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2025-06-17 16:14:05
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Her Enemy, His Curse Epilogue: Dawn After the Storm
Weeks had passed since the battle. The courtyard, once scarred by chaos and blood, now gleamed in the morning light, polished and orderly as though the world itself had been reset. The warriors went about their routines with a new steadiness, a confidence born from surviving the storm, but the memory of that dawn—the clash of silver and shadow, the roar of the pack, and Dane’s vanquished threat—still lingered in every corner of the castle.I stood on the balcony of our chamber, Lucian at my side, fingers entwined with mine. The valley below stretched in quiet splendor, fields frosted with the lingering chill of early spring and rivers glinting silver beneath the rising sun. Birds sang in cautious notes, as if testing whether the world had truly healed.“You’re quiet,” Lucian said, voice low, teasing, though I could hear the softness behind it.“I’m… happy,” I admitted, leaning into him. The warmth of his body against mine was steady, grounding, a constant I hadn’t realized I’d been cr
Her Enemy, His Curse The last fight
ArielleThe first light of dawn bled across the horizon, cold and sharp, painting the courtyard in gray and silver. Shadows clung to the walls like dark memories, reluctant to let go, but the chill didn’t touch the fire coiling in my veins.I flexed my hands, feeling the silver hum beneath my skin, no longer a restless, raging tide but a sharpened blade waiting for a strike. Lucian’s presence at my side was a tether, steadying and familiar, and yet… my pulse thrummed for him and against him all at once. He didn’t need to speak. I could feel the promise in the set of his shoulders, the weight of his calm readiness pressing into mine.From the trees, movement stirred. A ripple of shapes, low and predatory. Dane’s pack. Their growls and snarls rolled across the courtyard, testing, probing, hungry.I closed my eyes, letting the sound settle like a stone in my chest. Not yet. Not until the right moment.Lucian leaned closer, his breath brushing the side of my neck. “Remember,” he murmured,
Her Enemy, His Curse And then what
ArielleThe howl tore through the night like a blade.It wasn’t just sound—it was a claim. A reminder. A promise of ruin.Every muscle in my body went rigid. The silver inside me flared in recognition, writhing as though it had heard the voice of a master it refused to obey. I pressed a hand to my chest, breath short, fighting to hold it down. Not now. Not like this.Lucian’s hand dropped from my cheek to my shoulder, anchoring me. His presence steadied me the way stone steadies a crumbling wall. But even stone cracks under enough weight.Another howl followed, closer this time, joined by a chorus of answering voices. The pack. They filled the night with their hunger, a sound that slithered through the trees and over the walls, seeding doubt in every heart within earshot.The courtyard stirred again. Warriors rushed to the battlements, blades flashing, faces hard with terror they didn’t want to admit. The silence that had held us fractured into whispers.“He’s calling them.”“They’ll
Her Enemy, His Curse The silence before
ArielleThe horn stopped after the third call.It left the courtyard in a silence more suffocating than noise, every warrior’s breath visible in the frost, every hand tight on a weapon. The firelight flickered against armor and steel, painting shadows that looked too much like shapes moving in the night.But no attack came. Not yet.Lucian’s orders shifted from battle-readiness to waiting. Scouts slipped beyond the walls, fading into the darkness with only the crunch of snow to mark their passage. Those left behind held their breath as if the sound alone might summon Dane.I hated waiting.The silver stirred restlessly in my veins, a low pulse against my skin, whispering to be used. It felt him, too—I was sure of it. Like a storm scenting the air before the first strike of lightning.Lucian stayed near, his presence steady even as his eyes tracked every shadow. When he finally spoke, it was in a voice low enough only I could hear.“He’s testing us. Waiting to see if we’ll break before
Her Enemy, His Curse Firelight
LucianThe night was sharp with cold, the kind that crept under armor and whispered against bone. I had circled the stronghold twice, my boots crunching over frost, my eyes on every torch and every shadow. It should have eased me, knowing the wards were set, the scouts posted, the walls strong. But nothing could still the unease.War was coming. We had chosen it. But Dane—Dane would welcome it.When I returned, I didn’t find Arielle in her chamber. I found her in the training hall, alone.Torches burned low, their light restless as she moved through the stances I’d taught her. Each strike of her blade was deliberate, sharper than the last, though her ribs were still bound and her body bore the bruises of our last battle. She was breaking herself against silence.And the storm inside her simmered, straining for release.“You should be resting,” I said, leaning against the doorway.Her blade halted mid-arc, then lowered slowly. Her eyes didn’t waver from me. “Resting won’t make me ready
Her Enemy, His Curse The what comes next??
ArielleThe fire in the hearth burned low, the smoke stinging my lungs in ways the storm had not. I stood in the center of the council chamber, shoulders squared though my body still ached, every bruise and torn muscle screaming at me to sit. But I wouldn’t—not here, not in front of them.They had gathered in silence. Elders with silver in their hair, warriors with bandaged arms and split brows, scouts who smelled of dirt and blood. They didn’t look at me the way they looked at Lucian. Their gazes lingered longer, wary, edged with something sharp.Fear.The word cut through me like glass.I had expected gratitude. Respect, maybe. Not this. Not the silence that wrapped tighter with every second I stood there.Lucian shifted at my side, a quiet presence, his eyes scanning the room, daring anyone to speak first.It was one of the elders who finally did. His voice was rough, like gravel. “We saw what you unleashed.”The words were not accusation—not yet—but they weren’t trust, either.My
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