Playful Heart Novels & Stories

The cracks in the floor glowed faintly with the same white fire still burning inside my chest. Ash forced himself into a sitting position, clutching the floor to stay upright. His movements were sluggish, but his eyes—those swirling silver-white eyes—held a clarity sharp enough to cut. “Tyla,” he rasped. “Listen carefully.” Arthur stepped forward instantly, tension rattling through him. “She’s not choosing anything until we know what the hell this ‘heart’ does.” Ash didn’t look at him. His gaze remained locked on me. “The heart is the anchor.”