Romane von Evalyn Elvis

Amara’s POVThe night was too quiet.No wind. No crackle from the fire. Not even the distant creak of doors that had haunted us for weeks.Silence, deep and deliberate, hung in the fortress like a held breath.I lay awake beside Cahir’s bed, watching the firelight slide across his face. He looked peaceful impossibly so his small hand still clutching the carved wolf Darius had made. His chest rose and fell in soft rhythm.And then he whispered in his sleep.At first, I thought it was nonsense, the half-formed babble of dreams. But then I caught the melody soft, lilting, familiar. A lullaby.My mother’s lullaby.One I hadn’t sung since the night my parents died.My heart clenched. “Cahir,” I murmured, reaching for him.He didn’t wake.His lips moved with the next line, the words perfect, too perfect. And then a second voice joined his.A woman’s voice.It drifted through the air like perfume gentle, silver, poisonous. The tune wrapped itself around the room, weaving through the

Amara’s POVTorches burned too low, their flames trembling as if afraid of the dark they were meant to chase away. Every door creaked at the wrong time. Every silence stretched too long. Even the stone seemed to breathe slow, uneven, uneasy.The fortress had forgotten how to sleep.Mira said it began two nights after I shattered the chapel mirror.At first, only whispers. Then faces.A warrior woke screaming, swearing he saw his dead sister sitting at the edge of his bed.Another claimed the reflection in his sword mouthed his name.And a child barely old enough to speak refused to drink from the well, whispering that the water was smiling back.It wasn’t an infection of flesh.It was one of sight.By dawn, the mist had grown heavier, curling over the walls like something alive. The courtyard below looked half-drowned, the world reduced to shadow and bone.Darius stood beside me on the eastern balcony, his arms folded, eyes scanning the horizon. His silence carried the weight of slee

Amara’s POVMorning came slow.Mist pressed against the windows like a living thing, turning the light a sickly white. The air inside the fortress was colder than it should’ve been, though the fires hadn’t burned out. Every flame flickered toward the same corner of the room as if drawn by breath I couldn’t hear.I didn’t sleep.Neither did the walls.Something had changed since the night before. The silence was thicker now, the kind that made you wonder whether sound itself had gone missing.Cahir stirred beside the hearth, yawning softly. His eyes bright, steady, untouched by fear found mine. “Mama,” he murmured. “There’s a lady in the window.”My blood turned to ice.I knelt beside him, brushing his hair back gently. “There’s no lady, love. Just fog.”He frowned, stubborn. “She said your name.”The way he said it simple, unafraid made the back of my neck prickle.I turned toward the window. Nothing. Only condensation tracing lazy rivers down the glass. Still, I felt watched. The mar

Amara’s POVThe fortress hadn’t known peace in months, yet that morning, it almost pretended.The sky was pale and hollow, the kind that promised rain but never delivered. Mist clung to the walls, softening the stone and turning the courtyard into a watercolor of silver and grey.For the first time since the battle, the air didn’t smell of blood.I stood by the balcony rail, breathing in the cold. Below, wolves moved in silence, repairing walls, sweeping ashes, trying to rebuild something that used to be home. Life learning to stand again.But peace, I’d learned, was rarely a gift. It was a pause the kind the world takes before deciding whether to break or heal.Footsteps behind me broke the stillness.“Amara.”Mira’s voice quiet but trembling with something she rarely let me hear: emotion.When I turned, I knew before she spoke.She stood in the doorway, cloak soaked with fog, and in her arms wrapped in a worn wool blanket was Cahir and his small boot peeking out.My breath caught.H

Amara’s POV The courtyard reeked of blood and smoke. Dawn struggled to break through the haze the kind that tasted of iron and loss. The ground was littered with bodies, Forsaken and wolf alike. Every step squelched through mud turned red. The war horns had gone silent hours ago, yet the echo of battle refused to fade. It lived in the crackle of burning banners, in the groans of the wounded, and in the quiet, shaken breaths of those who had survived. I stood among them armor dented, hair damp with ash, my pulse still drumming like I hadn’t realized the fight was over. Across the courtyard, Darius knelt beside a fallen soldier, his hand pressed to the man’s chest. For a moment, I thought the soldier was gone until Darius’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled in relief. He was alive. Barely. I wanted to move to him, to check his wounds, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry every death on his shoulders. But my feet refused to move. I was still staring at the blackened trail

Amara’s POVThe courtyard was fire and ruin.Steel clashed, voices broke, and the stench of rot thickened until I could taste it on my tongue. Every breath was ash. Every heartbeat was war.But none of it mattered.Because across the chaos, the Forsaken Alpha’s pale eyes fixed on me. His smile was carved in bone and shadow, silent but merciless. The other Forsaken bent toward him, their movements sharpening, as if my fear was the drumbeat they followed.Darius’s hand lingered on my arm for a moment too long. He wanted to anchor me. To keep me behind the shield wall, safe.But safe had never been an option for me.I tore forward.The shadows answered before I even called, lashing out in spears and blades. They cut through Forsaken bodies, reducing them to dust and tar. My pack rallied behind me, a roar rising from their throats, but it was thin against the tide. For every creature we struck down, another crawled over the walls, dragging rusted chains like bells tolling the end of every