Unbound Novels & Stories

His gaze fell to the ground. “That’s impossible. The last wolfbane was destroyed years ago. There must be some kind of mistake.” Andrew shook his head, “I wish that was the case Sir. But, unfortunately it isn’t. The team tested it multiple times. Because they themselves didn’t believe it could have been wolfsbane.”

he muttered “Don’t call me Blair you son of a bitch, I swear I would rip your tongue from your throat if you keep calling me that” I blurted out furiously “I am sorry” he apologized “So back to business, I am tired of this conversation it’s getting boring, so what did you mean when you said join us,” I asked “We call ourselves the ROGANS and we can help protect you, show you the strength you possess and when I told our leader you were a hybrid, he went…

Maybe Gabriel should have told me I had too much of a big heart and he should have told me I was stupid. Empathy, that was what it was. Selflessness, I couldn't imagine myself starving and I didn't want anyone starving either. Dariel must have locked the account after signing the divorce, it meant one thing, Gabriel wasn't my step uncle any more. Wait, he wasn't my stepuncle any more, so there was no taboo in our relationship. I did not know why I felt disappointment, maybe something in me really did like that forbidden aspect of our relationship.

“Since you crossed your first border without permission.” Damien’s jaw tightened. “That narrows it down to half the continent.” The man chuckled softly. “Perhaps. But few do it without blood.” Aria felt the threads tense. Not in fear. In recognition. “Who are you?” she asked. The man inclined his head slightly. “We are called the Unbound.” The name hit like a dropped blade. Damien stiffened. “That’s a myth.” “Most inconvenient truths start that way,” the man replied calmly.

Siran’s hands were marked with chalk sigils, unstable and beautiful. “You all stood still and called it freedom. But you only built space for confusion. You watched things fall apart and called it 'natural.’ You chose not to choose.” Ari folded her hands. “That was the point,” she said. “Then maybe it’s time we choose something else.” In the western commune of Koris’ Bend, something burned. A bloom. Not killed. Wounded. The Unbound had discovered a method to sever resonance intentionally not just breaking spells, but silencing entire fields.

It was all connected, and it was inside him now. By dawn, I hadn’t slept. The council chamber was alive with voices when I entered, the rune stone and black feather set before Elder Darius like evidence at a trial. The shaman traced the carved symbols with a gnarled finger. His voice was grim. “This is no ordinary curse. This is an anchor.” The room went still. “Anchor?” Kael repeated. “It binds,” the shaman said. “Not to land, not to water. To presence. Something has been tethered here. And it will spread.” His eyes flicked toward me. “Starting with those already wounded.”

Any alliance-member pack asked to adjudicate would look at the parties involved and make the same determination in under an hour. Gareth Selwyn knew all of this. Caelum had known he knew it before he walked into the room. "The eastern pass terms," Gareth said finally. "Still on the table." "My alliance offer regarding Marcy—" "Off the table." Caelum said it without shifting his expression. "That was always going to be my answer. The Omega in your attic is unrelated to that decision." A lie, technically. But not one Gareth could disprove.

At that moment, Albert raised one last objection. "Then, what about those harsh, abusive words toward my mom? Weren't those said by you?" I shook my head. "No, Albert. That wasn't me. That was your uncle, Andrew. He used AI voice synthesis to fabricate them. Even those messages your grandmother sent in my tone, they were all part of their scheme to frame me." With both testimony and evidence laid out, the truth was no longer in dispute.

But now— There’s something else in it. Something… deeper. “Anchor… holds,” it says. “Yes.” “Strain… increasing.” “I know.” “Duration… limited.” I close my eyes briefly. Because that’s the part I didn’t want to hear out loud. “How limited?” Adrian asks. The Unwritten tilts its head slightly. “Undefined.” “Great,” Adrian mutters. “That’s helpful.” “It means I can’t do this forever,” I say. “No kidding.” “But it also means we don’t know how long I can do it.”

The test results said we were both fine, though the specialist had mentioned, with a tactful cough, that Mark’s sperm count was “on the lower side of acceptable.” Ever since, those words had hung between us, changing the way Mark was with me. This place was our Hail Mary. The ‘Fertility Horizons Center’ came recommended after endless, desperate deep-dives into medical forums. It promised “innovative and personalized approaches to conception.” And it also cost a fortune. Mark had taken a second mortgage line on the house and the guilt of that sat rock hard in my stomach. “Mr and Mrs. Henderson?” The nurse’s voice was chirpy.