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Chapter Thirty-Six
Last Updated:
2026-01-28 17:22:37
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THE SILENCE OF LYCAN ISLE Chapter Forty
Morning came to Lycan Isle without ceremony. There was no triumphant sunrise, no cleansing light to promise renewal. Instead, the sky unfolded in layers of grey and silver, clouds dragging low over the cliffs as though the island itself were weary. The sea churned below, restless but restrained, its rhythm steady enough to suggest patience rather than peace.Ross woke before the bells.He lay still for a moment, listening to the breath beside him, to the faint cry of gulls outside the tall windows, to the distant murmur of guards changing shifts. His body ached in that deep, familiar way that came not from battle but from restraint, from holding too much in for too long.Tiana slept curled against him, her head resting on his chest, her arm thrown over his waist as if claiming him even in unconsciousness. The bandage on her arm peeked from beneath the sleeve of his shirt, stark white against her skin. The sight tightened something in his chest again, though not as sharply as the night
THE SILENCE OF LYCAN ISLE Chapter Thirty-Nine
After fire, after blood, after the sharp edge of almost-death, Lycan Isle slipped into a hush so complete it felt unnatural, as if the island itself were holding its breath. The torches along the cliff path burned low, their flames bowing to a wind that had lost its anger but not its warning. Dawn had not yet come. The sky lingered in that uncertain blue-black hour where night had loosened its grip but refused to let go entirely.Ross sat alone in the west study.Not the hidden one. Not the room that carried Nathaniel’s ghost in its walls and floorboards and dust-heavy silence. This was a room meant for order – ledgers stacked neatly, maps of the island framed and precise, the kind of space that had once convinced Ross he could control chaos if he arranged it carefully enough.Tonight, even that illusion had abandoned him.He sat with his elbows braced on the desk, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone white, his head bowed. His jacket lay discarded on the floor where he
THE SILENCE OF LYCAN ISLE Chapter Thirty-Eight
The island did not sleep that night.Lycan Isle breathed like a living thing under siege – torches burned along the cliffs, boats clustered unnaturally close to shore, voices rising and falling in waves that carried all the way up to the manor. From the balcony, Ross could see it all: the fracture lines finally exposed, the careful hierarchy undone by a truth that refused to stay buried.Nathaniel’s name passed from mouth to mouth like a prayer and a curse all at once.Inside the manor, the council gathered in forced urgency. Not the ceremonial kind, not the polished assemblies where wine flowed and decisions were made behind closed smiles. This was raw. Uneven. Dangerous.Tiana stood just beyond the doors, watching shadows move across the frosted glass as raised voices leaked into the corridor.“They’re afraid,” Mark murmured beside her.“They should be,” she replied.Inside, Ross faced them without sitting.Vivienne Hart sat rigidly at the table, her gloved hands folded with unnatur
THE SILENCE OF LYCAN ISLE Chapter Thirty-Seven
The council aide sat on the narrow cot in the holding room, hands clasped so tightly his fingers had gone numb, staring at the wall as if it might fracture and give him a way out.The manor above him groaned with the sounds of night – wind through stone corridors, distant doors opening and closing, the sea pounding the cliffs in an endless, merciless rhythm.Every sound felt like a countdown.He had protected the truth for years because fear had taught him how. Fear of the council. Fear of Vivienne Hart. Fear of what happened to people who spoke too freely on Lycan Isle.But fear had changed shape. Now it wore Ross Lycan’s face. And worse, it wore the memory of the woman he had nearly killed.When the door finally opened, he expected Ross. Instead, Tiana stepped inside.She came alone.The aide stiffened. “Where is he?”She closed the door behind her gently. “Busy keeping the island from tearing itself apart.”His mouth twitched. “Then you shouldn’t be here.”“I’m exactly where I need
THE SILENCE OF LYCAN ISLE Chapter Thirty-Six
Mark Burton had avoided the eastern gardens since the council chamber erupted. It wasn’t fear that kept him away – it was memory.The gardens bordered the old forest line, where the land sloped unevenly and the trees grew too close together, their branches knotting overhead like clasped hands. It was where Nathaniel had often walked when the weight of the island pressed too heavily on him. Where Mark had sometimes followed at a distance, not as a guard, but as a quiet witness.Mark stood there now, rain-soaked earth dark beneath his boots, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets as if that might anchor him to the present.He had lived with this silence for eleven years. And it was killing him.“Mark.”Tiana’s voice startled him. He turned to see her approaching along the gravel path, her steps careful, her expression gentle but intent. The storm clouds had thinned to a pale grey overhead, but the air still carried the heaviness of something unresolved.“I hoped I’d find you here,” she
THE SILENCE OF LYCAN ISLE Chapter Thirty-Five
Morning came to Lycan Isle without softness.The sea was restless, its grey surface breaking against the cliffs in violent bursts, as if echoing the tension that had settled deep into the stone of the manor. Clouds hung low, heavy with rain that threatened but did not yet fall. The island felt suspended – caught between revelation and ruin.Ross stood at the window of his study, hands braced against the sill, staring out at the horizon he had not crossed in years. Sleep had come in fragments, brief and shallow, and when it had, it brought no rest. Only Nathaniel’s face, half-remembered and accusing, and the echo of a voice that refused to give him answers.Behind him, the door opened quietly. Tiana entered without speaking.She moved slowly, carefully, her injured arm still bound beneath her sleeve. The events of the previous night clung to her like a second skin – the attack, the trap, the unmasking of someone trusted. And yet, what unsettled her most was not the violence, but the si
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