Servant Of The Secret Fire นิยาย & เรื่องราว

One I had memorized and recreated many times in my sketchbook. “This drop of blood symbolizes your birth into our family. We are one until death.” My finger was pinched until blood dropped onto the card. He then flipped the card, showing a saint's picture, and repeated the process. The next thing he did was to take out a lighter and lit up the inside of the goblet. He put the card over the flames, letting it burn while turning to me. “May your flesh burn like this saint if you betray me and your family. Repeat after me.”

“I’m good at keeping secrets.” His gaze shifted to me for good seconds, and I never broke it until he did so. He crossed his strong tattooed arms over his broad chest, throwing Milo a chilly stare. I wondered what was on his mind right now. I wished I was like my mom, who could read people’s behavior and emotions. I wanted to break through his outer layer on why it seemed like the world was always weighing on his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” His question had my gut twisted. “I was fired.”

Irina firmly declines. "You fell in love with them? You stupid, greedy woman! I will let them know of your secret if you do not leave with me tomorrow!" the servant threatens. "You will burn with me if you tell them anything," Irina reminds. The servant falls silent, looking defeated. "Thank you for helping me gain everything and destroy my sister. I will take it from here," Irina proudly says. "You may enjoy the love of the Alpha Kings for now, but no secret stays hidden forever. You will regret betraying us for those cruel Alphas who couldn't even protect their own mate!" the servant responds before storming out.

The afternoon breeze was indeed indulgent and soothing, especially accompanied by a cup of green tea served by one of the waiters around them. Ever since she found out the dark secret of what happened in this house, Celine couldn't help but pay attention to them. Most of the faces of the servants here were quite pretty but stressful. No one dared to look at Grace for more than two seconds. Everything felt controlled and monitored while in this house. The mansion with the high fence seemed to harbor so many crimes and shameful deeds. Celine felt like vomiting but there was still one thing she wanted to do before actually leaving this place.

They stepped toward the altar. Suddenly—a sharp hum of energy—and the room twisted around them. Not physically—but in time. The sanctuary blurred, and Lyra found herself standing in the past. Everything was bathed in silvery light. The altar gleamed, untouched. Around her stood wolves in ceremonial garb. The air vibrated with power. A voice echoed: “The Flame must remain hidden… lest the shadow find it again.” “And if she is born?” “Then we bury her blood beneath truth and silence.” Lyra gasped. The vision shattered.

That ended today. Someone knocked on my door. "Come in" The security chief entered with two large guards behind him. They looked serious and ready for trouble. "What can we do for you sir" the chief asked. "I need you to find Karen Tyler" I said. "She used to be my secretary. Find her and escort her out of the building immediately" "She is being terminated" the chief asked. "She was terminated days ago but she keeps coming back" I said. "I want her removed and banned from this building permanently. She is not allowed to return for any reason"

He held a scythe in his hands that sent shivers to whomever looked at it. Then there was Lysandra Blaze, the Fire Seraph. Her flaming red hair matched the intensity of her pyrokinesis abilities. She was infamous for her volatile nature, a woman whose temper and fire abilities were both equally fierce. Beside her stood Ivander Gale, the Wind Seeker, his calm demeanor betraying the hurricane-like powers he could summon at will.

The air roared around him, fire hissing with every breath he drew. “I am Velgros,” he said, his voice like a furnace opening, deep and hot. “Spirit of Fire, Burner of Falsehood. All who reach me must walk my path of flames, barefoot. And while you walk, you will shout the darkest secret you have ever buried. Only the truth survives my fire.” My stomach dropped. Barefoot! Why? And my darkest secret? I swallowed hard, my lips dry. This trial felt like the most difficult. Jasmine pressed her head into my leg, sensing the tremor that ran through me.

They reached for him, for all of them, devouring the chanting, the weapons, the courage in their eyes. Some fell to their knees, clutching their heads. Others screamed, the sound thin and distant under the roar of the awakening. Riven held on to her as though the fire might decide he was prey too. His arms were a vice around her waist, his breath ragged in her ear. “Seraphine… enough.” Her power heard him — but it did not obey. It was only when the last shackle of blue light dissolved, when the Tribunal’s formation lay broken and their leader’s staff shattered at his feet, that the fire began to draw back, coiling around her like a living shadow, tasting victory.

In his hand— Kato (snarling, drawing his blade): “He’s marked. Get back—!” —the servant opens his mouth and speaks with Arion’s voice, in a dead whisper: Possessed Servant (Arion’s voice): “Three flames. One grave. The Codex rises. The child burns.” Then his body crumples, lifeless, smoldering. The walls tremble. And from the burned scroll, a final rune flares—showing a mountain burning red… with Nya’s silhouette in its center.