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A Queen’s Vow

Author: Tyson Roy
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-11 17:00:45

The dawn that broke over Hollowgate was nothing like what the bards would later sing. There was no triumphant chorus of trumpets, no procession of banners streaming in the wind. Instead, a hush fell upon the shattered capital, thick and suffocating, as though the world itself paused to catch its breath. This silence claimed every broken street, every collapsed wall, every scarred fountain; it settled into the hearts of the survivors, reminding them that life after hell felt more fragile than any moment spent in the blaze.

Elara Flameborne crossed the threshold of the newly rebuilt throne room alone. No guards flanked her; no courtly retinue heralded her passage. Her cloak, still singed at the hem, dragged a faint trail of ash across the polished marble floor, ash born of the fires she had set and the inferno she had endured. Each footfall echoed like a confession. She was alive, undeniably so, but every line of her body bore witness to battles that threatened to break her: gouges acro
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  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   Kael’s Blood Oath

    The snow fell like ash, soft, steady, and without end. Each flake was a whisper, a breath held by the gods, a memory returned to the world. Moonfang Citadel, once the gleaming jewel of the north, now stood gutted beneath the moonlight, its walls a ruin, its sigils half-buried beneath snow and scorched stone. There was no glory here now. Only memory. Only ghosts.Kael stood beneath the southern wall, the ancient crescent moon sigil fractured behind him. His breath escaped in shallow, uneven gasps, each one a testament to the war within his own body. The Plague, that cruel, creeping corruption of wolf and man alike, had stolen nearly everything: his strength, his clarity, the voice of his wolf spirit, but not his will.Not yet.And it was will that brought him to Seren now.She stood across the frost-covered courtyard, wrapped in a mantle lined with the fur of fallen kin, flame-stitched at the hem with ancient runes that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. Her silver eyes betrayed no we

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Death of a Moonbound

    The morning air hung thick with frost, each breath a ribbon of silver trailing skyward like smoke from a dying altar. The wind curled low across the stone, whistling between the bones of the old pine roots and whispering through the high grasses brittle with ice. It was not yet sunrise, not truly, but the light that broke over Emberfall’s ridgelines painted the world in steel and mist.Ruvan rode alone.His cloak, dyed the deep grey of mourning, fluttered behind him like ash caught in slow wind. The markings across his bare neck, delicate, precise inked lines that marked his rite of blood and moon, seemed almost to glow in the thin light, as if they remembered too.He did not look back.Not to the outer encampment, where the last fires of the night still guttered. Not to the Moonbound banners that trembled faintly in the wind. Not even to Seren, who had stood with arms crossed and eyes unblinking as he took the reins from the stablemaster.He didn’t need to see her face to know what i

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   Lucien and the Vampire Queen

    The bloodlands had changed.Where once starlit frost threaded the rivers with pale light, now thick, crimson water crawled through cracked stone and dying reeds. It smelled not of rot, but of iron and memory, heavy as regret. Nothing moved in these lands. Not wind. Not a bird.Only Lucien.He rode alone, his horse a pale creature with eyes like hollow moons, hooves sinking soundlessly into dirt that pulsed faintly underfoot, as if it remembered how to bleed. Lucien’s black cloak dragged behind him like a shroud, catching on roots and forgotten bones. Dust clung to him, ash whispered in his wake.Above, the sky stretched wide and bruised. Not dusk. Not night. A never-ending hour. That bleeding hour when the world didn’t know what it was becoming.The silence here was sentient.It wasn’t the absence of noise. It was the presence of watching.The path sloped downward, twisted into the ribs of the hills. Trees thinned to pale-barked husks, leaves long lost. At the edge of the horizon stoo

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Falling Sky

    It began without thunder.No storm.No wind.Just a crack, sharp, sudden, high in the upper air, like the world had exhaled too hard and split the sky.Then came the light.Streaks of fire ripped across the heavens, molten gold, bleeding silver, tearing night into impossible color. Some hissed blue, others pulsed violet, trailing not flame, but whispers felt in the chest, like the memory of forgotten names.Wolves cried out first.Long, rising howls that shattered the quiet, freezing every soldier, healer, and witch on Hollowgate’s edge.Above them, smoke-streaked sky pulsed with stars like watching eyes.An aurora unspooled across the north, not green, not blue, but dark gold and bone-white shimmer, like divine dust spilled from some unseen hand.The old ones dropped to their knees. Shamans, spirit-touched, even witches lost breath as the sky shifted.And the fire sang.In the camp’s heart, spellcasters convulsed, not from pain, but reception.Runes lit up in their veins, uncast, unknown

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   Seren Names Her Banner

    Dawn in Hollowgate arrived not with a heralding chorus of birdsong or sunlight spilling over walls, but with a dense, living silence that settled in the streets like a shroud. It pressed into every broken archway and littered courtyard, muffling the faint echoes of a life that had once thrived here. Where children had chased each other between stalls, weaving laughter into the market’s tapestry, now only the whisper of a breeze stirred empty canvas. Where clear water once danced over the stone lips of fountains, only dust and a fine film of soot remained. Even the traders’ cries that once tangled above carts of grain were swallowed by the hush.Seren walked this deserted cityscape alone, unaccompanied by guards or fanfare. Her cloak swept a trail of ash behind her, each dark particle a small testament to the fires that had raged here, to the lives consumed by flame and betrayal. She moved as though every step were a penance, her boots sinking slightly into the soft rubble, eyes fixed

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Betrayal at Hollowgate

    The winds that carried the diplomat to Hollow Gate were warm, scented with crushed Bay root and dust, the signature breeze of the eastern steppes. Reshar of the Dawn Meridian rode into the Ashborn perimeter on a palanquin drawn by sable‐coated horses, draped in amber silks that shimmered like dying sunsets. Across his back hung a scroll bound in lion bone: an oath of peace, they said, penned in molten gold ink. His voice, when he spoke, was smooth as aged wine, practiced to perfection by years of weaponized diplomacy.He dismounted at the great gate, head bowed. No banners proclaimed his arrival, only wicker baskets piled with highland grain, carafes of golden riverwine, and parchment‐thin treaties bearing the seals of three neutral provinces. His arrival was an offering, not an ultimatum.Seren stood on the rampart above him, her posture as still as the mountains. Kael loomed behind her, silent, sinewed, a living shadow. Vessa reclined against a broken column, one boot propped on sto

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