The Ragged Edge Of Night Novels & Stories

Aedan Dawn creeps slowly over the mountain ridge, as if afraid to touch the earth where so much blood dried overnight. The light is not golden, but grayish white — cautious, tentative, as if it knows that not every wound here has healed. Between the cobblestones of the courtyard, ashes remain; along the edges of the runes rests a fine layer of silver dust; and in the torn flags, yesterday’s wind still trembles. Victory and loss lie upon the same stones, and I no longer know which weighs heavier.

The night was a storm of blood and snow. Rogues pressed harder than ever, their movements sharp, precise, as if guided by a single hand. Warriors fell one by one, their strength waning under a force that should have been impossible. The border churned with screams and steel, the air thick with the scent of iron and fear.

The highland night was an ink-black shroud, broken only by the fractured, silver shards of a crescent moon cutting through the heavy mist. Miles away from the fortified walls of the castle, the deep glen was entirely silent, save for the biting whistle of the northern wind rushing through the jagged granite crags. Riheirk moved through the ancient pines like a phantom made of shadow and cold air.

A few days later, news hit the pack. That night, on the top floor of Thorn Tavern, something brutal happened. Elena Vance had been torn apart by Liam— shredded, nothing left to bury. The Chief Elder fought, tried to save himself. Didn't matter. Liam ripped his throat out anyway. When Liam came back to himself— when the Rampage faded and he saw what he'd done— the blood, the pieces, the ruin— something inside him broke for good. He stumbled out of the tavern and disappeared into the wilderness.

The disaster started on a black night. Starless night, soulless, shineless. The kind of night that serves as an ominous backdrop in folklore. I peeked at the crashing waves fighting with the large spiky rocks that formed the cliffs. My feet shook on the edge as bloody images rolled through my mind with the destructive power of a hurricane. Playback occurs in full, distracting motion. Engines revving, cars sliding, and finally, haunting metal scrapes against rocks and splashes in deadly water.

Chapter 27 – Grace Holding my hand out, I watch as a Rager walks past our hiding spot, his greasy blonde hair slicked back and his dirty clothes indicating he has just returned. This wolf must have been on the night watch. The redhead and I look at each other and she points to the right side – the side this Rager came from – and mouths exit to me. I grin, turning just in time to watch the Rage disappear into a door way giving us a clear path to the exit.

Maya sat still for a long time. “You want me,” she said. “Yes.” “One night.” “One night,” Adrian said. “After that, the debt is gone.” Maya looked at the city behind the glass. Her hands were cold. She thought of her father coughing. She thought of her mother crying. She thought of the three days. “I need time to think.” “You have until tonight,” Adrian said. “If you agree, you will receive a message.”

He faded from the city, a pathetic figure no one remembered. When the dust settled, Fabio took me to his family's old estate. We walked down a stone path, his hand warm in mine. "My mother loved crabapple blossoms," he said. "She said they stand for love that endures pain." I paused, caught off guard. He stopped, turning to me seriously. "You can tear up that agreement anytime. My promise to you wasn't just for then. It's forever." I blinked in confusion. Then he led me to the rooftop, where a telescope stood. "Remember this?"

“Good. Just in time.” As night fell, the two of them rode into a clearing beyond the great forest. In its clear center stood a large tree, a giant and ancient thing, its bark gnarled and twisted like flesh bent under the hands of a supernatural torturer. From the shadows beneath it Drust emerged to greet them. “Ah, those with courage to ride in the fresh night, I salute you,” Drust called out, his arms moving up a little swathed in his robe. Ragala whispered to Weaver, “This one is dark, mistress. Very dark indeed. His soul is black enough to hide the stars.”

Lena stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind whipping through her hair, her heart pounding in her chest. Below her, the vast expanse of the Blackwood estate stretched endlessly, the darkened landscape shrouded in an eerie mist. It was the kind of night that felt as though time had stopped, and everything was waiting for the final moment to unfold.