Mag-log in"They said the Alpha’s heir was a son. They lied." Wolfless. Worthless. A walking curse. Cinder Romero has spent her life as the shadow twin—blamed for her mother’s death, ignored by her kingdom, and promised like livestock to a man she despises. But when an ancient monster breaches the barrier and leaves her brother near death, Cinder is thrust into the role meant for him: envoy to the Vampire Kingdom of Erevar. Except no one knows she was the firstborn. Or that something terrifying and powerful woke inside her that night. Sent across enemy borders to a dark academy where vampires, fae, warlocks and monsters walk the halls, Cinder must navigate court politics, whispered legends, and the devastating attention of the Vampire Prince—a beautiful, cruel enigma who might want her dead… or worse, want her entirely. But nothing is as dangerous as the man she’s betrothed to. Zulu smiles like a lover and schemes like a villain. And he’s not just waiting for her return—he’s hunting for what’s inside her. The academy may teach her how to fight. But only the truth will set her free. A cursed heir. A forbidden magic. A love that could ruin kingdoms.
view moreThe brass double doors creaked open with a groan so old it sounded alive. I stepped inside after my two new… friends(?) and instantly regretted breathing so freely. The air was thick with dust. I could see the dust—actual floating specks turning lazily in the faint light leaking in through tall windows like suspended snow. But beneath that, beneath the dry parchment scent… …there was something sharper. Colder.Like iron left too long in the frost. Every hair on my neck stood. It was darker than I expected. Low lanterns flickered like tired fireflies — not nearly enough. You’d think a library would want you to actually 'see' what you’re reading. Behind the front desk sat… a bald-headed, shrewd-looking goblin. Ah. That explained the lighting. A quick sweep of the room caught sight of more goblins perched on long, creaking ladders, shelving books twice their height with the grim efficiency of undertakers arranging coffins. Goblins thrived underground — pale skin, large eyes,
“See, lesser shifters — Kitsunes, Panthers and werecats, Werebears, Weremice — were never given a House to begin with. Not because they’re rare, but because they were never considered a full ‘Great Race’ worthy of a sigil.”I glanced at Yasha with a brow raised.She only shrugged.Apparently I was the only one offended somehow.Either that or this was a truth so old it was practically furniture here.Rurik kept talking, now walking backwards as if giving a lecture tour, hands carving shapes in the air.“So! At Bloodwright, they exist under a special system: THE FERAL MERIDIAN. The ‘non-House’ House. A seventh faction not counted among the Great Houses.”“The Feral Meridian,” I echoed.But I still didn’t get it.Even goblins and dwarves had Houses.Why not lesser shifters?I asked him exactly that.Rurik’s voice dimmed, the lightness draining out.He dropped his gaze. Dodging my eyes.“Well, during the Fading Accord, lesser shifters were blamed for:• espionage• theft of magical relic
The moment we stepped back into the main corridor, I opened my mouth to ask Vasska what was next——but a sound froze me in place.A familiar jingling.Soft, bright and musical. Like tiny little bells threaded together.My body reacted before my brain did. I spun around so fast my hair whipped over my shoulder.I blew my bangs up.Vasska stopped walking too, frowning when he realized the footsteps behind him had vanished.“What—” he began.Then he followed my stare.Ahead, near a row of tall arched windows, walked a girl I never thought I’d see again.Yasha.Yasha— the fox-blood girl from the Summit.Same glowing brown skin, same golden bangles threaded through her hair, catching light and singing gently with every step. She held a stack of books to her chest, laughing at something the boy beside her said.I almost didn’t recognize her. Her braids were now gone, replaced with flowing wavy brunette hair. Her robe flew behind her at every confident step— dark navy trimmed with the Erevar
Behind the doors was a room that could have passed for a throne chamber.Bookshelves rose two stories high, packed tight with volumes whose spines were stamped in gold. The light from the windows filtered through panes of blood-red glass, washing the floor in a soft, sinister glow.Everything smelled faintly of parchment and iron.Behind a carved mahogany desk sat a man I instantly disliked.His hair was a peppered grey, perfectly combed, and his eyes—sharp, cold—glinted just like Korra’s.Of course.“Prince Vasska,” he said, voice smooth but heavy, already appraising. “And the wolf.”My jaw clenched.Vasska inclined his head slightly. “Headmaster Veldane.”So this 'was' Korra’s father. Wonderful.Veldane’s eyes cut to me. “So this is the queen’s new project.” He looked me up and down, the way one might inspect a stain. “You’re smaller than I expected. I suppose that’s to your advantage. Fleas thrive in tight spaces.”Ah. So the family resemblance wasn’t just physical—I had no doubt






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