Novel-novel oleh Ramish

Rhea I didn’t remember agreeing to follow him. But I did. Maybe it was the way he said my name, or the weight of the forest behind me, like it had swallowed something and wanted more. Either way, I was trailing after Kael Draven, the silver-eyed stranger who had just turned from a wolf into a man before my eyes.We didn’t speak as we moved through the trees. The silence pressed in like fog, and my breath kept catching, like I hadn’t stopped running after all. Eventually, we reached a clearing.There, hidden beneath the tangled arms of ancient pines, stood a stone cabin. It looked like it had been carved out of the forest itself—old, dark, and alive somehow. Like the forest didn’t want to let it go.Kael pushed open the heavy wooden door without a word. I hesitated for half a heartbeat before stepping inside. “Are you going to kill me?” I saw an unexpected frown appear on his face, “What? No!” there was a brief moment of silence, his eyes somehow had this sincerity in them and it gave

Rhea Ashwood had a habit of pulling people in. Not with kindness. With curiosity. With rot hiding under velvet. I wasn’t ready to stay inside and play the haunted girl today. After days of eerie dreams, flower threats, and cryptic books, I needed air. Movement. Distance from Elara’s whispers that lingered even in daylight.So I grabbed my jacket and walked. Past the rusted fence. Past the creek that gurgled like it had secrets. Past the trees that leaned just a little too close to the trail. Then I saw him.He stood beside a fallen log, kicking loose rocks with the kind of lazy ease that didn’t match his posture—like a man who was too used to being watched. Dark clothes. Wind-blown hair. A scar that cut across the bridge of his nose like a knife had once changed his mind.His eyes caught me before I could pretend not to see him.“You don’t look like the ‘morning stroll’ type,” he said, voice smooth like something between a laugh and a challenge. “Guess you don’t look like the welcomi

Rhea They say the dead leave behind memories. Elara didn’t. She left behind a war. I just didn’t know it yet. The journal sat like a curse on the table, its pages whispering to me every time I walked past it. That morning, after the dream and the… footprints, I made coffee strong enough to punch a hole through time and stared at that damn book.The line circled in red ink wouldn’t stop echoing in my head.“The Crimson blood is not a curse. It’s a key.”Key to what, I wonder?I flipped through more pages. Elara had been recording symbols, herbs, and moon phases. Sketches of animals with glowing eyes and wolves with runes etched into their fur. Words like “Alpha line,” “blood pact,” and “awakening.”I didn’t know whether she’d gone mad… or worse, whether she hadn’t. A knock on the door startled me. I blinked at it, half expecting another dream. But instead, there she was.A girl with violet-tipped hair, dark eyeliner, and a leather satchel full of books. She smiled nervously. "Hi. You

RheaNightmares. What are they made of? I used to ask myself that. Are they just scattered fragments of our fears stitched together by sleep? Or... are they warnings? I never found answers. Not until I came back to Ashwood.The road to this town was just like I remembered—crooked, fog-choked, whispering. Trees leaned in like old men trading secrets. Nothing had changed… except me. And her. Elara.I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles becoming white. The signboard for Ashwood passed in a blur, its wood chipped and rotting. Welcome to Ashwood. Home is where the heart is. The words felt like a mockery.Elara’s cottage stood at the edge of the woods, surrounded by silence and shadows. I had inherited the place, apparently. She had no will, no instructions. Just vanished from the world one night and left behind questions—and blood.I stepped inside. The air was stale with dust and lavender. Her smell. I stood in the doorway for a moment, bags at my feet, heart pounding. “Home,”