arms in one stride and began to heal her wounds faster with his magic, making her flinch. H

er heart paused for a millisecond, and then it began to race fast. Standing so close to him his scent was making her heady.

“I can do it myself,” she hissed, trying to free herself, but his strong arms held her tight.

“You’re becoming too reckless Tara,” he said, ignoring her struggles and continued sending streams of healing magic through her. His thick baritone voice sent vibrations through her spine, sparking an inferno that sought to consume her.

Omotara Oke, Tara, felt her knees go weak as a wicked image of her naked back against his equally naked hard Adonis sculpted body surfaced in her mind. She pictured herself turning around to run her hands against the unblemished dark skin and ridges of abs he never stopped flaunting.

She quickly brought herself under control and called unto her magic to assist in the healing. A minute later he released her, and she left his bosom with a sense of reluctance.

Only he had a way of making her drop her guards, Boma Clegg, her intended. She knew the others called her the Ice Queen behind her because she was always pushing herself to be better, always training or studying.

But as a chosen and the future Matron of the council of thirteen, the weight of responsibility upon her was such that she must become the best on all levels, and only he understood that. And more importantly, he was the only one who saw beyond her heritage as a chosen and future matron and saw her as a woman with needs.

The scene in their immediate environment changed as the magic powering it went off; the witches, beasts, dead bodies, and clearing disappearing and leaving only the two of them standing in the training room. A mirror appeared at the wall opposite them at her command.

Tara stared at her visage in the mirror, studying her lean frame as sweat streamed down her brown ebony skin, soaking her black tank top and tight leggings. Her thick black hair which was plaited into a ponytail fell down her chest, and the glowing arcane marks on her skin had receded.

“Thirty-three Omegas, seven Betas, and Three alphas; all in two hours,” Boma said, coming up behind her.

“I could have done better,” Tara hissed, raising her head to catch his eye through the mirror. His deep sigh split the room. They both knew that what she meant was that her nemesis and rival Anu Farina would have had better kills. She melted into him as he hugged her from behind.

“I keep telling you that Anu had five years of training over you, and despite that, you have caught up very fast. When you join the council and become blessed with the power of communion and master the scepter of Osoro, you’ll become much more powerful you’ll leave her in the dust.”

Tara scoffed, “I want to leave her in the dust even before then, without any outside interference.”

“You have. You have six real kills to her four, and that is six real werewolves you have killed and brought in which cannot be compared to her wins during the simulations.”

Tara closed her eyes as she remembered the events that brought her into a life as a witch. Some long years back, her father who she would later learn was a very powerful witch in his might had chosen to leave the coven for reasons unknown to her till today. He got married to a simple homely baker, her mother, and their life was rosy up until the attack.

A painful pang tore at Tara’s heart as she remembered the day of the attack. She was seven years old when it happened. They were on a vacation to Rome, she and her parents. It was late in the evening and they were on their way back to the hotel when the shapes had appeared out of the forest surrounding them and attacked their tour bus.

The last she remembered was her father sending her away with a teleportation spell, and then darkness. He had been trying to tell her something before he teleported her, but even till this moment, she couldn’t put together what it was.

The witch’s council in Rome had found their dead bodies later with three dead Alphas, eleven omegas, and a lot of betas, and then her grandmother had come to pick and return her to Nigeria, back to the life her father had run away from.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Boma drew her tighter into him as he felt the myriad of emotions seeking to devour her, softly nuzzling her neck.

His breath on her skin sent shivers through her body, and the heat that started from deep within her loins took her thoughts away from her parents back to the present.

“Eww, go get a room. I for one I’m not too high on voyeurism or shit like that,” A hard voice barked breaking the quiet, heated atmosphere, and then laughter.

Anu! Tara opened her eyes just as Boma released her, and they both turned around as she entered with a bunch of battle mages laughing uproariously behind her.

“Just what is funny?” Boma’s steely voice filled the room. The battlemages quickly fell silent, evading his hard glare. They feared Boma even more than they did Anu who was a chosen. He had left them four years after Tara joined to Egypt where he was trained to be guardian to the future matron, and the stories they heard about his later escapades and hunts were legendary. Even Leke the hard master showed him great respect when he came back about a year ago.

“And the knight saves the day,” Anu hissed softly, looking at Boma with a challenge.

“Anu…” Boma stared at her fixedly. They held each other’s gazes for a long moment, and then Anu caved, turning to look at her as Tara stared back with burning intensity.

“I’m here to have a friendly spar with my friend here.” she nodded, flexing her hand so two slender swords appeared within them. “Cat got your tongue, Tara? Or is it fear? Don’t you worry, I wouldn’t want to beat our future matron too badly.” She smiled evilly and the battle mages behind her snickered.

Friend. 

There was a time that word meant a lot to Tara coming from Anu. Her grandmother had brought her to Orun Isu, home of the witches for the very first time, and she had met both Boma and Anu that day and hit it off with the both of them. She had taken Anu as a big sister, they had been very close. But that was until it became know that as the pure-blooded lineage she would take over the position of matron when her grandmother died. That was when the troubles started.

“Will you fight or is frolicking with boys all you know how to do?” Anu pressed.

“Anu,” Boma growled again, a warning in his voice.

“Oh, it’s okay. She can just run like always,” Anu responded dismissively.

Boma or no Boma, the battlemages behind her could not hold back this time and they all burst out laughing. The last time Tara had sparred with Anu was three years back, and Anu had beat her so hard she was running over the training room to escape. Ever since then Leke had banned the both of them from sparing together, always paring them in the same team in his bid to make them work together.

Tara took a step forward and her scimitars which had fallen flew into her hands.

“Tara don’t let her get to you,” Boma hissed, holding her arm.

Tara heaved a soft sigh, looking intently at Anu who was smiling, waiting. “It’s okay.” She released herself from his grasp and stepped towards Anu who also began to move towards her.

A sound of running footstep stopped the both of them in their stride, and everyone in the room turned to the entrance where a middle-aged woman Alake, the second generation guardian of the Matron came in.

“Tara!” Alake called, her eyes somber and dull.

Tara’s heart skipped a beat. Her grandmother; was something wrong with her. “Alake what is it? My grandmother…” she dropped the weapons on the floor with a dull clang.

“She’s alright for now. She wants to see you.”

Is this it? Tara’s heart skipped a beat, remembering how weak and deathly pale her grandmother looked the last time she saw her which was just the morning before. “Let me come with you,” Boma was saying.

“No, it’s okay.” She shook her head and walked out of the training room without a word or glance at anyone. But it was not okay, her heart was very heavy to a point of breathlessness, her whole body bound in fear.

Her grandmother was dying. Everyone knew that, and going to see her every day only brought the realization that she would once again be alone very soon.

Once outside the room, Tara broke into a hasty panicky race.