Novels by Ametuo ummulhani

By the time Arya reached her chambers, the morning light had already begun to swell across the glass panes. The world outside glimmered—rosy gold mist curling around the far gardens, the faint trill of the aviary—but none of it felt real. Not after that moment in his office. Not after those words.Be careful who you trust.They replayed in her head with every breath. They didn’t sound like advice. They sounded like confession.She closed the door softly behind her, her back pressing against the carved wood as if to steady herself against the weight of thoughts that had no shape yet but threatened to swallow her whole.Her eyes drifted toward the small desk by the window. The letter lay there, the same one she had hidden away the previous night. The parchment still hummed faintly—soft, muted, alive in some way that defied reason. Even when untouched, it seemed to pulse faintly, as though aware of her.And now, her father had it too. Or another like it.She cro

The night stretched long in the ice wood pack, heavy with unspoken things. Candles burned low in their sconces, throwing gold over the marble floors and the veined tapestries that bore the sigil of my father’s line — the crescent wolf beneath the red crown. It was beautiful, regal, and somehow… wrong.I walked through the corridors with my cloak drawn close, the echo of my boots soft against the stone. Behind me, Bobby followed at a respectful distance. He said nothing, but i felt his presence like a blade still sheathed — reliable, ready, but always assessing.I paused before the great door of the council library — a vault of secrets older than most of the pack itself. The guards were gone. I had made sure of it; a whispered command from the Alpha king mate, was enough to buy me a few hours of solitude.I pressed my palm to the carved wolf emblem. The door sighed open.“Keep watch,” I muttered.Bobby nodded once. “If I hear anything, I’ll make a distraction.”

The night stretched long and thin around in icewood. Outside, the wind combed through the frost-heavy pines, carrying whispers that could have been breath — or memory.The feather lay before me on the desk, glimmering faintly under the candlelight.Its veins pulsed with a color I couldn’t name, neither violet nor silver, but something between the two — something alive.Bobby had refused to leave, posted by the door like a sentinel carved from impatience and loyalty. Every few moments, he would mutter something under his breath — a joke to fill the silence, but the words always died before they left his mouth.“This thing gives me the creeps,” he finally said, glancing over. “It’s… humming.”“It’s resonating,” I corrected quietly, not looking away.“Right. Resonating. Much less creepy,” Bobby muttered.I smiled faintly, but my attention never wavered from the letter.The parchment lay flat, its strange runes faintly glowing in the feather’s proximity.

Then the room was empty again. The wards sealed. The candle flickered once — then went out.Kaid stood there in the dark, his breath slow, his mind burning.He could still hear Adam's last words echoing in his skull, heavy as iron:The thing that hunts her wears the shape of what she loves most.He clenched his fists.No more hesitation.No more waiting.When dawn fully broke, the Alpha of Red moon would begin to move his pieces.----------------------------------------------Kaid povI couldn't sleep throughout the night, Dark and Ravage kept stirring my emotions. As soon as first light of dawn bled through the frost-tinted windows of Red moon pack, I stood at the northern terrace, cloak brushing the cold stone, eyes fixed on the horizon where the forests stretched like a sleeping beast.Adams words hadn’t left me.The echoes of his words rang deep in my pulse. Something beneath your land. He had said.I could still feel that hum — fai

Third person pov The room was silent but for the wind. A candle burned low beside Kaid’s desk, its flame steady — unnervingly steady — as though even the air itself dared not stir in the Alpha’s presence.Kaid sat half turned toward the hearth, the faint glow of embers drawing a bronze edge along his jaw. The wound across his shoulder, though half healed, pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat — a reminder of the ambush, the blood, the near-death he’d met at the border. But that wasn’t what kept him awake.He felt it before it happened.A shift — small, deliberate, like the air folding in on itself.The wards he had woven into the chamber’s bones — crafted with silver dust, iron binding, and the quiet muttering of Icewood incantations — shivered. Not broke. Not burned. Simply... parted.He rose, slowly.The candle’s flame flared once, then steadied again.From the far corner of the room, the shadows lengthened — a ripple across the wall that deepened, d

My heart raced . Yet I pressed my fingers along the seam until i felt the slight give of a latch, hidden just beneath the wood grain. It opened with a soft, reluctant click.Inside lay a handful of sealed envelopes. Most bore my father’s crest — the familiar silver wolf of their bloodline. But one was different.It was bound in black wax, the seal unmarked except for a single vertical line — simple, clean, and unnerving. The parchment itself was darker, almost gray, as if time had already touched it though it looked newly made.It piqued my interest When i lifted it, the faintest pulse traveled through my fingertips — a thrum like the echo of a heartbeat, faint but undeniably there.I froze. My wolf hawled in recognition to the seal.I gasped quickly withdrawing my hands from it. It stopped the moment I withdrew my hand, leaving only silence.I stared at it for a long time, my pulse matching its ghost rhythm. Then, carefully, i broke the seal.The