2025-03-26 18:29:56
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Genious
Carmen’s breath came in shallow gasps as she urged her weary horse forward, the city of Eryndall shrinking behind her like a shadow she could never fully outrun. Her fingers tightened nervously around the reins, the echo of Harlan’s threats still burning in her mind. Where could she go now? The once-familiar roads offered no safety, only memories tangled with danger.After what felt like hours of wandering aimlessly, Carmen recalled the small village she had visited just the day before. A humble place nestled near the forest’s edge, where an old friend awaited—a rare flicker of hope in a world turned hostile. She set her course toward it, heart pounding with both relief and fear.But doubt gnawed at her relentlessly. “What if Harlan’s men are already on my trail?” she whispered to herself, eyes scanning the darkening horizon. The sun dipped low, casting the sky in bruised shades of orange and purple that bled into twilight. The village lay ahead, but Carmen hesitated.Pulling her hors
Crying Over Him
The halls of the royal estate were eerily silent, disturbed only by the soft echo of hurried footsteps and whispers that clung to the walls like mist. News of Calen Storm’s death had spread quickly—too quickly. And though many wore masks of indifference or whispered of politics and war, one soul within the palace felt it like a blade to the heart.Lila hadn’t left her chambers since she heard.She had locked the door the moment the words reached her ears, shutting out the world with trembling hands. The windows were drawn, the drapes pulled tight against the sun, as if the light itself were too cruel to endure. She sat on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn to her chest, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.“No… no, it can’t be,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice cracked and hoarse. “He can’t be gone.”Her mind tortured her with memories—Calen’s laughter, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. The way he used to speak her name like a promise.
Crying Over Him
The halls of the royal estate were eerily silent, disturbed only by the soft echo of hurried footsteps and whispers that clung to the walls like mist. News of Calen Storm’s death had spread quickly—too quickly. And though many wore masks of indifference or whispered of politics and war, one soul within the palace felt it like a blade to the heart.Lila hadn’t left her chambers since she heard.She had locked the door the moment the words reached her ears, shutting out the world with trembling hands. The windows were drawn, the drapes pulled tight against the sun, as if the light itself were too cruel to endure. She sat on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn to her chest, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.“No… no, it can’t be,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice cracked and hoarse. “He can’t be gone.”Her mind tortured her with memories—Calen’s laughter, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. The way he used to speak her name like a promise.
The Siblings
Calen stepped closer, the echo of his own footsteps swallowed by the silence of the chamber. His voice, though quiet, carried the weight of years unsaid.“My father…” he began, his throat tightening. “Did he ever come here?”Aelion paused.Something flickered behind his golden eyes. Not surprise. Recognition. Memory.“Aldric Storm?” he asked, his tone softer, laced with something more elusive—reverence, perhaps… or regret. “Yes. He came here. Not once, but several times.”Calen blinked. “Before you closed yourselves off from the world?”Aelion nodded slowly. “Yes. Before… and even after.”The breath caught in Calen’s chest. “Then… why? What was he doing in Drakhtarion? Did he… did he die here?”Aelion turned his gaze toward the towering arched window, as though the morning light held answers he could not—or would not—give so easily.“Was it the king of Aerondale?” Calen pressed, unable to stop the torrent now that it had begun. “Did King Ashford send him here? Was it for a mission? Or
It’s Real
Light.Soft, warm, and golden—like dawn distilled into silk.It caressed Calen’s face like a mother’s touch, filtering through gossamer curtains that fluttered in an unseen breeze. Slowly, his consciousness floated upward from a dark, dreamless sea. Each breath he drew felt lighter, cleaner, as though the air itself were imbued with magic.He stirred.His body responded with ease, but it felt… different. Too different. His limbs no longer ached. The heavy weight in his chest—the constant tightness he had carried for years—was gone. He sat up with a sharp breath, startled by how effortless it was.The bed was nothing like any he had known.Its frame was of carved ivorywood shaped into wings and spirals. The sheets were a blend of midnight blue and silver, impossibly soft, threaded with strands that shimmered like starlight. Beneath his fingers, the texture felt almost like woven wind. Above him, the ceiling was not stone, but a dome of radiant crystal that sparkled with drifting conste
He is Dead
In the heart of Aerondale, the polished stone corridors of the citadel were unusually quiet, save for the soft crackle of fire in the hearth of Evan Drake’s study. He sat behind a heavy oaken desk, cloaked in the warm glow of candlelight, fingers drumming impatiently against parchment he hadn’t read. His mind was elsewhere—hunting shadows that refused to surface.A sudden chill swept the room.The door creaked open, though no one had knocked.Evan’s gaze snapped upward—and narrowed.Standing just inside the threshold, clad in black and gray leathers that seemed to drink the light, was Cassien Vale. The bounty hunter’s presence darkened the room like a stormcloud. His eyes, pale as frost, met Evan’s without a hint of expression.“You’re late,” Evan growled, rising from his chair. “Where is he?”Cassien didn’t move. “You won’t see Calen Storm again.”The words struck like ice.Evan’s face contorted. “What the hell do you mean?”“He entered the Forlorn Wood,” Cassien said evenly. “You kn
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