Alpha’s Heir, Not His Mate

It began with silence. Not the quiet of peace, but the kind that follows collapse. The kind that rots in […]

They called it the Archive of Oaths. A stone tower tucked behind the council chambers, warded with runes old as

The council chamber was still reeling in Marek’s absence. His final words had scattered like embers, but the flames they’d

The council chamber reeked of incense and old blood. Massive stone columns loomed on either side, carved with the crests

The stars above SilverCrest burned cold and bright, scattered across the ink-dark sky like fractured promises. In the valley below,

The air in the sanctum felt like glass—thin, fragile, and ready to shatter. Aria stood frozen, magic binding her limbs

The fire crackled in the center of the war tent. Outside, the wind howled through the pines, carrying the scent

The storm didn’t hit until morning. Aria stood just beyond the outpost wall, staring at the sky as thunder cracked

The knock came at twilight. Not loud. Not hurried. Just three steady taps against the wooden gate of the outpost’s

The storm rolled in without warning. Low thunder crackled above SilverCrest’s outpost, casting flickering light across the canvas tents. Aria