Novelas de Ramish

The study at Draven Estate felt smaller than it ever had.Not because of walls or stone or space—but because the truth had weight. It pressed down on the room, on every breath drawn within it, thick and suffocating.The Thorne Grimoire lay closed now in Violet’s hands, its cracked leather cover darkened by centuries of secrets. The candlelight flickered against the ancient sigils etched faintly into its spine, as if the book itself still breathed.Rhea stood near the far side of the room, her back to everyone. Her fingers gripped the edge of the window frame, knuckles pale, shoulders tight. Outside, Ashwood stretched endlessly—trees unmoving, shadows quiet. Too quiet.Marek leaned against the heavy oak table, arms crossed, jaw set. His eyes moved between Violet and Rhea, sharp, calculating, as though measuring damage after a battlefield strike.Kael stood at the center.Still.Unmoving.But his aura was anything but calm.It simmered beneath his skin, restrained only by will. His eyes

The silence after Violet’s last word did not feel like peace.It felt like a held breath—one the world itself had been holding for centuries.The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its warmth failing to touch the cold that had settled deep in the chamber. Violet sat motionless, fingers resting on the edge of Thorne’s Grimoire, as if the book might bite if she let go. Rhea stood near the window, her reflection faint against the glass, eyes distant—seeing something none of them could. Marek leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his neck stood out. And Kael…Kael stood still as a statue.But the Alpha’s aura had shifted—low, dangerous, coiled.Violet swallowed. “This is where the record changes,” she said quietly. “From warning… to war.”Kael nodded once. “Then read.”The candlelight flickered.And the world fell backward into blood and fire.---AURA no longer walked among rogues.He ruled them.The forest bowed when he passed. Wolves—rogue

The room was silent. Not the quiet of peace—but the kind that pressed against the chest, heavy and watchful, as if the walls themselves were listening. Violet sat stiffly in the carved oak chair near the hearth, the Thorne Grimoire resting open across her lap. Its leather cover was cracked with age, the pages yellowed and warped, ink pressed so deep into the parchment it looked etched rather than written. Some of the symbols pulsed faintly, reacting to her touch, as though the book resented being awakened again. Rhea stood near the tall windows overlooking the Ashwood treeline. Her arms were folded tightly around herself, her reflection pale against the glass. She did not look at Violet—or at the book. Her eyes were fixed on the forest beyond the estate, as if expecting it to move, to breathe, to answer something only she could hear. Marek leaned against a stone pillar near the doorway, arms crossed, jaw clenched. He hadn’t shifted since Violet sat down. His Alpha instincts were c

The Draven Estate was quiet in a way that felt unnatural—too still, too breathless, as though the walls themselves were waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the storm that everyone knew was coming. Rhea and Violet remained inside, the faint glow of late noon sunlight slipping through the balcony curtains. The world outside looked peaceful, beautiful even, yet that peace felt like a lie—thin, fragile, trembling.Rhea could feel it in her bones.The world had shifted.AURA was out.She sat on the edge of the bed, hands curled around a cup of water she had barely sipped. Violet paced restlessly in front of the balcony door, snapping glances toward the forest as though expecting darkness to come crawling out at any moment.Footsteps echoed down the hall. Heavy. Determined. Familiar.Kael and Marek.The door opened, and Kael stepped inside first—shoulders tight, jaw set so hard Rhea wondered if he could feel his teeth crack. Marek followed behind, expression grim, knuckles bruised,

Rhea’s breath tore out of her as if someone had yanked her soul through her ribs.The vision didn’t fade gently.It snapped.White dissolved to black so quickly she staggered, gripping the edge of the bed as her chest rose and fell like she’d run for miles. Her eyes, still fogged in that eerie glazed-white, slowly bled back to their natural color—but the echo of what she’d seen remained carved into her skull, throbbing like an old wound cut open again.Kael leaned forward from the chair beside her, one hand braced against the mattress.“Rhea—look at me. What did you see?”She swallowed. Her throat felt scorched.“He… he’s moving.”Marek, pacing near the door with wolf-bane needles still buried in his forearm, stopped cold.“AURA?”Rhea shut her eyes, and the world tilted again.She still saw it.The mountain collapsing.The ancient stone temple splintering.Dust swallowing the sky.And the god-wolf—walking out.Not in his monstrous form…But in a man’s shape.Tall. Barefoot. Black coa

AURA had been gone for centuries… but the world had not forgotten how to fear him.The night split open.The shadows bent.And the Primal Wolf stepped into a world that had once tried to erase him.AURA moved through the mountains like a storm that had been given teeth. His massive paws slammed into the earth with tremors that rippled down the cliffs. Snow turned black where he stepped. Stone cracked under his weight.His howl had vanished into the wind hours ago…Now silence followed him, afraid to speak his name.He climbed, higher and higher, where the air thinned and the sky pressed down like a warning. Ancient peaks surrounded him—jagged, brutal, untouched by mortals. But AURA’s scent memory guided him deeper into the labyrinth of stone.He wasn’t wandering.He was searching.For something stolen.For something ripped from him the day the witches dragged him screaming into the Dream Realm.A forgotten temple waited at the top of the ridge—half buried in ice, half devoured by time