Novels by ANNA COLLINS

The Clash of KingsThe air split as Erebus lunged, his shadow-forged blade carving a jagged path toward me. I met it with steel, sparks flying as our swords collided. The force of the impact rattled through my bones, driving me back a step, but I planted my boots and shoved forward, refusing to give ground.The battlefield roared around us soldiers clashing, wolves snapping, guardians hurling fire but all of it blurred at the edges. There was only him. Only Erebus. His eyes burned with scarlet fire, and every strike carried the weight of centuries of darkness.“You were never meant to be king,” he sneered, his blade sliding dangerously close to my throat. “You’re nothing but a beast wearing a crown. A pretender.”I growled low in my chest, golden light sparking across my blade as the bond flared in me. “And yet here you are,” I snarled back, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble. “Bleeding from my hand.”Erebus only laughed, and the sound was wrong, hollow, echoing as if it came

The AftershockThe golden blaze of our bond burned itself into the battlefield and then withdrew, leaving silence behind. For a long heartbeat, nothing moved. My lungs fought for air, dragging in smoke and ash, every breath tasting of fire. My skin still buzzed where Rafael’s hand held mine, the memory of that living light carved into me like a brand.The world looked different now. The battlefield, once roaring with chaos, seemed to hold its breath. Wolves crouched, their ears pinned back, trembling in submission to something older and deeper than instinct. Soldiers stared wide eyed, grips slack on their weapons, as though caught between awe and terror. Even the guardians immense, ancient, carved from stone had bowed their heads, their molten seams glowing faintly in rhythm with the bond’s fading echo.I turned my head toward Rafael. He looked as exhausted as I felt blood streaked his jaw, soot marred his armor, and sweat dripped down his brow. But his eyes… his eyes blazed. Golden,

The world burned.Flames roared across the ridge, devouring wood, stone, and flesh alike. The air grew thick with smoke, the heat blistering against my skin. Soldiers stumbled back, coughing, shields raised not against steel, but against the inferno itself.And through the fire, he came.Erebus.Tall, cloaked in black that seemed woven from the night itself, he moved with a slow, deliberate stride, as though the battlefield bent to his will. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but when he lifted his head, eyes like burning coals pierced the haze, ancient and merciless.Rafael stepped forward, sword raised, every muscle taut with fury. The guardians themselves stilled, their molten eyes fixed on this singular figure, as though even they recognized his power.“Erebus!” Rafael’s voice rang out, hard as steel. “You dare set foot on Lycan soil?”The shadow king tilted his head, almost amused. His voice, when it came, was deep and resonant, echoing as if carried on the wind from every direc

Dawn broke not with sunlight, but with fire. The storm had passed, leaving the sky raw and bruised, streaked with crimson as if the heavens themselves bled for what was to come. Mist coiled across the valley, pale and ghostly, veiling the vast army that waited below.The drums had ceased. In their place came silence, the kind that made the hair on the back of my neck rise. Silence was worse than thunder it meant the enemy was ready.I stood on the ridge beside Rafael, my cloak heavy with dew, my fingers curled around the hilt of the dagger strapped to my thigh. Below us, soldiers shifted uneasily, shields raised, spears steady. Wolves padded restlessly at their sides, hackles raised, teeth bared.The guardians stood like mountains along the ridge, their stone bodies glowing faintly from within, eyes blazing like molten suns. Their presence filled the air with weight, as though the world itself held its breath.Rafael’s voice cut through the hush, steady and commanding. “Brothers, sist

The night was restless. Even after the bells fell silent and the great hall emptied, sleep did not come easily to the palace. Too many hearts beat too quickly, too many minds churned with dread of what dawn would bring.I walked the torchlit corridors, listening. From one chamber came the muffled prayers of a young archer whispering to the moon goddess. From another, a soldier’s quiet weeping, swiftly silenced when a comrade laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. Fear ran through the castle like a current, but so too did resolve.When I stepped out into the courtyard, the air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and steel. The rain had slowed, though thunder still grumbled above the mountains. Soldiers moved in precise formation under the glow of torches, their armor gleaming damply. In the distance, the silhouettes of the guardians loomed like jagged towers against the storm-lit horizon, immovable and eternal.Rafael stood at the center of it all, a pillar of iron-clad authority. Hi

The dawn crept slowly across the sky, painting it in muted shades of gray and pale gold. Yet for all its beauty, the morning felt wrong unsettled. The palace, usually vibrant with the calls of servants, merchants, and the rhythmic drills of soldiers, carried instead a stillness that pressed heavy on the soul.I moved through the courtyard, my steps echoing against the stone as I watched men and women don their armor with grim determination. The clinking of steel, the low murmurs of prayer, the tightening of straps and buckles all of it painted a picture of a people preparing to step into history.The scent of oil and leather clung to the air. Fires burned low in the training yards where the blacksmiths worked tirelessly through the night, their hammers striking sparks into the storm-dark morning. Banners rippled in the strengthening wind, their crests wolves and crowns symbols of loyalty and unity, even as fear gnawed quietly beneath.When I entered the war room, I found it already al