Sarah Fortune Arcane Novels & Stories

"I need to show them that this pack isn't 'weak' because we have a hobby. We’re strong because we’re a family. And we have a secret weapon." Everyone looked at her. "Sarah," Elara said firmly. In the kitchens, Sarah was currently celebrating her "liberation" of the champagne—or what she thought was champagne. She was sitting on a flour sack, holding a silver bottle opener, when the doors flew open and Elara, Fenris, and a very grumpy-looking Kael stormed in. "Sarah! Put the bottle down!" Elara commanded. "I will not!" Sarah squeaked, hugging the bottle to her chest. "I’ve earned this! I’ve scrubbed enough copper to build a new moon! I’m going on strike again!"

"Hey, if I had known you were gonna offend Sara, I’d have warned you. But some lessons you just gotta learn the hard way, my friend." Danial gave him a sidelong glance, frowning. "Who is she, anyway? And what’s with that sword? It’s… not normal." Andrews, almost comically, slapped his forehead. "Wait, you didn’t know?" he said, his voice dripping with exaggerated disbelief. "Sara? She’s not just anyone. She’s the personal disciple of Gareth Swordbane, the God of War of Somerland!" Danial’s eyes went wide, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "The God of War? Gareth Swordbane?!" He gulped, his voice growing faint. "Uh… he’s not gonna come after me, is he? I mean, I didn’t know!"

There was work that needed to be done. - Sarah's eyes opened. Lifting her head, she saw that she had fallen asleep in the library, the early light of day streaming through the skylight up above. Wiping a string of drool from her chin, she picked up the spellbook she had been studying, casually wiping away the stains she had left in it. Scratching at the newly healed skin of her belly, she walked over to the safe on the wall, curious to see if the deed had been done. The combination was only known to a select few in the Society, the treasure within beyond the mere concept of money.

The secrets she had kept hidden, the lies she had spun, all came crashing down around us like a house of cards. It started with a whispered confession, as Sarah, tears streaming down her face, revealed the extent of her involvement with the clandestine organization known as the Syndicate. She had been coerced into joining their ranks, manipulated by promises of power and protection. But as her loyalty wavered, she realized the true nature of their agenda—a world built on corruption, greed, and the sacrifice of innocent lives.

"I've been playing into your hands this whole time." "All of you have been," Sarah said cheerfully. "It's really quite beautiful when you think about it. We created a situation where everyone involved believed they were acting independently, but really, you were all following a script we wrote decades ago." Tony stepped forward, his face hard with anger. "What's the endgame, Sarah? What do you really want?" "I want Anna to fulfill her destiny," Sarah said simply. "She's going to come with me, she's going to claim her inheritance properly, and she's going to take her rightful place as the new face of our organization."

Around her, the wolves stood taller. But where the light touched the enemy, they stumbled. Their limbs dragged. They blinked in confusion, muscles suddenly sluggish. One mercenary dropped his weapon altogether, staring at his shaking hands. “What is she?” he gasped. Sarah answered from behind, her voice rough with awe. “Divine.” But Aria was falling. The grove’s magic had a cost, and she had spent too much. Her knees gave out. The world tilted. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision.

“Let’s just say… we’ve got the same enemy. And you, Raven, might be our ticket inside.” Inside. Meaning Hellfire. Meaning Ryder. I pretended to smile, though something cold curled in my chest. “You mean Tessa.” Jace’s grin widened. “Smart girl.” Marcus flicked his cigarette and approached, the glow of the fire painting his features in orange and gold. “Our little angel’s sister is landing today,” he said, voice casual like he was talking about the weather. “Sister?” He nodded. “Sarah Morgan. Fresh out of art school. Pretty thing. Just like Tessa. Maybe prettier.”

"Yes, Ms. Howard." In my previous life, words like that might have filled me with shame. Now, I knew how to face this kind of mockery. Not to mention that this woman was Zoey Howard, a self-made, strong, independent woman in Arman City. She herself was a wealthy elite in her own right, and she had every right to look down on me. At that moment, the maids called out together, "Mr. Howard." I jumped and quickly turned around. Scott Howard exited the car, a cold expression on his face. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his features sharp and deep set with eagle eyes.

“Worse things to do with an inherited fortune.” I hummed, then gave all but that one invitation back to Hans with instructions to turn them over to my private secretary to politely decline on my behalf. “And the Hancord Foundation?” he asked. “Thinking about it,” I said. “Would you ask Sarah to come here?” “Of course, sir.” Travis said nothing, but I could scent his curiosity. “Sarah herself was an orphan, and she took one in, or at least she believed she did. Seems a fitting place to take her for overpriced chicken and peas.”