Winternight Stories 소설 & 이야기

", Portia said as the dark mist disappeared. I ran to the gate and rushed in before it closes up, I ran to the room and covered myself up on my bed, drifting into sleep almost immediately. //////////////////////////////////////////// POV(ANASTASIA), I opened my eyes slowly and stretched as I yawned loudly, it's happening, finally, the warriors night, and I got a lot of work to do unless I'm running away, but it's not happening, I probably have to work hard. I should dream less and think more, I should learn to live the way I am, it's probably best that way. "Fiona come get the fabrics", Madam Pika called from outside and then I changed my mind, I don't want to like this it's annoying, maybe

*Winter* I sat on the edge of the small cliff overlooking the river, the water glistening below like a thousand flickering stars embedded in a silken sheet. As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, the air grew cooler, and whispers from the stream intertwined with the breeze, wrapping around me like a familiar melody. They were no longer mere sounds; they were voices. "Winter," they seemed to call, "do not fear the shadows." If only I could believe them.

He knew that when the sun dipped below the horizon and night fell, she would head for that water. ​Ethan would not stop in his quest for the book Scarlett held, and Alex would do whatever it took to keep her safe... even if it meant breaking the laws of the pack. ​As night fell, a profound silence blanketed the camp while everyone slept. With careful steps and knowing glances, Scarlett and Leslie slipped out of their tents, heading toward the lake under the starry sky. They didn't realize that, from a distance, a large wolf was following them through the shadows. It was Ethan, who had decided to watch Scarlett from his lupine form, his eyes fixed on his target.

"Retreat if need be. Better a tactical retreat than a disastrous stand. But understand this, you must seek out the others. The ancient tales are all true—Winter, Vernal, Summer, and Autumn—they existed." And there it was, the final piece of the puzzle. A grand revelation that turned my once-normal world into an epic saga, and in this whirlwind of romantic comedy, magic, and danger, I found myself at the heart of a story I never knew I was destined to lead.

“The village chief's son knew the secret. The man was a werewolf in disguise. He made a cunning plan. He asked the man to give up meat for the rest of his life or risk revealing his secret.” The intrigue of this story captivated me. “At first the man thought it was a joke. He didn’t realize there were dark currents at play.” The old woman took a deep breath and looked away. “It was the first time I heard the story in such detail. They spent two years creating their tributes. The werewolf was dying for lack of meat.” She painted the scene of the decisive day. “On the day of judgment, the chief's daughter gave a ring and the man a bracelet. The werewolf, sticking to his oath, won the contest a

The feeling of calm, no matter how lonely, washes over me as I wipe the dirt from my hands, and begin the long walk home. Night always comes early in the mountains, the horizon darkening to indigo long before the rest of the town is even aware. I haven’t even reached the edge of the woods before hearing the whisper of feet behind me. It’s a soft sound, barely discernible in the sound of a forest slowly drifting to sleep, but I recognize the cadence of pursuit. I don’t turn, or run. Doing either would invite escalation, and I would rather not anger the guardians of the woods without provocation.

One snapped twig, one careless rustle, and I would be finished. Behind me, the Whitethorn Pack slumbered in their longhouses, the thatched roofs dark silhouettes against the star-scattered sky. Only faint orange glows flickered here and there where a hearth still fought against the chill. Tomorrow was the Choosing. The night every maiden in the pack both dreaded and secretly craved. I had felt it coming for weeks, a cold certainty lodged deep in my belly like the approach of my moon blood. The elders had spoken the sacred words at the last full moon gathering, their aged voices trembling with reverence and fear:

III The night was dark, darker than any other night before. Iltiras walked down the lonely path, the darkness didn’t bother him. He was more than curious what will happen on this path in the middle of the night. Stories were told about power-eating demons and faeries that attack travelers around midnight. He wanted to see them for himself, or as he liked to say with eyes unclouded. No one really dared to walk the path alone; no one wanted to because of the trees and their long, dreadful shadows, which fell on them, that looked like men with bony fingers that ended with talons. The leaves in their bases were bloody red in color. His leg stepped on one of the piles that were in his way, he exp

Now a once-whole blue planet floated with just particles of itself as it drifted across this dark, lifeless plain. In a different plane lied a primordial creature of the night finding solace in the eternal night that plagued his castle, the whistle and Chimes of fate had stirred his old blood awake. He knew that times were finally changing, and it seemed he had to get back to the game. "I wonder how Netherndel is faring, it's time I get back" his deep red eyes shone with a dangerous glint as he looked across the darkness, his eyes seemed to bypass the veil between planes for his gaze had a godly presence that came with it.

Leaves. I close my swollen eyes. Tomorrow. Pyre. Flames. End. I let my head fall forward. The chains creak. In the silence of my deaf world, one last thought surfaces—clear, quiet, final: *If there’s anything after… find me, Victoria.* *I’ll wait.* The fire crackles. The chains hold. And Raven Winterstar—nine years old, scion of death, girlfriend of a vampire princess—waits for the dawn that will burn her away.