Mirha Shah Novels & Stories

She smiled softly, maintaining eyes contact with me. “I am sorry I lied” the board mumbled words to each other. “I didn’t introduce myself properly”. She took a break. And swiped to the next slide. It was a picture of Mira mixed up with her picture. At this moment, my mind played fast. I never noticed that she shared a slight resemblance with Mira till I saw the picture on the screen. “What if she is Mira?” It flashed through like lightning. “I am Mira Greg. The daughter of the founder, Abj ventures. The wife of Gerald Lead”. She looked at me proudly.

Lia asked, and Akisha shook her head. "No. She's nothing, " Akisha said, then walked away. "Uhm... we're deeply sorry for Raven's attitude. Raven is just like that sometimes. But she is kind. " Troy said while looking at the woman. "I know. By the way, I'm Miracle Fuentes. Mira for short," said the woman, and smiled, and, of course, we introduced ourselves. "Can you do me a favor?" Mira asked innocently. "What is it?" Lia asked with a bright smile.

Since she was a child, Tatiana Kintyre Wilbur Thyagaraja was born to be defective with all the traits of a she-wolf. She was born weak to slay, fragile for all the quirks that had to give rise to fulfillment, and a wimp to even hoist up a sword. But she's the claimed lineage of Thyagaraja's direct disciples through various ancestors, the reason she was scurried to be the Alpha's mate. Yet, after knowing how feeble she is, the Alpha ordered a decree for all the gratis she-wolf to battle and win the chance to be his other half.

It was calm and peaceful but almost like a whisper like there was something stuck in the speaker's throat making their voice come out as if, along with white noise. The both of them turned around to the speaker, it was none other than Jelena Savage herself! The Coalition Chieftess of the Als race!

"Scarlett." ******

, Her thoughts consumed her previous attention she was giving to the woman that said her name was Sarafina, she was drawn back to reality when the lady coughed "Sorry, I didn't get what you said" Mira turned back to her, she tried pushing her thoughts back down so that she won't start crying again "I said it's a nice name, what's the full name" the lady asked "Miranda" she replied "It's beautiful" the lady complimented her "Thanks" Mira replied, she noticed the lady was honestly nice and she was not faking it, Mira started warming up the the lady already

So I crept around the village, darting from tree to tree and glancing into every house. At long last, through a kitchen window, there she was. Jessica Michaels. She stood at the sink, washing the dishes as her parents sat in the next room. I picked up a stick and threw it at the window, hoping to catch her attention. Her eyes snapped to the forest as she froze. She glanced through the door to where her parents sat. They hadn’t heard, and I prayed she wouldn’t call them. And the Goddesses listened. She grabbed a towel, dried her hands, and shut the door from the kitchen to the living room. She slid the back door and stepped gingerly onto the porch.

"You should thank me and pay me for babysitting him." "I already do, don't I?" Hawk raised an eyebrow and ruffled Zara's hair, earning a glare from his sister. "Hi, Mira." She greeted me with a smile and kissed my cheek. "You look beautiful. Are you going somewhere?" "Oh, I will go back to work as a teacher." "Cool, as a student, I'm telling you that I'd want a teacher like you. You're just too nice for this world, but unluckily for you, you married the opposite."

Unless… Hema stood in front of the grand mirror, her breath hitching slightly as she took in her own reflection. She looked regal—no, ethereal—draped in a crimson-red lehenga embroidered with intricate golden motifs, each thread weaving a tale of elegance and power. The blouse, adorned with shimmering embellishments, hugged her form, accentuating her graceful posture. A sheer red dupatta cascaded from her head, its gold-edged embroidery framing her face like a queen’s crown.

She wears a frayed coat far too large for her thin frame. "Yes," I say, keeping my voice as steady as possible. "I am." "Me too." She exhales a cloud of white mist. "I'm Mira. House Calloway." "Aylin," I say back, matching her quiet tone. "Aylin Lunaris." Mira goes silent. Everyone knows that name. I am used to the pity and strange looks that follow it. A woman steps onto the marble platform, and frantic whispers die down immediately. Tall and sharp-featured, dressed in solid black, she holds a thin silver rod pulsing faintly at the tip. She looks carved from the palace walls, never once questioning if that is a good thing.