Elowen’s POVThe kiss lingered between us, a fragile moment of warmth in the storm we were about to face. Alaric’s hands tightened on my waist as if he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.But I couldn’t afford to stay in this moment. Not when war loomed over us.I pulled away, my breathing uneven. "We need to prepare," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.Alaric exhaled through his nose, clearly frustrated but nodding nonetheless. "Ranon and Theron are already gathering the warriors," he muttered. "We leave at dawn."Dawn.That left only a few hours.I turned toward the window, staring out at the darkened sky. Somewhere out there, Ezekiel's forces were waiting. They wouldn’t stop coming for me.For my blood.Alaric moved behind me, his warmth pressing against my back. "We’re going to end this, Elowen."His voice was full of certainty. Of promise.I wanted to believe him.I turned in his arms, resting my forehead against his chest. "No matter what happens," I whispered, "promise me
Theron's POVThe forest was a blur of shadows and moonlight as we raced through the underbrush. Ranon cradled Elowen against his chest, her body limp and alarmingly pale. Her blood had soaked through his shirt, staining it a deep crimson that glistened under the faint light. Each labored breath she took was a testament to her fading strength.Beside them, I ran, every step sending jolts of pain through my battered body. My ribs ached, likely cracked or worse, and a gash above my brow sent warm rivulets down my face, partially obscuring my vision. But none of it mattered. The only thing that did was the woman hanging onto life in Ranon's arms.Alaric, slightly ahead, kept glancing back, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. He pressed two fingers to her neck, searching for a pulse. His face tightened."Her pulse is weak," he growled, voice raw. "She's losing too much blood—""Don't say it," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. "She's not going to die.""Theron—""
Theron’s POV Days bled into nights, and still, Elowen remained confined to the bed, her body slowly knitting itself back together with every excruciating hour. The once vibrant spark in her eyes hadn’t fully returned, but her chest rose and fell steadily, and that was enough to keep me breathing. The scars on her skin were healing, but the silence between us—the way she flinched when she dreamed, the way her hands trembled when she tried to lift a spoon—those were the wounds we couldn’t see. Each of us took turns helping her bathe, eat, walk down the long corridor of the mansion, and each time, we watched the strongest woman we’d ever known lean on us in a way she never had before. Alaric never left her side at night. He sat quietly in a chair beside her bed, his fingers loosely curled around hers as he whispered apologies she couldn't yet answer. His eyes, once hard and unforgiving, had softened in her presence, guilt clinging to every breath he took. “She used to hate being hel
Elowen’s POVThe academy gates loomed ahead, familiar yet foreign.It had been weeks since I’d last walked through them—weeks since blood stained my hands, pain etched itself into my bones, and the world I once knew unraveled at the seams. And now, as the morning sun streamed down, casting a golden glow on the stone path, I felt… off-balance.Not weak. No, I wasn’t that anymore.Just changed.Alaric’s hand hovered close to my back without touching, his gaze scanning the students like they were threats. Theron flanked my right, silent and unreadable, while Ranon walked a step ahead, his arms folded, jaw clenched as always.Their presence was suffocating… but not in the way it used to be.Now it was protective. Devoted. Desperate.Students turned to stare, whispers already rising like a wave."She’s back.""Is that her?""Did you hear what she did to Ezekiel?""That’s the witch with the triplet alphas..."Every whisper hit me like a blade. Not because I cared about what they thought—but
Elowen’s POVThe academy halls were hushed now, lit only by faint moonlight filtering through the tall windows. Everyone had been ordered to rest after the incident, but rest was a foreign concept to me tonight.I found myself drawn to the library—a place of stillness, of worn pages and silent thoughts. The fire was lit in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow across the shelves.I sank into one of the old leather chairs, arms folded around myself. The moment I closed my eyes, the sound of the summoning echoed again—the screaming runes, the creature’s hiss, the way my magic had clawed its way out of me like it had a mind of its own.A hand gently touched my shoulder.I looked up.Theron.He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at me, gaze heavy, stormy as always.“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked finally, his voice low.I shook my head. “Didn’t want to close my eyes and see that thing again.”He nodded and lowered himself into the chair beside me, resting his elbows on his knees, hand
Elowen’s POV The afternoon sun was beginning to dip behind the academy towers, casting long shadows over the courtyard. Most students had gone inside, their laughter and conversation fading down the stone corridors, but the four of us lingered.Theron sat beside me, his thigh pressed lightly against mine, his arm stretched behind me along the bench. Alaric was pacing nearby, distracted, while Ranon leaned against the tree, head tilted back, eyes closed—but I knew he wasn’t sleeping. He was listening. Always listening.There was something peaceful about this moment… but there was also a quiet tension brewing beneath the surface. I could feel it in the way Alaric’s jaw tightened with every few steps, in the way Theron’s fingers twitched, like he was ready for a fight.“You’re all on edge,” I finally said softly, glancing between them.Theron didn’t deny it. “It’s been too quiet. After what happened in class…”“They’re regrouping,” Alaric muttered, his voice low. “Whoever tried to trigg
Elowen’s POV The academy felt colder that night, even though the air was warm. A strange stillness had settled over the corridors—like something was watching. Waiting.After the incident in combat class, the triplets hadn’t left my side once. Not even for a minute. I appreciated it, even if I didn’t say it aloud.But tonight, I needed a breath. Alone.I slipped out while they were distracted in a strategy meeting with the head of security. My footsteps were quiet against the marble floors as I wandered toward the library tower. The scent of old parchment and dust always soothed me—it reminded me of quiet moments before everything turned chaotic.I was halfway up the spiral staircase when the hairs on the back of my neck stood.Something was wrong.Too quiet.I turned slowly.A figure dropped from the ceiling beams above, silent as a shadow, blade already drawn.“Elowen—!” a voice roared behind me—Theron’s.But he was too far.I raised my hand, magic sparking instinctively from my fin
Elowen's POVWarmth.I woke to it—not just from the soft morning light spilling through the windows or the thick blankets tucked around me, but from the steady presence beside me.Alaric.He was still here, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand entwined with mine. He hadn’t let go all night.His thumb stroked the back of my hand absentmindedly, his eyes focused out the window. I studied the sharp line of his jaw, the small crease in his brow, the faint stubble that had grown overnight.He looked tired. But he also looked peaceful.I shifted slightly, and his gaze snapped to mine instantly.“El,” he said softly, his voice still hoarse with sleep, but there was a smile in his eyes.“Morning,” I whispered.He leaned forward, brushing his lips gently across my forehead. “How do you feel?”“Like I got trampled by a herd of wolves,” I said with a dry laugh. “But… better.”Alaric chuckled quietly, relief flashing across his face. “You scared me half to death, you know that?”“You and the
Elowen’s POV We sat like that for a long time, our hands clasped across the cool wood of the kitchen table, the silence a comfortable tapestry woven with unspoken affection and shared understanding. The gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway marked the slow passage of the late hour, each tick a quiet affirmation of the peaceful intimacy that enveloped us. The moonlight continued its silent vigil through the arched window, bathing the deserted kitchen in a soft, ethereal glow. Alaric’s thumb continued its slow, soothing strokes across the back of my hand, a simple gesture that spoke volumes of his quiet tenderness. His silver eyes, still softened by the late hour, held a steady gaze, a silent reassurance that transcended the need for words. In that moment, the complexities of our lives, the ever-present awareness of the triplets’ possessiveness, the weight of the Academy’s scrutiny – all of it seemed to recede, leaving only the profound connection between Alaric and m
Elowen’s POV The remainder of the evening passed with a renewed sense of quiet solidarity. The brief intrusion by Lysander had served as a stark reminder of the outside world’s perception of our unconventional bond, but it had also solidified the unwavering unity between the triplets and me. Ranon’s possessive hand never left mine, Alaric’s protective arm remained draped across my shoulders, and Theron’s occasional sardonic remarks were now laced with an extra layer of territoriality. Later, as the common room emptied and the Academy settled into its nightly quiet, we retreated to the triplets’ suite. The familiar comfort of their shared living space, the scent of their combined pheromones a soothing balm to my senses, eased the lingering tension of the day. Ranon had built a roaring fire in the hearth, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Alaric was meticulously cleaning his blades, the rhythmic shick-shick of the whetstone a familiar sound. Theron was
Elowen’s POV The night with Ranon was a whirlwind of raw sensation and possessive tenderness. His touch was demanding, his kisses branding, each caress a silent claim. Yet, beneath the fierce exterior, there was a surprising gentleness, a deep-seated need to connect on a level that transcended mere physicality. We lost ourselves in each other, the cool stone of the gazebo a stark contrast to the burning heat of our bodies entwined under the watchful gaze of the moon. When dawn finally broke, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold, I awoke nestled in his arms, the lingering scent of our passion clinging to the air. He was still asleep, his dark hair tousled, his strong arms wrapped protectively around me. A sense of deep contentment settled within me, a quiet understanding of the intricate tapestry of my relationships with the triplets. Each connection was unique, each filled a different part of me, and last night had been a powerful reminder of the intense, undeniable bond
Elowen’s POV The rest of the day at the Academy passed in a blur of lectures and drills, each moment punctuated by the subtle awareness of the triplets’ watchful gazes. Ranon’s hand never strayed far, a possessive warmth against my skin. Alaric’s silver eyes followed me with a quiet intensity, a silent promise of unwavering support. Theron’s sharp observations and sardonic remarks were always directed my way, a constant, teasing reminder of our intertwined lives. The undercurrent of the morning’s events lingered, a subtle shift in the way the other students interacted with me. There was a newfound respect, tinged with a healthy dose of fear, in their eyes. Caelum’s defeat at my hands had clearly sent a ripple through the Academy’s hierarchy. As dusk began to paint the sky in hues of fiery orange and soft violet, we found ourselves in the training gardens, a secluded sanctuary tucked away behind the main buildings. The air was fragrant with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and da
Elowen’s POV The air in the Academy’s combat hall, a vast chamber usually echoing with the clang of steel and the grunts of exertion, crackled with a palpable, almost electric tension even before Professor Lyra’s crisp voice sliced through the anticipatory silence. I sat wedged between Alaric and Theron on the long, polished wooden bench that lined the edge of the expansive sparring floor. Ranon, ever the sentinel, hadn’t allowed me more than a few feet of breathing room since the charged intimacy of the rooftop. His calloused fingers, possessive and reassuring, grazed the back of my hand every few heartbeats, a silent, tactile reminder to both himself and anyone watching that I was still within his orbit—still his. But the moment Caelum stepped onto the gleaming sparring floor, a ripple of altered energy spread through the room, a subtle shift in the students’ collective focus. He moved with a predatory grace, his tall, muscular frame encased in black training leathers that seemed
Elowen's POV Second Round – Alaric. Alaric was already waiting in the center of the mat, rolling his broad shoulders, his dark hair pulled back in a tight knot, his jaw set with a focused determination. His silver eyes were locked on mine – not intense with possessiveness like Ranon’s, not teasingly sharp like Theron’s. Just… intensely focused, a silent promise of a challenging but fair fight. “You okay, sunshine?” he asked softly, his voice a low rumble that only I could hear, even as we began to circle each other, the tension between us a palpable thing. “I’m always okay, Alaric.” The automatic response felt hollow, even to my own ears. “You don’t have to be, you know.” His gaze softened for a fleeting moment, a hint of the gentle soul beneath the stoic exterior. Before I could formulate a response, he struck, his movements fast and powerful, each blow precise and calculated. Alaric fought like a controlled storm – a whirlwind of disciplined chaos. And he always, always pushe
Elowen’s POVThe morning sun, a brazen intruder, spilled through the expansive glass windows of the Academy’s combat arena, painting the polished stone floors in streaks of gold and illuminating the raw tension that already thrummed beneath the surface of the bustling room. The air crackled with a palpable anticipation, a familiar energy that always accompanied combat drills, especially those involving the top-tier Alphas – the triplets.But this morning felt different. The usual undercurrent of excitement was thick with a new layer of scrutiny, a palpable curiosity that had intensified ever since the stolen kisses – Ranon’s desperate claim on the rooftop, Alaric’s gentle solace in the rain-soaked gardens, Theron’s fiery promise in the quiet of his room. Every stolen glance, every shared secret, had seemingly been magnified under the Academy’s ever-watchful eyes.Whispers, sharp and insidious, clung to the edges of the walls like grasping shadows, their hushed tones carrying the weigh
Elowen’s POVThe morning light, sharp and unforgiving, sliced through the tall arched windows of the Academy halls, illuminating the usual early-hour bustle of students shuffling to classes, their hushed whispers and the rhythmic thud of training boots echoing off the ancient stone walls. But this morning, the familiar weight of the Academy’s ever-present scrutiny felt different, amplified by the lingering sensations of the night before.I walked into the classroom, the ghost of Ranon’s calloused hands still imprinted on my skin, the phantom warmth of his possessive grip a constant reminder. The echo of his desperate, hungry kiss still lingered on my lips, a secret fire that threatened to betray the tremor in my hands. It was a different kind of awareness that accompanied me now, a knowledge shared in the darkness, a boundary crossed under the silent watch of the stars.He sat near the back of the spacious classroom, his chair tilted back at that characteristic, precarious angle that
Elowen’s POV “Ranon,” I breathed, my voice a ragged whisper, a plea that echoed the desperate yearning in the depths of my soul. The question in his burning golden eyes needed no verbal answer; the overwhelming need within me was a language all its own. In a single, fluid movement that spoke of his inherent strength and a sudden, fierce urgency, he swept me off the cold stone wall, his powerful arms cradling my weight as if I were no more than a feather. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, a silent, primal claiming, a desperate embrace that mirrored the magnetic pull between us. He carried me with a focused intensity to the center of the rooftop, where a small, timeworn stone bench sat nestled against the crumbling outer wall, a silent witness to countless nights under the watchful gaze of the stars. He lowered me carefully onto the smooth, flat surface, the ancient stone instantly cold against my heated skin, a stark contrast to the inferno raging within me. He stepped