Book Seraphina Novels & Stories

The villagers began to look at me not as an outsider but as one of their own, and I felt a sense of belonging that I hadn’t known in a long time. As we looked out at the village, its people gathering in determined unity, I knew that we were part of something greater than ourselves. Together, we would fight for freedom, and I had no doubt that with Cain by my side, we could overcome any obstacle in our path. Seraphina’s footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit chamber as she searched through the ancient scrolls and tomes that lined the shelves. The room was filled with the musty scent of old parchment, a scent that had become comforting to her over the years.

I looked down at Seraphina and she looked so pale, so lifeless, but her pulse was still beating ever so weakly beneath my touch. The girl tore open Seraphina's tunic and poured water on the wound. Washing the blood off it before she poured a liquid on it. Seraphina gasped as she came back to consciousness, her eyes opening wide. The relief that flooded my chest was so great, I could barely breathe. Seraphina still looked lifeless but at least her eyes were open. She looked around, but her gaze was unfocused as if she couldn't see us. The girl touched her face gently but she went back to the wound. She then applied a substance with a repugnant odor.

“And make sure they never forget it.” At the rear of the line, Eveline waited with her battle robes already fastened, a cold glint in her eyes. “They’ll call this madness.” “Let them,” Seraphina said. “I’ve been called worse.” That night, beneath a sky swollen with red stars, Seraphina stood alone in the temple ruins. The broken stones around her echoed with the memory of power, of blood, of prophecy. She placed her hand on the cold altar and whispered: “Mother, I’m not afraid anymore.”

"Clara, that's blasphemy!" "It's only a story," Clara defended, grinning. "Besides, didn't you feel it? The way the air changed when he entered? Like even God was listening." "You're impossible," Agnes muttered, though her lips twitched as if hiding a smile. Laughter bubbled up again, bright and dangerous, like children caught playing at the edge of a cliff. From her cot, Seraphine lay utterly still. Her rosary twisted tight in her hand, beads digging into her palm. She kept her gaze on the ceiling, refusing to be drawn in. But their voices crawled through her ears, tugging at the corners of her restraint.

Seraphina looked at Silas, her hand touching his gold-and-sapphire skin one last time. "I didn't die thirty years ago to see you become a puppet, Silas," she whispered. She turned and lunged for the Silver Alpha, her liquid-gold aura expanding into a massive, world-ending wing of starlight. "I am the original 'Heresy'!" Seraphina roared. "And the Queen is closing the account!"

Lost in the chaos of my own mind, I almost walked right past the east wing corridor. "Alpha Halil." The voice pulled me back to reality. I blinked, stopping in my tracks, and turned around. I had not even heard her approach. Seraphina stood a few feet away. She looked immaculate. Her sleek, black dress cut off right at the knees, tailored perfectly to hug her curves without looking desperate or cheap. A thin gold necklace rested lightly against her collarbone. She held a crystal glass of sparkling water, looking every bit the high-society lady she claimed to be.

The bridge model had been placed on the shelf beside the stairs, where everyone could see it. I locked the door behind Mara and returned to the kitchen. Seraphina stood at the sink, washing a plate that was already clean. I walked over and gently took it from her hand. She let me. That told me how tired she was. “I should sleep,” she said. “Yes.” “I won’t.” “I know.” She looked at me. “Tomorrow, they’ll try to make you look like a mistake.” “They can try.” “I need you to know that you are not.”

The door suddenly opened. “Well, well, well,” Seraphina’s cold voice cut through the room like a whip. “What do we have here?” I froze, the papers were still in my hand. Seraphina stood in the doorway, her sleek black hair perfect, icy blue eyes narrowed with pure hatred. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Stealing from your Alpha now?” she asked, smirking. “How low can you go, little human?” I quickly shoved the papers back but I knew she saw them. “This is Draven’s office. I can be here.”

"Why would I trust a single word from the woman who handed my husband his microphone yesterday?" "You wouldn't." Seraphina smiled. "Which is why I'm not going to ask you to. I'm going to prove it." She studied me a moment longer — the way a card player studies a final hand — and whatever she saw seemed to settle something in her. "I went into this looking for the thread that unravels you," she said. "That's how I was raised. You find the loose end of a person, and you hold it, and they belong to you. I'm very good at it. I found yours in an afternoon." Her smile faded entirely. "And then I pulled it, expecting to watch you come apart — and instead I came apart. Because the thread wasn't your