Novel & Cerita Picture Of Aphmau

She was giving part of her powers to Carina, she was sure she would need it. "I'll be back, Carina" she smiled and vanished immediately. ~~~~~~~ Ama appeared at the gate of a huge palace. Not far from where she was, she saw a girl bending down and playing with her doll. She has no idea who the girl is but the girl resembled someone from her mother's memories. Her father's lover. She walked through the gate, with none of the guards seeing her. She stood in front of the girl with a sad smile on her face.

The glass wolf followed me now, keeping pace beside me. Then the trees parted—and there stood Ama. She wore a crown of bones and feathers, her eyes black as pitch. Behind her, witches stood like statues, cloaked in night and wind. But it wasn’t the sight of her that made my knees buckle. It was the infant in her arms. A child with white-gold hair. A boy. “My son?” I gasped. Ama grinned. “Come take him… if you dare.” I screamed, lunging forward—

Mama says from behind. "I am here." Anhuphama replies coming inside the mansion along with Bianca and Samuel making the dogs run straight to her. She kneels down and hug them, kiss them while tears fall from her eyes. Our daughter also goes near her mother and raise her hands to be picked up which Anhuphama does immediately. "Are you alright?" I ask Anhuphama after she puts down our daughter. "I am okay and that's why I have asked Samuel to come here as soon as I gained consciousness." She replies making me sigh in relief.

FLASHBACK (18 years ago). As the little white-haired girl Amaia runs faster out of the forest where the enemy is. She loses her balance, making her feet stumbled at the big roots of Cupressus Tree. Her unbalanced body rolled down at a hilly side of the forest, going down to the river. Before her body meets the water, her head hits the big rock making her unconscious. Her body floats at the big outflow of the water down to the city of Human Town.

Ama was waiting just outside the hut, a bag slung over her shoulder and worry written all over her face. "You sure you can walk?" she asked. "I have to." She nodded without arguing and we started down the winding path toward the east hills. Every step hurt. The pain in my side stabbed sharper with each movement, but I clenched my teeth and kept going. I didn't care about the pain. Not now. Not when I was this close. For a while, we walked in silence, the only sound our footsteps crunching against the dry earth and leaves. "There was a photo," I said quietly. "An old one I found by accident. It was of a man... standing next to her."

Amaria begged and attempted to free herself, but it didn't work. “ You and your comrades know that it is a great sin to interact with Daemons or to even come in contact with one, right?” He asked again as he raised his right eyebrow and continued,“ but you travel with a Daemon ”. That's when Amaria finally noticed. ' Ammon? Where is he?! ' “ Where is he? Where is Ammon? What did you do to him? ” She cried out with a hostile gleam in her eyes; her face warped with rage.

My fingers froze as I came across a picture stuck to one of the pages. It was a photograph…taken long ago. I could barely tear my gaze from the photo. Harmona, much younger, stood next to a man with striking green eyes and another woman in that photograph. What threw me off was not just the picture itself, but the context. This was taken at what appeared to be a work party. And the woman standing right next to Harmona, smiling like she belonged there, was none other than Aurora’s mother. She was casually holding a beer glass, seemingly just another person at the event. What caught me offguard was that how similar Aurora looked to her mother.

Ama wandered through the silent streets. A strange feeling settled over her. Not loneliness. Expectation. As though the city was waiting. In the center stood a massive circular plaza. At its heart rose a single monument. Not a statue. A mirror. Twenty feet tall. Framed in living vines. Its surface shimmered like liquid glass. Ama stepped closer. This time, her reflection did not appear. Instead... Countless faces emerged. Men. Women. Children. Old. Young. All smiling gently. Then, one by one...

And just like that, the Hashmi mansion was never the same again. Lost in thought, he walked to the collection of photos opposite the bed. His attention was drawn to one particular picture taken in the delivery room. Asmaira was crying as she looked at the newborn Raina in her arms. To Amaan, she looked most beautiful that day, and he had hastily captured the moment. She was leaning down to kiss the baby, a single tear falling. His fingers, tracing her face, halted when the crushing realization hit him: he was still craving the very woman responsible for ruining his family.

Matteo opened his mouth, then closed it again. She paced toward the window, the rain blurring the Sicilian night into streaks of silver. “He’s using her, Matteo. Alma doesn’t understand what she’s been made into.” “Then we save her.” Amara turned, eyes cold, distant. “No. We end this.” Her voice didn’t tremble, but her chest did. Because deep down, beneath the fury, beneath the iron will — she was still a woman who once loved the devil. She reached into the drawer, pulled out a photograph — Alma at twelve, smiling in an orphanage courtyard in Budapest. Amara had watched her from a distance all those years ago, too afraid to claim her, too afraid to ruin her.