[Trigger Warning: This semi dark fantasy romance contains few mature themes.]
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SYNOPSIS:

•FATE’S CRUEL WHISPER•

Ace Draven—half-werewolf, half-witch prince of Silverhowl—had never believed in destiny.  

Until he found a crying infant in the forest.  

His wolf, Fenrir, howled in recognition.  

A crimson thread shimmered between them—mates.  

But Firera, watching from within Ovelia’s soul, snarled. "She’s a child. This is too soon." With a flick of her wrist and spell, she tore the memory from Ace’s mind, leaving only an empty ache in his chest.  

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•TWENTY YEARS LATER: A SACRIFICE IGNITES•

Ovelia has spent her life as a slave, raised by the cruel mayor of Timberline Village—a man who would gladly sacrifice her to spare his own daughter.

The night of the sacrifice, the air reeks of damp earth and iron. Torches flicker as the werewolves emerge from the shadows. And then—Ace Draven steps forward.  

Their eyes meet.  

Fenrir *howls*.  

Ace’s claws unsheathe, his breath ragged. He doesn’t understand why his wolf is clawing at his ribs, why his pulse hammers at the sight of this stranger. But the bond between them burns hotter than vengeance.

Ovelia doesn’t know him.  

He doesn’t recognize her.

And yet, their souls scream in unison.

As our wagon rolled into the vibrant, pulsing heart of Meadowlark Village, a grin spread across my face, so wide and unforced it made my cheeks ache. I couldn't have stopped it if I tried. After the quiet solitude of Thunoa and the tense journey, this explosion of life was a balm to my soul.


"Wow," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper against the cacophony of joy. "This is beyond anything I ever imagined."


Chapter 115 - Chapter 115: Festival of Shadows