2025-12-17 06:07:25Ten years ago.
Bjorn sat in the back seat of the car, knees drawn up, staring out the window as trees blurred past. Up front, his mother's voice broke the silence.
"Where are we traveling to this time, dear?"
His father chuckled. "It's a surpri—"
WEEE-WONK!
BOOM!!
The crash came out of nowhere. Metal twisted. Glass shattered. The world flipped sideways.
And as it did, through the chaos and screaming tires, Bjorn saw something that would haunt him forever—
A woman. Standing by a flickering roadside light. Watching.
Still. Silent. Unblinking.
> They said it was an accident. A freak crash. But I remember… someone watching.
---
When he woke up, everything was different.
He lay in a cold hospital bed, face bruised, stitched at the lip. Machines beeped rhythmically. A nurse moved in the background, more shadow than person.
> I survived. Barely.
---
After the hospital, there was no reunion. No home.
Just rain.
A small, gloomy house waited at the end of a gravel road.
> After the hospital, I was sent to live with my uncle.
They gave him the room nobody wanted. Just a thin mattress. Peeling walls. Dust.
> They gave me the room no one wanted.
At the dinner table, everyone ate. Except him.
"You're too late. No food left," his aunt said.
> I wasn't family. I was the crash they didn't ask for.
---
Time passed. The storm inside him grew.
He sat by the cracked window, watching. Thinking. Burning.
> He stopped hoping. He started planning.
He knew the layout of the house now. Knew where his uncle kept the cash—hidden deep in the drawer.
> He knew exactly where the money was.
One night, while the rain poured and thunder grumbled in the distance, he packed his things.
He didn't look back.
> He didn't vanish. He escaped.
By morning, his uncle's shouts echoed through the house as he discovered the empty drawer.
> They never saw him again.
---
Out in the rain, a boy walked alone.
From the shadows, unseen by him, the silhouette of the old woman appeared again.
This time, she was smiling.
Dear friends and readers,
I hope this message finds you well. I’m reaching out to share something deeply personal and important to me — I’ve recently completed my novel, a story that has taken months of passion, sleepless nights, and relentless creativity. Writing this book has been more than just storytelling; it has been a journey of self-discovery, healing, and expression.
Now that the words are on the page, I need your help to bring this story to life and into the hands of readers. Whether you're an avid book lover or someone who believes in supporting growing creatives, your support — in any form — would mean the world to me.
You can support my novel by sharing it with others, offering feedback, purchasing a copy once it’s released, or even just spreading the word on social media. Every small action adds up and helps more than you might think.
This novel represents a piece of me — the struggles I’ve faced, the emotions I’ve poured into each character, and the hope that my words might resonate with someone out there. If you’ve ever believed in me, or in the power of stories to move and connect people, I humbly ask for your support now.
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chapter 10: the bets of walpurgis
The apple had long since rotted in her hand.But the old woman still sat there, unmoving—eyes fixed on the glowing orb, its surface pulsing with light, war, and whispers.Inside: chaos, blood, betrayal.Outside: silence.Until—The room shifted.The air bent.The shadows along the stone walls deepened—then peeled away like skin, forming shapes… six of them.Six silhouettes emerged from the corners of the witch's dim chamber—each cloaked in veils of time, darkness, and ancient intent.One tall and hunched, her form decorated in raven feathers.One gaunt and glass-eyed, skin like dried parchment stretched over bone.One with a crooked crown of vines twisting through his tangled beard.Another—a child's size—yet her voice, when she finally spoke, rang with centuries.A fifth—limping, snorting, teeth chattering as if laughing at a joke no one told.The last—a figure cloaked head-to-toe in stitched fabrics, neither voice nor gender clear, only humming with dreadful glee.They all stood beh
chapter 9: only the worthy bleeds
The apple cracked between her teeth with a sickening crunch.Juice dripped from the corner of her lips—thick and red like blood—as the old woman leaned forward, eyes locked on the glowing orb.Within its shifting light, the scenes played out like a violent opera.Wounded men. Wild fists. Blood-soaked dirt. Fear. Rage. Betrayal.She licked her thumb slowly, savoring the juice, and whispered—> "Mmm... the Orb World never ceases to entertain me."Her silhouette remained still, but her eyes gleamed—hungry.---Mud exploded beneath their feet.Bjorn and the Wrath leader clashed again, teeth bared, soaked in blood and fury. Every punch was thunder. Every blow—meant to shatter bone.Their grunts and growls echoed through the trees like wild beasts.Bjorn's elbow cracked into the leader's ribs.The Wrath leader roared, grabbed his arm, and threw him—Bjorn skidding across the wet ground, his back smashing against the cursed tree once again.But Bjorn pushed up—breathing heavy, defiant.Then—h
chapter 8: no master's
The forest remained hushed, the mist now curling away from the clearing like it, too, knew who ruled here.Lucien stood motionless, his figure carved from the silence—tall, unbending, framed by the blood-soaked ground that bore witness to his triumph.Before him, Kane still knelt.But now, something had shifted.Not in Lucien.In Kane.Submission had calcified into something more dangerous.Obedience.Lucien's voice finally broke the stillness. Cold. Commanding. Drenched in pride.> "Rise, Kane. You no longer kneel for forgiveness. You kneel for purpose."Kane lifted his head slowly, bruised features hardening beneath the weight of Lucien's gaze.> "Yes… commander."Lucien didn't blink. His eyes, like polished obsidian, held no warmth.> "Your pride failed you. Your tactics failed you. And yet, here you stand. Not because of worth... but because I see use in you."Kane remained silent. He understood now: survival wasn't a right—it was permission.Lucien turned slightly, the wind catch
chapter 7: the broken lines, brewing stone
The rain had stopped.Morning light bled faintly through the trees, a dull gray that barely warmed the forest floor. Mist curled around the roots like restless spirits. Somewhere nearby, birds chirped cautiously—as if even they feared to break the silence.Bjorn stirred.His body ached like he'd been trampled by fate itself. His eyelids fluttered, crusted with dried blood and mud. He was still at the base of that tree—the same cursed tree he'd chosen last night. Its bark now dug coldly into his back.He didn't open his eyes fully. Not yet.Voices. Close.He lay still, listening.> "Why the hell didn't you finish him off last night?!"A harsh voice. Guttural. Full of restrained violence.The Wrath faction leader.Bjorn could feel the weight in that voice—the kind that didn't make idle threats.Another voice answered. Calm. Sharper. Less predictable.Not what Bjorn expected from someone under Wrath's command.> "Because you're not thinking."A beat of silence.> "He survived the Walpurg
chapter 6: blood in the rain
The orb pulsed faintly in the darkness, casting ghostly light across the witch's chamber. Rain wept against its curved surface, streaking down like tears on glass.In the shadows of the room, she stood still—her silhouette veiled in darkness, unmoving, but fully awake.Her eyes fixed on the storm within the orb.And then, as chaos began to unravel, a whisper passed her lips."Hmm... interesting."---The forest groaned beneath the weight of rain.Trees swayed like grieving witnesses.Mud splashed violently beneath Aira's bare legs as she ran—breath ragged, soaked to the bone. Her heart pounded in her ears louder than the thunder overhead.Behind her—footsteps. Relentless.The Lust faction member hadn't stopped.She choked on her breath, lungs burning, but didn't slow.Suddenly, she ducked behind a massive tree.Her knees hit the wet ground hard. Her hands clamped over her mouth.She trembled, every muscle tight with fear.Tears mixed with rain as she watched—eyes wide—through the leav
chapter 5: the ones who moves first
The forest whispered"Twisted trees loomed like ancient, horned sentinels. Among them stood a single, eerie monolith of wood—bark warped and gnarled, older than memory. Beneath its crooked shadow, Bjorn stood still, staring up at it as if it were watching him too.> "If no one else will choose it… I will."His hand reached out and pressed against its scarred surface. It was cold, coarse, and... familiar in a way nothing else in this world was.From the shadows behind him, something shifted.A low whisper carried on the wind:> "There he is… let's begin."---Far from the cursed tree, in the prideful heart of the forest, tension flared like fire.Lucius stood tall on a moss-covered stone, his regal frame lit by the fading sun. Around him, the Pride faction boiled with argument. Raised voices, clenched fists, seething glares.> "We won't follow your orders anymore!" one member barked.Lucius didn't flinch. He only looked down upon them, expression unreadable, eyes colder than the shade
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