DaisyLight

It was advised to think thrice before crossing paths with him but she didn’t even think once and ran right into the lion's den…

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In an ominous, haunted night, Elara Celine fled from the forces that shattered her whole life in just one night. She ran for her life but little does the poor girl know about the curse she is destined to be bound with. She has no idea about the unimaginable power which lies dormant beneath her broken, trembling and helpless body. Alone in the world, carrying the pain of a murdered family and covered in blood, her misery drags her to the Dark Lord's Castle. 

A place no sane man even thinks to seek refuge at… but an insane woman does…

Where she is desperate for refuge and revenge, Ravenor Frostveil can instantly smell the power hidden beneath her fragile appearance. The man whose name is never dared taken aloud but whispered… The man who runs the dangerous underworld of crime and deception with the tip of his finger. The man who is touched and tainted by the dark side itself.

In return for safety and revenge, Elara Celine makes a deal with the Dark Lord, the devil himself. The deal she is soon going to regret…

One is light, the other shadow, destined to destroy each other…

But in this dance of deception and hunger for power, will a forbidden desire bloom amidst the shadows of hatred, or will darkness consume them both?

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Underlying themes:

> Enemies to Loves (Very intense)
> Weak to strong FL and tragic past ML 
> Slow burn 
> Gothic setting with Castles, academies, dangerous quests and many such adventures
> Hints of humour and comedy 
> Violence, gore and very intense scenes but triggers warnings will be given above such chapters. 

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The schedule is everyday posting but more support will equal more chapters!

The Vampire's Moonlit Throne

Later that evening, the sky was clear with a moon that hung too low, overhearing secrets of the quiet beings. Ravenor stood at the edge of the eastern ridge, his figure wreathed in the subtle moonlight. His pitch-black eyes scanned the surroundings with a predator's stillness, his senses taut and unyielding. Somewhere out here, amidst the whispers of the wind and the echo of rustling leaves, someone waited.

He had to wait for the person to show themselves although he had an idea that he wouldn't be surprised.

"Well, if it isn't my little brother," came a smooth, mocking voice. Drystan emerged from behind, his cloak trailing like spilled ink, his smirk cutting through the chill.

Contest of Wills