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

"At this rate, I'm going to remain unmarried for the rest of my life," Lady Livia sighed, her voice trailing off into the wind like a forlorn prayer. She sat alone in the upper gardens of the Bezoth Citadel, nestled against the chill of night under a blanket of silver stars. The moon, a solemn crescent, cast its light over the pale marble columns and the wind-chimes that danced in gentle rhythm. 


She reclined on the mosaic-tiled floor, her back resting against a polished granite bench. Her dark violet robes shimmered faintly in the moonlight, clinging tightly to her curves. Her eyes, heavy-lidded and glistening with wine and weariness, were fixed on the constellations above—seeking answers in the stars that refused to speak. 


Chapter 75| Unrequited Love