All Chapters of Beyond the Boundaries : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Alina. I don't remember what happened after my confrontation with the wolves. My head aches and my throat is parched when I open my eyes. The memories of the catastrophe flashes through my mind in bright images, I see Malen’s body in my eye and it causes me to spiral. I hold my head in pain refusing to accept reality. I finally open them to look around and I notice my current place of abode isn't my hut or the healer's hut, I'm not even in the village anymore. They kept me in a stone cell, for how long I have no idea. I see a tray of food and water not far from the door and I scramble for water. The cell looked like a dungeon, with a single slit of a window high up on the opposite wall. The slit at least offered me a sliver of sky, and from that lonely vantage point, I watched the moon wax fat and full, then begin to wane. After that first recovery of food, I didn’t eat much, didn’t sleep either. My hands still stank of ash and poultice, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mal

Lucan. The moon tonight is a liar. I look up from my room window, and I wonder time and again why the moon goddess played such a cruel joke on me. The moon glows like it has no memory of the blood I spilled beneath it, no recollection of the vow sealed in crimson just moments ago. I stand at the window of my chambers, arms folded tight across my chest like I can crush the unease out of my bones. I haven’t slept. I can't. Not because I feel guilty, no, I won’t give it that name, but because the bond is raw and new. It hums beneath my skin like a wound that refuses to close. It itches. Pulls. A dull ache I can't drink away. I lived with the pain of rejecting my own mate years ago and now? It still hurts, I can't say it hurts more because it wouldn't be logical but it hurts more. It feels like the blood covenant we entered dropped a load with spikes on my chest. My thoughts go back to her. Alina. She’s across the hall. I don’t need to see her to know. I feel her now, in a way I

Alina. The dreams came softly at first. Not a scream or a cry in the dark but a sensation, like hands brushing through tall grass or breath fogging a mirror. I didn’t notice them right away. Not until I began waking with a weight pressing on my chest, a hum vibrating in my bones like some forgotten melody. And the whispers. Familiar in a way I couldn’t name. The kind that followed me even after I opened my eyes. I sat up in bed and rubbed my temples, the cold morning light slanting across the polished stone floors. Elena had left my breakfast by the fireplace again, a fresh pot of cinnamon tea, warm oat bread, and roasted pears. She was getting better at guessing what I needed. My dreams hadn’t made sense in days. But last night… I’d heard something clearly. "Alina." Just that. My name, spoken like a prayer or a warning. I bathed quickly, the water warm but not comforting. My body ached, my fingertips tingled, and something inside me felt restless. It wasn’t fear. It was…

Alina. The kiss struck like a thunderclap. Kael’s lips on mine were the same as they’d always been, familiar and warm, commanding, yet edged with something feral. But I had changed, and this time, the kiss didn’t wrap me in the safety of forgotten dreams. It cracked me wide open. The second our mouths met, my magic flared like wildfire, unbidden and violent. I felt it, and I couldn't control it. The air trembled. The earth shuddered beneath our feet. All around us, the Veil thinned just enough for the air to take on that familiar, sulfur-laced bite of the Underworld. It was the scent of charred roses and ancient blood, of promises broken and fates rewritten. Kael drew back slowly, eyes locked on mine. There was a smirk playing at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. No triumph. Just something haunted. Something hollow. “Still burns,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I thought I was the only one who remembered what we were.” I stumbled back, heart pounding, br

Alina. The scent of fresh bread, crisped meat, and wild herbs wraps around me like a memory. It hits the second I step into the packhouse kitchen, and suddenly, I feel five years old again, feet dangling off the bench while my mother hands me the first slice of buttered honeybread. That was a lifetime ago. Now, the kitchen is packed with wolves. Some half-shifted, some human, all buzzing with the kind of energy that makes my head pound. I don’t want to be here. But the second I tried to sneak off to training without eating, I got caught by the Beta’s wife like a chick by a hawk. “Sit, girl,” she snaps, her voice all flint and no fluff. I obey. No point fighting a war I won’t win. A plate clatters in front of me, heaped high with eggs, root veggies, meat, and something green I don’t recognize but eat anyway. My stomach growls despite the knot of dread tightening under my ribs. The Beta’s mate, goddess of food and terrifying domestic power plants herself across from me, arms folde