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Complications and Cake
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2025-07-29 02:44:30
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The Bond We Buried A Stone Near the Heart
The woods are quieter this time.Not silent, but still — like the forest is holding its breath as I walk the winding path to the elder’s cottage. Sunlight filters through the canopy in patches of gold, illuminating moss-covered stones and the dust motes that dance around me. It feels less like I’m visiting a place and more like I’m being called back.I don’t knock. I don’t need to.The door creaks open before I reach it, and she’s there — standing in the soft shadow of her threshold, wrapped in a shawl the color of moonlight, her eyes already knowing.“You came back,” she says gently, as if she’d never doubted it.“I wasn’t sure if I would,” I admit, stepping into the familiar scent of herbs and firewood. “But something… something’s been off. I feel like I’ve lost something. Like I’m only half here.”She doesn’t respond right away. She merely motions for me to sit at the same spot by the hearth as before. A kettle hums in the background, and the same wind chimes tap softly like distan
The Bond We Buried The Quiet Stirring
The forest is quieter today.I walk the narrow trail back toward the village, the elder’s words echoing in my mind like ripples over still water. Something in me has softened, though I can’t say exactly what. Maybe it’s the way she looked at me—not with judgment, not with pity, but with understanding. Like she saw me. Like she knew the parts of me I keep buried beneath callouses and sarcasm.The wind shifts, and I catch the faintest scent of rain on the horizon.For the first time in days, I don’t feel the need to fight everything.When I return to the pack’s main grounds, the sun is lower, casting a soft amber light across the rooftops. Lila is waiting near the training grounds, leaning lazily against a wooden fence post, her phone in one hand and a strawberry lollipop in the other.Her eyes flick to me. “You survived the forest witch.”“She’s not a witch,” I mutter, but I don’t deny the weird comfort I felt in that ivy-covered house. “She’s just… strange.”“Strange is good for you.”
The Bond We Buried The Space Between Us
The hall is buzzing. Every inch of space is filled—council members in ceremonial robes, high-ranking warriors in crisp uniforms, family heads in tailored finery. There’s tension beneath the civility, a collective breath being held. It reminds me of the stillness before a storm.My hands rest neatly at my sides, but my fingers tremble just enough for me to notice. I flex them, trying to force stillness into my body. I feel Ronan to my right, silent but steady, and my father’s presence on my left like a wall of heat and authority. My mother stands slightly behind, watching everything with careful eyes.Across the room, Lila gives me a soft smile, as if trying to reach me through the distance. I nod faintly back. I appreciate her—her quiet loyalty, her ability to read my silence—but no one can anchor me
The Bond We Buried The Pull Between Us
The next morning, sunlight filters in through the curtains, warm and golden. My body aches, but it’s the satisfying kind of ache—the kind that tells you you’ve done something powerful.I spend the early hours with my parents. My mother can’t stop beaming. My father is quiet, but the pride in his eyes is unmistakable. He claps a firm hand on my shoulder and says, “You’ve done well, Selene.” It’s the most I’ve ever heard him say without a correction attached.Later, Lila pulls me into her arms and spins me around. “Champion,” she teases. “You were amazing. Did you see Ethan’s face when you won? Tragic. That man is suffering.”I roll my eyes, but I can’t deny the warmth that flares in my chest.
The Bond We Buried The Woman in the Ivy House
The Bond We Buried Complications and Cake
The morning sun filters through the trees, casting flickers of gold over the garden path. I sit alone on the bench, legs crossed beneath me, the weight of last night still tangled in my chest. I can still feel the brush of Ethan’s hand—how my breath had caught, how his eyes widened like he hadn’t expected it either. But then he left. Just stood up and walked away without a word.Now all I can do is sit here, questioning everything.“What’s with the tragic face?” a familiar voice lilts from behind me.I glance up just in time to see Lila drop down beside me with a dramatic huff. She’s wearing jeans, a soft lilac sweater that slips off one shoulder, and ankle boots with a slight heel. Her wavy hair is twisted into a loose topknot, and gold hoops glint at her ears. As usual, she looks effortlessly put together—feminine without trying too hard.“You look like you walked out of a catalog,” I mutter.She grins. “Thanks. You look like you walked out of a training manual.”“Don’t start,” I wa
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