Winx Club Bloom Dark Novels & Stories

Lucian made sure to approach her later. "Krysts!" Master Froilan called their attention. He had a wide smile that creeped even Lucian out. "Welcome to the 2nd level of the tournament. Today, we have our rankings with a freak named Bloom in the first rank! Where in the stars is that freak?" Master Froilan joked and laughed along with others. Lucian rolled his eyes at the dry humor surrounding hum. They were met with silence. "Bloom" was nowhere to be seen. At the darkest part of the entrance, a black-cloaked woman was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed inside. She didn't move to show herself at all.

She made a kiss face before shutting off the camera. I exhaled, looking up at Zac. "We're going to be good at this, right?" "That's just it," Zac grinned at me. "You're the love of my life, Bloom." - The End

wasn't just sprouting; it was exploding into a grotesque, beautiful Bloom of liquid shadow and silver starlight. "It... it has your face, Rhea," Zane whispered, his voice trembling as he backed away from the pulsing center of the Bloom. He didn't have his wolf to steady him; his human heart was thudding against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Why does it have your face?"

“If you wish to stop working as a maid, you can inform me immediately. Omegas are no longer servants of the pack, and even if you wish to continue working here, you will be paid.” Bloom’s grasp on the glass tightens till her knuckles are almost white. She casts Sage a flat smile, and tears glimmer in her eyes. “I enjoy working for you; there’s no place I’d rather be than by your side.” Sage breaks into a wide grin before he strides towards her and pulls her into a hug. “Thank you.” Bloom’s body immediately goes cold, and the glass falls from her grasp, shattering into pieces on the floor. What has she done?!

But her granddaughter, a woman named Elara the Younger, had carried on the work. "The fifth bloom," Morwen repeated. "Clara's generation was the first. Seren's was the second. Elara's was the third. The fourth bloom marked the witnesses who came after. The fifth—" "The fifth is for the watcher itself," Solara said. "The bloom is the color of the watcher's heart. The witnesses say it pulses with love for everyone who has ever tended a gold flower." Morwen felt tears prick at her eyes—something that happened more often now, in her old age. "The watcher is still coming."