angel_writes00

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

"I'll go find Rick," Arthur announced before dashing forward. 


"Hold the line!" Iskander bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos like steel. The knights in the courtyard snapped to attention, their armor glinting under the sun as they steadied their stances. 


In perfect unison, the knights unsheathed their swords, the metallic ring echoing across the courtyard. The sound of shifting boots and rattling chainmail followed as they prepared for combat. 


The clatter of metal against wood filled the air as the knights raised their shields, forming a defensive wall. The atmosphere was thick with tension, their breaths measured, their gazes locked ahead, awaiting his next command. 


And then, cutting through the disciplined silence, came the hurried patter of small feet. 


A streak of scarlet hair darted across the courtyard, weaving between the armored men. Without hesitation, Aricia flung herself into Iskander’s arms. 


Chapter 69| I Hate You