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🌋🌙 how do we breach their gates?
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2025-10-18 19:09:16
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Marked and forsaken 📖 The end 🌙✨
In the end, I never really thought I would say it—love is patience, love is sacrifice. Love is not quick to judge, it is not hateful. Love is not merely sweet or reverent, and it is not the absence of ache.Love is a quiet fire that warms even when the world is cold.It is a tide that pulls and releases, shaping the shores of the heart.a fragile bloom in a storm, yet stubborn enough to survive.Love is both shadow and light, always present, sometimes unseen.Love is sometimes a heartbeat echoing in the silence of longing.Yet the cruel truth I fear to admit is this: love asks no “why.” Love does not dwell in perfection. Love is the sword that rends every heart, leaving only surrender in its wake.But it baffles me how the very opposite of love can sometimes wear its skin—how longing, loneliness, and unprofitable pain can disguise themselves as devotion. If not tested by truth, they linger as shadows of love, breeding nothing but regret.And where do we draw the line between love and
Marked and forsaken 🌙🌺 Scraps of Burning Wholeness”
🫦It’s been a long day. I toss my dress aside and step into the washroom. The air is thick with memories—this place carries the scent of him, the echo of a past I thought I’d buried. I slip into the warm bath and stretch my legs, letting the water swallow my sigh. The calm barely settles before a knock sounds at the door. “I’m almost done!” I call out. “Okay,” Varyn’s voice answers, low and familiar. And that’s when it hits me—this is his washroom. He’s not leaving. Which means, sooner or later, I’ll have to walk out there and face him. “Come in,” I whisper, barely audible. I’m not even sure he hears me. But the door shifts open, slow and careful. He stands there, framed by the soft light, as though he’s been waiting for that single word—come. Something turns deep within my spirit, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. Not yet. When I finally do—just a tilt of my head—I meet his gaze already waiting on me, steady and unreadable. I’ve known this man before, yet in this m
Marked and forsaken 🌺 Rise of a luna queen
He grab my hand, pulling me along. “Come, I want you to meet someone.” “What? Wait—I need to receive complaints for Pelin.” “That can wait,” he replies, tugging me forward. “Okay, can we not run? We’re too old for it!” He lets go of my hand I snap, turning back. “No, no, no,” he hurries, catching my hands again. “We walk together—slowly.” But I see the haste in his eyes. “Okay, we can walk fast,” I murmur. And then he starts running. I just smile as his feet barely touch the ground, graceful and purposeful. I tighten my hold on his hands, quickening my pace to match him. We reach the West Castle, and as we step inside, an elder female stands waiting. Varyn presses a subtle nod toward me, and my breath catches. She’s his mother—the same elder whose house I stumbled into that night I wandered the West lands. Now I understand what her silent tears were for—they were for me. Was she able to see through my frustration that night, or did she simply feel the weight
Marked and forsaken 🌙🌸 Eclipsed by Desire
“How long does it take you to get any message?”he asks. I just stand there, breath caught somewhere between shock and ache. How do I act before him now? Do I show him the anger I’ve buried for seven years—the frustration, the abandonment? Or do I thank him for simply being alive? Should I tell him how everything fell apart after his presence vanished from that battlefield? Or should I turn away and say I want none of this—none of him? But the truth is, there’s nothing I’ve wanted more in five long years than this. “I have come to take you back,” he says—his voice steady, commanding, unmistakably Varyn. Possessive as always. I just stand there, unable to meet his eyes. The universe feels as though it’s spinning endlessly around us, yet I remain still, trapped between a thousand breaths I can’t release. My throat aches; I swallow once, desperate to find words—anger, relief, regret—but nothing comes. Then, in a heartbeat, the full moon swells above us. I finally lift my gaze to
Marked and forsaken 📝Whispers Through the Windows”
🍀🍃Five years later, the West Clan sits in feral peace. Anzelrius has been executed by hanging, the corrupt elders exiled forever, and no soul dares rise in rebellion or treachery again. The calm across the lands feels almost unreal. Every street, every field, seems unnaturally quiet—so peaceful it sometimes bores me.In all my sisters , My sisters remain by my side—except Pelin, who reigns as Luna of our mother’s tribe.. Keala is more than happy as Luna in the South, naming a beautiful village after Moren, the first wolf and a female land name . Caelora has claimed the East as Cat Luna, her dominion respected and feared. Nyvrae only returns once a year, always with her mate. Thyra, however, has never come back since she left, and I worry for her, wondering how she fares. Dolly wanders the lands, frequenting her favorite haunts—the taverns loud with raucous, careless people. She sits in silence among the chaos, and somehow always ensures someone pays for their folly before she leav
Marked and forsaken 🪷A Dress for Regret
⸻ And immediately, I see Varyn’s eyes widen in hope—while Rauth’s narrow in fear. I turn—and there he is. The boy who once helped Varyn meet Elarion for the first time. He steps forward, bows low before the throne. “Forgive me, my Alpha. I am late.” From his satchel, he draws the ancestral fangs of hierarchy—the lost symbol of rule—and places them into Varyn’s open hand. Varyn lifts it high, the room holding its breath. The elders who challenged him drop to their knees, fear and guilt washing over their faces. The guilty ones rise in a hurry, scrambling toward the doors as Varyn turns back to the boy. “Thank you, Myric,” he says, his voice soft for the first time. He pulls the boy into a brief, grateful embrace. “Ask me anything you desire, and I shall grant it. Wealth, land, shelter—name your wish.” Myric bows deeper. “I am sorry, my Alpha. I want the young Alpha’s godmother.” The words hang in the air like a blade. “What?” The sound escapes me before I can stop it. Var
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