A story about a place that neither exists in maps or history books, this place was called Athame.

•••

"The root of every fear is the unknown, yet how can one fear what they cannot grasp? Tch... how misleading." His voice, deep and rough, sent an involuntary shiver through her as he closed the distance between them with deliberate steps, his presence suffocating in its intensity.

With a slow, predatory grace, his fingers brushed along her jaw, settling on a strand of her scarlet hair, his touch deceptively tender. "Knowing me will matter little," he whispered darkly, his breath warm against her skin. "For even in the shadows of uncertainty, you will come to fear... and desire me all the same."

•••

Aricia, born with extraordinary abilities in a world that fears anything out of the ordinary, was destined for a marriage alliance to secure peace between kingdoms. 

But on the day of her engagement, her entire family is slaughtered—by the very family she was meant to marry into. 

Grief-stricken and consumed by vengeance, Aricia swore to destroy those who betrayed her. She would wield the very power they had feared against them, seeking justice with no mercy. After years on the run, she found shelter within an elemental clan, hiding her abilities and keeping to the shadows.

But her carefully constructed peace shattered in a single moment. A burning touch, a chance encounter with his haunting gray eyes—an unknown force within her stirred, threatening to unravel her carefully guarded secrets and the fragile balance of magic, madness, and vengeance she had built....

Vengeance Through Passion

The flickering glow of torches danced along the cold, stone walls of the citadel, casting elongated shadows that seemed to shift like phantoms. Ravenscar's deep, rumbling laughter echoed in the vast chamber, a sound as harsh and grating as the scrape of metal on stone. 


"Little boy," Ravenscar sneered, his voice dripping with contempt, "must I remind you that nothing in this citadel belongs to you? You're just a waste of breathing space. A useless excuse for a son." 


Aricia’s eyebrows lifted, her head tilting slightly, as if trying to ensure she’d heard the insult right. Her lips parted in mild disbelief, though she kept silent. Vincent stood beside her, his expression impassive save for the faintest curve of his mouth as he chuckled darkly, his gaze cold and razor-sharp. 


"I think I heard one of the prostitutes in your room yell my name," he murmured, his tone dripping with disdain. 


Chapter 33| Poison