by Ella M. Lee
The Fire Within Series
Books 1 - 3
Ella M. Lee
Copyright © 2021 Ella M. Lee.
Fire Within Box Set Books 1 - 3.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Cover design by James T. Egan, www.bookflydesign.com.
Book editing by Crystal Watanabe, www.pikkoshouse.com.
Author photograph by Shannon Michelle Photography, www.shannon-michelle.com.
www.ellamlee.com
Contents
Dedication
Fire Within
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
Ignited
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
Ashes
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
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Also by Ella M. Lee
About the Author
For Locke, Sam, and Hunter—
all people who helped me grow up in so many ways.
Fire Within
Book 1
And as for the rest, let life happen to you. Believe me: life is in the right, always.
―Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Chapter 1
Some people’s lives are filled with hardship and tragedy. I started thinking mine would be like that at age eighteen, when my mother died. When my father and brother were murdered at age twenty-two, I became certain that my life would be difficult. When I was twenty-four, I bound myself to the unpredictable magic of Flame Clan. It nearly killed me, but at least it burned away the grief and gave me some small semblance of hope.
Yet here I was at twenty-nine with my life in ruins once again.
I had been surprised when my group in Flame was offered an assassination mission on a commander within Water Clan. I wasn’t really a combat magician, but I was a decent fighter, and so I had accepted my commander’s orders when he assigned me and three others to the task.
It had seemed so possible in hindsight. We knew the location, the timing, the keys to disabling our target’s defenses. We knew he would only have three other magicians with him. We knew that our own Flame magic would be strong against their Water magic.
It’s easy now to see that we had made a terrible mistake, had engaged in a terrible amount of underestimation, had practically set ourselves up to fail. The interior of the house where we had fought was proof of that, completely wrecked—broken tables and chairs, shattered glass, walls demolished, the refrigerator tipped over, the television in pieces on the floor.
Everyone in my group was dead except for me, and now I was completely screwed. So screwed that I might as well be dead myself. When I was woken up from my blacked-out state and hauled to my feet, my wrists were already in the magic-limiting shackles used by all clans to subdue magicians. They were making me dizzy and sedate, completely severing my ties to my power. I was now standing between two members of Water Clan’s security team, both of whom were eyeing me with wariness and disdain.
We stood in the middle of the debris, bathed in the light of a shimmering, foggy portal. This commander was fast and efficient, and although I’d been unconscious at the time, he must have contacted his clan house and the rest of his team immediately after winning the fight. The other side of that portal was enemy territory, his home or a location he deemed safe and secure.
The place where I would likely be tortured and executed.
I was breathing deeply, keeping my eyes fixed on the rubble strewn across the floor, waiting to see what would happen next. There wasn’t a lot of hope that anything would go well for me from here on out.
When I glanced up for the first time in minutes, my gaze landed on a huge, white wolf seated on his haunches next to the portal. Our target. The commander. One of Water Clan’s leaders. Water commanders and some of their lieutenants had the power of shapeshifting, their magic gifting them transformations as fluid as the element from which they drew their power. It was clear who was in charge of this group. He had been a furious, powerful opponent, and now he was studying me with intensity.
I hope you rot in hell, I thought.
To my surprise, the wolf made a huffing, laugh-like noise, as though he understood my sentiment. Eventually, he turned his head, utterly unfazed by my attention.
My eyes fell next on the dark-skinned woman by his side, talking rapidly into a cell phone. Chandra. The commander had called out her name during the fight. Her long braid had come undone, and her hair was messy around her shoulders. She looked exhausted, sagging, with none of the powerful motions I’d seen from her earlier.
My gaze wandered to the lithe blond man who had been such a fast, capable fighter. He was standing stiff and expressionless despite a deep gash in his thigh.
My eyes continued to the dead man on the floor, the wolf’s lieutenant, covered hastily in a dark jacket. I had killed him, and if I was honest with myself, I hated it. I was sorry. I felt sad and unworthy to have been his opponent.
But he had tried to kill me, and we had both fought and lost in our own ways. My life was practically as forfeit as his.
Chandra was off the phone now and conferring with the blond man, who had his hand casually resting on the wolf’s head. After another few moments, he beckoned to the two guards by my side.
One gua
rd shoved my shoulder hard enough to bruise. I stumbled, dazed. The wolf let out a low snarl, and both guards immediately took a skittering step back and cast contrite looks in his direction. I eyed him a little more warily.
I looked up at the sparkling blue light of the portal. If they got me through it, there would be no escape. There would be no rescue. It was not Flame’s policy to retrieve its members in these situations, and we had all agreed to those terms. If I didn’t free myself right now, I would be dead and forgotten. No. Interrogated, tortured, then dead and forgotten.
I was frozen, and the guards seemed too afraid of the wolf to touch me again.
I had to try to escape, didn’t I? Whatever was on the other side of that portal was far worse than anything that could happen here. A quick death now would be a blessing compared to what might come. At least I would go down fighting, like a true member of Flame, like a woman who had fought through so much in her life.
Last chance.
I had very little control over my hands, but in a swift motion, I dropped to one knee. Kicking a leg out to my left, I took down one of the guards, catching him in the back of the knees. I spun quickly, rebalancing myself, launching up and shoving both my hands into the chest of the other guard. Inelegant, but it had effectively forced her to stumble back, startled.
In a split second, I was running for the door. I only had to make it outside, to the safety of the busy streets of Vienna. I had sprinted a mere half dozen paces before something solid as a rock plowed into me.
The wolf.
He tumbled, swinging himself over me and grabbing my throat in his huge jaws. I hesitated, wondering whether he would snap my neck right now. That moment of contemplation cost me; the guards had regained their footing. A hand was pressed to my forehead, and magic rushed across my scalp and down my spine. I caught only a few more glimpses before the world faded to nothingness around me.
The still bodies of my dead clanmates. The glowing surface of the portal. The wolf’s impenetrable gaze.
When I awoke, I knew I was screwed.
I was in a dimly lit room. At my back were floor-to-ceiling glass windows displaying an unfamiliar city stretching into the dark night. It could have been Tokyo, or Singapore, or Dubai. Anywhere in the world, near home or thousands of miles from it.
In front of me was the slightly glowing shimmer of a magical force shield confining me, solid and impenetrable. The space in between was a barren cell—just me, the mat I was lying on, and a plastic bottle of water. The shackles were still on my wrists.
I didn’t have to search the room for weak points. There wouldn’t be any. I didn’t have to bother guessing where I was or when they would feed me or what would happen next. I knew.
It didn’t matter. Never. Execution.
Torture first, then execution. My heart began to race. I didn’t have to imagine Water Clan’s torture methods. I had heard the stories. Other clans, including mine, sometimes took captured enemy magicians and converted them. I had never heard of Water doing any such thing. They would take any information they cared to pluck from me and then kill me. I was too dangerous to let go, and I had killed one of their own.
Justice must be served.
I stared at the bottle of water balefully. It felt like a taunt.
Drink this water, it said. Your body needs it. You crave it. Don’t think about how soon water just as harmless looking will fill your lungs and choke you. How soon that same water will make you beg for death.
Regardless, I drank it and let the empty bottle clatter to the cold floor. I pulled my knees to my chest, wincing. Every slight movement burned my sore muscles, bruised and battered from the fight. My nose was broken. My entire body felt like it had been run through a meat grinder, and I was paying for it with each ragged breath.
I could do nothing except shiver on the mat, stripped of my jacket and weapons and phone, wearing only a torn T-shirt and leggings. I waited, each second ticking by to several beats of my frightened heart, my mind running in hopeless circles.
I would have done anything if I could just turn back time. Anything if the shield before me would disintegrate. Anything for a knife, so I could kill myself. Anything to avoid a slow death. Please, please, please.
But who was I begging? My clan had no gods. I had no gods. Learning about magic’s existence turned even the staunchest believers into atheists. No magician had ever discovered even a hint of the divine hidden among our power, power that made its wielders like gods among mortals.
I’d known that clan life could lead to trouble. That over the years my operations had been getting more dangerous. I’d been told what happened when missions went wrong. I’d noticed when people in my clan never returned. I had lit candles for them, had offered empty and meaningless prayers for their lost souls. Sometimes we’d have a body to mourn and put to the pyre, but often not.
I had never imagined it would happen to me.
Out of curiosity, I reached for my magic. A wave of nausea and dizziness hit me so hard I collapsed on my side, curled up and shredded. These shackles were effective. There was no way I would be able to access my power.
I had stopped counting the minutes when I heard the distant sound of footsteps. They were deliberate and sure, drawing nearer. With them they brought a magical presence so strong it choked the air around me. I opened my eyes, my breath coming in short gasps.
A man appeared on the other side of the shield.
He was tall and lean, with dark messy hair and beautiful, refined features. His stance was graceful and poised, and he was handsome in a stern way. His intelligent gaze was sharp and assessing.
I recognized him, of course: our target, the commander who had foiled our assassination attempt, the wolf who had tackled me to the ground and nearly ended me.
Glorious magic was draped around him like a heavy cloak, and I wondered how anyone had thought we could go up against this man.
He didn’t look older than twenty-five years old, but clan magicians aged at a fraction of the pace of ordinary mortals. Looks were hardly ever an indicator of exact age or tenure. I was twenty-nine myself, but I didn’t look any older than the man standing before me. Given the strength of his magic and the way it was positioned, I guessed he had many years—or even decades—in Water.
He was dressed head to toe in black. With smooth motions, he removed his jacket and draped it over his arm. We were no more than ten feet apart, but it felt like there were worlds between us—a triumphant commander and his beaten and unwilling captive.
I hadn’t been told his name, nor any of the names of our targets. It was better that way, usually. But right now I wished I had any defense at all against this man, anything that could help me understand who he was or what to do next. I shivered, frozen in place by fear and cold, frustrated by my complete helplessness.
He eyed me silently for a minute. He had depths of frightening stillness within him. Without warning, he walked through the shield, coming very close, staring down. He dropped his jacket in front of me before circling me once and then returning to the other side of the shield. His movements were prowling, and I tensed involuntarily.
What was he doing? I eyed the offering warily, trying to gain any bit of understanding I could about him. Nothing useful was forthcoming.
I was trembling and had no way to calm myself. I knew exactly how fucked I was. This commander was dangerous, entirely out of my league. With an amused smile, he lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged. Every single motion was controlled and orchestrated.
His magic settled with him, coiling around him. I watched it shimmer and shift, mesmerized. It was some of the most eye-catching magic I had ever seen—infinitely powerful. Its blue rivers and sparks sent pangs of envy through me.
When he spoke, his voice was low and much warmer than I would have imagined from his cold, haughty glare. His accent sounded vaguely European, smooth and attractive, almost a drawl.
“I am going to make this easy for you,”
he said, spreading his hands before him. “I could bring you downstairs to my questioners. They would find out who you are, who sent you to kill me, and everything anyone has ever wanted to know about Flame Clan’s plans. It wouldn’t be pretty. It wouldn’t be kind. In the end, you would yield everything while begging for death, and I would eventually acquiesce.”
I shuddered, my throat half closed in anxiety. I could see that he meant every word.
“Or,” he continued, “you tell me what I want to know right now, and we can discuss a future where you remain alive.”
I studied him, not quite daring to let myself hope I could get out of this unscathed. Trap, my mind screamed, but I had no idea what to think of his words. He was dangerously calm, appraising. After another long moment of silence, he raised his brow at me.
