Novels by Roselle Marcelinee

The shattered halves of the heavy stone doors crashed inward, slamming against the floor of the inner sanctum with a deafening, thunderous crack. A massive cloud of gray dust and pulverized rock plumed into the air, instantly swirling into the violent winter storm.I stepped through the ruined threshold, my heavy boots crunching over the debris.The freezing northern wind howled down through a massive, open skylight in the center of the vaulted ceiling, bringing thick sheets of blinding white snow directly into the tower. But the freezing temperature of the storm was completely eclipsed by the sickening, toxic heat radiating from the center of the room.The air tasted like burnt copper, dry static electricity, and rotting earth.A hidden mercenary, stationed just inside the doorway to guard the entrance, lunged at me through the settling dust. He thrust a short combat blade directly toward my injured ribs, desperate to protect his master.I did not have the strength or the magic of an

CULLEN'S POVThe first pale, freezing light of morning was just beginning to crack the eastern horizon, painting the heavy snow clouds in shades of bruised gray and dull pink. But the natural dawn was completely poisoned by the sickly, pulsing purple glow radiating from the peak of the Jagged Teeth stronghold.I marched at the very front of the Arden column, my massive boots crushing the thick ice beneath my feet.The steep, narrow mountain path was a treacherous, frozen incline leading directly up the sheer cliff face. The freezing northern wind howled down the gorge, carrying sharp shards of sleet that bit sharply into my exposed face. My lungs burned with the thin, freezing altitude, but I kept my pace relentless. I was the King of the North, and my army moved exactly to the rhythm of my boots.Beside me, Caomh Colson walked in total silence.The former ruler of the Silv

MEGHANN'S POV The thick green canvas of the command tent offered very little protection against the violent northern storm.I paced restlessly in front of the folding table, the heavy thud of my boots muffled by the frozen dirt floor. My green eyes were locked on the topographical map spread across the wood. The red marker designating the Jagged Teeth stronghold stared back at me, a tiny, lethal point completely surrounded by impossible terrain.Outside, the gorge was a coiled spring. The low murmur of hundreds of enforcers checking their weapons bled through the canvas, mixing with the howling wind. But beneath the mechanical sounds of an army preparing to kill, there was a dark, pulsing undercurrent in the air. The faint, sickly purple glow flashing from the peak of the mountain was bleeding directly into the atmosphere, making my skin crawl with an unnatural, toxic static.Bronson was starting the ritual.The heavy flaps of the tent suddenly whipped open.Cullen stepped inside. Hi

CAOMH'S POV The frozen gorge at the base of the Jagged Teeth stronghold was completely silent.Hundreds of Arden enforcers were camped across the deep, snow-covered valley, but they moved like ghosts. There were no large, roaring bonfires to provide warmth against the bitter northern chill. There was no shouting, no loud laughter, and no heavy machinery running. The entire military camp operated with a terrifying, flawless discipline, using only small, smokeless ember pits to keep their hands from freezing. They were a coiled spring, pulled tight and waiting for the sun to rise so they could snap forward and release their violence upon the mountain.I sat alone on a flat, frost-covered boulder at the very edge of the camp.I held the heavy hunting knife Cullen had given me in my right hand. In my left, I held a small, flat whetstone I had borrowed from an Arden scout.The rhythmic, scraping sound of the stone sliding over the steel edge was the only noise I made. I drew the blade acr

MEGHANN'S POV The heavy steel doors of the mobile command transport slid open with a loud, grinding screech.A bitter gust of northern wind howled into the brightly lit tactical bay, tossing loose, freezing snow across the iron floorplates. The air inside the transport tasted like dark roasted coffee, heated electronics, and the sharp, sour tang of diesel exhaust.Shawn Zach Comhraidhe stepped through the doorway. He dragged a thrashing, crying woman by the collar of her heavy winter coat. With a rough, powerful shove, the veteran scout threw his prisoner forward.Caryn Green hit the grated iron floor hard, her knees slamming against the unyielding steel.The rogue witch-healer scrambled weakly, her hands bound tightly behind her back with thick nylon zip-ties. She looked pathetic. Her dark hair was matted with melting snow and dirt. Her clothes reeked of damp wool, stale sage, and the overwhelming, pungent scent of pure fear. She shivered violently, her wide brown eyes darting aroun

CULLEN'S POV The frozen ground of the northern wastes felt like jagged glass beneath my massive paws.I pushed forward through the blinding white storm, leading the vanguard of the Arden army. In my shifted form, I was a towering beast of pitch-black fur and heavy muscle, built to survive the harshest winters on the continent. But this environment was actively trying to kill us. The bitter wind howled down the narrow mountain pass, carrying sharp shards of ice that tore at our eyes and stung our exposed snouts. The snow was incredibly deep, reaching past my chest, forcing every single wolf in the front line to burn massive amounts of energy just to carve a path forward.We were completely surrounded by towering, dark pine trees and sheer cliffs of jagged gray rock. The air smelled of frozen earth, dry pine needles, and the faint, bitter scent of sulfur lingering from the explosives Bronson had triggered hours ago.I paused, raising my large head to test the wind.“Alpha Vanguard, hol