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Nine
Last Updated:
2025-06-24 01:51:05
Latest chapter
First Bite Through the Gate
The Veil didn’t shatter—it sloughed away, layer by layer, like peeling skin beneath a relentless sun. Autumn stepped through the fractured surface of the mirror, the violet flame still dancing fervently around her dagger. Instantly, the familiar room dissolved into nothingness, replaced by an atmosphere thick and brittle, reminiscent of glass poised on the brink of splintering. The Hollow welcomed her with a profound, eerie silence. No breaths of wind caressed her skin; there was no laughing sky above or firm ground beneath her feet—only the resonating beat of her heart that echoed in the stillness and an endless expanse of ash, punctuated by grotesque shapes that masqueraded as trees—distorted bones entwined in slithering vines, some still exhaling shallow breaths of life. She felt herself drift rather than w
First Bite Shadow of the Sister
Autumn lay awake in her dimly lit bedroom, unable to find solace in sleep. Each time her eyelids fluttered shut, a chilling breeze seemed to sweep through the room, caressing her skin and echoing her name in whispers. But these were not the comforting tones of friends or the tender inflections of Tristan's voice, the way he spoke when he thought she was still unaware of his attentive observations. No, this was something far darker—possessive, almost sinister, like a longing that asserted ownership, leaving a heavy unease in her chest.To combat the encroaching dread, she had taken to keeping the Book at the foot of her bed. It was restrained by a heavy chain forged from iron and surrounded by a protective border of black salt, a makeshift barrier against whatever dark forces threatened her. Beneath her pillow rested a dagger, its blade glinting ominously in the moonlight. Tristan had voiced his disapproval—concern etched across his features—but he had refrained from arguing. He unders
First Bite The Hollow Gate
The Book didn’t whisper that night; it screamed through the stillness of the house.Autumn jolted awake at precisely 3:33 a.m., her heart racing as she blinked at the sight before her. The Book pulsed with a ghostly light at the foot of her bed, its pages fluttering violently like trapped birds, despite the windows being securely shut against the autumn chill. The pendant that hung around her neck, an ornate piece of silver filigree, felt uncomfortably cold against her collarbone, as if it were absorbing the warmth from her skin.She instinctively reached for the pendant, and the moment her fingers brushed its surface, the entire room shifted. The familiar coziness of the estate vanished; the rich, wooden walls peeled away, replaced by swirling mists of fog and ice. The plush mattress beneath her dissolved, leaving her standing barefoot on the bare floor, surro
First Bite Bound by Memory
Rain dripped steadily from the aged stone facade of the old church, pooling in the crevices of the worn steps, while its boarded windows seemed to weep, cracked panes revealing shadows within. The Mirabella chapel had stood abandoned for decades, its doors sealed since the death of her grandmother, a loss the family had chosen to bury in silence.Yet it was the Book that had guided her to this solemn place. In the dead of night, it had stirred to life, pages flipping as if possessed, a soft glow illuminating the edges that beckoned to her. Autumn had followed its beckoning across fog-laden roads, through the whispers of slumbering spirits, until she arrived at this hallowed ground.Upon entering, Autumn found the air stale and dry, preserved as if enchanted. Dust danced in the faint light that flickered from the
First Bite Council of Night
The summit convened deep beneath the city's surface, nestled within the ancient catacombs of Detroit's oldest cemetery, where the cold air whispered secrets and the ground was laced with the remnants of dark magic—vampire blood and protective wards cast by witches. The Council of Night gathered only during times of dire imbalance, and Autumn's presence was imperative, an unwelcome obligation she could not escape.Tristan walked closely beside her, his posture taut with unspent energy, a cornered wolf among shadows. He was clad in ceremonial black, the fabric structured and somber, meticulously tailored. His family crest—the image of two mirrored wolves ensnared in thorn-laden vines—was subtly embossed on the collar of his shirt, a testament to his lineage and the weight of their legacy.In stark contrast, Autumn adorned herself in deep emerald green
First Bite A Name in Fire
The flames didn’t crackle with life; instead, they hissed and spitted, reminiscent of a serpent coiled in menace, warning any who dared intrude into its lethal domain.Autumn found herself standing amidst a grove engulfed by a relentless fire, her bare feet sinking into the earth that felt as if it were alive, blistering hot and cracked like ancient pottery beneath her weight. Towering over her like watchful sentinels of a forgotten age, the trees stretched ominously skyward, their massive, gnarled forms twisted by time. Their branches, like grotesque claws, reached out hungrily into the suffocating darkness. The bark of these trees bore a haunting shade of deep crimson, reminiscent of dried blood that echoed tales of long-forgotten battles and despair. Stripped of their leaves, these ancient giants had long abandoned the whims of nature, choosing instead to flourish amid fire and sorrow.&n
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