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

It was a moonless night, the darkness thick as tar, pressing down like an oppressive veil. The faint rustle of leaves whispered in the cool breeze, but the silence of Aelaras was heavy and unnerving. 


“Oh heavens!” Aricia gasped, her breath hitching as she rapped sharply on the door to her modest cottage. The familiar sight of its weathered wood brought her no comfort tonight. She reached for the handle, but her hand froze mid-air at the sound of boots crunching on gravel behind her. 


Two figures emerged from the shadows, their black-and-silver uniforms gleaming faintly in the dim light. Xylaris guards. 


Aricia stiffened, every instinct urging her to flee, but her body refused to move. 


“Ricia?” one of the guards addressed her brusquely, his tone clipped and authoritative. “You are required at the Xylaris Citadel for questioning regarding the theft of the Xylaris heirloom.” His piercing gaze shifted to the plaque mounted beside her door. 


Chapter 49| Crazy Thief