Of Harrowed Hearts Novels & Stories

"But I have no use for a scout who brings me news of my own obsolescence." With a flick of her wrist, the shadows on the floor rose like liquid silk, wrapping around the Harrower's throat. There was no struggle, only a soft, wet thump as his body was reduced to a pile of cold, grey ash. Morgana didn't even look down. She simply stepped through the remains, her eyes fixed on the map of the Medina River valley glowing on her altar. Morgana’s frustration wasn't just about the loss of soldiers. Soldiers were replaceable. The Harrowers were bred in the dark pools of the High Coven for one purpose: to die in her name.

Rosie's pictures filled the screen, making her heart race with anxiety. She scrolled through the photos, her eyes scanning frantically for any sign of herself or their daughter, but there were none. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks; Archie had purged their photos from his phone. "Has Archie deleted all our pictures?" She whispered, her voice barely audible. She scrolled to the last photo, and her heart shattered into pieces. It was another picture of Rosie. "Oh, no!" She screamed, slamming the phone to the floor in a fit of rage and despair.

"Seek the Heart, protect the Haven. But be warned, for the shadows of the past are not just memories. They live, they watch, and they hunger for the Heart's return." As the echoes of the Old One's voice faded away, we were left in stunned silence, the weight of our destiny pressing down on us. The lost Heart of the Haven was not just a relic; it was the key to the survival of our world. And somewhere, in the depths of the Veiled Haven or beyond, it awaited — as did the shadows that once sought its power. The race to find the Heart had begun, and with it, a journey that would challenge the very core of our bond and destiny.

Third POV Harper felt a strange unease spreading deep within her heart. An unfamiliar energy surged through her veins, making her heart race and breath quicken. She began coughing violently, choking on her own uncertainty. No. No. No. "Did you hear something, Wyatt?" Harper clutched her chest, desperately trying to calm the rising panic threatening to consume her. "What? Honey?" Wyatt looked at Harper with confusion. "I didn't hear anything." Harper silently called out for Mila in her mind, but there was no response. She even felt Mila's presence within her fading, overshadowed by the increasing chaos within her body.

Harlow couldn't help but think of where she might've hit her head; she had to hit it somewhere hard that made her think about the only person in this world that was rotten inside and out in such away. Her heart was being ripped out by an invisible hand; it was painfully uncomfortably to miss someone who you hated before; her feelings became conflicted. Does she hate Michael, or does she not? Harlow couldn't make up her mind, and it pained her to the point where she was so far gone, becoming detached from her reality. Would she die from this sort of pain? There was a possibility that she most likely will do, but she wasn't sure. 'Why can't you just go to see Michael?'

would it? Harper's soul recoiled from the words being spoken around her. She heard them as though from underwater, the roaring tide of grief and fear drowning out all else. She stared blindly as Brenna pressed a tissue into her frozen hands. Images flashed like lightning - the shy boy who'd stolen her heart, their unborn baby's tiny grave, a mountain cabin littered with ruined dreams. Joy and sorrow, forever intertwined. Was this how their story ended?

' I smile at them but when I looked at them the colour had been drained from their faces. **Sharp are the arrows of a broken heart - Cassandra Clare

The ground beneath us trembled, as if the earth itself feared what was about to come. The hearts began to levitate, their forms bathed in the pulsating light of the circle. The hybrid’s heart was the first to rise higher, its pulse matching the rhythm of Andromeda’s voice. The virgin witch’s heart followed, its magic shimmering like a veil of starlight. Finally, the heart of the treacherous wolf ascended, its energy dark and raw, a reminder of the betrayal that had paved the way for this moment.

ZOEY My fingers dug into the skin, the pain grounding me as my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Alexei's retreating figure, broad and sun-kissed, receded into the twilight, each step a hammer blow to my already bruised ego. "Shakily" doesn't begin to describe the way my body betrayed me. My legs trembled, the ground beneath them suddenly unsteady. My breath, shallow and ragged, hitched in my throat like a sob I refused to let out.

Their laughter travels on the wind, filled with perverted joy and ridicule and they hover over the prisoner for a second before they attack. I don’t hear his screams, his muzzle silences them, but he groans like an animal. I watch with revolted horror as the harpies work to strip the flesh from his body until his bones are bare and there is only his face left. He has stopped screaming since and there is only his harsh tortured breathing, loud in the absolute silence of the arena. His exposed heart beats hard behind the bones of his rib cage when the harpies finally retreat, bloody from gorging on him. One of them steps forward and with killing brutality, rips his heart from his chest. His bo