Bookstagram

A Lost Legacy: Wandering (Promo Post)




A Lost Legacy: Wandering (Lost Legacies 0.5)
By C.E Dimond
110 Pages | Write Addictions Publishing | June 5, 2016




  


Prequel Novella to the LOST LEGACIES SERIES




Eamon O'Neill was born and raised in the Broadhaven Coven, which meant two things. One, he was inherently magic, and two, he had a role to place.What his role was, never seemed to be clear.

When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself, to track down the last living Witch in their Coven, he is determined to be the man for the job. 

We know what happened to Finn Adams after Eamon O'Neill dropped into her life. But little is known about how the mysterious and frustrating Warlock found her.

A Lost Legacy: Wandering, is the story of Eamon O'Neill. Written from his Point of View, this story looks at his time leading up to his adventure in Port Moyle. How did he get the task? Why did he want it in the first place?

This Prequel to A Lost Legacy: Awakening,  explores the ups and downs of a life at Broadhaven, and the struggle of living in a father's shadow. 


 I’ve always had a hard time finding my place in the Coven.

 Being born and raised at Broadhaven ensured two things.  One, you were inherently magic, and two, you had a role to play. What my role was, never seemed to be clear. My Dad was the coven’s history buff. I suppose that was where I was meant to take over, to be the keeper and teacher of all things historical.  I’d found that seventeen was a pretty standard age to start questioning your place in the world, except my concerns were always a little bit more, mystical. 

 Unlike most of the kids my age, I wasn't worrying about where I went to college, or what my future job would be. Instead, I worried about whether I was good enough to be the O’Neill heir. That’s why, when I first heard whispers of the McLoughlin daughter, I knew that I wanted the job. This would be a chance to prove myself.

The voices had started to carry up the stairs towards my room. That was the problem with old houses, even stone mansions like this one. It was well built, sturdy and unshakable, but the lofty ceilings carried voices farther than it ought to. I hadn’t bothered to listen at first; I had more important things to do, like Pre-Calculus. As the intensity of the conversation grew, my curiosity got the best of me. Standing from my desk, I pushed my homework aside and moved to the edge of the stairs. Whatever they were talking about, it was getting heated. I crept my way down the stairs, positioning myself just outside the council room door, to take a listen.

I don’t know if our elders just thought we were dumb, or maybe too respectful to listen in on their councils. Whatever the case, whether they questioned our intelligence or not, they never did a great job of sound proofing the room. Given that all the gatherings were held in my home, I always had the advantage. Their voices carried through the heavy wood as though they were all standing right next to me. The youngest daughter of Niamh McLoughlin, formerly Niamh Cavanagh, was alive. Huh, who would have thought? Given the fact that we had all grown up believing the McLoughlin line was, for lack of a better word, extinguished, it was certainly big news.

 I knew that Broadhaven wasn’t exactly a lucky place for women. Almost all of our coven's mothers, mine included, had died at some point over the past twelve years. Despite that unfortunate truth, I had always found it suspicious that not one, but two of the McLoughlin daughters had died. I hadn’t known either personally, at least not that I could recall. Their tales though, their existence current or not, were part of the history.

It seemed as though my father, after all, this time, had been hiding a terrible truth. He had lied, at least about the second one. She had never died at Cormac’s hand, but in fact, he had known she was alive all along. I was pretty shocked. I knew my Dad was a mysterious guy, but I would never have guessed he had that sort of bombshell up his sleeve. Course, we didn’t exactly talk these days. Even if there had been clues, I would never have picked up on them.

“She needs protection,” I heard Cian O’Connor speak up. His gruff voice was distinctive in comparison to the other members . “If what you’re saying is true, she hasn’t been trained. She’ll be turning sixteen right away and all that pent up power-"

“It could be dangerous,” Brendan Cavanaugh cut in. As the girl's Uncle he, in my opinion, had the most say. “For her, but as well as anyone else in that little town. Forget waiting until her birthday. We should be retrieving her now.”

“You can’t just go barging into a young girls life! Walk in telling her she’s a danger and pulling her out of the only life she’s ever known!” Owen O’Brien was always the voice of reason. He protested every rash act, most times to Cian’s annoyance.

“Well. What do you suppose we do then O’Brien? Leave her there? Let Cormac get his hands on her? If he has even an inkling that she’s alive, he will be waiting for her to come into her power!”
“You can’t just walk in and tell the girl she’s a witch.”

My father was staying quiet through this all. Always letting them have it out; I wasn’t sure I had the patience for that.

"How can you have kept this from me Patrick? She's my niece! If anyone here had the right to know she was alive, it's me."

"I promised Niamh that no one would know, I'm sorry Brendan but that included you."
"Why would my own sister want to keep something like this from me?"

"She didn't want anyone to know. The fewer people that knew about her plan, the less risk that Cormac would find out."

"Right, and a fat load of good that did her! You stood by and watched him kill her!" I listened for another retort but the room had gone quiet. Niamh had always been a touchy subject for him, something I never quite understood.

"I did," he growled, "what she asked of me. I'm sorry that she died that night, but it was not my doing." He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself, rather than the others.

"Right and I suppose Miriam's death wasn't your doing either."

My mother's name drew anger in my chest. In moments I was on my feet, ready to storm through the door and give Brendan Cavanagh a piece of my mind. Her death had been over a decade ago, but I remembered it fresh in my mind like it had only happened yesterday. I stopped at the door as I heard the sound of my father's chair push back and I knew he was on his feet. I could sense the anger that was radiating through him because the same was coursing through me.

"Brendan!" Owen spoke up now. "We have all lost people, pointing fingers isn't going to do much good at this point."

"Who the hell have you lost Owen?" It seemed like my father was no longer the target. "I've lost Catriona and Niamh! Cian's lost Rose, Patrick's lost Miriam, hell even Cormac's lost his wife and daughters. What do you know about loss."

"Are you sympathizing with the enemy now Cavanaugh?"

"No. I'm just saying you don't understand. You can't understand. If Patrick had talked Niamh out of her insane plan, she never would have died, none of them ever would have died!"

No one seemed to have a protest for this. I wondered if they were right. It sounded as if my father had been the one who had kickstarted this all by taking the young girl away. If Brendan was right, my father taking a different course of action could have saved my mother's life.






I am an Irish-Canadian Young Adult author who was born in Winnipeg, Canada (yes, it really does exist). I love my city and love even more that it's become Hollywood's running joke (Don't believe me? Just check out Youtube).

I have always been a writer, from poems in my Grade 6 diary (Ode to Hobbits), to short stories in the back of my math's book. I have always loved to create stories and find myself constantly creating new characters. 

I am a dedicated Fangirl of many proportions and I have a knack for getting expressions all wrong and saying incredibly stupid, but often hilarious things (My graduation gift from my friends was a book of my own quotes).

I am a proud alumna of St. Mary’s Academy, an all-girls Catholic prep school and I studied Theatre and Film at the University of Winnipeg. Currently, I am still hanging out in Winnipeg. 






No comments:

Post a Comment