Under the blazing sun, Charlotte stands tall, her muscles glistening with sweat as she pauses to catch her breath. The training grounds are a flurry of activity, filled with the sounds of clashing swords and grunts of exertion. Preparation is key for the impending battle, Kira told her before she started training her.Charlotte begins her training regimen with a series of stretching exercises, her movements fluid and precise. Limbering up her body, she ensures that every muscle is ready for the challenges ahead. With each stretch, she focuses her mind, channelling her inner strength and determination. She starts with the basics, honing her agility and speed by darting through the underbrush with the grace of a prowling predator. Each movement is deliberate, and calculated, as she weaves between trees and leaps over fallen logs, her wolfish instincts guiding her every step.Next comes combat training. Charlotte faces off against imaginary foes, her claws extended and her fangs bared in
“Hello, Uncle!”Arthur’s eyes snap to Charlotte. As he takes in the woman standing before him, his eyes widen in disbelief and fear.As if he has seen a ghost, he scrambles to put as much as distance possible between them but ends up falling flat on his ass.Charlotte smirks, letting her teeth extend into canines and peek out of her mouth.Arthur starts sweating profusely. He looks at Azraiel and Katya for help but when they maintain a stone face, he realizes he is on his own.“Y-“ he gulps, “You are alive.” He trembles.Charlotte grins. The smell of his fear gives her immense satisfaction.“Yup.” She says popping the ‘p’. “I am alive, despite your schemes to get me killed.”Arthur’s face changes at the accusation.He regains his composure, or at least tries to.“I never wanted you dead, Charlotte. They wanted to kill you but I convinced them to let you leave the continent.” He says, his voice a little clearer than before.Charlotte’s eyes harden.“And that makes it alright?” Arthur v
The moon hung heavy and bloated in the ink-black sky, casting an eerie silver glow upon the desolate landscape below. Charlotte stood alone on the edge of a cliff, her heart pounding like thunder in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps that misted in the frigid air. The wind howled mournfully, whipping her dark hair about her face in wild tendrils.But it wasn't just the weather that sent shivers down her spine—it was the figure standing before her, a twisted reflection of herself. Its eyes glowed with a feral light, glinting like shards of shattered glass in the moonlight. Its lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing gleaming, razor-sharp teeth that dripped with blood.Charlotte recoiled in horror, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was seeing. Was this truly her? Was this the monster that lurked within, waiting to be unleashed? The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, filling her with a bone-deep terror, unlike anything she had ever known.She tried to turn
Charlotte was stunned when Azraiel relayed the events that took place that evening. She knew she had a nightmare, but she had no idea that the said nightmare was about her.Of course, it was! Her wolf remarks.Smartass!She thought that she was a threat to everyone else, so she unknowingly cast a protection spell to contain herself within the half circle. It came as a relief that even when she wasn’t aware, she was wise enough to protect her pack. This eased her worries of becoming a danger to some extent.At least she is not trying to be dangerous on purpose.This incident forced her to face the truth. Her truth! She needs to know herself really well. So well, that she is aware of every being residing inside her and its capabilities and nature. To do nothing would be a gamble on the future. She is too smart to make that mistake.In their home, Azraiel and Charlotte quietly had dinner and went upstairs to the spare room. The damage in their room couldn’t be fixed right now so they d
Katya sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of her cabin, surrounded by stacks of dusty books and old journals. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and a hint of lavender, her mother’s favourite herb. Sunlight streamed in through the small, round window, casting a warm glow over the room and illuminating the particles of dust that danced in the air. She carefully opened one of her mother's old journals, its leather cover worn and soft from years of use.There was a sense of urgency driving her, a need to uncover something she had overlooked before. The memory of seeing that strange, cryptic language in the books belonging to Charlotte's mother had stirred something deep within her. It was the same language she had seen, long ago, in the margins of her mother's journals, but had never been able to understand. She still remembers sneaking into her mother’s room to steal her favourite lipstick from her bag but coming across a strange journal instead. The cover of that journal w
The air in the dungeon was thick and oppressive, laden with the scent of damp stone and old magic. Charlotte, her face pale and tense, kept a cautious distance, while Azraiel's stern gaze never wavered from the unconscious form of Arthur lying on the rough stone floor, all thanks to the sleeping medicine mixed in his food by Katya. Matt, his expression a mask of concern, stood protectively close to Charlotte, ready for anything.Azraiel’s voice broke the silence, a command wrapped in the velvet of his authority. "Katya.”That was enough to make her move. Previously, she had discovered to threads of magic on Arthur. When she told Azraiel about this, he asked her to look into the matter and discover who cast spells on Arthur.Katya nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stepped forward, her hands trembling slightly as she knelt beside Arthur. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and began to chant the ancient incantation, her voice steady and resonant despite the turmoil within
Charlotte and Katya sat at a small, round mahogany table near the fireplace, its embers glowing faintly, providing a comforting warmth. The table was cluttered with the tools of their current endeavour: several old, leather-bound journals, yellowed with age, lay open alongside notebooks filled with their meticulous scribbles. A few reference books on ancient languages and a magnifying glass were also scattered across the table.Charlotte, with her black hair pulled back into a loose bun, leaned over one of the journals, her brow furrowed in concentration. She wore a simple yet elegant navy dress, her sleeves rolled up to avoid smudging the ink. Katya, sitting across from her, was equally focused. Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she absently twirled a strand around her finger as she read. She wore a light blue blouse and jeans, her attire more casual but equally practical for their work.The room was filled with the quiet rustling of pages and the occasional murmured wor
Azraiel quietly steps into the house, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting a warm circle of light over the cluttered table. The scent of old books and fresh ink hangs in the air. Charlotte and Katya sit hunched over a spread of aged, leather-bound journals, their brows furrowed in concentration. The pages are filled with cryptic language, symbols and characters that twist and curl in an almost hypnotic dance. Beside the journals, a notepad lies open, filled with hastily scribbled notes and tentative translations.Katya's hair is pulled back into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her intense expression. Her fingers trace the symbols delicately, as if afraid to smudge the ink. Charlotte leans closer to the pages, mouthing the unfamiliar words under her breath. A soft hum of concentration fills the room, punctuated only by the occasional scratch of a pen or the rustle of paper.He smiles a bit, remembering their first encounter in this very home. Back then, Charlotte was unaware
Charlotte’s head feels like she has been hit with multiple hammers a thousand times over. A sharp, pulsating pain courses through her skull, making her groan softly. Her throat is dry, her limbs feel like lead, and her eyes itch as she struggles to open them.What the hell is going on?Where is she?The last thing she remembers is an angry voice screaming “RAVEN!”, and then… nothing.She puts every bit of strength left in her body into forcing her eyes open. It takes effort, but after a few agonizing seconds, she finally manages to pry them open. The first thing she sees is the vast expanse of tree leaves above her, their thick canopy allowing only thin slivers of sunlight to pierce through. She barely catches a glimpse of the sky in between the dense leaves.Great. More trees. That narrows down the place, she thinks sarcastically.A groan escapes her lips as she tries to sit up. Every movement feels like she is dragging a boulder attached to her body. Her limbs protest, but she pushe
Azraiel leaned back into the sofa, letting out a loud sigh, his frustration is evident in the way his shoulders slumped. Ayleen sat beside him, her small hand lightly clasping his. She knew her touch offered him no real solace, but it brought her a sense of grounding she desperately needed. People often saw her as delicate, a young woman barely stepping into adulthood, sheltered and untainted by the harshness of life. They were wrong. What they didn’t see—what she kept hidden behind her soft smiles and quiet demeanor—was the weight of grief she had carried for years. She had witnessed heartbreak and loss, endured the kind of pain that left invisible scars, and yet here she was, sitting strong and steady beside Azraiel. Her fragile appearance was a mask; beneath it was a will forged by fire, stronger than most in their world. She tightened her grip on his hand slightly, as much for her own reassurance as to remind him she was there—not weak, not afraid, but ready to face whatever came
Charlotte felt like her eyes were glued shut. The weight of her eyelids was unbearable, an invisible force pressing them down. Panic blossomed in her chest, sharp and suffocating, as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Her breath came in shallow, uneven spurts, and she willed herself to concentrate.“Why the hell can’t I open my eyes?” she thought desperately. Each attempt sent a searing burn through her eyelids. With every ounce of willpower, she took a deep breath, calmed the racing of her heart, and tried again. The ache behind her eyes intensified, but she pushed through. Finally, with what felt like a monumental effort, her eyelids fluttered open, and the world exploded into light.“What’s going on?” The thought was a quiet whisper in her mind, drowned in the overwhelming brightness that engulfed her.She raised a trembling hand to shield her eyes. The light was blinding, its intensity unfamiliar and disorienting. As her vision adjusted, she realized she was standing
The silence that followed Daniel’s call was as thick as fog. Everyone sat in contemplative unease, their thoughts spiraling into the abyss of uncertainties. Silver flames had been sighted 22 years ago—just a year after the devastating fire at the king’s palace, the same fire that claimed the lives of the werewolf royalty. Could these two events be connected? The implications of such a connection were as vast as they were terrifying.Azraiel’s drawing room felt heavier than ever, the weight of worry and exhaustion palpable in the air. Kira shifted uncomfortably, her gaze moving to the grandfather clock ticking loudly in the corner. Every second seemed to stretch into eternity.Suddenly, the sound of a door creaking open broke the tension. Everyone’s heads snapped toward the staircase, alert and apprehensive.Theo and Matt bolted to their feet, rushing up the stairs.“Azraiel?” Theo’s voice carried a mix of relief and worry as he spotted the Alpha slowly descending the stairs.Azraiel w
The weight of responsibility bore down on Daniel as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with calloused hands. The room around him was dimly lit, with the flickering glow of a solitary desk lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The soft hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound accompanying his tumultuous thoughts.He had just returned to his office after a grueling day spent ensuring the security of the forest surrounding the Blue Orchid pack. Every minute had been a whirlwind of meetings, coordination, and checks, with one goal in mind: to eliminate any potential threats before the ball. The gathering of so many Alphas and Lunas in one place was a political and logistical nightmare. It was a powder keg waiting for a spark.And now this.The phone call from Caitlyn had left him shaken. He stared blankly at the pile of papers on his desk, unable to focus on any of it. The words "silver flames" echoed in his mind, each syllable slicing through his thoughts like a blade.
Aunt Caitlyn sat on the plush sofa in Azraiel’s drawing room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The rich, dark wood of the furniture glinted faintly under the muted glow of the overhead chandelier, and the scent of pinewood from the hearth lingered in the air. She had rushed over in her nightclothes, barely taking the time to throw a coat over her shoulders when Ayleen’s desperate call came.The sound of Ayleen’s sobs still echoed in her ears, and Caitlyn’s heart clenched at the memory. The young woman had flung herself into her arms the moment she stepped through the door, her body trembling with unspoken fears.Now, as she sat in the center of the tension-filled room, Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice how heavy the atmosphere was. Matt and Theo stood to the side, their postures rigid, their expressions grim. Siobhan sat beside Ayleen on the loveseat, murmuring soft reassurances while rubbing her back gently. Ayleen, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, leaned her head against Siobhan
The moonlight cast a faint, silvery glow on the forest path leading to Alana’s house, illuminating the route just enough for Kira to navigate without stumbling. Her boots crunched softly against the dirt, the sound oddly loud in the stillness of the night. She glanced up at the looming trees, their dark branches intertwining above her to form a canopy that swallowed most of the moonlight. It felt like the forest itself was holding its breath. Alana’s house came into view, a small structure perched on the edge of the pack’s territory. Its isolation was deliberate—an unspoken acknowledgment of the unease the pack felt around the witch. Even as she approached, Kira couldn’t help but feel the weight of its placement. It wasn’t just physical distance that separated Alana from the others; it was a barrier of mistrust and fear. Kira slowed her steps, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh. She didn’t expect trouble, but being cautious never hurt. The
Katya tossed aside another of her mother’s journals, letting it fall to the floor with a defeated sigh. The thick stack of ancient leather-bound books was strewn across the room, each one filled with spells, enchantments, and writings about flames of every imaginable color—blue, black, green, even a rare purple. But nowhere, not a single line, had mentioned the mysterious silver flame. It felt as though the answers she sought were just beyond reach, buried beneath years of her mother’s guarded knowledge.Katya rubbed her temples, feeling a growing frustration behind her eyes as she got up from the floor, carefully stepping over a couple of loose pages that had scattered during her search. She wandered into the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly on the wooden floor, where the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the wall clock punctuated the otherwise heavy silence of the night. She reached for the coffee pot, her hands moving almost mechanically, measuring out the coffee grou
For the next two hours, various tests were conducted on Charlotte to determine the cause of her condition. They wanted to be certain that she was physically fine before drawing any conclusions. Some of the test results came back normal, and now they were awaiting the others.Dr. Humphrey had checked Charlotte’s vitals earlier—her pulse, heartbeat, blood pressure, and brain activity were all normal. Yet, despite these signs of life, Charlotte remained unconscious, as though trapped in a deep slumber. Azraiel lay beside her, his body healing slowly from the burns, but his heart was heavy with worry. The others had left the room to give them space, gathering downstairs in the hall.Katya had left the house altogether, determined to search her mother’s books and journals for anything related to the mysterious silver fire and its effects. Ayleen, who had been inconsolable earlier, reluctantly joined the others after Dr. Humphrey insisted they needed the room to monitor both Charlotte and A