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The shattered star
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2025-06-20 00:16:22
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The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen The citadel
**Kelly Thompson's POV**The glacial citadel isn't a structure-it's a fossilized scream.Towers of ice twist skyward, their surfaces etched with the final moments of First Wolves, jaws forever locked in silent howls. The northern lights coil above like serpents, their green glow leaching warmth from our bones. Eden's breath crystallizes as he traces the helix scar, now pulsing in sync with the citadel's heartbeat. Kael sniffs the air, his muzzle crusted with frost. "Blood. Old and new."Lila's crows circle overhead, their feathers shedding oily rain. They've herded us here, their caws sharp as scalpels. The mirror shard in my pocket hums, its edges whispering of a door I'm not meant to open.Inside, the walls breathe.Frozen wolves line the hall, their eyes milky orbs that track our movement. Eden's boot cracks a puddle of ancient ice, and the citadel shudders. A voice, graveled by centuries, booms: *"Thief. Martyr. Mother. Which mask do you wear today?"*The First Wolf's spirit mater
The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen The needle
**Kelly Thompson's POV**The dead sing louder here.Their voices are woven into the auroras, a chorus of growls and whispers that vibrate in my teeth. The needle thrums against my ribs, its presence a cold, insistent *thing*-a compass, a curse. Kael pads beside me, his breath frosting the air in ragged bursts, while Eden trails behind, his hands buried in the pockets of a coat lined with crow feathers. The northern lights twist above us like a living tapestry, their colors bleeding into shapes I don't dare name.The graves of the First Wolves aren't marked by stones. They're marked by absence-patches of earth where the snow refuses to settle, where the wind dies mid-scream. The ancient ones warned us not to tread here, but warnings are currency I've spent too freely.Eden stops, his boot sinking into a drift. "They're watching."I feel it too. Eyes like frozen stars, unblinking. The First Wolves' spirits circle us, their forms half-solid, pelts glimmering with hoarfrost. One steps for
The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen The shattered star
**Kelly Thompson's POV**The marshes breathe.Each step sinks into the mire, the ground exhaling decay and whispers. My starlit hand glows brighter here, the Shattered Star's hunger gnawing at my bones, eager to gorge on the Veil's rot. Eden trails behind, his crows eerily silent, their feathers slick with marsh oil. Kael snarls at every shadow, his wounds from the cliffs still oozing.Lila's voice slithers through the fog. *"You shouldn't have come home, Stormbearer."*A Crowshrike talisman dangles from a dead tree, its crow-skull grinning. Eden rips it down, crushing it beneath his boot. "She's playing with us.""No." I press my palm to the tree. The bark writhes, etching itself into a map-a spiral leading to the marsh's heart. "She's *guiding* us."Kael's ears flatten. "To what?"The Star's pulse answers, a drumbeat syncing with my own. *"To the truth,"* it whispers, not in the Voidmother's voice, but in the First Weaver's.---The heart of the marsh is a cathedral of bones.Petrif
The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen The roots
**Kelly Thompson's POV**The moonflowers' roots taste like regret.I chew them at dawn, their bitter sap coating my tongue, a ritual as hollow as the cabin's scorched husk. Kael watches from the tree line, his amber gaze dissecting my every twitch. He knows what I won't admit: the roots aren't just a tether to the Voidmother-they're a crutch. My storm may be gone, but the hunger remains, gnawing at the hollow where lightning once lived.Eden arrives with the crows. They circle him now, their feathers glinting with an oily sheen, loyal as shadows. He no longer flinches when they roost on his shoulders. His Crown scar has quieted, but his eyes betray him-too sharp, too calculating. The boy who chased tadpoles is buried under layers of venom and vigilance."The eastern clans are demanding an audience," he says, tossing a crow's skull at my feet. Its eye sockets weep resin. "They've heard about the mirror."I grind the skull under my boot. "They'll hear lies. The Stormrender's cult has se
The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen The Moonflowers
Kelly Thompson's POVThe moonflowers were a mistake.I planted them where the cabin once stood, their silver petals unfolding under the bruised twilight. Kael warned me-*roots remember*-but I buried the seeds anyway, fingers raw from digging. Now they pulse like tiny hearts, their rhythm syncing with the scar where my storm used to live. A hollow ache, phantom lightning.Eden visits at dawn, his footsteps too quiet for a boy raised in a pack. The Crown's scar curls around his throat, violet and dormant, but his eyes are older. He brings wolfberry tea, the scent sharpening memories of campfires and his laughter, unburdened."Jason's rallying the eastern clans," he says, avoiding my gaze. "They're saying the Veil's thinning again. That the Stormrender's breath is cracking the sky."I sip the tea. It tastes of nothing. "You didn't come here to talk about Jason."He flinches. The Crown's scar flickers. "Rhydian's nightmares... they're back. But it's not Nythra this time. It's *her*. The V
The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen The northern ridges
**KELLY THOMPSON'S POV**The northern ridges were teeth.Jagged peaks tore at the sky, their slopes sheathed in ice that glowed faintly, as if the moon had bled into the stone. Kael moved like a shadow ahead of me, his breath frosting the air in ragged bursts. The gash on his flank had stopped bleeding, but the fur around it hung in clumps, matted with dirt and dried venom. I didn't ask if he could make the climb. His pride was as sharp as the Voidmother's scorn.The higher we climbed, the thinner the air became-or maybe it was the Veil, stretched taut over this place. My storm stirred uneasily, its lightning muted, as though the ridge itself were drinking the energy. The saplings' roots had stopped trailing us miles back, repelled by some unseen ward. But the silence here was worse. It wasn't empty; it was *waiting*."There." Kael paused at a fissure in the rock, barely wide enough to squeeze through. The darkness beyond smelled of iron and petrichor. "The den."I hesitated, my hand
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