LOGINI was sent to reap her soul. Now, I am it prisoner." Sloane is a Wingless Reaper. For five centuries, he hasn't known mercy only the cold weight of his blade. His final mission was supposed to be easy: find the girl born with the Infinite Soul and kill her before she manifest and destroy his kind. Elena has spent twenty- four years in a guarded palace, hidden from the world and even the air outside by the ancient Ouroboros cult. She is a walking miracle whose blood holds the key to immortality. She doesn't know she’s a savior; she only knows she wants to be free. The cult wants her blood. The Wingless want her dead. When Sloane finally corners his prey, the universe intervenes. A golden brand sears into his wrist a Divine Shackle. A 24-hour countdown to his own death begins, and there is only one way to stay alive : He must protect the girl he was sent to kill. Now, the world’s deadliest hunter is her only protector. To the Ouroboros, she is a prize to be harvested. To the Fallen, she is a plague to be erased. To Sloane, she is a beautiful curse. As the prophecy draws closer, he realizes the most dangerous thing isn't the ticking clock on his wrist... it’s the heartbeat he could feel for his enemy. One HUNT. One LEASH. No ESCAPE.
View MoreDifferent thought surge through Elena mind as she sat on the hatch.She thought of Caspian. His head hitting the marble. The blood spreading across the white stone. She thought of the way the Reaper had caught her and put a knife on her throat just before the shackle sealed on his wrist.She did not know his name.The man who killed Caspian. The man who carried her through the forest. The man who called her Elena when she woke up the night before. The man who took her all through the jungle.She got up.Her legs were shaky, but they held. She crossed to the door and pushed it open.The morning air hit her face cool and clean, smelling of earth and grain and something sweet she could not name. She stepped outside and stopped.The field stretched out before her, barley and green, swaying in a breeze that felt like nothing she had ever felt before. It was not the filtered air of the Palace. It was not the terror of the forest. It was just... morning. A morning like any other morning in a
Sloane felt a rare, cold spark of genuine unease.As a Reaper, he was the usher of the end. The one who closed the book. He understood the finality of death as a mercy. But a human who could not die? That was a glitch in the very design of existence.The Ouroboros hunted for immortality. This man had been living their dream as a nightmare."But how?" Sloane's mind raced through the lore. "No human soul can anchor itself to the physical plane for that long without—"A sharp, wet intake of breath cut through the tension of the room.On the pallet of furs, Elena's body convulsed. Her eyes snapped open, clouded with the lingering fog of exhaustion and the trauma of the forest. She looked like a trapped animal waking up in a cage.Sloane was on his feet before he could process the thought.He did not think. He just moved. He knelt at her side, his hand hovering inches from her shoulder, trembling slightly as if he were afraid his touch might shatter what was left of her.His heart that col
The compound was lively to the brims. A sea of sweat, spilled ale, and raw merriment followed a hard harvest and a healthy birth. Outside the timber-framed walls of the forge, the air was thick with raucous laughter sharp and bright as a new blade cutting through the cooling evening mist."To Elias!" a voice roared. Wooden mugs thumped against a scarred oak table in a heavy, rhythmic beat."And to the boy! May his arms be as strong as his father's and his heart as steady as the anvil!"It was Elias's inner circle. Men he had bled and worked with for years, gathered to celebrate the arrival of his firstborn. Elias sat among them, a grin stretching across a face still smudged with the soot of his trade, now mixed with spills of wine and the grease of roasted meat.Inside the main house, his wife Melissa was resting. The room was a hive of midwives and well-wishers who had helped deliver the red faced miracle into the world. After years of prayers, the boy was finally here, asleep in her
The Present – The Palace of OuroborosThe rotunda was a scene of carnage and cold.The smell of Valerius's burst eyes and scorched skin was thick, clinging to the heavy velvet cloths used to wrap his body. The Sanguine Machine was a jagged ruin of broken brass. Its primary lever was snapped, the gears shattered.Xalen walked around the High Priest's body. Her boots clicked rhythmically on the stone. She had just been coronated as the new High Priestess. Valerius had been her mentor. A man who was like a father to her after her own father's death.She glanced at his body one last time. Wretched. Dead. Wrapped in cloth on the floor."Take him away." Her voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling.The masked guards moved forward. They lifted Valerius's body and carried it out of the rotunda."Prepare a tomb in the Crypt of the Elders. He died reaching for the prophecy. He will be buried with honor." She paused. "He was a man who was too bold for his own blood. We must make sure his sacrifice i
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