Novels by Author Gloria

Ewen’s POVI’ll admit I underestimated the Order once. Twice even. But never did I expect them to weaponize consequence.Elixir walked into midnight’s hollow with fire arcing across her fingers like living questions, and when I followed cautiously behind, the unchanged air asked everything I didn’t want to hear.Ash-Elixir waited. Not in shadows. Not in threat. She stood under a black banner stitched with silver runes—among wolves that no longer breathed.My oath tightened in my chest. That banner wasn’t a challenge. It was an invitation.They spoke in hushed tones, wolves kneeling, hands extended to a crown ash would carve.Elixir faced them alone, flame in her palms and the weight of fate behind her.I believed we could still turn this. Reinforce memory. Remind them why scars mattered more than ease.The moment the first kneeling hand rose, I saw betrayal. Not fear. Not respect. Just relief.Lucian wasn’t there. He still hung inside the ruin’s echo six nights later. They hadn’t retu

Lucian’s POVI was already awake when the hood was ripped off my head.The chamber stank of damp stone and something older—something wrong. My eyes adjusted slowly. Pale torchlight flickered against carvings I couldn’t translate, symbols that looked like wounds carved into the walls. Chains clinked behind me. Not mine. Someone else was here.But I didn’t speak.Not yet.Silence, I’d learned, could wound deeper than words.“You’re quieter than I expected, Alpha.”The voice came from the shadows, a figure cloaked in ash-colored silk, face hidden by a silver veil. “Or is that fear choking your throat?”I shifted my weight subtly, testing the shackles. Bone-forged. Faintly humming with magic. Elixir’s fire might’ve broken them—but I wasn’t Elixir. I was only the weapon she trusted not to miss.“I don’t speak to ghosts,” I said.The figure chuckled, and stepped forward. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not dead.”I recognized her now.Not by her features—Ash-Elixir wore Elixir’s face like a sto

Soren’s POVI’ve watched blood spill. I’ve seen men become monsters and monsters beg like men. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for the moment I saw Elixir float above the altar, eyes wide with celestial fire and pain tangled in her scream. She didn’t glow. She seared.And when she dropped, silent and trembling, the world tilted.Lucian hadn’t returned from his patrol. We thought he was delayed, distracted, maybe scouting the riverline. But I knew better. He was never late. Never careless.He was taken.Ewen was the first to admit it aloud. “The Order’s pushing harder. They want her distracted. Breaking apart her mind from the inside, and now—us.”He didn’t say Lucian’s name. He didn’t need to. The air choked with it.Maelis began warding the perimeter twice a night. Elixir refused sleep. And every time she closed her eyes, her face twisted—like Ash-Elixir clawed at the edges of her dreams.“Something’s changed,” I told Ewen as we walked the north tree line. “She doesn’t just see her n

Lucian's POVWaking up wasn’t the hard part. Remembering who I was—that was.I opened my eyes to darkness, and not the kind that belonged to night. This was silence given shape, humming just beneath the skin like it wanted to become something. The ceiling above me pulsed. Not visibly. Just enough that I knew it breathed.Not a prison. Not quite.Chains didn’t hold me. I held myself.My memories came back in pieces. The scouting ridge. The flicker of movement. A woman’s voice without lips. Then sleep.No. Not sleep. Something deeper.Elixir. That name held shape. Weight. It anchored me. I grabbed hold of it like it was the only real thing.The Order hadn’t tortured me. Not in ways flesh understands. They whispered dreams into my veins. Rewrote truths. Offered me a world without burden.They let Ash-Elixir sit beside me. Look like her. Sound like her. And she asked me questions not even Elixir dared.“Do you still love her?”I lied the first time. Told her yes with conviction. But it wa

Soren’s POVShe didn’t speak.Not when she stepped through the veil. Not when her eyes met Elixir’s. Not even when half the pack inhaled like they'd seen a goddess rise from smoke and shattered memory.And that silence screamed louder than war drums.I could feel her in my marrow—Ash-Elixir. That’s what I’d started calling her in my mind. A whisper of the real one, made of ambition and burn, not fire and choice. This wasn’t a copy. This was what Elixir could’ve become if she’d embraced the throne Virex left behind without question.She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Just stood at the Grove’s edge like the trees had knelt to let her pass.Ewen flinched beside me. Not visibly. Not enough for anyone to notice. But I saw the twitch in his wrist, the flex of his jaw.He felt it too.The wrongness.Not evil. That would’ve been easier. This was something else.Familiarity, bent sideways.Lucian’s blade gleamed under the twilight. My own hand hovered over my runes, waiting for a sign. Any sign

Elixir’s POVThe raven dissolved into ash before my eyesBut the scroll in my hand remainedLight as paperHeavy as prophecyShe has not been buried. She has been crowned.It wasn’t a threatIt was a declarationAnd it didn’t come from VirexIt came from herThe one behind the veilThe one who hadn’t died in grief, or broken in silenceThe one who didn’t choose mercy when she was madeLucian stared at the scroll, jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crackSoren stood at my side, fingers twitching against the hilt of a blade carved from bone—not out of fear, but preparationEwen said nothingBut his eyes had narrowed the moment the raven appeared, like he’d known something we hadn’tAnd now the knowing had arrivedI walked back toward the altar, running my thumb along the scar burned into the stone“Not all reflections want to be healed,” I said. “Some are made to punish.”Lucian stepped beside me. “Is she another fragment?”I shook my head. “No. She’s a possibility. One I n

Kael’s POV Moonlight chased the embers from the battlefield’s edge as I gathered my strength beside her. Amara knelt in the ash and bone, face stained with soot and determination. Around us, the Old Ones lingered at the tree line—silent, unmoving, watching.They were not rebels.They were ancient ghosts. An unclaimed lineage. And now, with Cyrus’s call, they had answered.I clenched my jaw against the storm of questions that battered me: How long has Cyrus trained them? How many children were stolen? How many more of us carry ancient legacies we didn’t know to fear? But all those questions would wait. Survival came first.She rose slowly, blades still drawn, eyes bright with both fear and clarity.“Kael,” she said, voice low. “This is it. We either push forward or fall in the ruins behind us.”Her presence steadied everything—every trembling edge in my mind. We were bonded. But tonight I felt the real weight of it. Could this bond survive a war Amara was born to lead—but I was destin

Amara’s POV The trees whispered his name before I dared to say it.Cyrus.It echoed across the timbered hollows of my bones, slithered down my spine like memory soaked in blood. His scent—smoke, iron, rot—flooded my senses before I could stop it. The rebel wolves behind him parted like a tide, revealing the nightmare I’d only ever known in fragments and dreams.He hadn’t aged. Or perhaps time had bent for him—twisted in reverence or fear. Cloaked in furs that dripped blackened sigils and bone tokens, he moved like a phantom of the old world. A remnant of something so ancient, it had to be forgotten to make room for peace.His eyes landed on me.And everything inside me began to unravel.“Little wolf,” he rasped, voice like grinding stone. “You remember.”I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My hand clenched around the hilt of the blade at my hip, even as my vision swam with flickers—images of other children, cages carved with runes, chanting priests, and fire. So much fire.“You marked me,”

Amara’s POV I didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.His scent hit me first—ashes and bloodroot—and my body reacted before my mind caught up. My hands clenched, my wolf snarled low in my chest, and still, I stood there. Frozen. The firelight from the outer camp didn’t reach this far, but his silhouette burned itself into my memory.Alpha Cyrus.He stepped into view with the calm of a man who knew fear followed behind him. His eyes—once stories whispered to scare pups into obedience—glowed with the same hue as the forbidden sigil that now carved itself into my skin. He’d marked me. Not in some dream or illusion, but in the physical realm, under moonlight.“I thought I killed you,” I whispered, but the tremble in my voice betrayed me.Cyrus tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “You’re not the first to try.”My knees threatened to buckle. Not from fear. From fury. From the memory of fire and screams. From knowing he’d once stood over me as I slept in a blood-soaked cradle

Amara’s POV My name echoed through the trees not the name I’d fought for, bled for, lived with but something older. Woven into bone and curse.I turned toward the distant howl, but my feet felt chained to the earth. The mark on my wrist throbbed, hot and cold, as if something deep inside me remembered. I didn’t.Not yet.Kael was at my side in seconds, his breath ragged, eyes shifting between gold and shadow. “Who called you?”“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But it knew me. And it wasn’t a memory.”He reached for my arm, brushing the edge of the glowing sigil. “It’s reacting… to something. Or someone.”“Or someone buried,” I muttered.We descended deeper into the forest. The others stayed behind—Caleb to hold the wards, Victor to brood in silence, and the twins to monitor the eastern trail. I didn’t want witnesses if I unraveled.Because that’s what it felt like: unraveling. Every step I took made my skin itch. Every breath filled my lungs with the scent of something I couldn’t place—i

Amara’s POVThe fire wouldn’t go out.Not the one in the hearth. Not the one burning behind my ribs.Since the ritual that stripped the sigil from my skin, I hadn’t been the same. My hands trembled without cause. Shadows followed me, sometimes from within my own reflection. And Kael... he looked at me like he was waiting for someone else to answer when I spoke.Victor had told us the truth—or at least, enough to wreck our sense of certainty. I had once been something else. Someone else. A Blood Priestess. A name whispered in tombs too old for memory. And the ritual hadn’t just broken the sigil. It had unsealed what was buried inside me.Now I heard the voices.They weren’t hallucinations. They were memories. Old spells murmured in dead tongues. Names of stars long since fallen. And last night... I spoke one aloud in my sleep.Kael had woken with his hand on my throat. Not out of violence—but instinct. His wolf reacted before he did.We hadn’t spoken since.I stood on the stone balcony

Amara’s POVBlood dried too fast. Sticky warmth turned to cracked rust between my fingers, and for a moment I couldn’t move—not from fear, but disbelief. It wasn’t mine. I was sure of that now. My heartbeat pulsed consistently, no injury, no discomfort. And still the metallic odor enveloped me like a second layer. Kael lay next to me, one arm draped over his face, completely oblivious. I observed him—his chest lifting, his breathing leisurely, body untouched. The sheets, wrapped around us, were pristine except for the marks my hands left on them. A shiver ran down my spine, freezing my breath. Something occurred while I was sleeping. I quietly got out of bed, my heart pounding in my throat, and walked to the mirror. Beneath the wavering lantern light, I inspected my body thoroughly, and then it appeared to me. An emblem. Dim initially, resembling an old bruise, then deepening as I gazed. Winding black ink curled under my ribcage, throbbing as though it were alive. I was unaware of