Rache Am Ex

Lord Dryk and all his followers were defeated centuries ago. Or so the white mages believed until the reincarnation of his very own mistress, Ramona and her campaign to resurrect the dark lord. Yet darkness could return without the promise of a savior. Wayne a mage born without the gift was shipped off to stay with his uncle Alard and his daughter Calley, another abomination to the line of magic, while his father goes off with the other mages to find the savior and bring an end to the campaign of Ramona. But in the rarest of times, when no one expected, Wayne’s gift awakened, not in the manner which everyone thought it would be, and no one sensed it except Alard, yet that wasn’t all, Calley also awakened the gift like every other mage in history attracting the eyes of both good and evil, forging the prophecy to take a form no one saw coming and with it, the beginning of a long-avoided war. *** “I am tired of waiting for saviors, Fifteen years they have searched and found nothing. My father risks his life on a prophecy that may be empty. And we sit here like sheep, praying some child will appear to save us.” “In the old tales, it was not only mages who broke Dyrk’s host at the Battle of Broken Chains. It was the swords of men, thousands of them held the line while the archmages sang their spells. Common steel bought the world its freedom when magic faltered. If this Ramona comes again, let her face more than spells. Let her face men who will not wait for miracles.” Alard studied him for a long moment, something unreadable moving behind his eyes. “And what would you have, nephew?” “Train me,” Wayne said.

"I think there is a misunderstanding here ma'am," he said to her. "That is my manager over there," he said pointing to Antonio, who was waiting by the side of the road for a cab, just a few feet from the restaurant. "I was only calling on him to give him the phone," Jason said, trying to placate her. But then, the manager was quick to walk up to them. "What is going on here?" He asked as he got to where they were. "Sir, this lady—" "Your boy tried to steal my phone," the lady interrupted and snatched her phone from his hand, not waiting for him to say anything at all. She seemed insistent on getting back at him for something that happened long ago in school. Jason opened his mouth to say something again but was interrupted by a hard slap across his face from Antonio. He staggered but maintained his stance. "Not only do you come late to work or be clumsy at your job," Antonio began in a fit of vexation. "You also steal from my customers too?" He asked Jason, who still held his face, still in oblivion at what had just happened. He nodded and tried to speak again, but Antonio stopped him with a wave of his hand. "I think I have had enough of all your shenanigans here and I think it is time to relieve you of your duties," Antonio said. Framed by a colleague and betrayed by his friend, Jason Abbout had his life crumbling to the ground. No one to run to, no one to share his pain with either, he was gradually dying. Not until, he received one call that changed his life. Now to those who hurt him, they must bow.

"We'd like you to come with us to the station immediately," Vanessa's heart began to beat faster, "I don't understand," she said, "What for?" "Mrs Spencer, you're wanted as a prime suspect in the murder of your husband, Mr Christopher Wesley. You need to come with us to the station for questioning. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. I suggest you don't try to resist. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?" Vanessa's jaw dropped. Christopher was dead! It was impossible to believe. She'd just spoken to him that afternoon. It had to be a mistake. She nodded, "I…. I…. I need to call my lawyer," she said, when she finally found her tongue," "Ma'am, you can do that at the station. Turn around, please," —----------- Politician and governorship candidate, Christopher Wesley is dead; shot in the head right in his own house. The killer is unknown, but the police have a suspect —his estranged wife, Vanessa Spencer Detective Alaric Harper and his partner are placed in charge of this case and at first Alaric is certain that Vanessa had killed her husband. Her motive? He's not sure of. When Vanessa begins to get calls from an unknown person wanting money he claims Christopher had stolen, Alaric has no choice but to accept that their killer is yet to be found. He is determined to get to the bottom of this case and he's sure that he will, but one thing he never expected — falling for Vanessa.

She thought she was using him. He'd been searching for her for twelve years. "Listen carefully," Diana Morrison's voice cuts through the study like ice. "These are the terms of our marriage arrangement, and they are non-negotiable." Marcus Hayes sits across from her in his worn suit, agreeing to every humiliating condition without protest. Separate bedrooms. No physical contact. Divorce after one year. "Do you have any backbone at all?" Diana demands, frustrated by his compliance. What she doesn't know: Marcus is the Supreme God of War of West America, commander of armies, controller of trillion-dollar empires. Twelve years ago, a starving orphan boy received kindness from a young girl who shared her meager lunch. He never forgot her. Now that girl stands before him—cold, calculating, believing she's trapped a desperate nobody in a fake marriage to escape her family's control. "Perhaps I am desperate," Marcus admits softly. "But not in the way you think." When the Romano and Bennett families attack, when her business crumbles, when assassins lurk in shadows—Marcus moves like the warrior he is, leaving enemies broken and allies in awe. "Who are you?" Diana whispers, watching him dismantle threats with surgical precision. Marcus's slight smile holds secrets that could reshape nations. "I'm your husband." She thought their contract marriage had an expiration date. She has no idea the Supreme God of War never lets go of what's his. He spent twelve years building an empire to be worthy of protecting her. Now he'll spend a lifetime proving she was always meant to be his.

"Who am I?" Waking up in an unfamiliar room with no past memories, an unfamiliar man greets him, claiming to be his new guardian, Ifeus Lero, who then tells him... "Your name is...Topaz Oriole." A world of Magic and Monsters, where those who wield Magic are known as Mages. Every Mage, without exception, falls under one of eleven Classes, each with their own unique forms of Magic; Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Light, Dark, Space, Physical, Support, Tamer and Sneak. As for Topaz, his amnesia isn't his only concern. His Class isn't one of the eleven established Classes, something that's completely unheard of. The Wrath Class, a mysterious Class absent in the history books. Advised to keep his abilities hidden for the time being, Topaz avoids using his Magic in front of others. However, Ifeus's secrecy soon becomes a growing point of frustration for Topaz...it's clear that Ifeus knows about his past, but refuses to tell him anything about it, along with hiding the real reason why it's imperative for Topaz to keep his Class hidden. Even as Topaz settles into his life post-amnesia, forming friendships, rivalries and romance, the dark shadow cast by the mysteries of his forgotten past continue to haunt him. With flashes of fragmented memories, and some common sense, Topaz comes to the conclusion that, whatever he went through pre-amnesia, was likely far from pleasant. And unfortunately for him, the dark, broken past he has no memory of isn't the only issue to contend with. An organization bent on world domination makes its presence known, and operating in the shadows, is a dangerous cult determined to resurrect a powerful, malicious entity who nearly destroyed the world centuries ago and was sealed away. And at the center of it all...is the Fractured Mage, Topaz Oriole.

"Mother," I opened my eyes. Everything around me is a haze. I gazed at the candlelight. It was wobbling from side to side. I noticed a woman seated near me, but everything was fuzzy. I heard a voice unexpectedly. It was a woman's voice, echoing in my ear. She was singing a low-toned lullaby. "Mother, is it you?" I heard my name, "Maxilin, I am here." "Mother," I said with a tremble in my voice. I have no idea what's wrong with me. I reached out cautiously to touch her, but she was out of my reach. "Where are you, mother?" "Oh, my beloved, try to hold me, come here, " "Mother," Maxilin tried to stand up, but he was too weak. Maxi narrowed his eyes in an effort to see her face clearly, but he couldn't because everything was fuzzy. A woman in a white outfit moved in front of his sight. Maxi took a few steps forward while still gripping the chair. "Mother, don't leave," he murmured, dizzily. As he said, he saw in his fuzzy vision that someone had opened the door. "Mother, please don't leave me," Maxilin pleaded. He let go of the chair's hold and dashed behind her. "Mother, don't leave me. Wait." In his frail state, he shouted and followed her. "Huf". In the middle of his path, he stopped. "Mother, you've left me here alone," "Maxi," he heard the voice unexpectedly. Maxi glanced up and looked around. It's all clear now, but he's stuck in the midst of the woods. He gazed up at the sky. A giant moon was staring at him, and a horde of deadly, voracious creatures were roaring around him. "Son," someone touched his shoulder, he looked back, saw a terrifying creature standing in front of him. "Hello, dear."