Violet Flames Book Novels & Stories

I lifted my dress to look, and what I saw stole the air from my lungs. The wounds were gone. Every single one. Was being a witch supposed to make me immortal? The thought confused me, but it didn’t matter now. Merrin needed me. I had to save him. I ran forward, tearing through the burning streets of Wolves-Heaven. Smoke clawed at my lungs as the city screamed around me. By the time I reached the palace, it was already in flames. Fire. Screams. Death. And still, I didn’t stop. His wives could flee. His council, his family… they could all run if they wanted. But I wouldn’t. I am Violet, and I would stay by his side. If he had to die, then I would die with him… or I would save him.

This place, its creatures reeked of something rotten and vile. As the night deepened, Violet slipped from her room. Every sense focused as she made her way toward the towering statue Zen had so arrogantly commissioned, demanding his subjects bow before it. She stared at the statue with open hostility before murmuring something under her breath. In a blink, the statue caught fire. Licks of fire climbed upward, wrapping around the statue rapidly.

But when he looked up, hundreds of other books were lifting and floating from the shelves, their pages bleeding and whispering her name. “Camela. Camela. Camela.” Her head spun, and her chest rose and fell heavily. “They want me…” Vincent held her tightly against him, his flame blazing so bright enough it illuminated the shelves like daylight. “Then they’ll have to burn for it,” he said. He swung his arm through the air, sending fire in a blazing arc that struck the shelves. The books shrieked, blood hissed, and their pages curled black, turning ash. But for every book that he burned, ten more emerged from the shadows. They surged forward, bleeding words that crawled across the floor and wra

That was one of the most insane ideas she had ever heard. When Morgana was in front of her, Violet stared into her eyes, and only then she realized the purple iris was really bright, like it was shining. "Let's see how long you can take it." Morgana said and waved her hand, and Violet felt her body whirr and bump against the table. The vases and books above it fell on the floor. A few candles were blown out when Violet flew above them. "Are you really going to mess all your office just to provoke me?" Violet said with a teasing smile.

The kind of silence that comes just before a storm, heavy with pressure and warning. Flames rise from her fingers, not orange or red, but a deep, pulsing violet, like the sky just before night swallows the world. The fire doesn’t burn her skin. It dances over it, crackling like a living thing. The elders stare, unmoving. Malrick’s mouth presses into a tight line, but he says nothing. Veyra lowers her hand and lets the flame vanish. “Satisfied?” she asks. Corven nods, slowly. The others remain silent.

I eye it suspiciously before opening it. Violet, I am the type of person to hide things. I am quiet and I am not the kind to show emotions. I hope you find this room to your liking and decorate it to your hearts content. I hope we can at least be cordial with one another as I have not feelings for you at this time. Your truly, Anthony

Small, dark, and swirling with a sickly crimson liquid, it gleamed under the dim torchlight. The runes etched into its surface seemed alive, shifting and curling like snakes on her fingertips. "You know," Violet mused, gently removing the lid and inhaling the scent of my blood. "Every single thing I’ve done—every lie, every spell, every death—was for this moment." Her voice wavered, not with regret, but with something more dangerous—obsession. "After the fight with your people," she began softly, "I walked into the throne room, searching for Scarlet. I thought if I found her, I’d find answers. But all I found was her body—lifeless and crumpled on the floor."

Kaelani stepped closer, her hand lifting slowly. Violet flickered to life at the palm of her hand. She hovered it over his back, and the energy spread, seeping into the wounds, pulling them closed piece by piece. Careful. Intentional. Her hand lifted, shifting around him, the violet trailing faintly in its wake as she moved to his side—then to his chest. Her touch hovered there for a second— The glow deepened. Julian’s gaze fixed on her now—on the way that violet burned through her eyes, brighter with every second, catching the light, holding it, like it had a life of its own.

I could see the hunger burning in his eyes even as he fought it. “Professor… I want you,” I whispered breathlessly. “I want your cock stretching me open right here.” He stormed back to his desk, trying to continue the lecture, but his eyes kept flicking back to me. So I took it further. I pulled my glistening fingers out of my soaked hole and slowly sucked them clean, tasting my own sweet juices while staring straight at him. “Ella Mickelson. My office. Now!” he barked. Gotcha. I stood up, ignoring Elias’s confused stare, and followed Professor Kelvin out of the classroom with a satisfied grin.

Aurora was blind to the true threat, the silent, relentless pursuit of justice that now fueled Violet’s every breath. The flickering gas lamps in her chambers cast long, dancing shadows on the walls, mimicking the profound, unsettling dance of secrets and lies that now consumed the Romano estate. Violet’s gaze hardened, a new resolve settling in her eyes. Her father’s "Chronicles of the Serpent," the damning evidence she possessed, now held a new, terrifying purpose. Aurora’s paranoia was not just a weakness; it was her next target. And Violet, fueled by a searing desire for justice, by a profound, unyielding love for her father, knew precisely how to exploit it. The true battle had just beg