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The Alpha
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2025-08-11 21:27:26
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His Wingless Angel Our Own Terms
Silence gripped the chamber like a vice.Even the runes had gone still.Amara’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.A gold dragon.Her child would be a creature no world had ever seen. Born of two bloodlines. But destined to rule completely over one species.Together, unquestionable dominance.But she didn’t feel powerful.She felt trapped.“Fate,” Amara said quietly, “always sounds like someone else’s decision.”Aiyana didn’t flinch. “It is not fate. It is design. And the child you carry is the final piece.”Amara’s mother stepped forward at last, her voice shaky but clear, “And what of free will? Of choosing who we are, not being born into chains?”Aiyana turned toward her, “You knew somewhat of the truth, even if you could not carry the bloodline forward. Your silence kept her alive. So did your love for her father. I do not question your loyalty to our bloodline. But you mistake destiny for a cage. This is not punishment. It is restoration.”Jax muttered under his breath, “Sounds lik
His Wingless Angel Enlightened
The crystal pulsed.The sound was not loud, but felt, like thunder beneath the skin.Damascus stepped forward, ready to intercept whatever rose from the tomb, but Amara lifted a hand. Her expression was unreadable. Not afraid. Not quite reverent anymore either.Something else.The woman inside the crystal slowly rose.Not sat up, but rose from the tomb she had been locked in.The coffin’s lid evaporated into mist the moment her fingertips brushed against it. Golden runes sparked into the air and vanished, as though granting her permission to return.Her eyes locked with Amara’s.Identical.Not just in color, but in weight. In a memory centuries old.And not just their eye color was identical. It was as if Amara was looking into a mirror. The First was an identical match to Amar’s own complexion and build.“I dreamed of you,” the woman said, her voice layered with something old and wild, “Not as you are but as you will soon be.”Damascus shifted protectively beside Amara, “Who are you?
His Wingless Angel The First
The stairwell spiraled downward into shadow, each step colder than the last.There was no natural light here. No torches. No moon. And yet, the deeper they went, the more the walls began to glow. Soft pulses of gold and violet etched into the stone, forming patterns that moved subtly as if breathing.Damascus kept Amara close, his body between her and the unknown. Cain and Jax followed silently. This wasn’t a battlefield yet.But it felt like a tomb.Amara’s mother lingered at the top, hesitant, “This place was sealed for a reason.”Damascus looked back, “And she’s the reason it’s opening.”The staircase ended in a vast chamber, circular, domed, lined with stone arches that curved into impossible angles. The walls were carved with symbols older than any language Damascus had seen, glowing faintly with the same runes that had lit beneath Amara’s feet.In the center of the chamber stood someone’s tomb.But it wasn’t made of stone.It was made of crystal. A deep violet, nearly black, wit
His Wingless Angel No Other Choice
Gabriel stood at the window of his office. The night sky was beginning to break as the sun started to rise. The world outside held a magical mist that enveloped everything, a shimmer in the air that didn’t belong.It had appeared hours ago.Now it draped the city like a veil.He couldn’t place it exactly, but something didn’t feel right. His instincts, honed by war, sharpened by betrayal, were ringing like a bell.Damascus had not checked in for far too long.Gabriel had been clear with his orders: recon only.But he also knew his second.There was no universe in which Damascus would sit on the sidelines while Amara was in danger.Especially not now.“Anything?” Leslie asked, stepping quietly into the office.She looked exhausted. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her posture drawn tight with worry. Gabriel had ordered one of the healers to give her something mild, hoping it might allow her a few hours of sleep.It hadn’t worked.“No,” he said quietly.She came to stand beside him, her eyes d
His Wingless Angel What Comes Next?
The forest was too quiet.Damascus turned in a slow circle, breath shallow. Moonlight cut through the trees in thin ribbons, silver and cold, but the shadows between the branches moved.Or maybe the forest was breathing.Jax lowered his voice, “Where the hell are we?”Cain sniffed the air and narrowed his eyes, “Not on the map. Not even close. I don’t recognize any of this.”Amara leaned against Damascus, her body still trembling from the seal’s backlash. Her skin burned with the imprint of raw magic, but her heartbeat was steady.“I’ve never been here,” she said quietly, “But it feels like something’s waiting.”Her mother staggered to a nearby stump and sat, cradling her side. “This is Old Land,” she said, “Hidden by blood wards. No one enters without the bloodline.”Damascus stepped between Amara and the darkness, instincts still high. “What kind of land?” He had so many questions about everything that had occurred since she was taken, but he also knew now was not the time to explor
His Wingless Angel Still Not Safe
The east tunnel was caved in.Jax cursed under his breath, already pivoting toward a side shaft that hadn’t been on their maps. “Back route. Secondary evac maybe, if we’re lucky.”Cain didn’t hesitate. He took point, his expression unreadable in the half-light.Damascus adjusted his grip on Amara, feeling her weight shift as she steadied herself. Her feet hit the ground again, blood-slicked but steady.“Save your strength,” he said softly.Amara met his gaze, eyes blazing, “We’re not dying in here.”Her mother stumbled again, and Jax moved to support her. Damascus had questions, too many, but time was ripping away like water through cracked stone. The tremors were intensifying, the magic unspooling around them in wild, volatile currents.“Whatever she did,” Cain said tightly, “it’s unraveling the foundation.”“She didn’t just break a spell,” Jax muttered, “it feels like she broke a curse.”Amara’s mother looked up at that, face pale, voice rough, “She ended what should’ve ended centur
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