Novels by Anneth Annie

The plains stretched endlessly, beneath a pale and dull sky. The air was eerily still, as if the land itself was holding its breath. Far behind them, Emberfall was a distant memory, its warmth and safety now replaced by the vast, silent openness.Zarekth led the group, his steps purposeful but his silence heavier than usual. The sword of equilibrium rested on his back, his grip on its hilt tight. The muscles in his jaw flexed, a sure sign of unease.Lyra trailed close behind him, her gaze flickering to Zarekth’s rigid stance. His unease was contagious.Lyra’s hand unconsciously brushed against the quiver of arrows strapped to her back.Tharion froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing. Something large moved in the corner of his vision, a ripple through the shadows of the grasslands. Slowly, he turned his head, and there it was—wolf-like, massive, and made of writhing darkness. Its crimson eyes burned like embers, locked on him. He blinked, his throat dry.The creature was gone.“Uh… guy

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, painting the city of flames in hues of gold and crimson. The embers of countless fires still smoldered from the night before, their heat lingering in the air as if Emberfall itself refused to let go of the celebration. Lyra stood at the edge of the central courtyard, the weight of her pack resting on her shoulders. Her eyes drifted across the scene—Viana adjusting the strap of her bag, Tharion muttering about his sword, and Zarekth standing tall, his presence as unshakable as the mountains beyond.The dwellers of Emberfall had gathered in clusters, their somber faces marked by both pride and farewell. Warriors lined up beside Ignir, their weapons glinting under the rising sun. Ignir stood at the forefront, a pillar of fire-forged strength, but it was Zarekth who naturally drew the eye. Even here, surrounded by flame and iron, Zarekth’s presence was unmatched, as if the dawn itself bent to acknowledge him.Ignir turned his head and s

The city of Emberfall had transformed into a spectacle of light and shadow. As twilight deepened and bled into full night, flames roared to life in every corner of the city—pyres that reached for the skies, torches that lined every walkway, and bonfires that bathed the streets in gold and orange. Emberfall glowed like a city born of fire itself, and as the first notes of distant drums rang out, the celebration began.Lyra stood with Tharion and Viana at the edge of the central plaza, taking in the scene. The heat shimmered in the air, a visible wave that made the flames dance twice over, their golden glow mirrored across the stone streets. Long wooden tables groaned under the weight of feasts fit for warriors: roasted meats glistening with juices, steaming bowls of spiced stews, baskets of bread still hot from the oven, and mugs of firewine that caught the firelight like molten rubies.“Now this,” Tharion said, eyes gleaming as he surveyed the spread, “is the kind of celebration I

The air in Emberfall carried a heat that clung to the skin, a heavy warmth that never truly dissipated. Flames burned endlessly in braziers scattered across the training grounds, illuminating the dark edges of the volcanic city. The crack of wooden swords clashing echoed in sharp, rhythmic bursts as Lyra, Viana, and Tharion sparred alongside Emberfall’s warriors.Lyra gripped the wooden hilt of her practice sword tightly, her muscles burning with effort as she parried the strikes of her opponent—one of Ignir’s people, tall and lean, with a sharpness to his movements that forced her to stay focused. She ducked under an arc, swung back, and caught him just barely in the ribs. The warrior stumbled back, grinning.“Nice,” he said, nodding at her with approval.Lyra stepped back, chest heaving. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fought so hard—or at all, for that matter. But something about this time, this place, demanded strength.A few feet away, the sound of a sharp thud t

Above, the sky stretched vast and endless, littered with stars that gleamed like scattered fragments of shattered glass. Zarekth sat on a weathered stone, his silver eyes fixed on the heavens. He had been drawn here by the stillness, by the need to think without the noise of questions or expectations pressing down on him.The soft squeak of a creature in distress pulled his attention away from the sky. Turning, he saw it—a small, trembling thing, no bigger than his hand. Its body was slick with blood, one of its wings bent at an unnatural angle. It looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.Zarekth tilted his head, studying the creature in silence. Its pain seemed to echo within him, though he didn’t understand why. Once, he would have ignored it—dismissed its struggle as insignificant in the vastness of existence. Yet now, something stirred.He knelt, his movements slow and deliberate, and extended a hand toward the trembling creature. His fingers stopped above it for a mome

The air grew colder as they stepped into the ancient ruins, the stone underfoot slick with moisture and shadow. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the canopy of dark trees, casting fractured beams across ancient stones worn by centuries of wind and time. A feeling of weight pressed upon them, as though the very air had become thick with forgotten whispers. These ruins were buried deep in the shadowed lands—remnants of an age that predated the gods’ imposition of order upon Nerathia, ancient relics abandoned and now claimed by darkness.Kaelen’s breath came slow and deliberate as he took another step forward, his shadow whip coiling behind him like a serpent eager to strike. His hand was steady, but his chest felt tight, as though the ruins themselves were alive, watching, judging.“You can feel it, can’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and sharp, an echo carried by the wind. His dark hair shifted as he turned his gaze toward the swirling, restless shadows that danced an