2025-01-04 10:00:04The room fell silent, all eyes on Elijah. Reginald raised an eyebrow, curious but guarded. Helena’s smile faltered slightly, and Evan looked between the Frosts with mild apprehension.
“What is it, Mr. Frost?” Reginald asked, his deep voice steady but edged with curiosity.
Elijah exchanged a quick glance with Marylin before continuing. “As you’re aware, the recent training exercises have garnered significant attention, not just for our families but also among the public. While we remain deeply committed to the union of our families, Marylin and I believe it may be prudent to consider postponing the wedding.”
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Evan’s face fell, his eyes darting to Lila, who looked down at her plate, avoiding his gaze. Helena stiffened, her expression unreadable, while Reginald leaned back slightly, his brow furrowing in thought.
“Postpone?” Helena repeated, her voice calm but
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Elijah stammered, his usual composure cracking under the weight of Helena’s words. "I—Reginald, you must understand... your family’s support has been a lifeline for us. Without Reginald’s investment in our shipping enterprise last year, we would have..." He trailed off, unable to voice the catastrophic outcome that had nearly befallen them.The Frosts’ shipping business, a cornerstone of their wealth and influence, had been saved by the Drakes during a financial crisis that threatened to sink them entirely. Without that support, not only would they have faced ruin, but they would also owe debts they could never repay.Helena’s eyes glinted coldly, her tone sharp. "You would have lost everything, Elijah. And now, after all we’ve done, you think you can treat my son like some passing suitor? Delay his rightful place beside your daughter as though he hasn’t earned it?"Reginald added, his voice steady but firm, "Evan
The God of War Calen Storm The Storm
The night was dark, the moon veiled behind thick, rolling clouds. Calen walked slowly through the narrow, uneven path leading to the cemetery, his steps heavy with exhaustion and the lingering pain in his injured leg. Each step reminded him of the duel with Evan Drake and the price he’d paid to prove himself.He clutched the hilt of his sword tightly—not as a weapon, but as a crutch to steady himself. This sword, once his father’s, had become his constant companion, a symbol of his unspoken promise to honor the name "Storm."Reaching the cemetery gates, he pushed them open with a creak. The air was cold, laden with the scent of rain, and the surrounding silence was broken only by the rustle of leaves in the growing wind. Calen made his way to the gravestone marked with his father’s name, its surface weathered by time.He knelt down, placing a hand on the stone. His heart ached as he stared at it, a million emotions surging through him. For a long moment, he stayed silent, letting the
The God of War Calen Storm The Servant
Calen walked back to the military barracks, his steps steady despite the murmurs and pointed stares of the soldiers gathered along the way. His clothes were singed from the lightning strike, the edges blackened, and faint scorch marks marred his skin. Yet, he moved as if untouched by the ordeal—a living anomaly that left everyone speechless."How is he even walking?" a young soldier whispered, his voice hushed but audible enough to carry through the tense air."Shouldn't he be dead?" another muttered, incredulous.Calen ignored the whispers, his gaze fixed forward. He had no time to entertain their astonishment or their questions. Instead, he headed straight to the military bathing quarters, eager to wash off the grime, sweat, and remnants of his burned clothing.The warm water cascading over his body was soothing, melting away the tension that clung to his muscles. As he stood under the shower, something extraordinary began to happen. The cuts, bruises, and deep aches from his duel w
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Calen finished dressing and walked out of the military bathhouse, his steps steady and purposeful as his thoughts remained elsewhere—on the storm, his newfound power, and what it meant for his future.Meanwhile, the servant woman from earlier quickly exited the military bathhouse as well, clutching Calen’s oversized coat around her shoulders. She headed toward the correct servants’ bathhouse, her face still flushed with embarrassment. As she approached, she encountered a young soldier who appeared to be on cleaning duty near the servants’ quarters."Excuse me," she said, stopping him. "That man back there in the bathhouse... who is he?"The soldier raised an eyebrow, surprised by her ignorance. "You mean you don’t know? That’s Calen Storm. The son of Aldric Storm."Her eyes widened. "Calen Storm? I’ve heard that name before.""Everyone has," the soldier replied with a mix of admiration and gossiping glee. "He’s been the talk of the barracks—and the entire court—lately. Did you know he
The God of War Calen Storm Divorce?
Astra froze, her heart pounding as she stood in the shadow of Lila’s fury. She had barely been in the Frost household for a day, and now she found herself at the center of a storm she didn’t understand."N-Nona, I swear, I only met him earlier today!" Astra stammered, clutching her hands tightly in front of her.Lila stepped closer, her eyes sharp and accusing. "Don’t lie to me, Astra. A servant doesn’t just meet Calen Storm and end up with his coat. What were you doing with him? What’s your connection?"Astra shook her head vehemently, her voice trembling. "I’m telling the truth, My Lady! I went to the wrong bathhouse by mistake, and he was there. I was... I didn’t have proper clothes, and he lent me his coat. That’s all!"Lila’s expression hardened, disbelief etched on her face. "You expect me to believe that? A mistake in the bathhouse, and he just gave you his coat? Do you think I’m a fool?"Tears pricked Astra’s eyes. She dropped to her knees, bowing her head low in desperation.
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The scorching midday sun bore down on the courtyard as the servants gathered, whispering amongst themselves. The air buzzed with gossip and speculation, their eyes darting toward Astra, whose hands were bound, dressed in a plain white prison uniform. Her face was pale, her head bowed, as the murmurs around her grew louder."She’s only been here a few days," one servant whispered. "Do you really think she’d risk breaking the rules so soon?""Maybe she’s not as innocent as she looks," another scoffed. "Who knows what she’s been up to with the military men?""And the rumors say it’s someone important," someone else chimed in. "But he’s not here. Figures. Probably ashamed of being caught."Astra stood silently in the center of the gathering, trembling but saying nothing. Her wrists burned where the rough rope chafed against her skin. The executioner, a burly man holding a long whip, awaited the signal to begin.Under a shaded pavilion, Lila Frost sat elegantly, a parasol shielding her fro
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Astra stood motionless as Calen walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance. Her heart thudded in her chest, a mix of gratitude, admiration, and something she dared not name. Despite his cold demeanor, the memory of him standing up for her filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.She quickly averted her gaze, chastising herself silently. No, Astra. You can't think like this. He's far above your station—untouchable. But no matter how much she told herself to ignore it, the image of Calen’s unwavering expression lingered in her mind.Meanwhile, at the military camp, Calen returned to the camp, his coat draped over his arm. His steps were steady, and his face betrayed no emotion, but his presence carried an undeniable authority. Whispers had already spread among the soldiers about the spectacle in the Frost courtyard.“Did you hear what happened?”“Calen Storm stood up to Lady Lila herself!”“They say he defied her in front of the entire household!”Calen ignor
The God of War Calen Storm Dark Magic
Calen’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and his body began to emit faint sparks of electricity that crackled and danced across his skin. The static energy intensified, and within moments, arcs of lightning coursed around him, illuminating his soaked figure with an almost divine brilliance.The air grew heavy, charged with an ominous electricity, and the sky outside the hall darkened unnaturally fast. A deep rumble of thunder echoed, causing the walls to tremble slightly. Soldiers who had been mocking him moments ago froze in place, their faces turning pale as they exchanged nervous glances.“What’s happening?” someone whispered.“It’s him,” another said, trembling. “It’s Storm. He’s—he’s doing this.”Evan’s smirk faltered, his expression shifting from arrogance to unease. He took a step back, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. The other soldiers who had joined in his mockery began retreating, their confidence crumbling under the sheer for
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This Cannot Happen
Calen watched as Queen Elara trembled, rain-soaked and vulnerable in the middle of the garden. His voice was gentle but firm as he asked, "Your Majesty, are you alright? Do you need me to escort you back to your chamber?"Elara's breath hitched. She couldn't look at him. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she feared he might hear it. The warmth of his hand still lingered on hers, a touch so foreign yet… comforting.No. This cannot happen.Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel and ran. Her soaked dress clung to her as she rushed through the palace gardens, past the lantern-lit corridors, and up the stone steps leading to her chamber. She didn’t dare look back.I cannot fall for him. He is the enemy. A general of Aerondale. A man sent here to see my downfall.Her breathing was ragged when she finally reached her chamber. She slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it, hands clutching the fabric over her racing heart.But the Sacred River…The River h
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Calen remained hidden in the shadows, his sharp eyes fixed on the stone doorway built into the palace wall. One by one, the priestesses emerged from within, their hoods drawn low over their faces, their expressions grim. Their movements were hurried, almost anxious, as if burdened by something that had just transpired inside.But Queen Elara was not among them.Calen's brows furrowed. What had happened in there? Why was the queen still inside?He stayed rooted to his spot, waiting, watching. Minutes dragged on like hours, the night stretching into silence except for the occasional roll of distant thunder. And then, finally, the door creaked open again.Elara stepped out.Even from a distance, Calen could see that something was wrong. Her posture, usually so poised and commanding, was frail. Her steps were unsteady, and as she passed under the dim glow of a nearby lantern, he caught sight of her face.Tear-streaked. Eyes swollen a
Don't Know What to Do
Queen Elara knelt by the river’s edge, her fingers trembling as they grazed the cool surface of the water. The Sacred River, once the life force of Vynoria, was now weakened—its flow sluggish, its once-lustrous glow barely a flicker.Desperation clawed at her chest. Why? She had done everything in her power to restore it. The rituals, the offerings, the prayers—nothing had worked.Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to wipe them away. One by one, they slipped down her cheeks, falling into the water. Her voice, hoarse with exhaustion and despair, barely rose above a whisper."What do you need?"Silence.Her fingers curled into fists, still submerged in the river. “I have given everything,” she choked out. “And yet you continue to wither. Vynoria is on the brink of ruin, and I—” Her voice broke. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I cannot fail them. I cannot fail my mother and father. Please…” Her fingers tightened. “Tell me what
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The night was cloaked in heavy silence, broken only by the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Under the cover of darkness, Queen Elara moved swiftly through the hidden corridors of the palace, her robes flowing like shadows in the dim torchlight. Behind her, the priestesses followed, their hoods drawn, their steps silent.They emerged at the towering stone wall—an unassuming barrier that concealed the most sacred place in Vynoria. No ordinary person would ever know of the hidden door built seamlessly into its structure.Elara placed her palm against the cold stone, whispering the ancient words of passage. A faint glow pulsed beneath her hand before the wall groaned softly, shifting inward just enough for them to slip through.“Hurry,” she instructed in a hushed voice.One by one, the priestesses stepped inside, and the moment the last one entered, Elara pulled the door shut behind them, sealing the entrance. The world outside disappeared.<
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The quiet knock at the door pulled Queen Elara from her troubled thoughts. She turned away from the window, her emerald eyes dark with exhaustion. "Enter," she called.The door creaked open, revealing Seraphina. Her expression was tense, her usual composure slightly shaken. "Your Majesty," she began, stepping forward. "I bring news from the priestesses."Elara straightened, already anticipating bad news. "Go on."Seraphina hesitated for only a moment before speaking. "The Sacred River is taking longer to recover than we initially expected. The ritual with the Eastern relic was successful, but… something is causing a delay. The energy isn’t returning at the pace we predicted."Elara exhaled sharply, her fingers curling into a fist. She had feared as much. Time was slipping through her grasp, and she could not afford endless delays. "We need to accelerate the process. We will conduct an additional ritual," she said firmly. "Prepare everything necess
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Queen Elara sat by the window of her chamber, the silver moonlight fading as the first hints of dawn painted the horizon. She had barely slept. No matter how much she tried to push the thoughts away, they returned with relentless persistence. Calen Storm.Her fingers tapped lightly on the wooden surface of the table. She should have been focused on The Sacred River, on strengthening it so Vynoria could stand against Aerondale. Yet, her failure last night gnawed at her. The river had rejected her efforts. Had she miscalculated the ritual? Or had her own wavering resolve weakened its effect?Her gaze flickered to her reflection in the polished metal mirror across the room. She looked the same—proud, composed, the Queen of Vynoria. But she felt different.Calen had saved her life. Twice.She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. It shouldn’t have mattered. He was still an enemy. A threat to her kingdom. His presence in Rivermoore was a danger, his all
She Would Kill Him
Dawn had barely broken.A pale gray light stretched across the horizon as Evan Drake paced impatiently near the secluded entrance of his family’s estate. His breath curled in the cold morning air, but he barely noticed.His fists clenched. The waiting was unbearable.Finally, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. A hooded figure emerged from the shadows, moving swiftly toward him. Evan’s sharp eyes locked onto the spy, his expression dark with expectation.“Well?” Evan demanded, voice clipped. “What did you find?”The spy hesitated before shaking his head. “Nothing.”Evan’s expression twisted in frustration. “Nothing?”“Rivermoore is locked down,” the spy explained. “Ever since Calen Storm arrived, Queen Elara has tightened her security. No outsiders are allowed in or out. Even merchants are being turned away at the borders.”Evan let
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Calen exhaled sharply, steadying himself before finally releasing Elara. The warmth of his embrace disappeared as he swiftly stood, putting a careful distance between them. His eyes flickered over her, as if making sure she was truly unharmed, before he placed his fist over his chest in a crisp, disciplined salute."I’m relieved that Your Majesty is unharmed."His voice was even—calm, composed. As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t been trapped beneath him, lost in his gaze, breathless from something more than just the fire.Elara swallowed hard, struggling to regain her own composure. She was Queen Elara Wynn. She did not falter. She did not waver. But the rapid beating of her heart betrayed her.Before she could gather her thoughts, the thundering sound of footsteps echoed through the night.Torches bobbed in the darkness as her royal guards rushed into the clearing, swords drawn, eyes scanning for threats. Shout
Waiting for the Right Moment
Queen Elara Wynn walked gracefully through the marble corridors of her palace, her emerald-green gown flowing behind her like a river of silk. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips—Calen Storm had agreed to delay his answer to King Ryan Ashford. That meant more time.More time for The Sacred River to regain its strength. More time to prepare. More time to eliminate Calen Storm before he could return to Aerondale.As she entered her private chamber, Seraphina was already waiting for her. The high priestess sat beside the tall arched window, bathed in the golden afternoon light, her long silver hair cascading down her back. The scent of burning incense filled the air, calming yet laced with something ominous.Seraphina looked up as Elara entered. “I take it he agreed?”Elara nodded, unfastening the veil from her head and setting it aside. “Yes. He will wait. A week, perhaps more. It gives us time.”Seraphina exhale
