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Synopsis
Dark Romance
Werewolf
Mystery
Heir/Heirness
Hybrid
Slave
Forbidden Love
Love-Triangle
Weak to Strong
"They called her a nobody. They tried to break her spirit. But destiny had other plans." Elara Moonstone was raised as an orphan child in a cruel family, until her 18th birthday, when a sudden mark appeared on her chest and everything changed the next day after she went to school. Elara's life shatters when she learns of her royal Lycan lineage. Thrust into a world of magic, politics, and danger, she must embrace her true self to unite warring factions and reclaim her throne. With powerful allies by her side and love complicating her path, Elara's journey is one of self-discovery, resilience, and destiny.
View MoreChapter 1
The Girl in the Shadows
Elara Moonstone, an orphan raised in a cruel family, learned early how to disappear. How can she get quiet when everyone is being cruel to her?
She feels safer in the shadows, behind lockers, crowds, and silence.
In a town that looked at her as peculiar, she carried invisibility as a second skin.
She had no history of how she got there, no childhood pictures, no tearful relatives to claim her when she was left on the doorstep of the Harrow family when she was six with nothing but a little pendant and a name.
And Harrows, they were cruel.
Their Morrow Street house felt cold even when the furnace burned. Mr. Harrow spent his nights working and his days drinking. Mrs. Harrow smoked on the living room sofa, watched soap operas all day long, and feigned Elara's existence if it wasn't to clean something. Three years older than Elara, their son Garrett used her as a rumor he'd treat with scorn whenever he wasn't taunting her bizarre dreams and mumbling "freak" in the high school corridors.
But Elara no longer wept.
She traversed the world silently, hidden behind a veil of numbness. She obtained good grades, but not the type that garnered applause. She read books, but not the type exchanged in class. She drew items, ancient trees, howling wolves with piercing eyes, moons that fractured like glass, without knowing the reason they resided in her mind.
Until the day she turned eighteen.
It started with a dream.
She stood barefoot in a field of black flowers, the sky a velvet curtain of stars. A wolf with silver eyes approached her, silent and reverent. Behind it, a figure cloaked in shadow watched, unmoving. The wolf bowed. The figure vanished. When she looked down, the flowers had turned to ash.
She woke breathless. And then she screamed.
Because glowing on her shoulder, just below the collarbone, was a mark she had never seen before, circular, etched in what looked like light itself. The shape of a crescent moon with a slash through it.
Panic gripped her chest.
She scrubbed at it. Nothing. She tried to cover it. It bled through the fabric like a hidden truth finally revealed.
“Elara!” Mrs. Harrow’s voice banged at the door. “What are you doing in there?”
“Nothing,” she lied, throwing on a hoodie and hiding the mark as best she could.
The school that day was a blur. Her skin itched beneath her hoodie, the mark pulsing like a second heartbeat. People stared more than usual. Garrett laughed louder. But something was different. She could feel it.
Like her senses had sharpened overnight.
She could smell emotions, anxiety, desire and fear. Hear heartbeats in the silence. And worst of all, she could feel something watching her. Not from school. Not from town. From something older. Something hungry.
After her last class, she bolted, the need to get home replaced by the instinct to hide.
But she could not hide.
She rushed towards the forest to take a deep breath, to think about what was going on!
But she didn't know, as the moment Elara took a step in the forest, to sort things out, a sudden figure with shiny eyes, a fearsome personality, suddenly appeared, like he wanted to kill her. Elara screamed and started running deep into the forest.
Latest chapter
The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen The Heart
The throne room had been rebuilt, though its stones were still raw from war and its windows still smudged by ash. At the centre stood the ceremonial seat, an intricate marvel of moonstone, dragon bone, and living crystal, gleaming like a relic unearthed from an older world. It waited, a symbol as old as kings, as old as empire. The court had waited, too, nobles in gilded robes, old generals in uniforms pressed and starched, even the palace ghosts seemed to pause in the shadowed archways, breathless, expectant.But Elara?Elara never sat.For months, the city had anticipated her coronation. Ritualists rehearsed their invocations until their voices cracked. Nobles practiced their bows, smoothing fine silk stitched with flame motifs in her honor. Blacksmiths and seamstresses crafted emblems of unity and might, the circlet of fire and frost, the ring of realm-binding, the blade of verdict meant to hang at her side. Each relic shimmered in the sun. Each radiated power. Each, somehow, felt
Last Updated : 2025-06-22The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen The Unbroken
The world called him Kael the Unbroken.Children would run between market stalls, pointing out his silhouette as he crossed the streets of Sanctum or paused beneath the rising banners at dawn. Soldiers passed tales from one firelit camp to another, always beginning with the same phrase—He stood at Elara’s side when all the world turned to ash. Old poets, their hands tremulous, inked verses about the man who had faced gods and death and flame, and come back every time.But none of them saw him now.Not as he stood alone on the battlements of Sanctum, his back to the city, his eyes fixed on a horizon untroubled by banners or smoke. Not as the breeze toyed with his hair and the sunlight found the silver at his temples. Not as his hand, once so quick to reach for sword or shield, simply rested on stone, still, uncertain, open.Peace, they said, is the reward for heroes.But Kael found peace to be louder than war. In war, every footstep, every breath, every hour had meaning. There was alwa
Last Updated : 2025-06-22The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen A Realm Reborn
"Kingdoms are rebuilt from stone. But realms, realms are born from mercy. And mercy is forged in ash."The war was over.The crown had shattered.The curse was broken.The gods, so long a distant drumbeat in the ears of mortals, were silent at last.And yet, as Elara stood atop the balcony of the Moonstone Spire, watching dawn unravel its gold across the tangled banners of a dozen once-warring tribes, she felt the tremor in her marrow: the true war, the one that outlasts all swords, was just beginning.Below her, the city awoke slow, like a beast unsure whether to trust the sun. Children chased doves between the market stalls, their laughter rising with the smoke of fresh bread. Survivors, vampires and wolves, witches and fae, healers and broken soldiers, shared a single sunrise for the first time in memory. All the old colours
Last Updated : 2025-06-21The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen The Hollow Mercy
The black moon had passed. The world, for the first time in centuries, felt almost healed. From Eldoria’s high towers, the view was transformed: rivers ran silver, clouds stitched sunlight through mended skies, and in every city square, children’s voices replaced the war drums that once haunted their sleep.They called this era the Age of Peace. In every tongue, on every wind.And at its heart stood Elara, the queen who broke the curse, who refused a throne, who’d been remade by fire, shadow, and sacrifice. Yet, for all her titles, Crownless Queen, Heir of Two Realms, Breaker of Fate, she found herself strangely absent from her own life.Each morning began the same: alone, on the marble balcony of Moonstone Spire, her fingers tracing patterns in dew that never melted against her skin. She stood for hours, watching the world she’d saved go on living, loving, dreaming. Yet nothing, no golden sunrise, no silver banners, no song from the city’s bell tower, could reach the place inside her
Last Updated : 2025-06-20The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen The Night of Ascension
For three days and nights, the world refused to breathe.It wasn’t just the silence in the halls of Moonstone Spire. It was the hush in the forests, the suspension of tides, the strange pause that overtook every wolf’s howl, every wind’s sigh, every prayer on every lip. Across the fractured realm, mothers whispered her name at hearths. Warriors gripped weapons they had sworn never to lift again. Old enemies watched the horizon, waiting for a sign.Elara Moonstone, Queen, curse-breaker, flameborn, had not opened her eyes since the ritual that tore the fate-lines from Eldoria’s flesh.She lay swathed in linen and old magics on a bed of woven moon-boughs, her brow beaded with the dew of fading dreams. Around her, the air trembled with the weight of things unfinished.In the Sanctuary of Echoes, where the last spell had been sung and the ancestral curse broken, her sister held vigil. Sirelia, whose rage had scarred kingdoms, whose grief had nearly shattered the world, was now a woman stri
Last Updated : 2025-06-19The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen The Last Rite of Yveron
"Some wounds are not healed by time. They are passed down, soul to soul, blood to blood. And only through union can they be undone."The night after the crown was shattered, Elara dreamed of blood.But it was not the kind of blood that signaled the end of peace or the beginning of war. Not the thick, red memory of violence, not the reek of wounds split open, not the stain she had washed from her own hands a thousand times and still felt beneath her nails. No, this blood glowed gold. It spiraled through ancient runes and hummed through her bones, singing not of endings, but of beginnings. It sang her awake, shivering, with a single word burning behind her eyes:Yveron.She spoke it aloud before dawn, and the room seemed to pulse. It was not a spell, not exactly, but a memory. The old tongue. One of the forbidden names. The Blood Name of the soul-bindin
Last Updated : 2025-06-19
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