Novel-novel oleh Haga Krisztina

Dawn crept slowly, cautiously through the cracks of the room. Thin lines of light turned into golden dust as they touched the stone and the floor. In the silence, every sound carried weight: the final crackle of embers in the fireplace, the faint whisper of the curtain in the breeze, the first birdsong outside. The air was fresh, rich with dew, earth, and flowers—as if the world itself were celebrating the birth of a new day.My eyes opened slowly, but I remained still for several moments. I lay there, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, listening to the quiet trill of birds and the steady beat of my heart. It was not racing. It was not choked by panic, nor pierced by anxiety. It simply beat. Steady, slow—at peace.When I shifted, I felt the soft cloak draped over my shoulders. It wasn’t mine—Aedan had placed it there the night before, when sleep finally claimed me. My chest tightened at the memory. His embrace, his words, his patience… they pulsed within me as though etched beneath

NyraThe room’s quiet calm was woven with golden threads by the sinking sun. The curtain swayed gently in the breeze, and the scents—fresh flowers, resin, the breath of warm stone—filled the air as if nature itself wanted to convince me: for now, everything is all right.And yet, peace within me was fragile. In my heart, the old terror still lingered, refusing to let go completely.I sat beside Aedan. Neither of us spoke, but the silence was different than ever before: no longer the silence of fear, but something new—a gentle melody I was only beginning to learn. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head slightly bowed, but his eyes never stopped glancing toward me. I felt his gaze, and the knowledge that he was watching gave me both comfort and dread: what if one day he isn’t there?Then he moved. He rose from his seat, slow and deliberate, and began pacing the room. Every step carried weight. The air thickened, tense, like the moment before a storm.“Nyra…” he said at last, quiet

NyraThe wooden door opened softly, almost apologetically. The warmth of the room was touched by the scents of the outside world: blood, earth, forest. My stomach clenched at the smells, but my eyes locked instantly on the figure in the doorway.It was him. Aedan.His movements were weary, yet he carried himself with such unyielding strength it seemed nothing in this world could bend him. His cloak hung ragged from his shoulders, the fresh bandage at his side faintly stained through his black clothes. And his eyes… those deep, golden eyes sought only me. With a single glance, they gave me enough strength to believe something I had long buried: that I was not alone.My heart thundered so hard I could hear it in my ears. I didn’t think—I simply stepped toward him. I needed to feel he was real, that he was alive—not just the bond humming in my chest, but flesh and breath standing before me.The guards silently withdrew, leaving us space. They knew this moment belonged to no one else.I w

AedanMy steps were swift and steady as I cut through the path leading to Rowan’s lands. The air was thick, the birds had fallen silent. Even the forest seemed to know that no peace would walk here today. Cassian followed at my back, and behind him came chosen warriors—silent, disciplined.Rowan’s territory was remote, wild ground. The canopy above grew so dense it allowed barely any light through. Here he had built his little kingdom—a pack bound together by fear. And now that his hold on power was threatened, I knew he would do anything to keep it.When we reached the clearing, I slowed. He stood there, arms crossed, ringed by his followers. Their growls, their postures, made it clear: they had not come to talk. This soil thirsted for blood.I paused a moment, letting my presence fill the space. My golden gaze swept over them. I did not seek to radiate terror, but order. Law.Cassian leaned closer. “They’re not here to negotiate, Majesty. They’re ready to fight.”I nodded. My heart

Nyra The garden’s warmth wrapped around me. Sunlight washed away the shadows of my past, the wind played gently in the leaves, and the birdsong mingled with the sweet perfume of flowers. I sat barefoot in the grass, the green blades sliding between my toes, the earth soft beneath my soles. Every sense of mine drank it in greedily, as though I had been starving for this miracle all my life without ever knowing it existed.Shyly, I lifted my eyes to him, then back down to the grass. My voice came out rough, not with fear, but with curiosity.“Is it always this peaceful here?”He sat nearby, resting an arm across his knee, watching me. At my question his expression softened, and his smile was quiet, honest.“Not always. Sometimes storms come. The wind tears the leaves from the trees. But the storm passes. And the garden always comes back to life. Always.”I listened, his words sinking deep. My own life had felt like an endless storm. I had never believed that silence might follow. Yet h

NyraThe late-morning sunlight painted golden kisses across the window, spilling onto the stone floor in shimmering patterns. Peace wrapped itself around the room like a soft cloak, and yet uncertainty still lingered inside me, like an old wound that refused to heal. With the blanket pulled tightly around my shoulders, I sat half-turned toward the window. For a fleeting moment, the light reminded me of something I had never truly known: the world’s beauty.He watched in silence, his arms folded loosely in front of him. The chair where he sat had been his post for hours, but he did not complain. I could see it in him—every moment spent beside me was a quiet victory.We listened to the birds outside. Then his voice broke the stillness, warm and encouraging, like the first rays of dawn.“Would you like to go outside?” he asked gently. “Into the garden. It’s quiet there. Fresh air. No one else, just you… and me, if you’ll allow it.”My stomach clenched. The thought of leaving this room bo