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The Voice in the Flame

ผู้เขียน: Tyson Roy
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2025-05-28 18:09:18

The fires in the war chamber burned low, but Elara could not sleep.

Outside, the frost clawed at the castle walls like some old spirit longing for entry. The air carried whispers—the kind that curled into your ears when no one else dared speak. She sat alone beneath the Moonstone crest, wrapped not in furs, but in silence.

The court had begun to bend.

But her soul would not.

She closed her eyes.

And memory came, not like a gentle tide, but like a storm breaking through glass.

Her mother’s voice had always smelled of fire, sandalwood, wild thyme, and the embers of distant storms. Not because she was harsh, but because she burned differently than Theron ever had.

“My moon-child,” she would call Elara, brushing her fingers across the girl’s brow. “You dream too deeply for your age.”

“Is that bad?” Elara had once asked.

“No,” her mother whispered. “It’s dangerous.”

Her name was Sira Moonstone, though the court never dared speak it aloud. Not after her gifts began to show. She was not born
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  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Girl Who Bled Flame

    The girl who returned from the temple was not the one who had climbed its broken steps.She walked differently now.Not like a queen.Not like a warrior.Like a blade unsheathed.Even the wolves gave her space.Even Mourne, who had walked beside her through storms and silence, now stood a step behind, not out of fear, but instinct.Kael watched her from across the training circle, arms folded, chest tight.He didn’t say it aloud.But he knewSomething had changed.And whatever Seren was now, it could not be undone.The village was called Brineholt.It was small, perched along the jagged cliffs above the Eastern Blight Sea, half-moon huts built from driftwood and salt-soaked stone. It had once been loyal to Elara, then retreated into obscurity after her fall.Recently, rumors had reached Emberfall:A Dustborn supply line had begun moving through the area.Villagers provide a haven.Kael offered to send a scout patrol.Seren refused.“I’ll go,” she said. “Myself.”Mourne frowned. “You s

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Crownless Throne

    The high temple stood in silence atop the mountain’s spine.No banners waved.No sigils glowed.No priests remained to bless the altar or sing the moon’s song. The wind that once carried chants now screamed through broken arches, through shattered windows that once refracted the light of the twin moons.This was where Elara had prayed.This was where she had bled.Where the Flamebound prophecy was written in blood and sealed with her breath.And now Seren walked those same steps, barefoot.No veil.No armor.No crown.Only a whisper in her chest, guiding her higher with every heartbeat.Mourne followed a distance behind, silent.He did not question her.Not tonight.The stairs had cracked from disuse.The silverstone path was warped by heat, reshaped by fire that refused to forget. Each step Seren took, her scar throbbed. The crown mark burned brighter beneath her skin. Her hands trembled, not from fear, but from restraint.The temple didn’t need a queen.It needed a reckoning.She en

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Silent March

    The wolves were the first to smell it.Ash.But not the bitter kind left behind by fire.This ash was soft.Carried on the wind like dust pulled from memory.Kael stood on the northern ridge of Emberfall, watching the wind stir the trees, when the scouts returned, not with warnings, but with silence in their eyes.“There’s a march,” one whispered. “Through the Vale of Sorrows. Hundreds.”Kael stiffened. “Dustborn?”The scout shook her head.“No banners. No blades.”“Then who?”“Women.”She hesitated.“All of them.”They arrived by dusk.No fanfare.No songs.Just the steady sound of bare feet on dirt, a rhythm older than language.One by one, they emerged from the vale.Wolves with matted fur and scars across their throats.Witches whose sigils had been branded out by former covens.Human women with collars still rusted around their necks.Hybrid girls whose families had bartered them like coins during the war.They came wrapped in ash-colored veils.Wearing no armor.Carrying no flag

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Binding Flame

    The camp slept beneath a silver sky.It was the first clear night in weeks. The clouds had scattered, and the ashfall had paused, as if the world itself held its breath. Wolves dozed near the watchfires. Soldiers snored with blades still clutched in their hands. Witches murmured spells in their dreams.And in the heart of Emberfall, Seren sat alone by a dying flame.She didn’t tend it.Didn’t feed it.She simply watched.Because this fire didn’t burn from wood.It burned from memory.And tonight, it was all that kept her warm.She didn’t hear Kael approach.She felt him.The familiar pull, not like prophecy, not like pain. Like gravity, wearing a wolf’s skin.He didn’t speak.Just lowered himself beside her.For a while, they said nothing.The fire crackled.Stars blinked overhead.Then he asked, voice soft:“Do you ever wish you weren’t chosen?”She didn’t look at him.“I wasn’t chosen,” she said. “I was left.”He nodded.“I know that feeling.”More silence.Then Kael reached into hi

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   Sirelia’s Daughter

    Not all bloodlines are born in fire.Some are buried in ash.Vessa had never been kissed.Not by kindness.Not by gods.Not by the wind that carried lullabies or the warmth of a mother’s arms.She was raised in shadow and taught silence as scripture.Born in exile.Hidden in the spine of the red canyons.Raised by warriors who never called themselves family.She knew her mother’s name before she could form her own.Sirelia.The name was a sword. A storm. A prophecy with teeth.The first time she held a blade, they told her it was her mother’s spine made of steel.The first time she spilled blood, they marked her hands with coal and kissed her forehead with ash.“You are her legacy,” the priestesses whispered. “But not her shadow.”“You are what she never dared become.”And Vessa believed them.Until now.The chamber was dark.The throne pulsed behind her.Sirelia sat like judgment given breath.Vessa knelt, unarmed.They hadn’t spoken in years.Not since the day Sirelia had taken her

  • The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen   The Flamebound Pact

    There is no such thing as neutrality in a world on fire.The hybrid lords of the Eastern Divide had played the long game, surviving Elara’s reign, retreating from Sirelia’s rise, keeping their cities independent, their banners unbloodied, their allegiances vague.But fire doesn’t respect fences.And now, with Seren’s mark burning in the sky and the gods whispering her name, they made their move.Not toward the Flame.Toward the Dust.The meeting took place in the Broken Gallery, once a neutral sanctuary of treaties and truce, now a shattered relic reeking of burnt stone and worse intentions. No wolves were allowed inside. No Moonbound. No emissaries from Seren’s camp.Only hybrids.And one Dustborn representative.Venn.Draped in rust-red robes and silence.Lord Vaelen of Erothis sat at the table’s head. He was younger than most, but ambition made him old fast. His forked tongue had twisted many councils in his favor. Now, it wrapped around betrayal like a snake finding home.“The Ash

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