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

Freya placed the back of her palm on her friend’s forehead, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed over Aricia’s skin. The dim firelight in the cottage cast long shadows across the walls, flickering against the wooden beams like restless spirits. Outside, the wind howled mournfully through the cracks in the stone, echoing the chaos inside Freya’s mind. 


“Friend, you’re not pranking me, are you?” Freya asked softly, almost hoping Aricia would chuckle and dismiss everything as some elaborate ruse. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, laced with doubt and fear. 


Aricia furrowed her brows, her scarlet hair spilling over her shoulders in tangled waves. The color looked almost aflame under the hearth’s glow. She didn’t flinch, didn’t smirk, didn’t blink. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Freya, her voice firm and low, carrying the weight of pain long buried. 


Chapter 85| Filthy Grim Reapers!