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Ashes and Oaths
Last Updated:
2025-07-15 19:54:37
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Her Enemy, His Curse The Witch and the War
The battlefield was a dead valley where nothing grew—no grass, no roots, not even bones.Just blackened soil and the remnants of old magic, charred into the earth like the scars of gods long gone.We stood at its edge, wind slicing through the ranks of our army like knives through silk. The storm above had not broken, but it churned, dark and swollen, as if waiting for a scream to split the sky.And I felt her.Before I saw her, I felt her.A prickle down my spine. A rancid taste on my tongue. The way every spark of magic inside me recoiled like it recognized a predator.Lucian reached for his sword, eyes narrowing. “She’s here.”I nodded once, my pulse thudding like a war drum. “She’s close.”Then the mist rolled in—slow, thick, and red as spilled wine.Figures emerged like ghosts, one by one, cloaked in tattered robes and iron armor—hollowed warriors. Puppets carved from blood and bone.And at their center…Morganna.She didn’t ride. She glided.Feet never touching the earth, her ro
Her Enemy, His Curse The Morning We Burned
The morning came dressed in ash and silence.No birds sang. No horns blared. The sun did not rise—it only bled pale light through the veil of storm-heavy clouds, painting Hollowspire in shades of war.Lucian still held me when I woke.One arm thrown over my waist, the other curled beneath his head. His breath stirred my hair in slow, quiet intervals, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe this was peace. That we were just lovers in some far-off corner of the world where curses didn’t exist and kingdoms didn’t fall.But then the weight of it crept back in.The scent of stone and sweat. The ache in my thighs. The echo of our names whispered like vows against the walls. And beneath it all—the truth.We had crossed a line that didn’t exist anymore.I shifted, and Lucian stirred instantly.His eyes opened, stormy and watchful, as if he never truly slept. "You should’ve let me go," he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep and something older. Something broken.I didn’t answer.Because
Her Enemy, His Curse The Night Before War
The storm came in quiet.No lightning. No thunder. Just the heavy press of air thick with longing, thick with something waiting. The walls of Hollowspire moaned under the weight of it, and in the chamber I’d been given—bare and war-scarred—there was nothing to distract me from the burn beneath my skin.Lucian hadn’t spoken since the council broke. He’d followed me through the winding corridors like a shadow made of firelight—silent, watchful, and too full of the same restless hunger that crawled beneath my ribs.I could feel him even now, standing just behind me, staring as I braced my palms on the stone windowsill, the cold seeping into my fingers, the heat coiling lower in my belly.“You’re going to war tomorrow,” I whispered, not turning around.“So are you,” he said, his voice rougher than I remembered, like it had been dragged over the edge of a blade.“I don’t want to sleep,” I said.“I don’t want you to sleep either.”I turned then, slowly, my back to the cold stone and my eyes
Her Enemy, His Curse The Road That Remembers
Dawn did not break in the Wildlands.It peeled back the edges of the mist slowly, like a careful hand unwrapping something sacred. Light bled in soft and gold, not from the sky—but from the roots, the stones, the very breath of the glade. The forest did not sleep, and neither did I.Lucian’s warmth was still pressed to my side, though he didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to.The Wildfolk moved in silence too, not from fear but from reverence. Each step they took was deliberate. Ritual. The way they readied themselves was not like us—no armor, no war cries. They wove bone and bark into braids, anointed their limbs with sap and ash, and looked to the trees as if asking permission.Permission to leave.Permission to kill.Permission to die.When I rose to my feet, the woman from the glade—her name still unspoken—was already waiting.“You slept like one of us,” she said, though we both knew I hadn’t.“I listened like one of you,” I replied. “The forest speaks in its own way.”Her lips cu
Her Enemy, His Curse The forest does not forget
The Wildlands began where the roads stopped, pretending to lead anywhere.Branches arched like ribcages above us, their twisted limbs blotting out the sun in thick knots of bark and shadow. Moss grew heavy along every surface, damp with the weight of unspoken things. There was no birdsong, no rustling squirrels or murmuring streams. Only the breath of the forest—slow, watching, old.We rode in silence for hours, hooves muffled by the soft decay of the earth.Lucian broke the stillness first. “They’re already tracking us.”“How do you know?” I asked, though I felt it too.He glanced upward. “Because the forest hasn’t swallowed us yet.”A branch cracked in the distance—not from weight, but from choice.They knew we were here.The Wildfolk had no banners. No thrones. No laws etched in ink. Their allegiance was to the old pacts, to blood and root, to the balance long before kingdoms carved borders through it.“I was told they don’t speak until they’ve decided if you’re worth hearing,” I m
Her Enemy, His Curse Ashes and Oaths
The halls of the Keep echoed with footsteps not my own.Morning light filtered weakly through the stained glass, casting fractured beams across the stone floor like wounds in the flesh of the stronghold. In the quiet hush before war, the Keep only held its breath and did not sleep.I had barely crossed the main corridor when one of the outer guards, breathless, intercepted me.“There’s movement,” he said, chest heaving. “From the southern edge. Riders. Two bearing the mark of House Yvain. One cloaked.”My stomach clenched.House Yvain had long been silent, scattered, and half-dead since the Hollowing claimed their mountain keep. Their sudden reappearance now was no coincidence.“Have they requested parley?” I asked.“They haven’t had the chance. The gate warden held them at the perimeter until we could inform you.”When I reached the outer court, the tension was thick as oil.The riders dismounted slowly, careful not to reach for weapons. One stepped forward—a tall man with skin like
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