Emily Seraphim Novels & Stories

“This will not tell you what you want to know.” Elysia held the silk, startled by its weight. It felt heavier than a square of thread should feel. She glanced toward the door and found Lucien watching through the grate, his face unreadable. “Then tell me yourself,” Elysia said. “Tell me what you are.” “I am what you made of me,” Seraphina said. “And what you feared you could never be.” Color rose in Elysia’s face. “I have only tried to be worthy.”

Lyla's POV After the incident, life went back to normal, to its usual hustle and buzzling. But while we were relaxed and thought that the Architect's reign died with her code. That peace could be coded back into the world like a firewall. But peace is never permanent apparently when blood remembers. Deep beneath the frost-ridden city of Australia, in a facility cloaked in electromagnetic silence, a woman stood before the embryonic remnants of a war long thought ended. Seraphina, twenty-one years old. Raised in secrecy by the last loyalists of the Architect’s bloodline. Not born—but built.

Then her lips curved into a small, condescending smile. “Kai Lennox,” she repeated, voice smooth and silky, but dripping with arrogance. “The billionaire heir who’s been missing half his classes. I’ve heard about you. Daddy’s money and a reputation for charming girls out of their panties. How… predictable.” I grinned wider, completely unbothered. “Predictable? That hurts. I was hoping for devastatingly handsome or at least intriguing.” Seraphima closed her notebook with a soft snap and stood up, slinging her designer bag over her shoulder. She was tall in heels, almost eye level with me, and she used every inch to look down on me.

> *It remembered her. The circle cracked. Light exploded. The ward-breaker from the gold-robed member ignited, ripping through the spell like a blade through silk. Seraphine stood in the center of it all — eyes glowing, hair whipping in the magical storm — and **did not fall.** > “I am Seraphine Elowen. > Daughter of flame. > Heir to queens who would not kneel. > And if you try to erase me— > then I will burn my name into the stone of this world.”

I tapped explore and the first thing that came to my mind to search for was Faryah. She was using Faryah Mustapha Edwards now. She was easy to find. She didn't have any posts and her followers weren't that bad. 10k. Cool. I looked at the photos she was tagged in and my heart sank as I looked at her pictures in African wears. She was so beautiful. There were different photos here, with she and her family and my daughter. My Najmah. There were some with the Khalifa guy, their pictures pained my body, heart and soul. No one could deny that they honestly looked very good together and here I was on the side-line.

She couldn't feel any connection to her at this point, and all Serenity felt was pitch black emptiness. It doesn't come across as a surprise that he choose someone like her. Emily had a light tan complexion with blonde hair and greyish blue doe like eyes and do not forget those long legs and lean body. She was an angel compared to Serenity. She had a pale complexion with boring hazel brown eyes, brown hair and oh not to forget a curvy figure which some people considered unflattering. Emily climbs on to the stage from the front of the crowd and places her hand in his and turns to flash a smile at the excited and happy pack members.

Not a girl fooling herself about power she didn’t understand. I was Nora Carver. Seraphine’s heir. Mate of Lucien Nerezza, Caelum Hawthorne, and Elias Everly. Friend of wolves and vampires and wizards and witches. One of six founders of The Emberbound Circle And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly who I was packing for. Me. Packing was easy. Planning had knots in my stomach.

“A woman at the border seeks audience with the Alpha King.” Magnus frowned. “A woman?” Before anyone could question, she entered on her own — tall, pale, cloaked in black that shimmered like oil. Her presence filled the room instantly, cold and commanding. She introduced herself as Seraphine. The moment her gaze locked with Ember’s, the room froze. I felt my wolf stir, uneasy, claws scraping at the inside of my chest. Ember stiffened, her jaw tightening. And then I heard it — her voice saying, “Let her in.” But there was another voice beneath it. Faint. Echoing. Like two tones overlapping in one throat. My stomach turned.