A. Swandancer

She falls in love with the tempest, with little hope of emerging without a scratch. She decides to relinquish her knowledge of her powers, risking the safety of the world, all in an attempt to erase the memory of a heartbreak. Is she wrong?
Liv Hartwell, a college student with a passion for books over boys, stumbles upon her extraordinary lineage and dormant powers when she crosses paths with Liam Blackthorn in the heart of modern-day New York, where a world of secrets, magic, and enigmatic half-human beasts lies hidden in plain sight—they are the Descendants of the Endless. 
Liv and Liam, two clueless descendants, set off on an electrifying journey of self-discovery, delving deep into the mysteries of mythical creatures and forgotten magic.
Their unexpected friendship ignites a blazing romance, and as their connection deepens, the universe itself quakes in response. Sparks of cosmic turmoil shake the very foundations of reality, threatening to crush their world— unless Liv and Liam learns how to wield their powers and fight for their love.
Descendants Of The Endless is a spellbinding dark fantasy-romance series that unveils a mesmerizing world concealed within the bustling streets of New York City. Born from the union of immortal demigods and humanity, these descendants harbor supernatural knowledge and abilities. Their existence, shrouded in secrecy for centuries, is threatened by a forbidden love story, a potent spell, and an age-old prophecy. Prepare to be captivated by a love that defies destiny and a power that could reshape the universe.

DESCENDANTS OF THE ENDLESS

A van screeches to a halt by our side, and Kena flashes a brief nod toward it. “This is our ride. Follow us, we’ll show you where we hang out,” she says before hopping into the van with her gang, sliding the door shut behind her. 


I chuckle to myself as I watch them disappear into the vehicle. What the hell am I supposed to do? Are these guys for real? Fuck it. How real is it to be a half dragon myself? 


I shrug, don my helmet, rev my bike, and trail behind the van as we snake our way through the city’s streets to Chinatown. The van takes a sharp turn into a narrow alley, and I follow, my curiosity piqued. We pull up in front of an unassuming warehouse. 


The place is cavernous, filled with cars and tools, the air tinged with the smell of grease and gasoline. Kena and her crew clamber out of the van. She motions around with a flourish. “We call this place our treehouse. It’s not much, but it’s where we hang out, crash, and work.” 


Up on the treehouse