Novels by Fabiana Y.

The wind died when the crater formed. Not a single gust dared cross the broken rim, as if even the air understood what slept below.Damian stood at the edge, his armor dusted in soot, eyes locked on the swirling glow deep beneath the surface. The others gathered behind him—Sybil gripping her staff, Nella with her spear still smoking from lightning discharge, and Taro limping slightly, his shoulder bandaged. None of them spoke.The silence stretched until Damian finally said, “We’re going down.”Sybil’s head snapped toward him. “We don’t know what’s waiting—”“We know what’s not waiting,” he cut in. “Mia. And I’m not leaving her there.”No one argued. Not this time.They tied ropes to the remaining stone pillars and began the descent. The heat grew with every step, a dry, pulsing warmth that smelled faintly of iron and earth. The walls of the crater shimmered—veins of light snaking through black rock, some glowing silver, others red, winding together in a pattern too precise to be natu

The first sunrise after the storm came thin and pale, its light filtering through smoke that refused to lift.Aeloria no longer looked like home—it looked like something trying to remember what home meant.Mia woke to the sound of wind moving through torn canvas. The fever had broken, but her body still trembled with every breath. She felt the echo of last night—the power, the pain, the voice. The red veins that had crept beneath her skin were fading now, leaving faint silver traces instead, as if light had learned to bleed.Damian sat nearby, head bowed in exhaustion. When she stirred, he looked up, relief softening his face. “Welcome back.”She tried to smile, but her lips felt cracked. “How long?”“Two days,” he said. “You stopped breathing three times.”“I got better.”He gave a breathless laugh, half disbelieving, half grateful.Mia pushed herself upright. Her vision swam, then steadied. The camp was quieter than before. Fewer tents. Fewer people. The air smelled of ash and herbs

The fire burned low, throwing long shadows across the camp. The Hybrids spoke little; exhaustion had dulled even fear into silence. Beyond the cliff, the forest pulsed faintly with veins of crimson light, each one twitching like a heartbeat trapped beneath the soil.Mia stood at the edge of the camp, barefoot, her toes sinking into the damp earth. She could feel the rhythm beneath her soles—the breath of the wounded realm, uneven but alive. Every inhale of wind drew the same sound through her chest. The world’s pain had become her own.Damian approached quietly, a cloak draped over his shoulders. “You haven’t stopped listening since we arrived.”“If I stop,” she murmured, “it goes quiet. And quiet means dying.”He folded his arms. “Then at least sit while you save the world.”She smiled faintly but didn’t move. “Can’t. It’s changing again.”Lightning crackled far away, painting the horizon in split seconds of white. When the flash faded, the forest below shifted—the red veins withdrew

Silence.Not the kind born of peace, but of something broken too deeply to remember its sound.Mia opened her eyes to a world drowned in light. The air shimmered around her, thick with the scent of burned magic. The sky above was no longer silver but fractured—cracks of darkness laced through it like veins, bleeding faint ribbons of color.Her body ached. Every bone screamed with exhaustion, every nerve buzzing from the surge that had torn through her. The blue crystal was gone, nothing but fine dust in her palm.“Mia!”The voice was distant at first, muffled by ringing ears. Then it grew sharper. Damian’s shadow loomed over her, face streaked with soot, eyes wide with fear.She tried to speak but coughed instead, forcing air through raw lungs. “Did it work?”He helped her sit up, scanning the horizon. “If by ‘work’ you mean the world hasn’t collapsed yet, then… maybe.”Mia followed his gaze. The Aether Spire still stood, but its glow had changed. What was once silver and pure now fli

The morning after the forging dawned pale and cold. The storm had left the valley glistening like glass, every blade of grass tipped with dew and ash. Mia stood at the ridge, her cloak snapping in the wind, eyes fixed westward toward the Shadowed Peaks. They looked impossibly far—jagged silhouettes carved from the bones of the world, each crowned in rolling black clouds.Behind her, the camp stirred with the faint hum of renewal. The Hybrids were awake, moving with the quiet rhythm of discipline reborn. For the first time since the battle, there was structure again—purpose where there had been chaos.“Form up!” Damian’s voice cut through the morning fog. He moved among them like a blade through smoke, sharp and steady. “You all know your positions. We move at dusk.”Mia turned, watching him direct the preparations. For a fleeting second, she let herself feel something like pride. They had broken, yes—but they had not stayed broken.Nella jogged up to her, tightening her bracers. “The

The valley no longer screams. It whispers.Smoke coils from the ruins like the last breath of a dying god. Ash drifts through the morning air, soft as snow. What was once green is gray, and what was once bright is buried beneath the weight of silence. Yet among the wreckage, life stirs. Wolves move through the mist, carrying the wounded. Hybrids dig shallow graves, marking each with a stone etched with light.Mia walks between them, her cloak dragging through the soot. The crown of silver flame that once burned bright above her head is dim now, reduced to a faint shimmer when she breathes. The mark of her bond pulses weakly on her wrist, a ghost of the power she used to command. But her eyes—her eyes still hold the fire of purpose.She stops near the river, where the current runs black with ash. Nella stands there, washing blood from her hands. Her movements are slow and deliberate.“He’s gone,” Mia says softly.Nella nods without looking up. “But the mark remains. The scouts say it s