Hiraeth Novel Novels & Stories

“You don’t know what plane she’s in. You don’t know what she’s becoming.” Kael’s jaw was locked. “Then I’ll find out.” Three hours later, the chamber had gone cold. Elira had been shackled and dragged to the edge of the citadel’s cells, unconscious but alive. Zareth, Elric, and Kael stood in what was left of the altar room, now stripped bare of energy, the pulsing light dulled to a thin glow. “I need you to understand something,” Zareth said quietly, laying out an ancient scroll across a fractured table. “No one’s ever come back from the Hollow Plane.”

Insinuating himself into the folds of their union like poison. I addressed my raven, which stood serenely on the top beam. "Seek out Ryan," I whispered. "Tell him the moment to escape is over. He must return." The raven croaked and vanished. I looked into the crystal again. There was more. I saw a throne of snakes. And Lilith, white, still, hovering between death and life. Serenia leaning over her, hand on her chest. And Hailey, walking into fire—no armor, no guard, no crown.

terra said, He nodded and looked at the girl, she turned to him, "Terra, meet the last horak, zarae horak," he said, "Zarae, meet terra rectir, the last of her blood" he said, "A pleasure," she said, "Yeah, we could talk, after we escape derora" terra said, A shadow covered the sunlight, like darkness overcame the light, they ran out to see the biggest dark creature terra have ever witnessed, "Aether help us" daren muttered,

I found a book that seemed nice and pulse-racing, Blood Brothers by Nora Roberts. I took it off the shelf and looked back at Ashton who was now holding Jack in his hands. I went to the till and paid for the book. We then went out of the shop and headed to the car park. When we got to the car park, I got in and took Jack from Ashton to remove him from the cover and place him back on the stand. It was around 5:30 pm so we still had some time before heading home. Ashton read that from my mind and then he went around the car, got in and sat on the seat next to mine.

But it bothered me, more than it should. I used to shrug and laugh my curse off ever since I reached twenty years old. And it’s already the 1800 centuries and I never felt close to death, not ever. I never once felt threatened, not with the power I have. I am a powerful werewolf, a witch… and a vampire. I was feared, and no one ever came close. But what the red-haired told me struck me. She had no regrets. Regrets. Will I have no regrets if I don’t find my heart’s content? Will I be satisfied with immortality?

Ash still drifted in the air like black snow, settling over ruins that had once been Dawnspire’s proud walls. Serenya’s lungs burned with smoke and power as she struggled to hold herself aloft. Her new wings—woven of starlight and fire—shivered with exhaustion, dimming at the edges. Below, Thalric’s broken crown lay in shards, but the man himself rose from the ashes, alive, his form cloaked in a new and terrible shadow.

: The Third Name --- The morning arrives heavy. Thick mist clings to the village as if the sky is trying to smother it. The air doesn’t move. Birds do not sing. The river is full, but it no longer flows — it simply waits, like something holding its breath. Mira senses it before she steps out of her hut. > The silence is here. Not creeping. Not looming. Present. It has entered the village. --- The first to forget is Old Sefa — a weaver with a memory like iron.

Something waiting. --- Determined not to be paralyzed by fear, I returned to the antique bookstore — to the stories, the secrets, the fragments of forgotten women. The elderly owner greeted me with a knowing smile. “You’re searching for answers,” he said quietly. I nodded. He handed me a leather-bound tome, its cover worn but strong — *Reflections of the Forgotten*. “Read carefully,” he advised. “Sometimes the past speaks through shadows.” --- I spent the night poring over its pages. The book told of women trapped in illusions, caught between worlds — ghosts of themselves, struggling to reclaim their true identities.

Dawn crept over the valley like a slow breath, the first light catching the standing stones and painting them in shades of rose and gold. Lira remained at the center of the circle, her dark fur drinking in the warmth, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the sun was beginning its climb. She had not slept again after the dream. She had not wanted to. The memories Ronan had given her — his sister Eira, his years with Clara, his centuries of waiting — were still settling into her mind, finding their places among her own recollections like stones dropped into still water.

“Yes. I failed.” They removed the hood slowly, revealing tangled silver hair and skin etched with jagged scars that weren’t from battle—they were ritualistic. A language of pain written in flesh. “I am called Ireth, once Seer of the Grey Hollow,” they said. “Long before the Terrell forest was known as WildWood. Before your people gave it names. The spiral was already turning, Clara Yanuwah. We merely tried to slow it.” Ashani moved subtly closer, ready in case things turned. But Clara lifted a hand. “Why now?”