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The Black Root’s Bloom
Last Updated:
2025-09-12 04:41:53
Latest chapter
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King THE WOLF UNLEASHED
POV: Kade The storm starts inside my skull. No rain. No wind. Just the scrape of roots against bone and the slow, rolling thunder of a heartbeat that isn’t mine. It shakes the cage where my wolf paces — shoulders bloodied from throwing himself at the bars, teeth raw with iron. Araya. The name cuts through fog like a blade. For one impossible breath, I can smell her — sandalwood smouldering, honeyed embers, moonflower after rain. Bare feet crossing frost. My wolf surges toward it, claws raking the bars. The leash bites down. White-hot. Roots coil tighter like snakes, pulling until bone cracks. “Down,” the voice says. Not from the air. Not from the shadows. From everywhere at once — from my collar, from my marrow, from the grain of the floor beneath my knees. Erik. “Down, dog.” My wolf staggers. He plants his paws anyway, gold eyes blazing. Araya. The heartbeat under the world deepens. Not mine. Not war. Older. A tide moving unseen beneath the crust. Each pulse drives me clos
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King The Black Root’s Bloom
POV: ErikThe world tastes different when you walk it after centuries underground.Every breath is theft — stolen from the gods who swore I’d never draw it again. I savour each one, deliberate and slow: the weight of the air, the ragged pulse of mortals who sense me without knowing why, the faint shiver that ripples through their spines when my shadow brushes too close. Their fear is a vintage that never sours.But tonight… the air is wrong.It hums.Not the whisper of ley-lines, not the crackle of godfire bleeding through the Veil. This sound is deeper. Older. It moves beneath the skin of the world the way blood moves beneath flesh — steady, hidden, essential. Each beat is a rhythm no god would claim, no mortal could hear.It brushes against me like recognition.And I smile.I lift my head, scenting the wind like a wolf catching the first trace of prey. The pulse is vast, unmeasured, and every throb feels like it’s pushing the gods one step back.Something is waking.Good.Let them c
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King EYES IN THE SKY
POV: SeleneThe Mirror of Threads is not meant for indulgence.It is a weapon — the oldest kind. One that kills without blood, severing lives with the same cold precision a hunter uses to snare prey. I have used it for wars, for diplomacy, for punishments that never reach the songs.And yet tonight, I watched for something the Council does not yet understand.The courtyard shimmered across its silver surface, mortal shadows sharpened by moonlight. She was there — the Hollow Queen. The wolf who was not a wolf. The fire that does not bow.And opposite her… Azrien. They call him Dorian now, as if a name could erase what he once was. A foolish thought.They circled each other with blades, movements sharp, exact. No wasted motion. Each strike tested, tasted. The Hollowflame curled around her like a living thing, flaring violet-gold every time he drove her back.I should have looked away when the spar shifted. I should have severed the vision the moment the air changed.But I didn’t.Becaus
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King STEEL AND SKIN
POV: ArayaMidnight in the courtyard feels like another world.The torches throw enough light to glint off Dorian’s blade, not enough to soften him. There’s no moon tonight—only shadow, and that impossible, god-born presence he carries with him, like the air itself bends to make space for him.We’ve been sparring for over an hour. My arms ache. My legs are on fire. Sweat slicks my palms, but I don’t dare loosen my grip. Because every time I think I’ve read his next strike, he changes.Sharper. Closer. More precise.This isn’t the way he used to train me—guiding, testing. Tonight he’s carving me into something that can kill anything. Or survive what he knows is coming.Steel bites against steel and rattles down my bones. He’s in my space again, close enough to feel his breath against my cheek. My heartbeat is louder than the clash of weapons.You feel it too, Nyxara murmurs, low and dangerous in my mind. He’s not afraid of losing to you. He’s afraid of losing you.I falter—just for a f
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King THE COUNCIL'S FRACTURE
POV: SeleneThe Council chamber has no walls.It is held together by law and light alone — a hollow sphere of white fire suspended above Solara’s highest spire. No wind reaches us here, no mortal scent, no sound but the voices of those who believe they rule eternity.Today, those voices are chaos.> “It was not a ripple — it was a tear!”“The Veil does not split unless something forces it!”“You all felt it! That heat! That shadow! That—”The god of war slams his gauntleted fist onto the table of light, making the chamber quake.“It is a weapon,” he growls. “And it is being aimed.”The god of death does not move. Her lips curl faintly — as though she has been waiting for this moment longer than the rest of us have been alive.“Not a weapon,” she says, her voice like cool soil over a grave. “A verdict.”A murmur ripples through the Council. The god of oaths glances at me, gold bands on his wrists tightening. The goddess of storms swears under her breath. The goddess of dawn stares at h
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King THE FIRE THAT DOES NOT BOW
POV: ArayaThe hum is still there.Not fading. Not softening. A low, patient vibration stitched into the marrow of my bones, like the earth itself has decided to breathe through me. It isn’t sound, not exactly — it’s attention.The kind of attention that makes your pulse forget which rhythm belongs to you.The forest knows it too. Crickets mute. Leaves freeze. Wolves crouch belly-low in their dens, not daring to howl. Even the air feels wrong — stretched thin, like skin pulled too tight across a drum.I keep my eyes on the wound in the sky. It hasn’t closed. It hasn’t widened. It just waits — a seam of unmaking stitched into the night. Light and shadow drip from its edges, pooling where they shouldn’t, seeping into the dark like ink into water.Nyxara’s voice threads under my heartbeat:> Not even Fate dares stand in that shadow.It isn’t reverence. It isn’t fear. It’s the hush of remembering an old truth better left buried.My fingers curl into my palms until my nails sting. My skin
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