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Eleven

Author: Jordana Faye
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-24 02:00:31

The Mirabella Estate loomed before her, a grand relic of a bygone era, its timeworn stones draped in thick, clinging ivy and shadowed by the encroaching dusk. Through the dimly-lit windows, flickering amber light emitted an eerie warmth, but behind the glass lay secrets that pulsed with an ancient energy, concealed from the world outside.

Autumn stood frozen at the wrought iron gate, her fingers curling around the chilled metal, feeling both the weight of its history and the frigid air of the approaching night. Beside her, Tristan remained silent, his presence a solid wall of unease. His discomfort was palpable—she could sense it in the stiff tension of his jaw and the protective brush of his hand against the small of her back, as if he were prepared to whisk her away at a moment’s notice should anything go awry.

“It’s just a house,” she murmured, attempting to dispel the growing anxiety that settled like a heavy fog around her.

“It’s never just a house when it remembers blood,” Trist
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  • First Bite   Jade Rising

    POV: JadeShe was not a witch.Not yet.But she’d started to dream in sigils—spirals that curled behind her eyelids, a taste of salt she couldn’t rinse, the word listen waking as a bruise under her tongue.Jade stood in the ritual circle Autumn had carved weeks ago, arms trembling as she held a copper bowl filled with ash, lavender, and her own blood. Her hoodie was a map of salt streaks; wax had laced the edges of her boots like frost. The room wasn’t cold, but her breath fogged anyway—the way mirrors fog when something tries to remember you.Autumn had taught her the first rule of working with the Veil:

  • First Bite   The Guardian’s Chain

    POV: TristanThe Hollow was quiet.Too quiet.Not the kind that meant peace. The kind that meant something was watching and choosing not to speak.Tristan stood at the edge of the ancestral grove behind Mirabella Estate, the dagger his bloodline had passed down for centuries pressed against his palm. The weight was familiar. Heavy. Binding. The leather hilt had molded to him over the years, a ghostly handshake from every Thorne who’d gripped it before.Autumn was inside, reading the journal. Processing the truth. Grieving.And he—he was unraveling in silence.He hadn’t told her everything.He hadn’t told her about the dream.Not the one where Bastian Thorne, his forefather, stood at the edge of the Hollow, drenched in blood and holding a broken pendant. The rain fell upward; the moss grew on the undersides of leaves. Bastian’s mouth never opened, but the words slid into Tristan’s bones like cold mercury:“Love her. Or kill her. There won’t be another choice.”Tristan tightened his gri

  • First Bite   Mirabella's Mirror

    The attic simmered with an oppressive warmth, thick and suffocating. It wasn’t the sun that created this heat, but the weight of buried memories, stirring with each breath Autumn took.Dust danced in the sunlight that streamed through a grimy window, swirling like tiny spirits caught in a timeless waltz. The aged floorboards groaned beneath her cautious steps, protesting the burden of Autumn’s presence as she treaded carefully, weaving her way through the labyrinth of draped furniture and neglected trunks, artifacts of a life once lived. The pendant around her neck, cool against her skin, thrummed with an eerie recognition—not a frantic pulse, but a familiar, welcoming heartbeat as if it were drawing her deeper into the past.She hadn’t set foot in this dim sanctuary for years.Not since t

  • First Bite   A New Path

    Autumn lingered at the fringe of the orchard, her bare feet sinking into the cool, dewy grass, which felt like a refreshing splash of nature’s embrace beneath her. The sun began its slow climb, unfurling golden rays that pierced through the ethereal veil of morning mist, illuminating the world with a warm, hazy glow. The crisp air filled her lungs, carrying the aromatic notes of ripe apples and damp earth, a fragrant invitation to the adventures that awaited.Nestled heavily against her chest was her cherished pendant—a small, intricately designed piece that radiated a gentle warmth against her skin. In her hands, she cradled a second pendant, wrapped tenderly in a lush velvet cloth. It still hummed softly, a vibrating melody that synchronized perfectly with her heartbeat; though it had yet to share its secrets, she could feel its energy—a rhythmic pulse that hinted at a deep, ancient wisdom waiting to be unveiled.Beside her, Jade stepped forward, gripping a well-worn journal whose p

  • First Bite   The Silver Flame

    At the first light of dawn, Autumn stood alone at the weathered edge of the ancient cemetery, where time seemed to pause, suspended in the very air she breathed. The wind swirled around her, carrying a distinct quality—neither the biting cold of winter nor the gentleness of summer—but something older and infinitely wiser. It was a tender breeze that cradled the echoes of long-forgotten lives, each gust whispering secrets of those who once walked this hallowed ground.Her fingers lingered over a new sigil etched into her palm, its sharp lines and intricate curves stark against her skin. This mark had been born from the fierce blaze she had summoned weeks earlier—a unique flame that felt alive with potential. It wasn’t soul-fire, devoid of warmth or purpose, nor was it Hollow, a shadow of existence. No, this was something far rarer; she had chosen to call it the Silver Flame, though its true nature

  • First Bite   Love Unmasked

    The moon hung low in the velvety embrace of the night sky, a vast orb of glistening gold that spilled its luminous glow over the clearing, now a sacred place where the Veil had once been violently severed. Autumn stood with her bare feet nestled in the cool, dewy grass, the moisture tickling her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to shield her heart from the roiling tempest that churned within. The balmy night wrapped around her like a comforting quilt, and the gentle breeze brushed her long hair back from her face, but an undercurrent of dread and anxiety twisted deep within her core.Everything in her world had shifted dramatically, leaving her disoriented and fearful—most notably, the thought that he might have changed as well.Emerging from the shadowy embrace of ancient trees, Tristan appeared like a ghost conjured from the depths of night and forged with iron resolve. His silhouette was striking against the backdrop of silver light, but tonight he bore n

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