The night was eerily silent, the kind that presses down on the soul like a thick velvet curtain. Serena sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor of her cell, her back straight against the wall, eyes closed, breathing steady. She had grown tired of being passive, tired of waiting for someone to rescue her. If there was anything she had learned from being in captivity, it was that waiting had its price. Her body ached from the confinement, and her spirit longed for freedom. Her wolf, though quiet and muted by Solmyra’s spell, still pulsed within her like a distant heartbeat—faint, but there.But tonight, she wasn’t trying to reach her wolf.She was trying to reach something deeper.She inhaled slowly, letting her breath guide her thoughts inward. Focusing on her heartbeat, she tried to push past the fear, the hunger, the weariness. She meditated for hours—until the darkness of the room stopped mattering, until the cold of the stone beneath her faded from her skin, until all that remaine
The ocean stretched endlessly in every direction, a deep expanse of churning silver under the moonlight. The ship glided smoothly atop the water, the soft creak of its wooden frame mingling with the rhythmic slap of waves. High above, the sky shimmered with stars, casting a quiet, celestial glow on everything below. Nivera stood at the edge of the deck, her fingers wrapped around the cool iron railing, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The wind played with her long silver hair, strands curling like ribbons around her shoulders, and the sea breeze clung to her skin like an old memory.Behind her, the sound of approaching footsteps made her spine stiffen. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Valerian. She could feel him in her bones the way the tide feels the moon—an ever-present pull, steady and maddening.He stopped beside her, saying nothing at first. His presence was quiet but weighty, like the hush before a storm. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words and all
The hearth crackled gently, casting a warm orange glow across the modest kitchen. The scent of simmering broth and fresh herbs filled the air, grounding the evening in a quiet domestic rhythm that contrasted sharply with the chaos rippling through the rest of their world. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees like a whispering spirit, and within the thick walls of the house, everything felt unnervingly still. Serena’s father sat in the rocking chair, a bundle of quiet joy nestled in his arms—his grandson, fast asleep with his tiny fists curled near his mouth. Across the kitchen, Jina stirred the soup, occasionally glancing toward the man who hadn’t spoken much since everyone left.She had been holding her questions for days, waiting for the right moment. Tonight, there was no noise, no distraction—just the quiet clinking of the ladle against the pot and the soft breathing of the child. Her voice broke the silence with gentle firmness.“Father,” she said, using the name she'd lon
The dock was filled with a muted urgency, not the loud clangor of war but the quiet, focused intensity of something more personal—of hope clawing against despair. The ship that stood before them was one of the finest ever built, reinforced to handle the fury of the sea and the weight of the hearts it carried. The salt-laced wind tugged at cloaks and hair, ruffling sails that waited to be unfurled. Every man and woman on board knew this voyage was not just about distance, but discovery—a search that could change the course of kingdoms and hearts alike.Alexandro stood at the edge of the pier, his hands behind his back, staring at the dark horizon as if he could will it to part and reveal Serena. He had imagined her hundreds of times—bound, bruised, scared, but alive. The not-knowing gnawed at him like a disease. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks. Even in the brief moments his eyes closed, her face haunted him—her last letter, her soft smile, the look in her eyes, the day she chose to s
The scent of salt hung in the air—sharp, briny, and unmistakably foreign. It was the only thing Serena could cling to, the only connection to the world outside the cold, damp stone walls of her prison. For days, perhaps weeks—she’d lost all sense of time—she had been left in silence, the rhythmic crash of ocean waves the only proof that life still moved on. Her wolf stirred inside her, aching for freedom, but suppressed by an invisible force that dulled her instincts and locked her power away. She could barely feel its presence now, as if it had been pushed behind a thick veil, too far to reach.Her body was weak, worn down by hunger, fatigue, and the absence of sunlight. She had not shifted, had not even tried. What was the use when she couldn’t summon the strength to keep her eyes open some days? The silence had become her companion, and the darkness her constant.That day, however, something was different.She heard footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and familiar. Maeron.The cell door c
The silence in the western wing of the fortress had grown heavier over the past few days, especially in the chambers where Nivera resided. The soft flicker of candlelight danced across the stone walls, but her eyes didn’t follow it. They were blank, lost in thoughts far deeper than the sea she once called home. She sat by the window, fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of the frost forming on the glass. Her heart was restless. She could feel something had changed.It was Martha who finally confirmed it.That morning, the maid entered with her usual soft smile, placing a tray of tea and biscuits on the side table, but her demeanor was tense, her shoulders slightly hunched. Nivera had always known when something was wrong with Martha. She was the only one who knew her heart without being told.“You’re worried,” Nivera said softly, eyes still on the snow-covered courtyard outside.Martha hesitated. “It’s not my place, my lady.”Nivera turned to her. “Tell me.”And so she did. Slow