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The Things that Wake at Dawn.

Auteur: Holland Ross
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-06-29 04:17:32

Arielle

I didn’t sleep.

Not really.

I drifted between stillness and memory, between the crackle of battle and the smell of ash braided into my hair. Somewhere in the dark, Lucian lay beside me, his hand resting at my waist, grounding me to now—to this room, this breath, this borrowed moment.

But peace? That was a myth.

And dawn was always the price of dreaming.

The horns called us before the sun even rose.

One long blast, followed by another. No alarm. No panic. Just that haunting sound carved from bone and magic echoing through stone corridors.

A warning.

A summons.

A beginning.

I dressed in silence.

Lucian did too.

The bond between us hummed steady, taut and low. Like a string drawn too tight, waiting to snap. Or sing.

By the time we stepped into the open air of the court, the sky had begun to change. Not with color—but with pressure.

A wrongness in the clouds. A tension in the trees. The birds didn’t sing. The wind didn’t blow.

And then we saw it.

The creature stood at the gates of
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  • Her Enemy, His Curse   The blade between us

    LucianThe path back wasn't a path at all.It was memory.Pain and power braided together like the twisted strands of the dagger’s hilt. Every step I took echoed with something ancient, something watching. The blade hadn’t stopped whispering since I claimed it. It didn’t speak in words anymore.It remembered.Every betrayal ever carved in bone.Every lover turned weapon.Every king who fell to his knees before it, and every god who bled because he didn’t.It wasn’t just judging me now.It was teaching me.And I—I was listening.The door reformed behind me when I emerged, not with stone, but with silence. The kind that pressed against your chest and demanded reverence. The Tower was waiting.But not for me.Her.Arielle.I didn’t have to see her to feel the shift. The air above was burning cold, the kind of heat that scalded from the inside out. The kind that transformed.My heart stuttered. Then beat again, harder.She was choosing her court.And if they failed—They’d die for it.Th

  • Her Enemy, His Curse   Temperance of the Dagger

    LucianThe door didn’t open.It breathed.A pulse—slow, ancient, wrong—throbbed through the obsidian surface like a heartbeat with no body to house it. The runes beneath my feet lit dimly, one by one, as if some old language was remembering how to speak again. I didn’t have to touch the stone.It touched me.The burn started in my palm, racing up my veins like fire laced with ice. Not pain. Not quite. But the sense that if I let go, if I gave this magic an inch—It would take everything.“Why are you here?” the woman asked again, voice deeper now, layered with something not human.Not even divine.“What do you seek in the belly of gods?”I stared at the crescent-marked door and said the only thing that mattered.“Arielle.”The shadows parted.The door did not open in the usual sense. It simply... ceased to exist.And beyond it—darkness.Not absence.Presence.The kind that watched.I stepped inside.The scent of iron grew thick. Not fresh blood.Old blood. Sacred blood. Spilled in sac

  • Her Enemy, His Curse   The first trial

    LucianThere are thirteen of them.Thirteen masks. Thirteen blades. Thirteen chances for death, disguised as opportunity.The stone ring thrummed with old magic, the kind that crawled beneath the skin and whispered your secrets to the dirt. I kept to Arielle’s right—close enough to shield, not close enough to smother. She wouldn't allow that anymore.She moved like shadow given form, like the war she was born to wage. And as the contenders circled, I couldn’t help but watch the way they watched her.Like wolves at the scent of blood.And she?She offered them her throat with a smile."Let the Trials begin," Arielle said, voice cutting clean through the cold.A tremor moved through the circle. Magic rippled. Torches flared blue.And then—Chaos.Two contenders clashed instantly—steel on steel, no hesitation. Another dropped low, attempting to sweep a third’s legs before disappearing in smoke. One masked figure didn’t move at all, just watched Arielle the way I did.Like they knew her.

  • Her Enemy, His Curse   Book Two-Chapter One: the blade below

    LucianThe first time I saw her, she was nothing but defiance and blood.The second time, she was fire.Now—She’s something else.Something worse.Or better.Depending which side of the blade you stand on.She stood in the center of the tower chamber, robes soaked in light and shadow, and I couldn’t breathe. Not from fear. From the weight of knowing—She wasn’t mine anymore.Not entirely.She belonged to something older now. Older than courts. Older than kings. Older than death.And they knew it, too.The Hollowguard.The assassins beneath the court.The mirror that cracked without being touched.Even the gods hiding in their ruined temples—they knew.The Queen had returned.But she hadn't come back to rule.She’d come back to finish what the fire started.And if I was honest with myself—A part of me was afraid.Not of her.But of what I’d do if they tried to take her again.Because I’d seen the dagger. I’d felt it through the bond—venom-coated obsidian, forged under a blood moon.M

  • Her Enemy, His Curse   The queen must die

    LucianShe said it like a prayer.No—like a prophecy.“They’re going to try to kill me.”The air didn’t move after that. It froze.My hands curled before I could stop them, fists tightening at my sides. I didn’t ask her to repeat it. I didn’t doubt it for a second. The bond between us, once a thread, was now a burning cord through my ribs. And it flared the moment she spoke, heat licking up my spine like a warning.“Who?” I asked, voice low, teeth clenched to hold back the fury trembling behind it.Arielle didn’t look at me. She stared past me—through the mirror, through stone, through time. Her ceremonial robes still clung to her like silk chains, too heavy for her slender frame. Her reflection shimmered like it knew what she was becoming.“I don’t know their names,” she whispered. “But I felt them. Blood rites. Secrets. Rage.”I stepped toward her, slowly, as if she might vanish if I moved too fast. “Tell me what you need.”She looked at me then, and for a breath, I forgot how to st

  • Her Enemy, His Curse   A Blade Beneath the Crown

    They toasted her like a god.Raised silver goblets, knelt at her feet, vowed loyalty to the witch who returned from death.But not all of them meant it.Not truly.Not in the dark.Especially not in the dark.In the caverns beneath the ruined hall of the Old Blooded Court, the air was colder than it should’ve been. No torches. Just the scent of wet stone, mold, and ancient magic.Three shadows gathered around an obsidian altar, etched in runes too old for translation.“I saw her with my own eyes,” hissed the voice of the Winter envoy. “She didn’t walk out of the Temple. She crawled through it. You call that power? That’s a parasite, wearing her face.”“She silenced Prince Veyric with a flick of her hand,” murmured the envoy from Dusk Court. “No spell. No chant. She just looked at him.”“That’s not magic,” the third shadow said. “That’s possession.”The stone altar shimmered with blood—old offerings pulsing as if they heard every word.The Winter envoy leaned closer. “She shouldn’t be

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