Prelogue Mga Nobela at Kwento

“but you show her your true form. And now I don’t have any choice but to show her what really Cross was up to. Thanks to your jealousy.” I lifted my gaze, fury beginning to burn through the fog of confusion. “It wasn’t intentional.” “Of course.” She smiled, unbothered. “It wasn’t but it is now.” Valentina walked toward the window, staring into the dark woods beyond. “But that doesn’t matter. As the Progenitor, my old bloodlines will rise soon. The new dawn will belong to us. War will be starting soon.” I felt my pulse quicken. “You’re insane.”

PROLOGUE The battlefield was ruined—scorched earth, broken stone, and skies ripped apart by magic that should never have existed. Mountains had crumbled into blackened dust. Rivers boiled and twisted away from their beds, fleeing the wrath that had been unleashed. The air reeked of ozone and blood, thick with the scent of burnt gods and shattered spells. Corpses lay strewn like forgotten relics—mortals, celestials, beasts of realms unnamed—all silenced by the cataclysm that had torn through reality.

Wolves Don’t Name Their Sins Ysabeau The first thing I learned about prophecy is that it never arrives on time. It shows up early, bleeding into the edges of days that should’ve been simple, or it crawls out too late—after the choices are already made, after the bodies are already in the ground. It never stands politely in the doorway and introduces itself. It slinks through the cracks. Like smoke, like rot, like a voice through wood. The house is too full of breathing when they return from the quarry. I feel them before I hear them—pulses crossing the ward lines, bond threads humming, the air itself recoiling from whatever was woken up out there.

Every warrior poured out, starting a relentless, almost desperate search. He sealed all the ports, blocked every road leading out, and interrogated anyone who might've seen me. However, every lead vanished, as if some invisible hand had wiped them from the world. It was as if I, Estelle Sullivan, had never existed. … I stood before a valley shrouded in thick mist. The silver nightingale recited an ancient incantation, and the fog pulled apart like a curtain. A hidden valley appeared before me, untouched and almost otherworldly.

Leo did not fall through the red rift; he was unwritten. The violet fire of his solar fusion, the obsidian weight of his suit, and even the memories of the Mosaic-World were peeled away like layers of old paint. He arrived in the Pre-Existence—a void so absolute it made the Architects’ Throne Room look like a crowded city. There was no light, no dark, and no gravity. There was only a vast, infinite Canvas of white possibility. In the center of this nothingness sat a figure that was neither geometric nor human. It was a silhouette of shifting ink, a smudge of creative intent that held a quill made of collapsed dimensions.

Yet, whenever he looked at me, a flicker of tenderness would sometimes appear in his eyes. I thought that this was just a fleeting encounter anyway. One day, I woke up in the morning to realize that the man had left without a trace. He had only left a note on the empty table in strong, neat handwriting. "Thank you for saving my life. If there comes a day when you need me, I will be there for you too. Adriano." I simply assumed it was a polite remark of courtesy and didn't think much of it. I then forgot about this unexpected incident and quickly buried it within the depths of my heart afterward. I never thought about it again.

A tool. I risked a glance through the crack. Julian stood with his back partially to me, posture relaxed but commanding. The silver-haired man poured amber liquid into two glasses, handing one over. “To new beginnings,” the older man said, raising his glass. Julian clinked his against it. “And to old debts finally paid.” They drank. The casual cruelty in their voices made bile rise in my throat. I backed away slowly, then faster, retreating through the labyrinth of hallways until I reached a small alcove near the kitchen. My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall, knees drawn to my chest.

"Is this a prank, Melanie? Are you in on this? It's a joke, isn't it? A prank?" Melanie took another sip out of her cup but said nothing back to me. My heart sank. Nathaniel continued, "It's not a joke. When we found out, the doctor told us that an abortion would hurt Helen. A life was at stake here. I couldn't make her go through it." The mention of the child softened Nathaniel's expression. I put my hand on my swollen belly. I was in my third trimester, eight months along. The delivery date was due soon.

My eyes scanned the first page quickly. “A Male wolf and a hunter that recently returned from border patrol near the eastern forest. Symptoms began forty-eight hours after return.” My heartbeat slowed slightly. Eastern forest? I flipped to the next page quickly. Then froze completely. There was a strange symbol sketched at the bottom corner of the report. A crescent shape crossed by claw marks. My blood ran ice cold. “No way…”

"That's right—we never got around to registering the marriage. I insisted on a premarital health check, which delayed things by a day. And luckily for me, that one day was enough to see your family's true colors." I took out a backup phone and played a video for the onlookers. "Everyone, take a good look. This footage records everything from the moment we entered to the end of the meal, including when the server came in. In the video, I didn't take a single bite, and I never once promised to pay the bill."