Hiraeth Book Novels & Stories

CASSANDRA The pulsing between my thighs just won’t go away. It’s been there since my lesson yesterday with Rhett, along with a tingling sensation like I’ve been transformed into a bubbling can of lemon seltzer. I press my legs together as I lounge on the green velvet chaise in my room. I’m reading a book Clarisse brought me from the outside world. It’s a romance novel entitledBuilt from Stoneabout a girl who goes hiking and gets caught in a storm, only to be rescued by a rough mountain man who takes her home to his cabin where…thingshappen.

And Elthara, caught in its center, collapsed with a silent scream. The Spiral was not fire anymore. It was raw motion—untamed, relentless, eternal. It screamed through her veins like a storm without sky, dragging centuries of unspoken truths behind it. Her body convulsed on the altar as visions flashed beneath her lids: cities drowned in ash, gods wailing with stitched mouths, Kael reaching for her through blood and flame. Her hands clawed at the stone, trying to anchor herself to something—anything—but even time refused to hold her.

I asked. Thorne stopped again and looked at me. “We went to a cave.” He blew out a deep breath and rubbed his hand over a work rag. “She said it was some kind of ancient cave where history could be found.” “And what did you find there?” I asked. Thorne chuckled. “Books.” “Books?” I frowned. “Yes. Scrolls and all.” He shrugged. “They spoke about the prophecy and called the one who was to fulfill it a Chimera. That was how I knew what she was.”

Chapter 343: The Curvature of the Horizon The journey to Oakhaven was no longer a desperate trek through a fractured landscape; it had become a pilgrimage of connectivity. Three runners departed the city at dawn, carrying the first bound copies of The Silt Saga. These were not mere books; they were the "Physical Persistents" Anya had theorized—tactile anchors for a regional identity. Sophia watched them go from the northern gate, noting how the runners’ pace was not a sprint, but a steady, lung-expanding rhythm. They were the human threads of the Holarchy, weaving the southern mud and the northern timber into a single, cohesive narrative.

The familiar sense of dread that accompanied her every move was almost palpable. Lyra wandered through the twisted streets of Nyxterra, following the elusive traces of Elias. She navigated through eerie, desolate neighborhoods where the buildings were little more than skeletal remains, their darkened windows staring out like hollow eyes. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of melancholy as if the very essence of Nyxterra was steeped in sorrow and regret.

It looked like a secret paradise, seemingly untouchable and a perfect escape from the outside world. The night sky above was a canvas of stars twinkling brightly and the moon a faint silver flicker behind the silhouettes of the trees. The soothing melodic sound of waves crashing in the distance combined with the gentle whispering of the wind was creating a spell-binding atmosphere, a dreamlike oasis that seemed too good to be real, utterly magical. Wherever they were, it was truly beautiful. So peaceful and so inviting. Kevin glanced at her with a fierce intensity and then strode down the gravel path, crunching the dead leaves beneath his boots with a rhythm that seemed to be attuned to his

she asked, her voice barely audible above the thrum of anticipation that swirled within her. "Here," Cassandra said, running her fingers along a row of books before selecting a particularly worn volume. She placed it gently in Lyra's hands, its pages crackling with an energy that seemed to hum in tune with her own heartbeat. "This tome will introduce you to the various beings that share our world, both seen and unseen." As Lyra opened the book, she was met with intricate illustrations of creatures she had only ever glimpsed in her wildest dreams: winged serpents that coiled around celestial bodies, ethereal spirits cloaked in veils of shimmering starlight, and many more beyond her imaginatio

For someone in the military and who was a mercenary, he has to be cautious around him even in his sleep—of course, tending to his pregnant wife. Suddenly, my thoughts trail to Seth and his lips. I thought going out in the middle of the night would help my unstable heart, which has been beating every time I think about that incident. I reach up and trail my finger on my lips. They were softer than I had imagined they would be. His hot breath through my mind sent waves of ecstasy between my legs, causing that sensation I wished I had never wanted to feel. At that time, my body would betray me, and I got excited; I hated myself for having that feeling when being raped by an older man. The thoug

The carriage gave a lurch forward as the black stallions started their trek toward the dreary castle once more. It snowed on the way the trees dusted with fresh white powder and the mountains gleamed in the sun. The cold air did not bother me instead it rejuvenated my energy and I felt at home. This landscape was my home. The castle was not my home however. It’s obsidian walls and towers were a dark reminder that this was not meant to be. This land was not supposed to be so empty and dark. The carriage creaked as it rolled onto the only bridge that crossed The Divide leading to the castles main gates. I shuddered whatever had made that scaring crevice was not natural. Emma hid her head in my

It was already there. ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★ Hello lovely readers, If you're here, that means you not only love supernatural things like I do but you love the act of love too. I'm sure smokin hot alphas make a good selling point for most stories. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for deciding to read my first book, Awakening the Feral! Whatever made you decide to pick it up, I hope the writing has now since convinced you to stay a while.