Mystic Force Vida Novels & Stories

Eli asked concernedly the moment he saw Damian. Nodding, Damian replied with a smile, "Don't worry about it, Grandpa." Eli sighed. "It truly boggles me as to who wants to take my life. Just who are Mystic Healers, Damian?" Damian's gaze hardened, his voice grim as he answered, "Mystic Healers are considered a branch of traditional medicine. Anyone who's a part of them can harness the forces of nature through sorcery.

Before entering the school, I heard a few things about this mysterious place situated on the mountainous side of Mystic Heights, a city in the heart of London. Mystic Academy, as it was known, was a mixed school primarily for kids with some uniqueness from wealthy homes. The requirements to get in seemed unattainable for mere humans, as I learned. It had a reputation as a school for "freaks," and the general belief was that only freaks would gain admission. That label didn't bother me much, considering I'd been called a freak all my life by my stepmother and her children—even their friends. My stepmother often locked me up in the cellar, praying for God to unpossess me, as she believed I was

“She told me she’s ready to go. I can’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I went behind her back like that.” I leave out the fact that she’d told me my powers would be needed for a greater purpose, a thought that had been nagging at me since yesterday even when I’d knelt by her bed and held her cold, trembling hands. “Anyway, Hestia sent for an accomplished healer from a nearby pack, and it was confirmed this morning that Mystica had a stroke. A few small strokes, actually. I… I don’t think my powers could help her even if I tried. They’re weaker than they once were.”

Leaning against the black marble fountain, surrounded by his entourage like a king with his court, was the kind of boy who didn’t need to announce his dominance—the world simply bent to his will. Damien Leclair. The name was already infamous. Halewood’s untouchable. Wealthy. Brilliant. Arrogant. Every rumor painted him as something between a genius and a devil, a man who could destroy you with one look. His sharp jawline, his tailored blazer—he didn’t wear the school uniform, he commanded it. And his eyes… God. They weren’t the usual hazel or brown or blue—they were storm-gray, cold and sharp, as though he’d swallowed thunderclouds. When they locked on me, just for a fleeting second, I felt

I nodded my head at the direction of the table. Morgana glanced at me and at the bowl. She picked up the bowl and smiled at me. "It's a porridge potion." She answered and I arched my brows in confusion. "What's that for?" "I made it specially for you." She stirred the content in the bowl. I peered into the bowl. The so called portion was a sticky white substance. I bet it'd be better as hell. "I think you being a weak power carrier made you vulnerable to Sage's attacks. Hence, I made it for you. It'll heal you from the internal injuries his powers might have caused and this will also strengthen you." She told me and stopped stirring.

It was perfect, and the four of us enjoyed it tremendously. Matteo took Rhea’s bag from her and carried it while holding her hand, reminding her to reach out to him at any point if she needed him. It was an ability of Mystics. They could push thoughts out to someone just like vampires and Fae could. The difference was that they could use a mate-link that did not require them to be marked. She would be able to reach him through it as long as he was within twenty miles of her location. Zion was waiting at my locker once I got there. He watched Rhea following Matteo with his brows furrowed before turning his attention to me again.

He paused, looking from his documents to us with a smile. "Are you sure?" He asked with a lop sided smirk. "An Aston Martin Valkyrie. This rare beauty uses its side mounted ca—" My eyes fazed out in excitement as i smiled at Jade. This was the life i wanted. And in that moment the luxury was nice. It felt unrealistic. And extravagant. But i thought i was finally living, finally grasping the world. Life. But alas— To be continued...