Hiraeth Novel Novels & Stories

I tried to pull it off but was stuck. I screamed in pain and fell to my knees. My eyes opened wide, and everything suddenly went blurry. A surge of energy flowed through me, and heat filled my body. “Hot. I'm hot.” I gasped. Caelan moved closer and tried to touch me, but another scream left me, and he was suddenly pushed back by a sudden force. What was wrong with me? Lyra sees her own reflection flicker into that of her unborn twin. She’s haunted by what could’ve been—until the pale girl returns, whispering, “You didn’t kill her. You became her.”

Kaima, choosing not to reseal the Verge. Ari, choosing silence in place of strategy. Jaryth, waiting beneath the sky, refusing to interfere. Even the blind boy in Tamerith, humming again beneath the rain of remembering. They were all part of it. All walking with her. Siran slowed at the edge of a new stillness. The spirals had stilled. All around her, the vastness of the bloompath folded inward like a living memory preparing to sleep. But it was not done. A final figure emerged not Elira, not Mira Hale.

The flames dance before us, casting flickering shadows on our faces, reminding us of the beauty that can arise from the darkest of times. In this circle of love, trust, and unwavering support, we find solace and strength. No matter what life throws our way, we know we can count on each other to lend a listening ear, offer guidance, and provide a shoulder to lean on. As the night comes to a close, we gather our things, the embers of the bonfire fading away. We exchange hugs, feeling the warmth of our connection radiate through our embrace. Walking back to the house, hand in hand with Sarah and Ruth, I am filled with a profound sense of contentment.

Lyra’s POV When I woke up, I didn’t know if it was still night. The room was dark but not fully dark. A thin line of light was coming from the bottom of the door. My body felt heavy, like I had been sleeping for years instead of just a few hours. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Then I remembered the loud sound. The screaming. Tyron’s promise. “I promise I'll come back for you.” My heart ached.

The heart will not flare up from tenderness, it will not ache from longing. No, she was not deprived of a child. Souls. They pulled her out with blood, drugged her with potions, drugged her with sorcery. Eilisha closed her eyes. Breathing became even. Life returned to the body. My heart stopped beating painfully from my chest, my head no longer hurt. She ran a hand through her short curly hair. Well. The novice looked out the window, noting to herself both the snow-covered solemnity of black trees, and the frozen ribbon of the river in the distance. Okay. Snowdrifts sparkle under the bright sun. Today is a rare day. Chilly only after a run.

One in the desert. One in the snowfields. One in the sea cliffs beyond the Northern Wastes. Each one tended by a different keeper. Each one named after a gate. The world was no longer divided by fear or blood. It was bound by becoming. 6. A Letter from Elira One morning, I found a folded parchment tucked into my window garden. Elira’s handwriting. Ophelia, You taught me that silence can be sacred. That flame doesn’t have to roar to be powerful. That grief doesn’t end us it shapes us.

Amara’s POV Elareth. The name Lila whispered did not echo. It swallowed sound. Every creature in the valley remained still. Not even the wind dared speak. The light rising from beyond the mountains was not fire, not moon, not star. It was something older. Something that pulsed like memory crawling back into existence. I felt her before I saw her. This wasn’t like Nulla. Nulla had been a hunger born from silence, shaped by what was forgotten. But Elareth wasn’t born. She simply had always been. Before flame. Before truth. Before wolves remembered their names.

I never knew that this place existed in real life. Since I was young, I was locked up in an orphanage. And we aren't allowed to go out. I always wished that someone would adopt me. And that is my most regret in life. I thought I already saw rainbows and butterflies when Odin adopted me. But I was mistaken. The day he adopted me is the day my nightmare starts. I was just six years old back then when he brought me to The Ora. This is a secret criminal organization build-up of Hybrids and extraordinary beings with one mission: to destroy the world.

Just doesn’t sit right with me. “You have to believe me, Lucas. Right now, we’re probably already in danger.” She started looking at the window. “They’ve been watching me for years and they’ve been trying to kill me.” “Kill? They? Who’s they?” “Your uncle’s night creatures. When I found out the truth about your brother, I came back for you. I kept you hidden from them. But it seems the potion is wearing off.” “Wearing off?” I repeated. “That day at the bookshop, you saw me and I saw your aura. You and your brother have the same aura. It scared me when I saw it. Exactly like the devil’s.”

It told the story of Ramus, a man spiraling out of control, and though it was never directly addressed, a clear picture was painted of his dissent into the darkness of selfish ambition. As she read about the hero's decline into villainous treason, Avera couldn't help but wonder about the man who was writing. 'It is a brilliant presentation. I wonder how long ago this was.' She closed the book on her hand and consulted the cover. 'E. H. Webber... I'll ask Mr. Waverley about him when I see him.' She opened the book again, continuing on in her reading. On another such occasion shortly thereafter, my work brought me to the southwestern region past Laoce, and on my return from the mountains to Py