LOGINThe mud along the borderlands was dark, thick, and stained with the sweat of hundreds of restless warhorses. A heavy, suffocating silence hung over the neutral territory, broken only by the distant snap of Northern banners whipping in the cold wind.
In the center of the makeshift encampment stood Dominic.
He looked like an absolute nightmare, a phantom straight out of a horror story. He wore no polished
The mud along the borderlands was dark, thick, and stained with the sweat of hundreds of restless warhorses. A heavy, suffocating silence hung over the neutral territory, broken only by the distant snap of Northern banners whipping in the cold wind.In the center of the makeshift encampment stood Dominic.He looked like an absolute nightmare, a phantom straight out of a horror story. He wore no polished armor, no regal robes, and no crown. His dark tunic was torn, stained with dirt and dried crimson blood from his own split knuckles. His long black hair was wild, hanging in greasy strands over a face that had grown hollow, pale, and unhinged. But the most terrifying thing about the Supreme King of the North was his eyes. The warm amber was completely gone, swallowed whole by a pitch-black void of pure, psychotic obsession.He hadn't slept in days. He hadn't was
The cold light of dawn crept through the small glass window of the coastal cottage, casting pale gray shadows across the wooden floorboards.Rosalie sat up slowly in bed, her eyes swollen and stinging from a night spent weeping into her pillow. The mattress beside her was cold, empty, and silent. Her heart was a shattered mess, raw with the unbearable grief of Dominic’s betrayal, but as she looked down at her lap, her hands instinctively drifted to her flat stomach.I have to be strong, she thought, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. I am not just fighting for myself anymore.She glanced at the small wooden nightstand. Resting beside a pitcher of water was the glass vial containing Morana’s silver potion. Rosalie checked the position of the morning sun; it was time. Exactly twenty-four hours since her last dose.With trembling fingers, she uncorked the vial. The liquid swirled with that strange, icy magic, smelling sharply of crushed mint and iron. Rosalie brought the glass to her li
The small stone cottage sat nestled against the rugged coastal cliffs, its weathered walls wrapped in wild rosemary and creeping ivy. Below, the vast southern ocean stretched out toward the horizon, its deep blue waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. The air here was entirely different from the harsh, biting frost of the Amber Court; it was warm, thick with the scent of salt, blooming jasmine, and soft freedom.Inside, the cottage was small but incredibly cozy. A gentle fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting a golden, welcoming glow across the wooden floors.Josy, the mute housekeeper Ezekiel had meticulously chosen, greeted Rosalie with a deep, respectful bow and a warmth that melted the last bits of tension from her shoulders. In that moment, Josy reminded her of Martha, and sadness settled in her gaze.Without a single word, Josy moved with a qu
The silver fluid inside the glass vial swirled like a miniature, captured storm cloud. Rosalie sat on the edge of the wooden cot, her fingers trembling so violently the glass clinked against her fingernails. She looked down at the potion, then pressed her other hand flat against her stomach. The realization that a tiny, fragile heartbeat was hidden beneath her skin gave her a sudden, fierce wave of maternal bravery.With a sharp intake of breath, she uncorked the vial and brought it to her lips, swallowing the first few drops.The potion tasted of crushed mint and freezing iron, sliding down her throat like liquid ice. Instantly, a strange, numbing sensation washed over her skin, vibrating through her veins. Her inner wolf let out a quiet, confused whine before falling completely silent, tucked away beneath a heavy shroud of ancient magic.Ezekiel stepped close
The frantic howling of the winter blizzard outside rattled the thick wooden logs of the cabin. Inside, the fire threw long, dancing shadows across the low ceiling.Rosalie stirred slowly from her deep sleep, her eyelids fluttering open. For a terrifying second, she expected to see the heavy dark curtains of the royal bedchamber. But as her vision cleared, she recognized the smell of dried sage and bitter bloodroot. They were still inside the witch’s crooked cottage, trapped by the unyielding storm.She took a deep breath, expecting the usual wave of white-hot agony to shred her lungs.It didn't come. The excruciating, skin-melting burn of the mate bond had truly settled into a dull, heavy ache beneath her collarbone. The witch’s dark paste had formed a protective veil over the mark, numbing the frantic spiritual pull. The phantom chain was still wrapped tightly around her heart, but it was no longer tearing her apart piece by piece. She felt remarkably better.Ezekiel came to her side
The silence in the royal bedchamber did not last. It was merely the heavy, suffocating pause before a fierce eruption.Dominic stood frozen for a single, agonizing second, the name Ezekiel burning a hole straight through his mind. Then, the reality of the betrayal settled deep into his marrow. His wife was gone. His chosen mate had left his lands. She had left his diamonds, his protection, and his bed to flee into the territory of a rival king.With a deafening, inhuman roar, Dominic completely lost his mind.He became a whirlwind of pure, deranged destruction. He lunged toward the heavy oak vanity, lifting the massive, solid piece of furniture over his head with impossible strength and hurling it across the room. It shattered into a thousand jagged splinters against the stone wall. He tore down the silk canopy of the bed, ripping the heavy blankets to shreds with his bare claws. The velvet chairs were smashed to kindling; the glass windows were blown outward into the snow by the shee
Rosalie stood in the center of her cramped attic. Her eyes were fixed on the broken mirror in front of her. She has freshly showered, and her skin glows.Stepping out of her ragged clothing, she stared at the beautiful dress she had stitched out of torn dresses of Carolina.Rosalie put on the dress
Tears streamed down Rosalie's cheeks as she tried to free her arm from her mom's grip, but it was of no use.She dragged her to the tree near the woods. Rosalie panicked and shook her head violently, but Penelope didn't listen.She forced her against the tree and tied her hands with the ropes behin
Life was not that bad.That was what she always told herself. Even in the worst circumstances, she always told herself that life would get better for her one day. She didn't even wish for a good life; she just hoped it would get better one day, and that was all.But certain things weren't written i
A wave of ice-cold dread clouded her very soul, freezing the blood in her veins. No... Her mind screamed as the realization hit her like a physical blow. Why did he want her dressed in the purest of silk







