Chapter One
The course of true love never did run smooth.
A Midsummer Night's Dream , 1598
William Shakespeare
The cold breezes seeped up from the ground, whirled into a small funnel, slashed at her skin, blew and tangled her beautiful long black hair. The gusts came from nowhere, carrying with them a strange chanting sound she didn’t care for. It was the hovering sound of Hell—the sound of the dark magic. It was not supposed to follow her to the Daimon Gate, a universe far away from Earth. She had escaped from the haunt of the dark magic seventeen years ago, fleeing from a remote village in Ireland to London. She ran again a month ago, this time not by herself but with Lorcan, the love of her life, exiling themselves from Earth to the Daimon Gate. She assumed they had found their Heav
