2025-02-14 21:22:36
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The God of War Calen Storm Threat
Before Marylin could utter a single word, the soft sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. A moment later, Lila stepped into view. She had just returned from the powder room, smoothing the fabric of her dress when her gaze landed on Evan. Surprise flickered across her delicate features, quickly followed by a hint of apprehension.“Evan?” Her voice held both confusion and wariness. “What are you doing here?”Evan’s sharp eyes locked onto her, dark with unspoken frustration. His presence was tense, his shoulders squared as though he were bracing for battle.“Why?” His voice was edged with accusation. “You don’t like seeing your fiancé here? Because you just finished meeting with your ex-husband?”Lila inhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a brief moment. A part of her had expected this reaction from Evan—he had always been possessive when it came to Calen, always insecure despite his outward confidence. But tonight, she was in no mood to entertain his jealousy.With a quiet sigh,
The God of War Calen Storm Hesitating
Evan’s gaze lingered on the hallway where Lila had disappeared. His jaw was still tight, his hands still clenched at his sides, but he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to regain control. Losing his temper further here wouldn’t accomplish anything.Instead, he straightened his coat and turned back to Marylin, his expression hard.“The next time I come back,” he said, voice cold and even, “I expect Lila to act far better than this.”Without waiting for a response, he pivoted on his heel and strode toward the exit. His polished boots struck the marble floor with sharp precision, echoing his irritation with each step. The household staff bowed slightly as he passed, but he barely acknowledged them.The heavy door swung open, and within moments, Evan was gone, disappearing into the night.Marylin let out a long, weary sigh, pressing a hand to her temple. The weight of the conversation settled on her shoulders, a mix of unease and frustration. Lila’s behavior had been reckless. Evan had ever
The God of War Calen Storm The Letters
Calen pushed open the door to his temporary quarters, a modest yet well-maintained room assigned to him after his placement was finalized. The scent of polished wood and faint traces of old parchment greeted him as he stepped inside, but his attention was immediately drawn to the neatly folded uniform laid out on the small desk near the window.His new uniform.His gaze shifted to the insignia resting beside it—Second Lieutenant.Calen exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.So, it was official.The rank still burned in his mind, a bitter reminder of what had been stolen from him. He should have been higher. Should have been more. But it was done. Complaining wouldn’t change anything."This is better than nothing," he muttered under his breath, trying to ground himself.He reached out, fingers brushing over the fine material of the coat. It was well-made, the fabric thick and sturdy—something meant for an officer, not just a common soldier. At the very least, it was something
The God of War Calen Storm Trapped
The chapel was silent.A hollow, breathless kind of silence.Calen stood near the altar, hands clasped loosely behind his back, his sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit interior. The tall stained-glass windows were nothing but dark outlines at this hour, their colorful depictions of saints and warriors now muted under the absence of daylight. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows along the stone walls, elongating the pews, distorting the space into something almost unreal.He exhaled slowly.Why had Astra asked him here?Of all places, this?The chapel was always empty at night. No guards. No servants. Just cold stone and lingering prayers. That was what made it both safe and dangerous at the same time.His brow furrowed as he recalled the letter.It had been so direct.Meet me tonight. At the chapel.Nothing more. No explanation. No pretense.That alone made him wary. Astra was a servant. She wasn’t reckless—she wouldn’t dare summon him like this unless it was something of gr
The God of War Calen Storm She’s Tortured
Calen’s steps faltered as Astra’s voice, soft and trembling, reached his ears."You… you can’t take me back to the Frost estate right now," she murmured against his chest.His brows furrowed. "What? Why?"Astra hesitated, her breath uneven, her fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his shirt. Shame colored her face as she struggled to get the words out."I… I think I drank something," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "And it’s making my body feel… strange."Calen stiffened. His grip on her remained firm, but his entire body tensed. "Astra," his voice was low, warning. "Don’t tell me you—"She shut her eyes tightly, unable to meet his gaze. Her entire body felt as if it were burning from the inside out, every nerve hypersensitive. It was humiliating. And yet, the unbearable heat wouldn’t stop.Then, before she could second-guess herself, she reached up—and pressed her lips against his.Calen’s breath hitched, his mind going blank for a moment as the unexpected w
The God of War Calen Storm It’s a Perfect Trap
The moment Astra’s lips crashed against his, Calen nearly lost himself.It was different from before—this kiss was hungry, desperate, burning with something uncontrollable. Her fingers clutched at him, her body pressing closer, her heat seeping through his clothes.Damn it.He knew she wasn’t in her right mind, but gods, she was making it impossible to think.His hands instinctively found her bare shoulders, his fingers grazing over the fevered skin. Too warm. Too intoxicating. Too dangerous.Then Astra’s trembling hands slid lower, reaching for the last barrier of her clothing.And for a split second, Calen almost let her.But suddenly—Light flooded the chapel.A harsh, blinding glow filled the once-dark space, illuminating everything.And before either of them could react—A group of people burst into the room.Gasping. Murmuring. Judging.Calen froze in place, still holding Astra in his arms. Astra, whose shoulders were bare, whose body was flush against his, whose lips were still
The God of War Calen Storm He’ll Be Begging to Dissappear
The accusations crashed down upon them like waves against jagged cliffs, unyielding, deafening, merciless."Liars! Deceivers!"The cries swelled, fueled by scandal and self-righteous outrage. The chapel’s once-sacred halls now echoed with venom, its walls pressing in like silent judges.Calen clenched his fists. It didn’t matter what he said. It didn’t matter what the truth was. The people had already chosen what they wanted to believe.His rank, his history, his victories in service—none of it meant anything here.And Astra…She was even more powerless.Just a servant. A shadow in a noble house. Someone to be spoken over, not listened to."Take them!"The order sliced through the air.The guards moved at once. Chains rattled. Hands seized his arms, fingers digging into his skin.Calen’s instincts screamed at him to fight back. But fighting would only seal his fate.With a sharp, piercing glare, he wrenched himself free."I will walk on my own," he declared, his voice cutting through
The God of War Calen Storm We’ll Survive
Astra’s quiet sobs filled the dimly lit prison chamber, her voice trembling with guilt. “If only I hadn’t drunk it… If only I had been more careful…”Her fingers gripped the cold iron bars separating them, her shoulders shaking as tears ran down her cheeks.Calen, sitting on the other side, exhaled sharply, his arms resting on his knees. He hated hearing her like this—so fragile, so broken."Enough," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Crying won’t change what’s already happened."Astra flinched, her breath hitching. "But—""Listen to me." Calen’s voice softened just a little. "This isn’t your fault. You were drugged, Astra. Whoever did this planned it down to the last detail. You couldn’t have stopped it."Astra bit her lip, guilt still clouding her expression. "But I—""But nothing," Calen cut in. He turned his head slightly, looking at her through the gaps in the bars. His gaze was steady, unwavering. "They wanted to ruin us. And they would have found another way even if this h
Latest Chapter
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
Victory
Three days later, Aerondale rang with thunderous bells of victory.From the white cliffs of the Eastern Watchtowers to the golden domes of Ardenfell, the capital city, the people poured into the streets, their cheers rising like ocean spray against stone. Petals of blue and silver—colors of both Aerondale and the vanquished Vynoria—fell from balconies, fluttering down like gentle snow upon the heroes of the hour.At the heart of the city, the palace gates opened wide.Calen Storm rode through them not in chains, nor as a prisoner of insubordination, but as a hero—his cloak torn, his face shadowed by exhaustion, but his presence as commanding as the wind itself. Children ran alongside his horse. Women wept in gratitude. Even hardened soldiers saluted him with awe.“He tamed the Sacred River,” they whispered.“He faced divine wrath and lived.”“He is the Windborn.”Trumpets blared, and at the top of the grand marble staircase, King Ryan Ashford stood tall in his navy and gold regalia, f
Mercy
A heavy silence fell over the temple as Calen’s words echoed like thunder across the sanctum:“Surrender now, and I will spare your queen.”The waters of the Sacred River, once writhing and defiant like a living creature in revolt, stilled around Elara’s broken figure. Its surface, once seething with ancient judgment, now shimmered with an eerie calm, as if the river itself had turned its face away.The priestesses of the river—robed in pale blue and silver—stood in clusters along the marble terraces, their faces streaked with tears. The echo of their chants had died in their throats. One of them, the eldest of the Waterkeepers, dropped to her knees, her voice brittle with disbelief.“How could the River… abandon us?”A younger acolyte let out a broken sob.“He wasn’t even touched by its judgment… the River… it did not stop him…”Among the scorched and battered commanders of Vynoria, murmurs turned into quiet anguish. General Maelin, her armor cracked and soaked with steam, shook her
