Novels by Josephine-Caitlyn

(Flashback: Darius, 15 years ago)Smoke drifted from the inner courtyards, muted by the heavy fall of rain. The night air outside the palace was filled with the low grind of metal on stone and the distant pulse of boots pounding across marble floors. Darius stood at the split in the corridor. He held his breath, his sword in his right hand.The order had been clear: secure the Council chamber.But the Queen was still inside the throne room. The old corridors trembled with conflict. Somewhere, someone screamed. It didn’t change the facts. The Council controlled wartime protocol. The Queen was symbolic.His second-in-command adjusted his stance. “They’re expecting us west.”Darius looked down that corridor. He saw nothing. Then he turned east toward the throne wing. There were fewer guards, and fewer lights too.But, more danger loomed.“She’s unguarded.” Darius muttered.“They’ll say we hesitated.”“My priority remains the Queen. They can say what they want. If she falls, so does the

The hill sloped shallow, dust-covered and choked with dry thistle. Kael crouched behind a broken fence post, scanning the cottage below.“Movement inside. Curtains twitched. Probably watching us already.”Reyna squinted past the scope. “Two heat signatures. One’s pacing.”“Defectors?”“Maybe. Doesn’t change the task.”Kael didn’t reply. They waited in silence, listening to the wind press through the distant pines.A quiet click from Kyna’s comms: ready.Reyna adjusted her grip. “Six-minute breach. We go when you say.”Kael breathed out. “Now.”The breach was clean.Two hostiles. One compliant, the other tried to bolt. Reyna dropped him fast—knee to the ribs, elbow to the neck. Kael secured the target: a small obsidian case, locked by biometrics.“Looks intact,” he murmured, weighing the box.Reyna wiped a speck of blood off her glove. “Vault-marked. They weren’t just collectors.”Kyna radioed in. “All clear.”Jared’s voice crackled behind her. “Convenient. I miss all the fun.”Kael tu

It all happened within a twinkle of an eye on a fateful morning during a training session.The blade missed by half a breath.Too wide. Too late. Too fast.The trainee stumbled back with a sharp hiss, clutching his forearm. The dull practice sword clattered to the floor, and the room tensed as one.Kael froze mid-step, his eyes wide open.Blood didn’t spill, but the fabric split along the edge, thin red surfacing just beneath. The medic instructor was already moving. So was Reyna.“Stop! Fucking stop, Kael!” she called with a piercing voice, and Kael stepped back out of reflex.“Oh, goodness…” Kael mumbled as thoughts filled his mind.“This is fucking messed up.”The trainee was helped off the floor and out the arena without any further ado. His face was tight with pain, but he didn’t say anything. Kael didn’t even try to follow.The hall emptied. One of the younger recruits cast a wary glance back. No one else did.Then it was just him and Reyna.She didn’t raise her voice. There was

Kael didn’t sleep well.He drifted between half-states: his eyes shut, his mind alert, and his breath shallow. Every creak of wood or shifting wind across the eaves felt deliberate. The whisper had marked something or opened it.He had moved slowly towards the door albeit cautiously to get a grasp of what was happening to him at that moment. Where the whisper came from, the memories, everything that followed suit.But, his curiosity was far from satisfied. He had found nothing.He hadn’t told anyone. Not Reyna, Kyna, and certainly not Darius. When Jared returned to the room late that night, boots scuffed and gaze unreadable, Kael didn’t ask. The silence between them had become its own kind of code.At first light, Kael dressed and left before the bell. The halls were still dim. A few early risers muttered to each other in passing, but no one stopped him. He found himself walking without direction, feet drawing him past the archive corridor again.The sigil-lock was quiet. Dull. The ru

That same night, Kael dreamed again.He stood alone in the centre of a vast circular chamber. The floor was obsidian-black, polished to such a shine it reflected him with eerie clarity: bare feet pressing against cold stone that offered no warmth, only weight.There were no walls, only an endless expanse of darkness in every direction, stretching out like ink poured across the horizon. Above, the ceiling shimmered like an undulating plane of silver light, rippling like a lake under starlight.The silence was absolute.And then, as before, he was not alone.From the far edge of the void, a shape emerged.It was the same figure he’d seen at the gate: cloaked, towering, faceless. It moved with the slowness of tide or memory. Each step silent and inevitable.Kael tried to move, to recoil, but the floor resisted.The figure raised one long arm, pointing directly at him, and then it spoke.His name.“Kael…”The voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once: soft, yes, but too full to be ca

The informant, if that’s what he truly was, called himself “Dag.” He was middle-aged, gaunt, with hollow cheeks and a scar that carved a pale line from temple to jaw. He stood like he was already halfway to running, eyes twitching from corner to corner, the whites showing just a little too much. Every few seconds, he’d glance over his shoulder, as though the darkness behind him might come alive.“They’re coming for me,” he muttered, voice dry and gravelled. “I sold things I shouldn’t have.”Kael stepped forward, boots crunching softly on the grit-strewn floor. He kept his tone even, careful not to startle the man further. “We’re not here to judge. We’re here to get you out. But you need to hold up your end. The intel. You said you had it.”For a moment, Dag didn’t answer. His mouth twitched like he was working up the courage to say something else but he thought better of it. With a jerky movement, he reached beneath his weather-stained cloak, fingers trembling, and drew out a small sh