Lahat ng Kabanata ng Shattered Vows, Silent Fire : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

Carlos stood up from beneath the ancient tree, his body tense, eyes distant as the memory of Alara’s voice echoed through his mind. The wind stirred his dark coat as he vanished in a blur—faster than any beast, silent as a shadow—racing through the woods. The forest parted for him like it remembered who he was, who he had been, and what had been stolen from him in silence and sacrifice.His mansion came into view, hidden deep within the thickets of wild forest where even sunlight feared to enter. The tall gothic structure stood proud and cold, framed by frost-covered pines and thick mist swirling like ghosts around its stone base. Its towering spires sliced into the sky, black against a silver moon. This was the home of the vampires who bore the name of Carlos—the purebloods, the unaging, the untouchable.In the backyard, carved out with towering hedges and ancient marble columns, five figures moved like whispers under the veil of night. The vampires didn’t sleep—they hadn’t in centur

The moonlight cut through the thick fog as Luca weaved deeper into the jungle, his breath silent, movements fluid. The forest here was darker than any other part of their land—twisted trees arched overhead like ancient guardians, and the air shimmered with a chill not born of cold but of emotion.Then he heard it.The low rumble of the waterfall.His steps slowed as he approached, eyes scanning the shadows that danced in the moonlight. And then he saw her—sitting on a moss-covered rock near the edge, wrapped in her cloak, still as the stone she sat upon.His mother.Her long silver hair shimmered in the faint light, cascading down her back like a frozen river. She didn’t turn when he approached. She didn’t need to.Luca knelt beside her without a word, the sound of water crashing below them echoing in the space between heartbeats. Slowly, gently, he wrapped an arm around her slender frame and pulled her close to him.She didn’t resist.She let her head rest against his chest, her hand

Ashara sat stiffly in the passenger seat of Zev’s jeep, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the trees passed them by in a blur. But she wasn’t seeing them. Her mind was somewhere else—home. Or rather, the storm waiting for her there.Her father’s face kept flashing in her memory. The rage in his eyes. The silence that screamed louder than any scolding. The way his hands had trembled when he’d slapped her—out of fear, not cruelty. And the way she had fallen into the dirt like she was nothing.Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned.“Hey,” Zev’s voice cut gently through her thoughts. His hand briefly left the steering wheel to rest on her knee. “You’ve gone completely silent since we left.”Ashara forced a tight smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”“You’re lying,” Zev said softly, his hand still warm against her. “And you’re terrible at it.”She didn’t respond. Her gaze fell to her lap.Zev sighed and slowed the jeep, pulling off the road into a quiet, shaded clearin

The house was dark, still wrapped in the heavy silence of the night when Kael stepped through the door. The faint scent of grilled spices drifted from the kitchen, soft light glowing behind the glass pane of the door. He followed it, his boots silent on the polished floor.There, bent over the counter, was Zev.The young man was carefully folding a warm chicken roll, the sleeves of his hoodie pulled up, his hair a little messy from sleep—or lack of it. Zev didn’t look up at first. But Kael had been a warrior too long not to be noticed, even in silence.“I knew you’d come back tonight,” Zev said softly, without turning.Kael walked in, not bothering to reply yet. He leaned against the kitchen doorway for a moment, watching Zev finish wrapping the roll in parchment and place it on a plate. It was strange, seeing someone else in his kitchen so comfortably—but he also knew why Zev was here.“You stayed the whole day,” Kael said finally, walking forward.Zev nodded and looked at him. “I co

The fireplace crackled softly in the corner of Carlos’s vast study, casting shadows that danced across the ancient walls. Books—leather-bound, heavy with time—lined the shelves, and a thick, musty scent of parchment and ink hung in the air. Carlos sat at his desk, hunched over a tattered manuscript written in a forgotten tongue. His eyes scanned the lines with the intensity only centuries of wisdom could carry.Then, the heavy wooden door creaked open.Carlos didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The cadence of the footsteps, the faint trail of restrained irritation—it was Erin. He set the book down gently and turned his head, his sharp features illuminated by the dim lamp on the desk.“You’re restless,” Carlos observed calmly, his voice low, ageless.Erin stepped in and closed the door behind him. His usual arrogance was missing. He didn’t pace or smirk. He simply walked to the chair in front of his father and sat down, his expression solemn.Carlos leaned back in his chair, stu