Novels by Clar_issa

My loves, we made it. The Alpha’s Sacrificial Mate is officially complete at 43 chapters. When I typed “Chapter 1” at 2am, I was just a Nigerian girl with a werewolf dream and terrible network. I never thought my book would find YOU. But you stayed. Through every chapter and words . Thank you for sacrificing your sleep, your data, and your peace of mind for this story. This is my first signed book, and finishing it feels fulfilling. If the book taught us anything, it’s that sacrifice is never wasted when it’s for love. To my GoodNovel family: your reviews are my oxygen. If this story touched you, please drop a rating. It helps more than you know. This isn’t goodbye. Clar_Issa is already cooking. My next book -Omega : Fated to the Alpha loading. Until then, stay wild, stay reading, and thank you for choosing me. With all my love, Clar_Issa 💛

Five Years Later Ronan’s POV: The orchards were full of fruit the branches were bending down because of the weight of the fruit. The air smelled like soil and freshly baked bread from the village down below. I was standing on the balcony watching a pup with black fur playing in the tall grass. He was making a pitched noise that made the guards at the gate laugh. He was a boy, very fast and when he changed back into a boy his eyes were a beautiful silver color. "He is trying to catch dragonflies, he has your stubbornness. " Lira said, coming to stand beside me. She looked very happy the purple stains on her hands were gone. She was wearing a gold ring that showed she was the Lunar Empress. "And he has your light," I added, kissing her temple. I put my arm around her. Pulled her close to me. The world was a place now. The Silver-Grip was a place where people could heal. It was the center of a new world where magic and people with wolf blood could live together in harmony. "L

Ronan’s POVThe Great Hall of the Silver-Grip was silent. The air still suffocating to me as I go through my thoughts. I stood before the mirror in my room staring at a man I hardly recognized. The shiny light of the transformation had faded, leaving me in my skin but the scars looked different now.I looked at my hands. They were clean washed raw with cold water. I could still feel Kaels life slipping away from me.“The shadows were so loud " he had said.I closed my eyes. For a second I was back in the mountain pass feeling his heart stop beating against my blade. I had spent my life preparing to kill monsters. I had never prepared to kill the boy I used to race with in the orchards.I leaned my forehead against the glass of the mirror. I was the leader of the Silver Moon. I had won the Great War. So why did I feel empty?The door creaked open. I did not need to look to know it was Lira. Our connection. A steady golden-white thread vibrating in my chest. Told me everything. She was

Lira’s POV The silence was the loudest thing about the Lunar Peaks. After the screaming of the Void and the clash of steel, the stillness of the mountain was almost physical. We didn't leave immediately. The wounded were too many, and the exhaustion was too deep. I sat on a flat stone overlooking the valley, my hands resting in my lap. They were no longer glowing, but a faint, pearlescent shimmer remained beneath my skin,a permanent reminder that I was no longer just Lira the servant. Ronan approached from behind, his footsteps heavy. He didn't say anything; he simply sat beside me and pulled my head onto his shoulder. "We lost a lot of good people," he said, his voice raw. He wasn't talking as an Alpha to his pack; he was talking as a man to his mate. "We did," I whispered, thinking of Kael, and the young guards, and the Hollowed who had faded into stardust to buy us time. "But they didn't die for a throne, Ronan. They died for the morning. Look." On the horizon, the first

Lira’s POV The final confrontation isn't fought on the snow of the peaks, but in the shimmering, distorted reality of the Void. As the Solar Eclipse begins, the sky turns into a cloud of black and fire, signaling the end of the old world and the birth of the new. As our hands stayed locked, Ronan and I were pulled from the physical battlefield into a realm of endless mirrors and swirling violet mist. The Witch stood at the center of a dying star, her form flickering between a beautiful queen and a skeletal horror. Beside her, Dominic now a hollow shell of the Star-Iron and shadow snarled, his presence cold enough to crack the air. "You brought the sun to my doorstep," the Witch hissed, her voice echoing like a thousand dying screams. "But here, in the dark between worlds, the sun is just a memory." Dominic lunged, his movements jagged and unnatural. But Ronan, in his metallic platinum wolf form, met him mid-air. It wasn't a fight of teeth and claws; it was a collision of light

Lira’s POV The base of the Lunar Peaks was not made of stone, but of calcified shadows. As our exhausted army marched into it , the crimson light from the summit turned the snow into the color of a fresh wound. Ronan stood at the front, his hand gripped so tightly around his sword that his knuckles were white. The death of Kael hung over him like a shroud, but there was no time for grief. The Witch stood upon the highest crag, her stag-skull mask replaced by a crown. She wasn't just a woman anymore; she was a flaw in our world. "The Key has arrived," her voice boomed, vibrating in our very marrow. "And she brings a graveyard with her." With a flick of her wrist, the ground erupted. Thousands of shadow-wraiths—the spirits of every Atoner ever sacrificed—rose from the earth. They weren't the "Hollowed" we had saved; these were twisted by centuries of hate. The battle was a slaughter. Silas and the Winter-Fang were being swallowed by the tide of shadows. Ronan fought like a god pos

Alaric’s PoVI wake up because she’s watching me.Not guard duty. Not a threat at the tent flap. Hazel. She thinks I’m still asleep. I’m not. Haven’t been for ten minutes. I was too busy memorizing the way dawn hits her face when she thinks I can’t see.“Staring,” I say. My voice is deep. Sleep-soft. I only let it get like that for her.“Admiring,” she shoots back. That’s new. That’s ours. I open my eyes. She’s propped on her elbow. Hair wild. Moonvine twisted. The cut on her ribs is just visible under the furs. My bandage. My hands did that. Cleaned it. Bandaged it. Kept her.“Ribs?” I ask. Have to. The warlord in me needs the status. The mate in me needs to know she’s not hurting.“Your doing,” she says. “So they’re fine.”I roll. Trap her under me before I can stop myself. Need to feel her breathe. Need to feel her here. She doesn’t flinch. Never does. Not with me. I bend. Press my mouth to the bandage. To the skin I almost lost. “Good.”Syra’s pot bangs outside. Late. “Up!

Hazel’s PoVThe next morning starts with his hand , warm on my ribs. Right over the cut he cleaned last night. Thumb moving back and forth. Like he’s checking I’m still real.I’m awake before him. That never happens. Usually he’s up first, sword in hand, scanning for threats before the sun’s even brave enough to show. But today the tent is light and quiet and he’s still. His face is softer asleep. No Alpha. No war. Just Alaric. I let myself look. The scar on his eyebrow from the gate fight three years ago. The new one on his jaw from yesterday. The way his lashes are too long for a man who kills for a living.“Staring,” he mumbles. Doesn’t open his eyes. But his mouth twitches.“Admiring,” I correct him. He finally looks. Gray eyes, hazy with sleep. With peace. That’s new too. “Dangerous habit.”“Worth it,” I say. Steal his line from Rook.He rolls, and suddenly I’m under him. Wrapped in his arms, his weight. Not trapping. Holding. “Ribs?” he asks. All serious now as he checks my

Hazel’s PoV Early in the morning the next day, Syra has to bang a pot with a spoon to get the forty-three children out of their tents. “Up! Unless you want Rook to eat everything!” Rook is already in the circle with a bowl bigger than his face. “Worth it,” he says when Miri shoves him. Mara learns letters. She sits on a log outside the healer’s wing. Her wrists are still wrapped in clean cloth. The white rings from three years of collars haven’t faded. Kip is beside her with Pike’s slate. “This is M,” Kip says. He draws it slow in the dirt. “For Mara. And for Mom.” Mara picks up a stick. Her hand shakes. She copies him. The M wobbles. “And this is K,” Kip says. “For Kip. And for ‘I kept my promise.’” Mara makes the K. Kip puts his hand over hers to steady it. “You learned,” she whispers. “Without me.” “Hazel taught me,” Kip says. “But I saved books for you.” I leave before they see me wipe my eyes. Sara meets the pack. Lia does the talking. She hasn’t let

Hazel’s POVWe train for two days. Not warriors. Kids. “You don’t have to,” I tell them. We’re in the old armory. Lina’s School now. Forty three sets of eyes. Some scared. Some angry. All listening. “Fighting is a choice. Healing is a choice. Running is a choice. You choose.”Rook raises his hand first. “I fight. Like Dad.” He means Cleric. He started calling him that yesterday. “Me too,” Miri says. “For Eda.”“Me,” Eda says. “For Miri.”Pike stands. “For the Last War. So no more kids get sold.”Twelve in total. Rook, Miri, Eda, Galen, Tobin, Bran, Dev, Jori, and four others. All over ten. All chose it. “Then we train,” Kael says. He’s limping less now. “Not to kill. To survive. To protect. To come home.”The other thirty one learn healing. Bandages. Moonvine. Splints. “You keep them alive,” I tell Kip, who is six and won’t fight but won’t leave Rook’s side either. “That’s how you win wars.”Kip nods. “Like you saved me.”Nina watches from the doorway. Baby Lina strapped to her ch

Hazel’s POVWe bury them at dawn. Five graves. Three from Winter Tooth. Two from Silver Creek. Borin can’t stand. His Beta, Harrick, speaks for him. “They died for the Pact,” Harrick says. “Not for a pack. For an idea. That kids aren’t property.”“They’ll be remembered,” Syra says. Her voice breaks on the last word. The two Silver Creek dead were her cousins. “In Lina’s School. In every pup who grows up free.”The forty three are quiet. Watching. Learning what death looks like when it’s not in a cell. Rook holds Tala’s hand. Miri holds Eda’s. Pike holds Kip’s. Finn, who is five, holds mine. “Are they with the Moon now?” Finn whispers. “Yes,” I say. “She watches all of us.”We don’t plant moonvine. Not yet. We plant steel. Sword hilts, driven into the earth at each head. “So Fen knows,” Alaric says. “This is what it costs.”Nina’s water breaks at noon. She’s in the infirmary. Syra was checking her bandages from where Fen’s knife cut her arm. Shallow, but deep enough to need stitc

Hazel’s POV“HE’S OUT.”The paper shakes in my hand .“Fen,” Kael says. “Tormund’s brother. Beta of High Pine before Syra took it. He escaped. Two hours ago. Killed three guards with his bare hands.”The forty three are sleeping. Spread across the pack house, the infirmary, the new barracks we built. Safe. For now.“How?” Alaric asks. His voice is quiet. That’s worse than yelling. “He was in the deep cells. Iron chains. Six guards.”“He had help,” the scout says. “From outside. Someone opened the door. Someone who knew the rotation.”Tormund smiles from his cell when we tell him. Teeth bloody from biting his gag off. “You think you won?” he says. “You struck one law. My brother will write ten more. In your blood.”I don’t answer him. I don’t have to. “Double the watch,” Alaric orders. “On the kids. On Nina. On the gates. No one sleeps alone tonight.”Dawn. Luna ceremony day.We planned it for weeks. Before Tormund. Before Fen. Before the message saying “HE’S OUT.” “We still do it,”