Valkhara
I stumbled through the trees like a lunatic.
Still half-naked.
Still covered in sweat, dirt, and blood.
Still dripping from two different men.
My thighs were shaking. My mind was screaming. The voices in my head hadn’t stopped since Azric came inside me and lit the entire bond system on fire. I could hear them. All three of them.
Azric.
Sevrin.
And the third.. silent but looming. Watching. Waiting.
She’s breaking.
She’s running again.
Don’t let her go.
I nearly screamed.
I couldn’t shut them out. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think with three damn heartbeats pulsing through my skull and magic crawling beneath my skin like it wanted out.
I dropped to my knees in the clearing. My cloak pooled around me like a crumpled flag of surrender. My hair stuck to my face. My chest heaved with short, panicked breaths.
“Fucking godsdamn fuck, this is not, this is not real—”
“Ohhh, sweet bleeding hells.”
The voice didn’t come from my head.
It came from behind me.
And it was very, very mortal.
I whipped around, ready to throw fire or knives or both.
Instead, I found… a girl. A young woman, about my age, standing with her hands on her hips, a satchel slung across her chest, and an expression halfway between concern and oh-no-she-didn’t.
She blinked at me. Looked me up and down once. Slowly. Then pointed at me.
“You’re… naked. You’re covered in bruises. You’re glowing. You smell like cum and chaos. So either you got gang jumped by a really aggressive orgy cult—or you just got mated.”
I blinked.
“Who the fuck are you?”
She snorted. Loudly. “Wow. Okay. Yeah, we’re skipping pleasantries. You’re feral.”
She dropped her satchel and walked toward me like she’d seen this shit before. I didn’t know whether to light her on fire or hug her.
She crouched in front of me, hands resting on her knees.
“Name’s Nyra. I’m not in the Trials. Don’t want the drama, don’t need the trauma. I just make potions, talk shit, and mind my damn business.”
She gestured around the forest.
“Except when I’m out here collecting deathroot and I hear someone screaming like she’s being impaled against a pine tree. So naturally, I had to investigate.”
I just stared at her.
She pointed again, slower this time. “So… was it your mate? Or did you fall on a sword?”
I covered my face with my hands. “Two.”
Nyra paused. “Wait—what?”
I peeked at her through my fingers. “Two. Two of them. I… I think I’ve bonded with two of them already.”
Nyra’s mouth dropped open. “Oh shit. You’re double marked?”
I moved my cloak aside, just enough to show her Azric’s bite on my thigh and Sevrin’s on my ribs.
She hissed. “Ohhhh, that’s gonna be a bitch to explain at brunch.”
“It gets worse,” I croaked. “There’s… another.”
Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “You’ve got a triple bond?”
“I think so. I don’t even know who the third one is! But I can hear him. In my fucking head.”
Nyra blinked.
Then she sat back on the grass and let out a long, low whistle. “Girl. You didn’t step in shit—you jumped face-first into a cursed orgy.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. Just a little. Just enough that it broke through the shaking.
Nyra grinned. “There it is. Sanity. I was starting to worry.”
She reached into her satchel and tossed me a flask.
“Drink. It’s not a potion. Just some really illegal calming tea laced with anxiety herbs and a splash of wine.”
I drank it. It tasted like cinnamon and sass.
I exhaled.
Nyra leaned closer, voice softer now. “You okay?”
“No.”
“Wanna cry?”
“Yes.”
“Wanna throw a rock?”
“Also yes.”
“Want me to help you fake your death and flee to the outer isles where you can run a bakery under a fake name?”
That made me laugh harder. And cry. At the same time.
I wiped my face. “I don’t know what to do.”
Nyra shrugged. “Well, for starters, you do not go back to the castle right now. You let those three stew. Let ‘em wonder if they broke you. Let ‘em panic.”
I looked at her. “You’re kind of evil.”
She smirked. “I prefer emotionally strategic.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
Then she nudged my shoulder. “So… were they hot at least?”
I groaned. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Like, ruin-your-life hot? Or ruin-their-kingdoms hot?”
“Both.”
Nyra sighed dramatically. “You lucky, tragic bitch.”
DaxosThey thought the chains would hold me.They wrapped my arms in cursed iron, pressed spell after spell into my skin, carved wards across my back that boiled when I so much as breathed too loud.But magic doesn’t contain obsession.It just feeds it.And I have had a hundred years to starve.A hundred years to feel her soul rise again.They thought locking me away in this underground tomb would keep me blind.But I felt her the second she took her first breath.Felt the curse that bound her wrapped around her like a shroud. Magic meant to keep her hidden from me. From herself. From the world.They said the Emberborn line had been extinguished.They lied.Because her flame still burns.And it burns for me.You came.I said it into the void the first time I felt her truly connect. When her bond flared a
ValkharaAll four of us were barely through the door before the tension exploded.“He got in her head,” Sevrin barked. “He reached her. That shouldn’t be possible. Not with that potion.”Azric stood against the hearth, arms crossed, voice tight with control he was about to lose. “We don’t even know who he is yet.”Sevrin turned, furious. “And you don’t think we should? You want to wait for him to come to us?”“He’s already inside her bond, Sevrin. If we provoke it—”“I’ll kill him if I have to.”“Try it,” I snapped. “And see how fast I take your throat.”They both turned to me. Neither backed down.Nyra groaned, flinging her satchel onto the table. “Gods, you two are exhausting. One of you’s practically vibrating with murder and the other is whispering to shadows. Maybe take a deep breath before we all combust.”“Easy for you to say,” Sevrin growled. “You’re not the one being replaced.”“You’re not being replaced,” I bit out. “No one’s being replaced.”“Then what is he?” Azric asked s
After our post-sex haze and the intrusion of him, I walked out of the shower to Azric waiting by the fire.Sevrin standing with his back to the room, blade pressed to a whetstone he wasn’t even using.Both of them looking like they were hanging on by a fucking thread.I sighed but I didn’t speak.I didn’t need to.Azric’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t say anything at today."I dropped into the nearest chair. “Nope.”“And they chose you anyway.”“They felt me.”Sevrin turned around slowly, something dark in his expression. “That wasn’t just your power though, twas it?"My mouth went dry. “I don't know”“I think it may be mine, but something else pushed it.”I hesitated. "I heard a voice. THAT voice we all heard earlier.”Both of them froze.Azric crossed to me, fast, crouching in front of the chair.Sevrin’s fists clenched.“Could be the third,” Azric muttered.“I think…” I swallowed hard. “I think he’s trying to help me. Even from wherever he is.”Sevrin’s jaw flexed. “Or manipulate you.
ValkharaThe chamber was nothing like the arena.It didn’t bleed. It didn’t echo. It whispered.A stone table dominated the center of the space, long, dark, carved with old runes that pulsed with soft red light. Seven chairs sat around it. One for each faction. One for each survivor.Only five of us remained.And not all of us would leave.Above us, behind walls of enchanted glass, the Council watched.I didn’t look up.I didn’t need to.Let them stare. Let them whisper.Let them feel what was coming.“Lady Valkhara,” one of the guards said flatly, gesturing to a chair near the table. “Take your seat.”I did not move.He blinked. “It’s mandatory—”I took two steps forward, then stood behind the chair. Not sitting. Not bending. Not playing.Let them notice.The other contestants filtered in slowly.One male from the southern bloodline tall, broad, proud. I’d seen him gut a chimera like it was made of paper.One witch-born woman from the dusk provinces sharp eyes, silent lips.One vampi
ValkharaI was lying on the floor.Not gracefully. Not dramatically. Just… flat.Wrapped in a thick blanket, hair still crusted with blood from the Mirror Chamber, one eye cracked open as I stared at the ceiling like it might offer divine answers.It did not.Sevrin sat in the corner sharpening a blade...again.Azric paced near the balcony, pausing only to glance at me every few seconds like he wasn’t sure if I’d combust or throw up.I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t sure either.The burn from the Trial still lingered under my skin. Not physical, but magical. Emotional.Worse.The bond with Sevrin and Azric pulsed low in my chest, steady but heavy. And beneath all of that?Something else.A faint pulse.Distant. Unsteady.Not from either of them.Not mine.But still... connected.It came and went in short, aching bursts. Like someone screaming underwater.Like a chain rattling behind a locked door in the back of my head.I sat up too fast and groaned. Azric appeared beside me instantly.“Y
ValkharaThe Mirror Chamber was silent when I entered.Not peaceful. Not calm.The kind of silence that screamed.No footsteps echoed. No wind stirred.Only magic pulsed in the walls alive and waiting.The door sealed behind me with a deep, final thud.I didn’t flinch.I wouldn’t give them that.Glass surrounded me ceiling to floor. Every wall reflected the room, the door, the pedestal in the center.But not me.I had no reflection.And that was the first warning.The enchanted hourglass waited atop the pedestal. Tall, slender, its sand deep red like powdered blood. The moment I crossed the threshold fully, it flipped itself.The Trial had begun.Let your mind speak.I took a breath.The air was too still. Too thick.I didn’t trust it.Then it started.The mirrors rippled not like water, but like skin and shifted.Images flashed, then vanished.A battlefield. Fire. Screams.Me, drenched in blood, sword in hand.Me, kneeling. Collared. Bound.Me, begging someone I didn’t recognize not