Novel-novel oleh Chloe

The silence after Varrow’s retreat lingered long after the shadows collapsed.The wall still bled where his blows had landed, streaks of black ichor smouldering in cracks across the stone. The mist had pulled back, but the air felt fouled, like breathing smoke.Killian’s chest heaved as he stood alone on the battlements, sword slick in his hand, scar glowing faintly beneath the ruined bandages. The Guild fighters stared at him, a ring of faces caught between awe and fear.No one moved.Then the murmurs began.“He’s not one of us.”The words came from a young soldier, blood across his face, his pike trembling in his grip. His eyes were fixed on Killian, wide, almost wild.“I saw it,” he said louder, voice cracking. “The mark. It wasn’t a wound. It burned. Like it was alive.”Another soldier shifted uneasily. “Without him, we’d be dead.”“Without him, we’ll all be dead when that thing inside him breaks loose!” the boy snapped back, his voice shrill with terror. “He’s no command

The silence after the drums was a silence too heavy to be natural.No clatter of steel. No screams. No howls.Only the sound of Killian’s own breath and the faint hiss of the scar beneath his bandages, glowing faintly as though a coal had been pressed into his arm.Across the rubble-strewn wall, Varrow stepped forward through the mist.The warlord’s armour gleamed like obsidian oil, runes glowing faintly red across its black plates. The crown wrought into his helm was jagged, wrong, a set of barbs curving like broken teeth around his skull. His presence pressed against the air itself; the mist bent away from him, curling back like smoke recoiling from flame.The Guild did not move. The beasts did not move. Even the warlocks below stood still, hands half-raised, waiting.It was as though the world had agreed: this was no longer their battle.It was between two.Killian gripped his sword tighter. He could feel the First inside him, trembling with laughter.“At last,” it whisper

The drums did not stop.Each beat rattled the monastery walls, shaking loose dust that rained down like ash. The sound seeped into bone, deeper than marrow, as though the world itself had been shackled to Varrow’s rhythm.Killian stood on the broken battlements, scar wrapped in bandages that burned against his skin. His sword was heavy in his grip — not from weight, but from exhaustion pressing through his limbs like lead. Below, the mist stirred, rippling in waves that hid the enemy from sight.Then the mist broke.They came not as men alone, but as things twisted by shadow.The first line were armoured soldiers, shields locked, faces hidden behind steel masks painted with the warlord’s sigil — a broken sun bleeding into a crown. Behind them moved the beasts: wolf-shapes that ran like men, hands ending in claws, jaws dripping black ichor that hissed when it struck the ground. Their howls drowned the horns.And higher still — ladders rising, carried by lines of soldiers chanting

The monastery walls trembled before the first arrow ever flew.At dawn the sky was leaden, a dull grey veil that pressed low against the hills. Mist clung to the ground like a shroud, wrapping the ruins in silence so fragile it seemed the world itself was holding its breath. Then came the drums.Deep, patient, endless.Each strike rolled across the valley, rattling the cracked stained glass and shaking dust loose from the ancient beams. Horns answered in long, low wails — not a call to arms, but a promise of inevitability.The Guild gathered in the nave, their faces pale in the firelight, eyes flicking toward Killian as though expecting him to break the silence. He didn’t. Not yet. He stood at the broken arch where sunlight filtered through, scar hidden beneath torn bandage, jaw tight.The First pressed against his thoughts, eager, hungry.“Do you hear them? That sound is not war — it is inevitability. They come because they know you will break. And when you do, I will lead them

The monastery was not silent.It breathed.Stone groaned with every draft. The fires guttered low, painting the ruined nave in a copper haze that made shadows crawl like restless insects. Even the wounded, lying in rows along broken pews, refused to sleep — their groans and whispers kept the air taut, like a bowstring drawn too far.Killian stood apart.He leaned against the fractured wall where the scar on his arm throbbed in time with his pulse. Each heartbeat brought a flicker of light beneath his skin — faint, silver, unnatural. He hid it beneath torn cloth, but he knew Harlow had seen. He knew Daryl had felt it when Killian dragged him back from the vault’s hunger.The First’s voice was quieter now. But not gone. Never gone.“You hold them together,” it murmured, low in his skull. “But for how long? Fear eats faster than fire. Let me take their fear. Let me make it obedience.”Killian closed his eyes, exhaled slow. Not yours. Not ever.The Guild gathered in clusters aroun

The battle was over, but silence weighed heavier than steel.The broken monastery breathed smoke and dust. Corpses lay sprawled among shattered pillars, the stone streaked black and silver where shadows had torn through the fight. Blood dripped in slow rhythm from broken beams, and the last echoes of steel on steel still clung to the air like ghosts that refused to fade.In the center of it all, Killian knelt.His sword lay beside him, abandoned in a pool of blood not his own. His arm shook where the scar burned, veins spiderwebbed black and silver beneath torn flesh. He pressed his hand against the stone for balance, refusing to bow, refusing to fall — but he could feel every eye on him.The Guild had stopped moving.Men who had fought through fire and broken bone stood frozen, their swords slack in hand, staring at him as if he were no longer flesh and blood. Even Carter Benton, mouth forever twisted in disdain, had gone still, eyes narrowed and calculating.It wasn’t victory that h

The black-furred wolf hit the dirt with a thunderous crash, landing in the pit like a creature born of nightmares. Bigger than the rest. Shoulders like stone. Claws like curved knives that scraped the ground with every step. His eyes glowed red, a twisted reflection of Damien’s golden fire. This wasn’t just another wolf. This was Marcus’s executioner.The crowd fell silent. Even the blood-hungry howls dimmed as the enforcer stalked forward, his fur bristling like storm clouds. The silence carried weight — the kind of reverence wolves only gave to predators that were too brutal, too efficient, to be anything but feared.Damien stood across from him, golden fur torn and slick with blood. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, wounds stinging, ribs aching with every breath. His wolf trembled on the edge of collapse, exhaustion pulling at his muscles. He had already fought four battles, already shed more blood than most wolves did in a lifetime.But Emilia’s scent lingered in the ai

The sun was still low when they dragged Damien from his quarters. His body ached from the night before, every mark on his skin a reminder of Emilia’s touch, every scratch and bruise proof of what they had stolen together. But beneath the exhaustion, his wolf prowled restless, golden fire coiled and ready.This was no ordinary fight. This was survival. This was love. This was his claim.Emilia’s scent still clung to him as the doors to the trial arena opened.The trial grounds were carved into the heart of the pack’s compound — a vast circle of hard-packed earth, ringed by stone, a pit meant for blood and dominance. Wolves lined the walls, their howls rising in a chorus of bloodlust. Alpha Marcus sat high on a dais, his eyes cold as obsidian. At his side was Selene, lips curved in a cruel smile, her silver dress gleaming in the pale light.And at the far edge, restrained between two enforcers, was Emilia.Damien’s wolf snarled at the sight — not just at her capture, but at the way

The door clicked shut behind them, and the world vanished.No pack. No wolves. No Marcus. No Selene’s sharp laughter echoing in the halls. Just Damien, golden fire flaring in his eyes, and Emilia, trembling yet burning with need, standing too close to escape. The private quarters were a sanctuary, but even here, danger lingered — the knowledge that Marcus could strike at dawn made every touch, every kiss, every heartbeat charged with raw, primal energy.Damien’s wolf surged beneath his skin, claws flexing, teeth bared, instincts screaming. His body practically vibrated with need, the bond between them white-hot and demanding. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, capturing Emilia in a grip that left her breathless before their lips even met.“You’re mine,” he growled, voice low, vibrating through the room and her chest. “Do you understand that?”Her hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into him as her own wolf howled in response. “Yes,” she gasped, voice trembling, heat po

The clearing didn’t breathe.It was alive with sound — the rustle of wolves shifting uneasily at the edges, the scrape of claws on dirt, Selene’s husky laughter curling like smoke — but the air itself was held taut, like the entire world balanced on a blade’s edge.Marcus’s wolf loomed, silver eyes searing into Damien. The pressure of his dominance pressed down like a mountain, forcing the pack to bend, bow, break.But Damien still stood.Barely.Every muscle in his body trembled under the weight. His wolf snapped and snarled, golden fire blazing in defiance. The strain was unbearable, but the bond kept him on his feet — the burning tether to Emilia behind him, her scent flooding his senses, her heartbeat trembling in his ears.He would not bend. Not with her watching. Not with her life tied to his.Kaelen stood to the left, face scarred, eyes dark with a history unspoken. He hadn’t moved since throwing down his challenge, but the way he stood — relaxed, dangerous, a predator w

The clearing shuddered beneath the weight of Marcus’s presence. His massive wolf form prowled forward, silver eyes blazing like molten steel. The air grew heavy, oppressive, thick with dominance. Every wolf in the vicinity trembled, instinct forcing heads to bow, spines to bend.Except Damien.Golden fire flared around him, his wolf surging, clawing to the surface, demanding he fight, protect, claim. He pressed Emilia behind him, shielding her with his body, every line of him tense, vibrating with restrained violence.“Run,” Damien snarled softly over his shoulder, golden aura searing. “If I fall, you run.”Emilia’s voice shook, but her hands clutched at him desperately. “I won’t leave you. Not ever. Don’t you dare ask me to.”The bond pulsed between them, burning hot, twining their hearts together like molten chains. Damien’s wolf roared inside him, demanding he turn and claim her right there, consequences be damned.Selene stepped lightly into the circle of moonlight, storm-gr

The forest was alive, a cage of shadows and whispered threats. Every sound, every flicker of movement set nerves on edge. Damien’s golden eyes cut through the darkness, muscles coiled, senses razor-sharp. His wolf growled low inside him, urging him to claim, protect, and fight. The bond between him and Emilia flared white-hot, twisting fear, desire, and adrenaline into a single, searing flame.Emilia clung to him, trembling. Her small hands gripped his shoulders as her body pressed tight against his back. Her heartbeat thundered in his chest, mingling with his, the bond pulling, demanding, scorching.“We can’t keep running,” she whispered, voice shaky. “He’s too strong… Marcus.”“I know,” Damien rasped, jaw tight, golden aura flaring. “But we have to survive. And I will protect you. Always.”A rustle of leaves pulled Damien’s gaze to the shadowed trees. The figure from the previous night stepped forward — tall, cloaked, presence radiating authority and danger. Eyes glinting like m