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The Hunt That Wasn’t Meant
Last Updated:
2025-08-15 04:37:08
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VEILFIRE: CURSED TO BURN, BORN TO REIGN The Dark Awakens
POV: ErikThe dark was not absence here.It lived.It pressed against my skin in slow, greedy waves, tasting every inch like a lover with all the time in the world.The air carried weight — thick with soil older than the first flame, sweet with rot that would choke any mortal throat.No chains. The gods had never trusted chains to hold me.They buried me in roots — black, slick, knotted with runes that seared when I pressed too hard. A living cage, pulsing with the rhythm of the earth.And with every century, each heartbeat belonged to me a little more.They thought they’d buried me in the dark.Fools.I am the dark.---Once, I counted the days by rain dripping through fissures.Then decades. Then centuries.Rain lost its meaning.Time itself bent until it was mine.Down here, time was choice, and every year they left me breathing, I let my power crawl further through the root-veins.Then something shifted.Not much — but enough.The old hunger slipped a tooth through the bars.I clo
VEILFIRE: CURSED TO BURN, BORN TO REIGN Breath and Blade
---POV: ArayaThe Vale wears dawn like a bruise—violet thinning to blue, tender at the edges where trees still cradle night. Frost glitters on dead leaves; my breath smokes in pale ribbons. The air tastes of iron and pine resin, wrapped in the quiet that means something is listening.Dorian is already moving when I step into the clearing.Not training—moving. Bare-chested in the cold, skin slick with mist, he carves slow arcs with the bone-forged blade like he’s drawing a pattern the world itself respects. Scars ladder his ribs—white, thin, deliberate. My first thought isn’t tactical.Nyxara purrs behind my ribs, pleased. Look at our mate. See how the ground keeps him and the air forgives him.“I’m here to train, not stare,” I mutter.You can do both. Multitask for me, little flame.He finishes the sequence and turns, breath steady, eyes storm-dark. A curved practice blade spins toward me, handle-first. It lands in my palm with a satisfying thunk.“You’re still too slow.”“Good morni
VEILFIRE: CURSED TO BURN, BORN TO REIGN The Luna’s Claim
POV: AdiraThe first thing I feel is him.Not sunlight, not a lover’s warmth — but the heavy, slow-burning heat of Kade’s body stretched along mine, his stubble grazing my hip like a promise he doesn’t remember making.He’s draped over me as if I’m the axis his world spins around.And maybe I am now.The sheets are tangled, silk clinging to my bare legs. His scent clings too — pine smoke, wild musk… and something new. Something tamed.I thread my fingers through his hair. He doesn’t stir like the man I remember, the one who woke tense and ready to tear the world apart if it touched me. No. This Kade is still, pliant, head resting against my thigh like he belongs there.Erik kept his word.“Kade,” I murmur, not loud, not sharp. Just low and expectant.His head lifts instantly. Golden eyes meet mine — dimmed now, shadowed. His wolf flickers for a heartbeat before lowering his gaze to the sheets.“Come here.”He moves without question, climbing over me, bracing his hands on either side o
VEILFIRE: CURSED TO BURN, BORN TO REIGN The Hunt That Wasn’t Meant
POV: ArayaDawn pools cold in the Vale of Hollow Winds, a pale film over black pines and frost-bitten grass. Breath ghosts from my lips. The air tastes like iron, pine sap, and the tension before a blade is drawn.Across the clearing, Dorian moves.Not trains. Moves—like the world is something he wears well.Bare-chested, skin sheened with mist, he glides through a slow kata, bone-forged blade cutting deliberate arcs. Each step is a conversation with gravity: softer, closer, claim. The scars across his ribs flash when he turns—pale lines like constellations someone tried to erase.Nyxara purrs in the back of my skull, lazy and smug. Look how our mate balances the world. Imagine how he’d balance you.“Focus,” I breathe, setting my feet shoulder-width apart, blade raised. My fingers are steady. My pulse isn’t.He finishes a sequence, the last cut shaving a curl of frost from a fallen branch. Then his eyes lift—storm-dark, unreadable—and find me watching.Caught.An apology flickers in m
VEILFIRE: CURSED TO BURN, BORN TO REIGN The Severing of Oaths
POV: Dorian The summons comes on black vellum, sealed with the sigil of the Veiled Ones — the council of gods who ruled before mortals learned to pray to others. It is not a request. It is a recall. Return to the Hall of Veils. Your oath is overdue. The words bleed power. Not mortal magic, but the kind that seeps into bone and makes it ache. Even as I read them, I can hear the echo of my younger self answering such summons without hesitation, kneeling on the obsidian floors of the Hall like an obedient son. That version of me is long dead. I stand at the edge of the ruin where the Bloodletter’s Bargain was once struck, the bone-forged blade heavy in my grip. Its runes, carved with Nyxara’s name, pulse faintly against my palm — as if it senses what’s coming. The vellum curls and blackens between my fingers until it drops to the dirt in a hiss of ash. I will not go back. But the Hall of Veils comes to me. The forest stutters — one breath alive, the next turning to stone. Tree
VEILFIRE: CURSED TO BURN, BORN TO REIGN THE BARGAIN IN THE RUINS
POV: AdiraThe ruins stink of damp stone, old incense, and something sweeter — rot left too long in velvet, the perfume of holiness gone to decay.At the far end of the blackened chamber sits the fallen priestess. Her veil hangs in two torn strips like dead skin. Where Selene’s silver symbols once marked her flesh, jagged claw-marks have gouged them away, leaving only weeping scabs.Her clouded eyes lock on me. Madness and spite — both in equal measure.“You reek of desire,” she rasps, her voice soft as petals left to mould.I don’t flinch. “I want him.”Her mouth curls, teeth yellow and rotting. “Then take him.”“I want all of him,” I step forward, velvet skirts whispering over scorched stone. “Man and wolf. Without her between us.”A slow, knowing smile splits her face. “Then you must sever what binds them. Tear her from him. Kill her if need be.”“Tell me how.”---She leads me to the altar — black stone laced with red-veined seams that pulse like sluggish blood. She sets down a bo
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