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THE CHOSEN ONE
THE CHOSEN ONE
Author: Mirela

Chapter 1

Author: Mirela
last update Last Updated: 2025-05-30 21:19:24

AIYANA

The day dawned in shades of gold and rose, but the tension in the air seemed to tint it with something darker. The grand event of the evening cast a shadow over every glance and gesture from my cousin and aunt. They were radiant, and I tried to feel at least a little happy for them.

The village had been buzzing since early morning. Isabela’s friends came and went from the small wooden room, carrying dresses, glittering jewelry, and jars of fragrant ointments. The sweet scent of jasmine and vanilla hung thick in the air, making everything feel even more suffocating. I leaned against the doorframe, watching my cousin sit before a cracked mirror, smiling smugly as one of her friends braided her long, silky black hair that flowed like a dark river down to her waist. Every move she made was precise, rehearsed. She had always known how to captivate an entire room, and today would be no different.

“You’re especially quiet today, Aiyana.” Isabela’s voice carried a teasing tone, but I could hear the edge of superiority in it. “Nervous for me?”

She turned slightly to look at me through the mirror, her eyes sparkling with something I couldn’t quite decipher. Maxim. Not Max. Never Max. I wasn’t close enough to use a nickname, nor did I want to be. Maxim was hers, he always had been. And tonight, after the ritual, she would get the confirmation she had longed for.

“I’m just taking it all in,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

Isabela smiled. A sharp smile, more like a challenge than affection. I used to admire her. When we were kids, she was everything I wanted to be: beautiful, confident, desired. But over time, I started to see the cracks in the perfect facade. The way she manipulated those around her, made everything revolve around her. The way she kept Maxim in her orbit with carefully chosen words.

The destiny ritual wasn’t common anymore. It hadn’t been for decades. No one had been blessed with a true partner in ages—a bond marked by the ancestors. But Isabela believed she would be the exception. Everyone believed it. And what if she was right? What if the ancestors confirmed that she and Maxim were truly destined souls? She’d become unbearable.

The dress she had chosen for the ceremony was a vision,simple fabric tailored to hug her curves perfectly. When she finally stood and turned to face me, I could tell she already saw herself as a Luna.

“When Maxim claims me as his, everything will change.” Isabela ran her fingers over the thin costume necklace around her neck a gift from him. “You’ll see, Aiyana. Fate always favors those who know what they want.”

I just nodded, but something in her certainty unsettled me.

Her eyes slid over my body, and her expression twisted with distaste. She frowned, crossing her arms in dramatic disapproval.

“You’re going to the ritual like that?” Her voice dripped with disdain.

I looked down at my clothes. The brown leather pants, a gift from my grandmother, fit snugly and comfortably. The long-sleeved white blouse dipped in a modest V-neck. The hunting belt cinched at my waist held my knives. I didn’t see anything wrong, but to Isabela, my very presence regardless of appearance was an offense. I was used to it.

She scoffed, turning to her friend Brigitte, a short, curly-haired brunette who immediately returned her a look of complicity.

“My family takes pleasure in embarrassing me,” Isabela muttered, as if I wasn’t even there.

Brigitte let out a giggle, her dark eyes landing on me with barely concealed disgust. I held back the urge to laugh. As if she was the embodiment of virtue. I’d seen her sneak into Luca’s cabin,Maxim’s beta, just two nights ago. And everyone knew her boyfriend had dumped her in front of the entire village after finding out about her betrayal. So no, she definitely had no right to look down on me.

I swallowed hard, keeping my expression blank. Let her think she’d gotten to me. That was their game, wasn’t it?

The door creaked softly before a firm, aged voice filled the small room.

“Isabela, my dear, you shouldn’t concern yourself with Aiyana’s clothing choices. After all, you’re the star of the night.”

Aldrich, our grandmother, entered with the calm of someone who had seen decades of ceremonies like this. Her gaze was sharp, and there was a hint of amusement in her eyes as they settled on me. Before Isabela could protest, Aldrich gave me a discreet wink so subtle that only I would notice.

As expected, Isabela quickly regained her composure, the displeasure on her face vanishing as if it had never been there. Her chin lifted slightly, shoulders relaxed, and a satisfied smile took over her lips.

“You’re right, Grandma. Not worth getting stressed over,” she replied, adjusting her flawless hair. Then she turned to me once more, her eyes still holding a flicker of disdain. “But at least take a bath, Aiyana.”

She spoke with false sweetness before completely ignoring me and turning back to her mirror, satisfied to have had the last word.

I rolled my eyes and made my way to my room, grateful not to have run into my aunt, Birguit, on the way. Isabela’s mother could be twice as bad.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, I let out a relieved sigh. Having a bathroom in my own room was a small privilege, but one I appreciated more than ever now.

I took a hot, relaxing shower, trying to wash away the tension of my encounter with Isabela. When I got out, I stared at my clothing options. The chill of the night was already settling in, so dresses were out of the question. I chose fitted jeans, a white off-the-shoulder top, and a jacket to keep me warm.

I stepped closer to the mirror and studied my reflection. My long, golden-brown hair fell in loose waves down to the middle of my back. My gray eyes, as pale as the full moon, sometimes took on a bluish hue under certain lights. My sun-kissed skin bore the signs of an active life, as did my toned body, sculpted by countless hunts. I wasn’t tall barely five-foot-four, but my presence never went unnoticed. People might call me solitary, sarcastic, but never weak. 

I pondered for a second whether I should actually participate in the ritual, no one would miss me, well, no one other than my grandmother and Alyssa.

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  • THE CHOSEN ONE   Chapter 82

    AIYANAMax’s chest rose and fell violently, as if he were trying to keep some beast inside him. But failing."Are you trying to torture me?" he growled, his voice hoarse, caught between pain and desire. "Is that it, Aiyana?""I… I don’t know how I ended up here." I tried to pull the towel, cover something, anything, but the fabric betrayed me, slipping easily, spreading across the mattress as if it too wanted to abandon me. "Damn it…"I tried to turn, to retreat, but he was already over me.Max moved with animal speed, and suddenly I was lying on my back, his weight pinning me to the mattress. One of his hands gripped my throat, not squeezing, but firm, possessed. The other supported his body beside my face, his muscles taut, veins bulging, as if he might explode."Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?" he whispered, his voice torn, his eyes blazing. "You lie on my chest with that fucking towel and think it won’t tear me apart inside?"His eyes roamed my body as if every expos

  • THE CHOSEN ONE   Chapter 81

    AIYANAVardam opens the book and shows me diagrams. Energy lines. Protection circles."Most witches barely scratch the surface. A thread of magic, and that’s it. But a few… a few are like us. Gifted.""Gifted?" I ask, trying to hide my discomfort.He takes a vial with a dark liquid and sets it on the table."Arkan, for example. Meredith as well. Both went beyond what’s considered the standard limit among witches. They’re on a higher level, which is why they believe they’re superior."His eyes don’t leave mine."She doesn’t work with alchemy. She prefers other methods… more visceral. Meredith uses control magic. Voodoo dolls, personal objects. If she gets something that belongs to you a strand of hair, a piece of clothing, she can invade your body with pain."My stomach twists. The thought of someone like her by Arkan’s side is enough to give me chills."And Josefina. Is she involved too?""Josefina is young, but she was born in the midst of power. Raised as heir to Meredith’s dark leg

  • THE CHOSEN ONE   Chapter 80

    AIYANAI didn’t know what to expect from a father lost and found. Maybe an awkward hug, or a dramatic apology straight out of some cheesy romance Alyssa would try to shove on me. But Vardam gave me none of that.And deep down, I’m grateful for it.He didn’t call me “daughter.” He didn’t try to fill a role that was never his. He just introduced himself as someone who knew more than he was telling, which seems to be the theme with everyone in my life, and offered what he could: answers, guidance, training.Still, when I’m near him, it feels like I’m trying to decipher an ancient riddle. As if he carries every piece of my puzzle and is testing whether I deserve to see them.

  • THE CHOSEN ONE   Chapter 79

    AIYANAI slipped out of Icarus’s arms and finished pulling on my shirt, fumbling to find my pants, tugging them on in a rush while his touch still burned against my thighs.I had one leg in when Maxim appeared on the second-to-last step of the staircase.And his gaze burned hotter than any touch.He froze.He didn’t say anything at first, not in the first second, maybe not even in the next. But his eyes said everything. His clenched jaw, his fists tightening, his gaze sparking with a maddening mix of rage and hurt.“I thought you were dead,” Maxim finally growled, his eyes darkening. “But no. You were just... busy.&rd

  • THE CHOSEN ONE   Chapte 78

    AIYANAThe attic of Vardam’s house was covered in a fine layer of dust. The slanted ceiling filtered the late-afternoon light through cracks in the roof, painting the space with orange hues and long shadows.Icarus walked to the center of the room, nudging a few objects out of the way with his foot. I followed him in silence, watching his precise, almost calculated movements, like he always knew exactly where to step without making a sound, as if the whole world were a minefield and he had memorized the map.It was only when he turned to me, arms crossed, that I noticed.“You’re... wearing gloves?”He glanced down at his gloved hands as if he had forgotten. The gloves were black, thin, looked like lightweight wool, but reached just past his wrists.“Yeah.” His answer was quiet, almost defensive. “Lethal touch, remember? Better not risk it.”My stomach tightened. It hurt, in a strange way. Not out of fear, but for him. For everything he carried and hid behind irony and silence. He spok

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    AIYANAVardam raised a finger, demanding silence for a brief second."Arkan was one of my brother’s most powerful disciples. A brilliant apprentice… and deeply corrupted. But he wasn’t the only one. If he made contact with the others… then there’s a legion lurking. Waiting."He looked directly at me. I felt a shiver crawl up my spine."Aiyana… everything revolves around you."A sound of scorn escaped my lips before I could stop it."Why is it always me?""Because you are impossible," he replied, and noticing my offended expression, added, "You shouldn’t exist."

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