This Is Not A War Story Novels & Stories

This is here is not a place I would wish someone would end up in, people come out damaged if they come out at all. This is worse than the survival of the fittest, I am a warrior, and I have fought many battles in my pack and others they have sent me to, but all these were nothing like this. This war will go down in history like the world wars that humans have but this will be in our history books, but then it will only be words on paper, there might not even be one of us alive to tell the story of how it really felt being here.

It wasn’t a game. This was war.

Raven’s point of view. I was tied up in a dark room, with my hands and legs tried, and a gag put in my mouth. I scanned the room and saw four other girls like me, with our body covered with thin, transparent fabric. I gritted my teeth as I thought of how to free myself from the alpha of Blood Moon’s pack, but just then I heard footsteps approaching the room. “We must do as he says, if we ever want to end this war and get back our soldiers that he is holding captive.” A voice said.

What remained was not a war, but an execution. -----

There was a kind of respect in the way he let the question dangle. My father nodded once, a crisp downward dip of the chin. “For now.” Another pause, its duration just long enough to reestablish the hierarchy. Then he leaned back slightly, a posture less of relaxation than of disengagement. “There is a difference,” he continued, “between a war that begins by accident….” His gaze found Alexander again. “…and one that begins by design.” The implication hung between us. Someone wanted this war. It was no longer just a matter of pride or territory or even Gabriel; it was a matter of design, and my father intended to be its architect, not its victim.

"I understand everything." "You understand emotions. You do not understand people." The words hit harder than any attack. The boy looked away. For a brief second, he truly looked like a wounded child. Then the darkness around him trembled. "People created wars." His voice lost its innocence. "They betrayed each other." The white world began shaking. "They killed their own children." The shadows became larger. "They destroyed worlds in the name of justice and called themselves heroes." Evelyn remained standing. Because he was not entirely wrong.

His face is even more puzzled. If you’re wondering how casual currently we are, even though we ended last night on an awkward note, well… I explained it. Usually, in stories, they just skip to the next day/ chapter as if nothing happened, but NO. IT’S NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL. How I wish it was. I have to thoroughly explain EVERYTHING. Even the finger-partner part. Good heavens, they don’t know about that! Why? IT’S BECAUSE THEY DON’T DO IT! I can’t believe it. They go straight to the point; no foreplay! What a sad world this is…

I really don't. - I know. - she extended a hand to rub my arm, and then take my hand, squeezing it tightly. - Don't worry. That's why I'm here. We will figure it out together. Now... let me.... Uhm… First, I think we need to define a strategy. Of… war… I would say. - War? – I blurted out with an air of skepticism, almost spitting out the coffee I had just sipped in my mouth.

We were a happy family, and our love was the most powerful thing in the world. Our love story, once a battlefield, was now a testament to the power of forgiveness, resilience, and new beginnings. The war was a distant memory, and our love was a force that had changed our lives and the lives of everyone around us. We had not just survived the past; we had triumphed over it. We had not just found a happy ending; we had built a new, beautiful life, a life that was finally and completely our own. The story of our lives was not a straight line. It was a winding road, filled with battles, with losses, and with a terrible, consuming war. But it was also a story of forgiveness, of resilience, and of

This wasn’t just a scandal anymore. It was war.