Dahlia Mystic Fantasy Novels & Stories

And Eliot, already aching, would feel every single one. Damien’s steps slowed as he reached the stairwell. He leaned on the railing, gazing out at the moonlight spilling through the tall glass windows. It painted his face in silver, sharpening his smile into something dangerous. “Moonlight mystique,” he whispered mockingly. “How poetic. How tragic.” Because in the end, Eliot wouldn’t just be Theo’s obsession or Damien’s conquest. He would be something broken, reshaped in the shadows of both their hands.

It is all so hazy and muffled. Feeling the wet cloth on my head as I lie on the bed, my body is now spasming uncontrollably. I cannot open my eyes but I know they are all here. Feeling soft kisses on my face and hands before the darkness takes me. Soon a white dahlia blooms into place, and colors begin raining down on the pedals. It is beautifully hypnotic and calming. Black, blue, red, and purple color the flower to perfection. Kimarhi’s face came into focus, along with Lorcan and Xim’s.

She kisses his forehead and let him lie on her belly. “ I'll just give you a bit privacy!” “ Then do one thing, Dahlia!” She smiles, “ I brought some fishes.” She points to the other side of her body. “ Bake them and eat something before it's getting darker!” Dahlia leans ahead of her body to see. And to her surprise, indeed there are two huge Salmons dancing on the leaves. “ You are really amazing, Bliss.” She laughs, using her magic power to get them cleaned. “ Thanks!” Bliss closes her eyes.

Damien "Only dahlias," I said into the phone, balancing it between my shoulder and cheek while flipping through a file. “Dark red. The kind that looks almost black in certain light. No fillers, no roses, no distractions. Just them.” The florist on the other end hesitated. “Would you like to include a card, Mr. von Adler?” I stared out the floor-to-ceiling window of my office. The skyline was pale today, dipped in soft grey, like the city itself was holding its breath.

It didn't matter that he was human; he was still a precious member of the pack. "No, yes…maybe…I don't know…" Freya swiped her hands through her hair. "He brought her flowers yesterday afternoon…black dahlias and red poppy." "So?" So Julian gave Mirage flowers…what was wrong with that? "Black dahlias and red poppy…are considered cursed flowers, Alex." Freya sighed. "And these were imbued in some kind of spell. Mirage seemed constantly afraid…panicked, until I burned down the flowers and she returned to her normal self slowly."

I don't want to be a flower anymore". "What do you want to be, sister?" " A Dahlia..." NOTE: DAHLIA IN ARABIC IS NOT A FLOWER BUT A TERM TO DESCRIBE BIG RAISIN OF FIG TREES, THE ONES THAT ARE SO TANGLED? OLD? AND STRONG. A QUESTION? DO YOU LIKE THESE LONG CHAPTERS OR DO YOU PREFER THAT MAKE THEM SHORTER? THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT.

The transition from the mysterious moonlit forest to the gradually brightening sky mirrored the mix of emotions within me — determination, concern, and a lingering sense of foreboding. I concealed myself behind the verdant foliage, shrouded in the embrace of the morning light that delicately unveiled the enchanting scene before me. Daliah, adorned in a dress of vibrant green that harmonized with the blossoms around, moved with a grace that seemed to resonate with the very rhythm of nature. Her hair, meticulously gathered in a coiffured bun, unveiled the slender curve of her neck, a subtle elegance that added to the picturesque tableau. The flowers, vibrant and alive in their myriad colors, y

That’s why Joshua smelled Monas perfumed and thoughts that he is not dreaming. “Joshua your dreaming, stop it” said Dahlia to him. Joshua dreamed that he was hugging with Mona. He smelled to his favourite perfume to her. He truly sleeping but, he had a nice dreamed, he didn’t knew that his dream was true but in difference is he was hugging Dahlia Grey not Mona Zamora.

Lydia pushed the door open without knocking. The air carried the scent of jasmine and expensive wine. Music floated faintly from a hidden speaker, low and sultry. Ava had staged every detail with care. She stood by the balcony, her body tilted toward the night, champagne flute in hand, a gown of crimson silk clinging to her frame. Her hair spilled loose across one bare shoulder, touched gold by the city lights. “Right on time,” Ava said, turning slowly, her smile sharp. “I almost thought you would keep me waiting. But then, you are not the type to surrender control.”

Dahlia's Vision Dahlia collapsed in the Temple Library three nights later. We found her convulsing, ink spilled across her hands and arms, a vision half-sketched beneath her. When she awoke, she couldn’t speak for hours. Only trembled. Finally, she looked at me. "She showed me the last door." "What door?" "The gate beneath the Hollow. The one that was never sealed. It’s beneath Duskfall. And it's... open." She handed me her sketch. A spiral of sigils, surrounded by bone pillars. At the center, a silhouette wearing no crown, no face.