ANMELDENMy dear readers,Thank you.Truly—thank you for walking through this world with me. For following Elira, Ronan, and Caelan through curses, war, prophecy, heartbreak, found family, and love powerful enough to reshape realms.This story began as an idea about fate, but somewhere along the way it became a story about chosen bonds, healing after ruin, and building light after surviving darkness. And none of it would have meant as much without you reading, commenting, supporting, and believing in these characters with me.Because of you, Shadowhearth lives.And… as you may have noticed, I left a few doors open. 👀Brad’s mate has arrived. The twins have a mysterious destiny. The Flame, Moon, and Earth trinity may not be finished yet.So if you would like to see this world continue—please let me know.The best way to do that is by leaving a rating for the book and dropping me a comment with your rating (I see those comments much more easily there). Tell me if you’d like a continuation, seque
EliraThe twins were trying to summon a dragon out of mud.At least, that was Gregor’s explanation.“It needs horns,” he insisted, crouched in the grass with his hands coated to the wrists in dirt, dark hair falling into his eyes in the exact unruly way Ronan’s did when he refused to tie it back.“It needs wings,” Sylvie corrected with all the authority of a child half convinced she had been born older than her brother.She punctuated this by accidentally making her fingers glow.Again.Gold light flickered around her knuckles, brightening with her frustration until the mud dragon shimmered as if blessed by moonlight.Neither child found this remotely unusual.I did.Every time.Gregor, meanwhile, had inherited his father’s infernal streak in ways both fascinating and exhausting. When angry, the air around him heated perceptibly. When excited, shadows occasionally bent in ways they should not. Two weeks earlier he had opened what Ronan swore was a “very small and harmless” portal insi
EliraThe room that would become the nursery had once been a storage chamber.Caelan had said this with such pride you would have thought he had personally discovered buried treasure rather than cleared out old ledgers, winter furs, and cracked training shields to make space for two unborn children.Now sunlight spilled through widened windows where heavy shutters used to be, turning dust motes into gold. Fresh pine boards lined one wall where new shelving had been built. A carved cradle sat half-finished near the hearth, the wood still raw in places because Ronan insisted on doing some of the carving himself despite repeatedly proving he had all the delicate finesse of a battle axe.I stood in the doorway watching the two of them argue over a cradle rail.Again.“It’s crooked,” Ronan said.“It is not crooked.”“It leans.”“It has character.”“It has a tilt.”Caelan stepped back, folded his arms, and gave the cradle an offended look as if betrayed by lumber.I laughed before I meant to
EliraPeace, I learned, did not arrive with trumpets.It came in quieter ways.In doors left open.In laughter drifting from cabins at dusk.In the absence of people flinching when footsteps approached.In mornings where no one asked who might attack before nightfall.For so long survival had been measured by what we escaped. Now, somehow, life was beginning to be measured by what we were building.And that felt stranger than war ever had.The days after learning of the twins settled into a rhythm so ordinary and miraculous I found myself guarding it almost superstitiously, as though naming my happiness too boldly might frighten it away.Shadowhearth no longer felt like Caelan’s pack reluctantly absorbing Ronan’s displaced wolves.It had become one living thing.Cabins once half-empty now held children racing between porches, borrowed dishes exchanged without asking, and old loyalties dissolving in the practical intimacy of shared life. Former wasteland wolves worked alongside Shadowhe
EliraI lasted perhaps ten minutes after the ceremony before June’s expression unnerved me enough that celebration became impossible.I tried to stay present. I tried to let the congratulations wash over me, to let myself absorb the gravity of what had just happened in the great hall. People pressed my hands and offered blessings. Elders who had once regarded me with suspicion now bowed their heads in acknowledgment. The room pulsed with music, voices, and the strange, beautiful disorder of a people learning how to be one.But beneath all of it, something in me felt unsettled.Not frightened.Heightened.As though the surge of magic that had nearly dropped me to my knees during the rite had left some current still moving quietly beneath my skin.And every time I looked across the room, June was watching me.Not casually.Studying me.It did not escape either of my mates.Ronan noticed first, because Ronan noticed everything where I was concerned, though he often pretended otherwise. H
EliraBy the time we entered the great hall, word had already outrun us.I felt it in the way every conversation softened as we crossed the threshold, in the way bodies shifted aside not out of fear or obligation but with something closer to reverence, though I still wasn’t sure I knew what to do with being looked at that way.The hall itself had changed in the short time since breakfast.Or perhaps it had always been prepared for something like this and I had simply never imagined standing at the center of it.Long tables had been pushed back to clear the middle of the room. Torches burned in iron brackets along the stone walls, their flames casting a warm gold across the old carved beams overhead. Fresh pine boughs had been woven along the pillars in the old Shadowhearth style, but among them hung braided leather cords adorned with bone and feathers—tokens I recognized from the wasteland wolves, markers of survival, kinship, and vows kept under impossible conditions.Two worlds.Int
EliraThe wind shifted.Ronan froze mid-step, his head jerking east, a low growl vibrating in his chest. My stomach dropped.“What is it?” I asked, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.“Inside. Now.”“But—”His glare sliced through me like a blade. “Inside. Now.”I didn’t argue again. I back
Elira“I see you’ve met our mom,” Selma said with a knowing smile, nodding at the bundle
EliraThe Council stayed until sundown.By the time the hall emptied, the air felt wrung out, heavy with the kind of silence that follows thunder.I stood a few steps behind Caelan’s chair while they spoke, their pale cloaks catching the light like the bellies of vultures. They hadn’t come to talk;
EliraThe council didn’t linger.One last glance, five grim silhouettes, and they slipped back through the gate—cloaks snapping in the wind, their boots crunching over frost-coated stone. None of them looked back. Not at me. Not at the wastelands yawning like a broken jaw behind me. Not at the girl







