Nobela ni Chris Muna

Caleb flicked his hand, and the clouds below curled upward, weaving themselves into a broad, rippling platform. Wind whipped against her hair as he guided her onto it. Seraphine waved Mina and Lyra bye as they rose. The Academy shrank beneath them, its spires no bigger than needles, its glowing windows like fireflies scattered in the dark. The air was sharp and cold, but Seraphine leaned forward, staring into the horizon. At last, the Four’s lodge loomed ahead, perched in its own suspended realm, carved into the clouds like a temple untouchable by mortals. Caleb slowed the cloud, letting it hover just outside the glowing arch. He smiled at her when he said, “Good luck.” Then the cloud dipped, carrying him away before she could reply. Leaving her alone standing on the porch of The Four lodge. The wind curled strangely as Seraphine stepped closer to the lodge door. She pressed her palm against the polished surface, steadying herself when suddenly, a blur darted past her vis

Lyra followed the hissing sound and saw a few snakes hidden beside her wardrobe. She immediately duplicated herself again and tore them into pieces. The last serpent writhed in Lyra’s grip. Her mirrored selves tore into its body, splitting it into fragments that hissed and dissolved into ash. Then, one by one, her copies collapsed into smoke, until only the true Lyra remained. And then they all vanished. The shredded bodies of the snakes, the coiling shadows, the blood-stink in the air. Everything dissolved like smoke carried off by an unseen wind. Lyra turned, her chest rising and falling, and saw Seraphine pressed against the wall, trembling. Her eyes were wide, her hair stuck to her damp face, her lips shaking as though words had abandoned her. Lyra softened, stepping carefully across the floor. “Seraphine… are you okay?” Her voice was low, cautious, like she was afraid a wrong word might shatter the girl entirely. Seraphine stared at her, then at Caleb and Mina emergin

The moon hung pale and broken above the Academy grounds when Seraphine slipped out. Her footsteps were soft, her uniform held tight, as if the fabric could shield her from the stares and whispers still clawing at her skull. She found her way to their spot. The hidden corner by the old carved arch, where Demian had once grinned down at her before carrying her off into the night sky. Where Lucien’s teasing words had melted into sincerity. Where Alaric’s grave voice had promised strength. Where Kade’s quiet nod had felt like protection. Her throat tightened. The stone bench was empty. The shadows were undisturbed. No flicker of dragonfire wings, no familiar laugh curling like smoke, no dark silhouette waiting with fangs glinting. Just… silence. She sank onto the bench, fingers tracing the grooves in the stone. She remembered their last words ‘we’ll continue training tomorrow… this won’t be your only victory…’ But tomorrow had come. And gone. And no one was here. She told

Cressida’s eyes swept over Seraphine, slow and deliberate, tracing her from head to toe as though measuring every fracture waiting to be found. Then, with a sly curl of her lips, she smiled. “You’d better keep that promise of yours,” she murmured, her tone both mocking and amused. “You swore you wouldn’t kneel. That means I get to keep trying to break you and that’s fine by me. Enjoy the torture, Seraphine, because it’s only just beginning. We’ll see which one of us grows desperate first.” Her laugh rang out, sharp and cruel, before she pivoted on her heel. The remaining Fiery Five followed her in tight formation, their presence burning like embers in her wake. Gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd of students, shock thickening the air until it felt suffocating. Left in the silence of their absence, Seraphine stood unmoving, her body rigid, her heart pounding. Every whisper carried her name, every stare clung to her like a brand, but still she did not bow her head. ….

That night, exhaustion dragged Seraphine into sleep like chains. Every bone in her body ached, her palms still raw where the letters had burned, her thoughts heavy with the echo of laughter. She wanted only oblivion, a few short hours of silence. But there was no silence waiting for her. She dreamed of chains. Her castle dissolved. The soft mattress fell away, the blankets unraveled into smoke. She found herself kneeling on the cold marble floor of the Academy’s great hall. The vast arches loomed overhead, lit not by torchlight but by a sickly glow that painted everything in shades of gray-green. Shadows bent and twisted like living things. And around her, an unbroken circle of students. Their faces were blurred, melted into masks of nothing, but their voices were sharp, cruelly precise. “Kneel. Kneel. Kneel…” The chant hammered through her skull, every syllable a nail driving her further down. Her body tried to rise. She strained against the invisible weight, every muscle scr

The next morning, Seraphine rose before dawn. Her sleep had been shallow, fractured by the echo of laughter that wasn’t there, whispers that slithered under her pillow. She washed her face in icy water, told herself she would not break, and told herself she could make it through one day at a time. She tied her hair back, adjusted her uniform, and opened her door. The corridor was empty. For a blessed heartbeat, it felt normal. Then the whispers started. “There she is.” “The cursed one.” “Tag, tag, tagged.” The words slithered through the air, uttered by unseen voices, weaving a tapestry of dread that washed over her. Clenching her fists, she quickened her pace, trying to escape the weight of their haunting presence Her first humiliation struck before she had even set foot inside the classroom. The stairwell descending into the study halls curled downward like the coiled neck of a beast, wide steps of pale marble gleaming faintly in the torchlight. The banister, an elaborate

The room seemed to pulse with shadows, candlelight flickering against dark wood and iron. Chloe’s breath came shallow and fast as Valerius guided her toward the looming cross in the center. Her wrists were bound first, then her ankles, each leather strap pulled snug until she could no longer shift without feeling his control. The cold of the restraints sank into her skin, yet heat coiled low in her belly. She stood bound to the cross, her bare skin illuminated by the flickering candlelight that danced across the walls. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each one a testament to the tension coiled within her. The restraints bit into her wrists and ankles, a constant reminder of her vulnerability and the power she had willingly surrendered. Her body, a canvas of soft curves and delicate lines, was exposed, her nipples tight buds of arousal, her skin flushed with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Valerius stood before her, his presence commanding, his tall frame casting a long

The air was suffocating in its weight. Chloe clutched the sheets against her chest, heart hammering as Valerius loomed at the foot of the bed. Her lips trembled. “Valerius, I am really sorry… I wasn’t myself,” she whispered. “I missed you. I was lonely. I…” “Lonely?” His laugh was bitter, sharp. His voice cracked, breaking. “Do you know what that did to me? To hear it from her of all people? To imagine it?” Tears spilled down Chloe’s cheeks. “I hated myself for it the second it happened. But it was never love, it was pain. You are the only one I’ve ever loved.” Valerius’s breath shuddered. His eyes softened for just a heartbeat before hardening again. He paced, dragging a hand through his hair, the silence between them charged and unbearable. Finally, he turned back, his face carved in anguish. “Do you know what I felt when Cerys spoke those words? I wanted to rip her apart for daring to poison me with them but worse, I feared she was right. That you never truly belonged to

Chloe had lost all sense of time within the mansion’s gilded walls. Morning and night blurred together in a haze of velvet drapes, candlelight, and the steady click of Cordelia’s heels against marble floors. Every day, Cordelia came with a tray, meals plated like art, crystal glasses of water, sometimes tea laced with herbs she swore would “steady the spirit.” A doctor had also been summoned more than once, a discreet man with careful hands who checked her pulse, healing, and vitals with quiet professionalism. “You’re recovering faster than expected,” he told her one morning, packing away his instruments. “But you must rest. No strain.” Rest. That was all Chloe did. Rest and wait. And wait. For Valerius. But he never came. Not once. Though she was in his house, in his bedroom, surrounded by his presence, his scent lingering on the sheets, his books lined along the shelves, his shadow etched into every corner, he himself was absent. At first, she told herself he was bus

Alexa’s mouth opened, then closed, as though she were struggling to swallow her own words. Angela folded her arms lightly, her expression serene, though the glimmer in her eyes betrayed how much she was enjoying the turn of events. Daniel cleared his throat, stepping in between them with his easy grin. “Well, this is quite the coincidence, isn’t it?” he said, looking from his daughter to Angela. “One moment, Alexa, you’re raving about how Luxe cosmetics are the best on the market, and the next moment… boom, you insult the mother of Luxe herself.” Alexa’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Dad, I didn’t know! I was just…” Daniel chuckled and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “You were just doing what you always do, running that quick tongue of yours without checking the facts first.” He winked at Angela, clearly trying to defuse the awkwardness with humor. “Don’t mind her, Angela. She inherited my sharp mouth, but not my good timing.” Angela’s lips curved into a graceful smile, her voice

Angela strolled into the sleek, glass-walled cosmetic boutique, the soft lighting reflecting off golden shelves stacked with her daughter’s products. Pride bloomed in her chest as she reached for one of the lip kits bearing Chloe’s name, turning it over in her hand like a mother treasuring a photograph. She smiled faintly, imagining Chloe’s journey from uncertainty to success. Even with all the distance between them, moments like this reminded Angela of her daughter’s brilliance. Just then, a voice pierced the hush of the boutique. “Oh my God…” a young woman near the display let out a surprised laugh, her friend snickering beside her. “Even older women use these products?” Angela’s head turned slowly. “Excuse me?” The girl looked her up and down with an incredulous smirk. “No offense, it’s just… You know, you’re kind of older. Like, why still bother with makeup at that age? Are you trying to attract men or something? Shouldn’t you be doing, I don’t know, other things? Reading nov

The bar was dim, warm with amber light, and smelled faintly of whiskey and citrus. A low hum of conversation floated around them, but the booth Emma chose was tucked away in the corner, private enough to make Diana feel like they’d slipped into their own little world. Diana slid into the seat opposite, crossing her legs as she watched Emma settle in. “Alright,” she said, arching a brow. “You’ve been mysterious enough. What is it you wanted to tell me so badly?” Emma’s fingers toyed with the rim of her glass of water, her eyes flicking up and locking with Diana’s. There was nervousness there, but also determination. “I… I’ve seen you around before,” Emma began, her voice low but steady. “We live on the same street. For months, actually. I’d see you walking home sometimes, or heading out, and…” She broke off, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “This feels crazy to say out loud.” Diana leaned back, smirking despite herself. “Try me. I’ve heard worse.” Emma’s eyes softened. “I