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The God of War Calen Storm Rejected
Calen turned on his heel without another word, his steps firm and resolute. He didn’t spare her a second glance, didn’t hesitate. He simply walked away.Lila’s heart lurched in her chest. She had never seen him like this—so distant, so utterly unmoved. The Calen she knew would have never turned his back on her."Calen!" she called, desperation creeping into her voice. "Don’t you dare walk away from me!"But he didn’t stop.The weight of rejection settled in her stomach like a stone, cold and unbearable. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She had imagined him staring at her in shock, yes—maybe even in anger—but not this quiet, devastating dismissal.Whispers rose around her like a tide."Is that Lila Frost?" someone murmured."Shouldn’t she be at her wedding?""Why is she here… with him?""And he just—left her?"Soft chuckles turned into hushed laughter. A few soldiers smirked, shaking their heads as if they had just witnessed the most amusing spectacle of the night."Lila Frost, r
The God of War Calen Storm Don’t Try Anything
"Where was she?"Marylin’s voice was cold, sharp as a blade slicing through the tension in the air. Her grip tightened around the powder puff, her knuckles paling with the force of her anger. Her eyes—steely and unforgiving—cut through the gathered attendants, daring one of them to speak.One of the maids, a trembling young woman with wide, fearful eyes, stepped forward. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her apron as if trying to steady herself."She went to the military barracks, My Lady."For a moment, silence.Then, Marylin’s head snapped toward the maid, her face twisting in barely contained fury."What did you just say?" she hissed, her voice dangerously low.The air in the room grew thick, suffocating. No one dared to breathe too loudly. The maid visibly shrank under Marylin’s glare, but there was no escaping now."L-Lady Lila ran to the barracks…" she stammered. "She sought out Calen Storm."Marylin’s breath hitched. Her nostrils flared, her perfectly painted lips pres
The God of War Calen Storm Going to Slaughterhouse
Calen stormed into his quarters, slamming the door shut behind him. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The encounter with Lila still burned in his mind, and it wasn’t just frustration that gnawed at him—it was sheer disbelief.What the hell was she thinking?He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. If anyone had seen that moment from the wrong angle, if the wrong rumor had started, if just one noble had whispered the wrong thing—he wouldn’t be preparing for a mission tonight. He’d be facing execution.Did Lila not understand that?Did she really believe that after everything—after years of silence, after the betrayal, after her family had nearly orchestrated his death—he would still be the fool who would drop everything and run away with her?Calen let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.No. That part of him had died long ago.The same night he had barely escaped with his life. The same night the Frost family had proven that, to them, he was n
The God of War Calen Storm Humiliate Us
The grand hall was still alight with the warm glow of chandeliers as Evan Drake escorted his bride through the towering doors of their new home. The evening air carried the remnants of laughter and murmured conversations, the noble guests still lingering outside, their eyes ever watchful.Evan smiled—effortlessly, charmingly—acknowledging the well-wishers with a graceful nod. His grip on Lila’s waist was firm, possessive, as if silently reminding everyone that she belonged to him now. The perfect groom, exuding confidence and control, even as the whispers from earlier still hung in the air."What a long wait that was…""Did she hesitate?""Perhaps she was reconsidering?"Evan didn’t let it show. He responded to each remark with his usual ease, exchanging pleasantries, shaking hands, even laughing lightly at a jest thrown his way. To the world, he was unfazed, a man triumphant in securing a valuable union. But Lila, standing rigid at his side, knew better. She felt the tension in his h
The God of War Calen Storm The Road to Vynoria
The night air was crisp, carrying the distant scent of damp earth and pine. Each breath Calen took was laced with the cool dampness of the wild, a stark contrast to the heat of the day he had left behind. Overhead, the moon hung like a silent guardian, casting silver light across the rugged terrain, stretching the shadows of twisted trees and jagged rocks. The narrow dirt path beneath his horse’s hooves wound through the wilderness, barely illuminated by the pale glow of the stars.The road to Vynoria was treacherous, infamous for bandits who lurked in the darkness, preying on lone travelers and weary merchants. The silence was not comforting; it was a warning. Every rustle in the underbrush, every whisper of wind through the trees could mean danger. But Calen was neither afraid nor unprepared. He had survived worse.His cloak, heavy with dust from the journey, draped over his shoulders, blending seamlessly with the muted colors of the wilderness. His tunic and leather vest were plain
The God of War Calen Storm The Vynorian
The tavern was warm, a stark contrast to the crisp evening air outside. The scent of roasted meat and stale ale hung in the air, mingling with the low murmur of conversation from scattered patrons. Lanterns flickered overhead, casting shifting shadows against the wooden walls. Calen sat with his back straight, posture casual yet alert, his fingers lightly curled around the ceramic cup before him.The voices from the next table were low, but not secretive—merely travelers exchanging news and rumors over their meal."Ardenfell is insatiable," one of them muttered, his voice carrying a note of resentment. "King Ryan Ashford has already swallowed up smaller nations, and now they say he has his eyes on Vynoria."Calen kept his expression neutral, though his pulse quickened."Queen Elara Wynn won’t stand for it," another man responded. "She’s no fool, and neither are her people. Anyone from Ardenfell is under heavy scrutiny now. The Queen is ruthless, and so are her advisors. Beautiful as a
The God of War Calen Storm The Vynorian Soldiers
As they stepped into the smaller inspection area, Calen immediately sensed the shift in atmosphere. This was not just a routine checkpoint—there was an air of strict discipline here, a presence that demanded obedience without a single word needing to be spoken. The soldiers waiting for them were different from the gate guards. Their uniforms, though still the same deep blue, bore intricate silver embroidery along the collars and cuffs, a clear mark of higher-ranking officers.But the most striking detail wasn’t their uniforms. It was the soldiers themselves.Every single one of them was a woman.Calen had seen his fair share of female warriors in Ardenfell—battle-hardened women who fought alongside men, their skills unquestionable. But these soldiers were something else entirely. They weren’t merely strong; they carried themselves with a quiet, effortless confidence that suggested years of rigorous training. They were tall, lean, and undeniably powerful, their forms wrapped in fitted
The God of War Calen Storm The Most Beautiful Woman
The sun had begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over Rivermoore’s bustling market. The streets were alive with the chatter of merchants peddling their wares, the clinking of coins exchanging hands, and the occasional burst of laughter from a satisfied customer. Vibrant banners fluttered in the warm breeze, their silken fabrics rippling like waves, mirroring the energy of the city itself. Amidst the chaos, Calen and Garrick worked their stall with practiced ease, blending seamlessly into the lively marketplace.Their stall, laden with exquisite Ardenfell textiles, quickly drew the attention of passing nobles and wealthy merchants. Bolts of deep sapphire and emerald cloth caught the light, shimmering under the sun’s glow. The intricate embroidery, painstakingly woven with golden thread, depicted scenes of legendary battles and ancient tales. Calen, with his keen eye for business, handled transactions smoothly—his fingers expertly weighing silver coins, his voice steady as he ha
Latest Chapter
What Truth?
The clang of steel echoed through the royal training grounds, sharp and rhythmic like the beat of a war drum. Dust curled into the air with every powerful strike, boots thudding against packed earth. Calen Storm moved like a tempest—fluid, brutal, precise. His blade sliced through the air with impossible speed, knocking back opponents two at a time.Around him, soldiers watched in awed silence. Even the most seasoned warriors of Aerondale whispered behind gloved hands.“Did you see that strike?”“Like the storm itself fights through him.”“He’s not a man. He’s a force.”Calen didn’t care for their words. He didn’t fight for their admiration. His focus was cold, singular. With every swing of his sword, he tried to drive away the gnawing weight in his chest—the silence between him and Elara, the dreams that haunted him, and the echo of a father’s voice in the wind.Finally, at the command of the drill captain, the training ceased. Calen lowered his sword, his tunic drenched with sweat,
Under The Light of The Full Moon
The morning sun rose golden over the spires of Aerondale, bathing the marble courtyards in warm light. The air was crisp, the scent of early spring blossoms drifting through the palace grounds as banners of both Vynoria and Aerondale were unfurled side by side across the terraces. Trumpets sounded, drawing the attention of nobles, soldiers, and attendants alike.From the grand balcony overlooking the central court, King Theron Ashford stood tall, clad in ceremonial black and silver, a crimson sash draped across his chest. His voice rang out with regal clarity.“Two days from now, under the light of the full moon, I shall take Elara Wynn, daughter of Vynoria, as my wife and queen. This union marks the joining of our great nations and the beginning of an era of peace, prosperity, and unshakable power.”Applause erupted from the crowd—cheers, flowers thrown into the air, the roar of celebration echoing through Aerondale’s heart. Courtiers clinked goblets in approval. Trumpets blared agai
Reveal It
The night deepened in the palace of Aerondale, a heavy silence settling over its stone bones like a velvet shroud. The storm that had once raged beyond its gilded towers had softened now to a gentle rhythm, a steady patter against high glass windows and ancient roofs, like fingers drumming on a coffin lid.Within one of the military chamber, Calen Storm lay in restless stillness, one arm flung across his brow, his shirt damp with sweat despite the chill. The fire in the hearth had dulled to a bed of glowing embers, casting faint, pulsing shadows across the floor like the slow beat of a dying heart. Thoughts swirled behind his closed eyes—memories, burdens, questions too sharp to silence. His body begged for rest, but his soul was too heavy, armored with truths unspoken and futures uncertain.And yet, sleep claimed him.For a while.A whisper stirred in the dark—soft, breathless, and impossibly near.“Calen…”His eyes flew open, breath caught in his throat. He sat upright in one motion
Whispers of Fate
The storm outside continued its relentless assault on the palace, as if the heavens themselves mourned the weight of Elara’s heart. She stood by the window, her back stiff and unyielding, the weight of her crown like a burden too heavy to bear. Seraphina remained beside her, her eyes soft with concern, but the silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire."My Queen," Seraphina began gently, her voice barely above a whisper, "You do not have to go through with this. You can leave, disappear before the wedding, before anyone finds out."Elara turned her gaze slowly toward her, her face a mask of weary resolve. "What are you saying, Seraphina? Run? Abandon everything?" Her voice was sharp, but there was a flicker of desperation behind her words. "You know that’s impossible.""You could go to Vynoria," Seraphina urged, her eyes intense. "No one would ever expect it. You could live freely, without the threat of a marriage that binds you to him—" Sh
I Have Failed
The rain beat against the tall windows of the Aerondale palace, a relentless drumming that echoed through the dim corridors like a war song turned sorrowful. The storm had rolled in not long after the last banner of celebration had been taken down—fitting, perhaps, for a Queen who could not share in the joy her people believed she should feel.Queen Elara stood by the window in silence, the heavy velvet curtains pushed aside. Outside, Aerondale’s golden towers blurred under the downpour, the once-vibrant city now veiled in a gray shroud. Her reflection in the glass was pale, weary, crowned only by the dim flicker of torchlight behind her. Her breath fogged the glass slightly, the only sign she was truly there and not some ghost caught in gilded captivity.In the center of the candlelit chamber, Seraphina watched her. The Prime Minister had been silent for several minutes now, sensing the storm inside her Queen was far greater than the one outside. A tray of untouched tea cooled on a l
Free Me!
Lila clutched at Calen’s tunic as he pulled her toward the door, her feet dragging against the stone. Her nails dug into the coarse fabric like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood. “Please, Calen,” she sobbed, voice cracked with desperation. “I don’t want anything but for you to save me. Just save me from this life—I can’t breathe in it anymore.”Calen’s face was stone. “You chose that life, Lila. You made your bed. I’m not the man you come to for rescue anymore.” His grip on her arm was firm but not cruel, yet his eyes held no warmth—only cold finality.“But I was wrong!” she cried, struggling to break free only to fall forward again. “They don’t want me anymore. Not Evan. Not even the Frost family—they won’t answer my letters, they’ve cut me off like I’m a disgrace. Please, I have nothing left! Let me be your wife again… You’re a hero now. You could ask the King—he would grant it. You could free me!”“You’re not listening,” Calen snapped, a rare flash of anger cracking his stoici
Obsession
Calen’s brow furrowed as he stepped back into the low lamplight. “What truth?”Lila’s breath caught, but she stood her ground. “The truth about how you feel. I need to know.”Calen’s jaw tensed. “We don’t need to talk about feelings. You and I—we're nothing now.”“I missed you,” Lila said, her voice barely more than a whisper, but it rang loud in the silence between them. “So much it made me sick.”Calen stood still in the dim light of the chamber, jaw clenched, arms at his sides as though bracing himself against her words.“I prayed for you every night,” Lila continued, stepping further into the room. “When news reached us that you'd survived, that you were leading the final charge—my heart nearly stopped. And then at the palace... seeing you again, alive, triumphant—” Her voice cracked. “It should’ve been the happiest moment of my life. But you barely looked at me.”Calen averted his gaze. “You shouldn’t be here.”“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered. “Not when every time I closed my e
The Truth
The moon had climbed high over Ardenfell, casting its silver light over the noble quarters of House Drake. Inside the sprawling manor, most candles had been snuffed out, and silence pressed like velvet over the corridors. But Lila Drake’s heart was anything but still.She had tossed and turned for hours, haunted by the image of Calen Storm standing in the grand ballroom—battle-scarred, cloaked in glory, impossibly calm amidst the sea of cheering nobles. But his eyes… they had not searched the room for her. Not for Lila.They had been locked—again and again—on her.Elara Wynn.Every glance he cast across the candlelit hall was subtle, deliberate. And Lila saw it. She always saw him. She always had. That had once been her curse—and her greatest joy.Now, curled in a thick midnight-blue cloak and soft-soled slippers, Lila moved through the manor like a whisper. She avoided the creaky boards she’d memorized since childhood, her breath shallow, her fingers trembling as she clutched her ski
Wept
The victory celebration in Aerondale lasted for seven nights and seven days.On the very first night, all of Ardenfell thundered with music and cheers. A towering bonfire was lit in Meridien Square, while blue-silver fireworks exploded across the night sky, forming the sigil of Aerondale: an eagle clutching a spear in its talons.The Hall of Echoes, the grand royal ballroom—larger than three cavalry fields—had been transformed into a starlit garden. Hundreds of lanterns floated mid-air, slowly drifting upward and glowing like lost stars descending to earth. Long banquet tables overflowed with roasted meats, spring fruits, and tiny cakes garnished with golden mint leaves.Musicians played harps, flutes, and drums, once with melodies of war, now turned to rhythms of triumph. Servants moved like shadows, refilling goblets with wine and mead from silver carafes.Calen Storm sat at the second seat of honor, not far from the King himself. His goblet was never empty, but he drank only in sma
