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ホーム / Werewolf / The Triplet's Bullied Mate / More like… a vision, maybe.

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More like… a vision, maybe.

作者: Ava
last update 最終更新日: 2025-05-28 22:16:41

Elowen’s POV

The morning sun, usually a welcome beacon of warmth and renewed hope, seemed utterly devoid of its comforting embrace. Its golden rays spilled across the familiar contours of my room, gilding the polished wooden furniture and throwing soft, broken beams across the floorboards, but against my skin, it felt remarkably cold, almost alien. I sat curled at the very edge of the bed, knees drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, my gaze fixed intently on my hands.

They weren’t glowing now, nor did they ripple with the visible currents of raw power that had coursed through them in the dream. They looked perfectly normal—steady, soft, pale fingers, bearing only the faint, familiar scars from countless hours of combat training and the minor scrapes of childhood mischief. Yet, I could still feel the phantom echo of the fire, the subtle, insistent thrum of something wild and untamed just beneath the surface of my skin. It was like the distant memory of a burn long s
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  • The Triplet's Bullied Mate   And you think attacking him fixes that?

    Elowen’s POV The cool, marble steps outside the training hall seemed to hum with residual tension, the very air thick with the aftershocks of violence. My feet, guided by an instinct I didn't fully understand, led me to him. I found Ranon crouched low, his powerful frame hunched, knuckles split and bleeding, bright crimson droplets staining the pristine white stone beneath him. His academy shirt, usually immaculate, was torn across the shoulder, revealing angry, bruised skin marred by fresh, cruel-looking claw marks. One of his intensely golden eyes was already swelling shut, a testament to the brutality of the exchange. “Ranon,” I breathed, the word a strangled gasp, rushing forward, my heart seizing in my chest. He looked up at me, his remaining visible eye wide and wild, his chest heaving with ragged, desperate breaths as if he’d just run from a war fought on a scale far beyond anything I could comprehend. “Don’t.” His voice was raw, laced with a desperate warning. “Don’t what

  • The Triplet's Bullied Mate   Sparks in the Blood.

    Ranon’s POV The academy courtyard, still echoing with the ghost of Elowen’s fear, felt strangely quiet, yet charged with a palpable tension that vibrated just beneath the surface of the morning air. I felt him before I even saw him. That signature cold, calculating pressure, an almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere, like the absolute silence that precedes a cataclysmic thunderclap. I rounded the corner of the eastern courtyard, my boots scraping against the ancient cobblestones, and there he was—Caelum—his tall, elegant frame walking away from the stone bench where Elowen still sat, visibly shaken, her head bowed in quiet turmoil, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Something inside me snapped. It wasn't a slow build of anger, but a sudden, visceral implosion of pure, unadulterated fury that bypassed thought entirely. I moved without thinking, pure instinct guiding my feet. “Caelum!” My voice ripped through the crisp morning air like the crack of a whip, raw and laced w

  • The Triplet's Bullied Mate   More like… a vision, maybe.

    Elowen’s POV The morning sun, usually a welcome beacon of warmth and renewed hope, seemed utterly devoid of its comforting embrace. Its golden rays spilled across the familiar contours of my room, gilding the polished wooden furniture and throwing soft, broken beams across the floorboards, but against my skin, it felt remarkably cold, almost alien. I sat curled at the very edge of the bed, knees drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, my gaze fixed intently on my hands. They weren’t glowing now, nor did they ripple with the visible currents of raw power that had coursed through them in the dream. They looked perfectly normal—steady, soft, pale fingers, bearing only the faint, familiar scars from countless hours of combat training and the minor scrapes of childhood mischief. Yet, I could still feel the phantom echo of the fire, the subtle, insistent thrum of something wild and untamed just beneath the surface of my skin. It was like the distant memory of a burn long s

  • The Triplet's Bullied Mate   The Dream Realm.

    Elowen’s POV It began, not with a roar, but with the insidious, mesmerizing sound of flames. Not the chaotic devourment of a raging wildfire, but the soft, insistent crackle of something ancient—slow-burning, steady, patient, like a heart beating deep within the earth. I opened my eyes, and found myself standing in a place utterly alien, yet strangely familiar. The world around me shimmered with an ethereal glow, like moonlight on undisturbed water. The trees, tall and impossibly slender, were crafted from pale, polished silver, their leaves rustling with a delicate, almost musical whisper, each rustle a secret shared on the wind. Above, the sky was a deep, impossible violet, a tapestry woven with stars like molten gold, scattered across its vast expanse like glittering jewels. The air, cool and crisp, carried the faint, sweet scent of something ancient and wild. I was barefoot. The ground beneath my feet was soft, yielding like moss, yet it hummed with an undeniable, resonant po

  • The Triplet's Bullied Mate   You were born to burn, little star.

    Elowen’s POV The academy courtyard, usually a vibrant tapestry of voices and hurried footsteps, was remarkably quieter than usual. Most of the students had retreated indoors, either finishing up their rigorous combat drills or undergoing the meticulous cleanup after a day of assessments. I, however, found myself drawn to the cooling air, a desperate need for space, a quiet sanctuary to clear my head before the inevitable return to the bustling, sometimes suffocating, atmosphere of the mansion. I sank onto the cool stone bench nestled beneath the sprawling branches of the tall ashwood tree near the gurgling fountain, a thick, leather-bound book resting forgotten in my lap. My fingers idly traced the worn edges of its cover, but my mind was a million miles away, still wrestling with the day's events. Theron’s comforting scent still lingered faintly on my skin—a heady blend of damp earth, the clean tang of a coming storm, and his own unique warmth. His embrace in the library, a quiet

  • The Triplet's Bullied Mate   I hated it with a cold, simmering intensity that surprised even me.

    Caelum’s POV I stood just beyond the grand archway that led into the east wing of the academy library, half-shrouded in the intricate patterns of filtered twilight that poured through the towering stained-glass windows. The air was cool and still, carrying the faint, comforting scent of aging parchment and polished wood. From this vantage point, concealed by the deep shadows, I possessed a clear and unobstructed view of everything—and, more significantly, I could see them. Theron had her in his arms. Not in the casual, almost reflexive way that wolves, even bonded ones, tend to drape themselves over one another when the innate pack bond hums too loudly, a reassuring constant in their lives. No, this was something profoundly different. Intimate. Profoundly protective. Deeply, fiercely personal. His large hand lingered on the back of her head, his fingers curling gently into the soft, silken strands of her hair as if she were the only tangible thing tethering him to this often-br

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