LOGINCaelith has nothing worth taking. No power. No secrets. Nothing anyone could possibly want. So why is everyone coming for her? Twenty one years old, literature student, part time bookshop worker. Her life is unremarkable by every measurement that matters. Until a ritual group kidnaps her, a trained assassin is sent to finish the job, and something ancient and patient decides she is exactly who it has been looking for. There is a journal. Older than recorded history. Wanted by everyone and understood by no one. And Caelith is the key to finding it. Even though nobody asked her. Now she is navigating a world she was never supposed to know existed. With a former assassin bound to her by a blood deal. A best friend who doesn't remember the night that changed everything. A boy who has known something was different about her since day one and chose to stay anyway. And a stranger who saved her life and disappeared before she could get a single answer out of him. The deeper she goes the bigger it gets. And she is only just beginning. Some journals don't record history. They create it.
View MoreA few days passed after the gala.Life slowly returned to the routine they had built before.Elias had returned.Morrha had fully adjusted to her new life at the estate. Somehow, the woman who had spent centuries trapped inside a tomb had adapted remarkably well to a lifestyle that mostly involved sitting wherever she wanted, eating whatever she wanted, and discovering something new on her phone every day.Idris came and went as he always did. Sometimes he was there for training. Sometimes he disappeared for reasons he never explained. And Caelith had returned to her own routine.Training. Research. Understanding herself.Though recently, she had started questioning the purpose of it all. She understood why she trained before. She had been hunted. She had been weak. She needed to survive.But now?What exactly was she preparing for? Was she training because she expected another enemy to appear? Or was she simply trying to understand her own power
Warm summer sunlight spread across the hotel windows filling the rooms with a brightness that felt almost unfamiliar. Idris woke them all up by consistently banging on their suite door. An outsider would have been too spooked to approach him. He told them he made plans for them to spend the day at the beach. For some reason he came with a suitcase filled with different beachwears and asked them to make their choice and meet him in a private lounge for breakfast.When Idris had first mentioned the plan, Caelith had assumed they would simply spend the day around the hotel. But apparently, that was not how people like them did things.After breakfast they only spent an extra twenty minutes on the hotel before the walk to the beach began."We could have stayed at the beach house nearby if this was what you wanted." Alistair looked at Idris as they walked. "The hotel was unnecessary."Idris looked completely unbothered."What's the purpose of money made if n
Summer had settled over the estate. The heat was impossible to ignore. The kind of heat that made the air feel heavier, that made the stone pathways warm beneath the sun, and turned the quiet gardens into places where people searched for shade rather than admire the view.It had been almost a month since the kidnapping.Almost a month since everything changed.The facility, the destruction.But somehow, life continued. The world did not stop after something terrible happened.People still woke up. Still ate. Still laughed. Still found reasons to keep going.The estate had slowly returned to a strange sense of normal. Or at least, as normal as it could be.Morrha had become part of that normal. Which was something Caelith never thought she would say.The woman who had spent countless years trapped inside a tomb now spent most of her time discovering the modern world.The internet had quickly become her greatest discovery.Some days, Caelith would find her sitting somewhere quietly, com
A few more days passed.The estate slowly adjusted to the impossible. That was perhaps the strangest part.Morrha, who had spent an unknown amount of time trapped inside a tomb, had somehow become part of their daily life.Caelith had stopped being surprised whenever she found her somewhere unexpected. Sometimes she was sitting by a window, watching the world outside.Sometimes she was asking questions about things everyone else considered ordinary. Sometimes she was simply annoying Alistair. Especially Alistair. He continued pretending she wasn't there. Morrha continued refusing to accept that.Sometimes she was simply laughing at something on her phone. That has become the most consistent thing she did after discovering the internet.It was almost peaceful. Almost.That morning, Caelith woke up earlier than usual.For a moment, everything felt normal.Then she noticed something at the foot of her bed.The Respondent. And beside it.
The chant had found a new rhythm.Softer than before but somehow more suffocating for it, like a hand pressing down gently but with the full intention of not lifting. Caelith stood in the ring of unflickering flames and breathed and tried to think past the pressure building steadily behind her ster
She almost didn't go.That was the thing she would think about later- how close she came to just calling in, pulling the curtains back down and spending the day in bed with her headache and her unease and her half finished essay. How different everything might have looked if she had. The essay had
The dream always started the same way.Darkness. Not the comfortable kind that came with closed eyes and a soft pillow but the kind that had weight. The kind that pressed against your chest like it was deciding whether or not to let you breathe.Caelith never screamed in the dream. She had learned
It had been six days since the road. Four days since she had woken up on that bench with birdsong and a submitted essay and no explanation for either. Four days of going through the motions of her regular life, lectures and shifts and text messages she answered on autopilot, while underneath all of












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