House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Clare watched Caidrian walk leisurely beside her, at first glance he was the epitome of an underdog warrior, long torso, solid statue, not too broad shoulders. One would think he looked very young to be her father, but not to her, she could see the wisdom hidden in his eyes. The pain and loss which hardened his features and emotions could only have come from years of horror.

“Stop staring at me Clare, you do that to the wrong descendant they'll see it as a challenge of dominance.”

She was tired and her feet ached, applying unwanted pressure on the blisters forming underneath her feet wasn't helping. Nor was Caidrian who carried on talking, expecting her to keep up, “The mark on your stomach is a seal, most Lightwatchers have many of those if the demon dies the mark goes away eventually, but a Tempters mark, never fully heals, so it’s not wise to stare, some are marked on their faces.

Also, I must warn you, over the years our kind have mixed with other species, they called Fuized, but our ANGELIC blood remains strong, no matter how different some may seem. Unfortunately, some Lightwatchers don’t feel that way, so keep your mouth shut if you hear anything, or see one of them.”

tell me now, this place is sounding more and more like a refugee camp.” Her throat was parched, which was totally understandable considering that she had been walking for hours with nothing to drink. She looked at her packets, her eyes widening a fraction in the hope of remembering the muffins she’d gotten, but she’d

the set of blue eyes that clouded her mind, as the strangers words played in her head, “That princess is for you to decide.” What did it mean, was it really all up to her, did he feel the connection as she did when he

on, you’re

and generous slopes, as they stretched over the hilltops covering the bottom.

coat and a green grass stick mixed with gold bindings attached to his left hand. Older in age, an easy fifty years or so, his eyes, black, no eyebrows, instead of in its place were tattoos of small S’s

brushed it off, not taking it as an insult more of an urgency

malice, causing her chills of grave displeasure. Clare followed Caidrian and vigilantly nodded her head. The Caster hit his stick twice on the ground and a high stretched golden door became visible before