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Through The Veil

💌 Dear Reader–

I’m so glad you’re here.

Through the Veil is an ongoing story—still in the thick of its twists, emotions, and slow-burn fire. If you’ve found yourself tangled up in the tension, questioning motives, and side-eyeing a certain broody male… you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

This journey isn’t finished, not yet. Chapters will continue to drop as the story unfolds, one layer at a time. And trust me—it only gets more intense from here.

Thank you for being a part of this world while it’s still being written. For rooting for Amira, for hating and maybe loving Ronin (depending on the chapter), and for walking this line between enemies and something more right alongside them.

Welcome to Through The Veil.

You crossed into my world. You belong to me now, Princess.

Chapter 1

"What did you just say to me?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

I raise my chin. "I spoke clearly, Father. I said no."

Slowly, he stands. His massive golden-tipped white wings stretch out behind him as he flexes. He is trying hard to control his temper, something… as of late. I seem to be very good at setting alight.

"Amira, this is not a request," he says. "You’re to be united with Gabriel in a fortnight, and after the adjustment period, you both are to take your place as the leaders of the kingdom. You will find your replacement as the commander of The Vanguard and be happy I am allowing that!"

Turning on my heel, I storm from the room.

"Amira! STOP!" His voice is a thunderous roar that chases me as I make my way down the corridor.

But I can't. The words he'd just hurled at me bore the weight of an unbearable future. To be queen, a destiny I was born into and accepted, was one thing, but to forsake the very essence of who I am was a treachery I had not been prepared to face.

The echo of my boots against the stone floor resonates with the turmoil within me. I knew that this day would come, the betrothal, the ceremonious handover of power. It was all etched into stone from the moment I was born.

Yet, knowing and being ready were two separate things, and nothing could have prepared me for the ultimatum that came with it… Abandon my sword and surrender my place in The Vanguard, the kingdom's fiercest warriors.

How could I just accept it? Yes, I am of royal blood, but more than that, I am a warrior. My skills, honed through years of training, have wielded blades with a finesse unrivaled by any in our realm. I am the commander whose wings cast shadows over the most daunting of battles, the one who leads from the front, not from behind a wall of royal silks!

And now, I was being asked—no, commanded! To relinquish that part of my soul, to hang up my sword, and give the leadership of The Vanguard to another as if it were a mere trinket and not an extension of my very being.

"Your duty is to the realm, Amira!" My father’s voice booms down the corridor, each word lashing at me like a whip.

A fierce gust from my flapping wings sends papers swirling from a nearby table as I round a corner, trying to leave the continued shouts of my father behind me. His disappointment is clear, some would say justified, but it pales in comparison to the sense of betrayal festering in my chest.

To wear a crown yet lose myself. Who would that serve? This isn’t about refusing power. It’s about the fear that in donning that crown, I will be stripped of the very essence of who I am. Nothing more than a puppet on a string, manipulated by the expectations of others. A queen, yes, but no longer a warrior. No longer myself. No, I could not... I would not be the queen they envisioned if it meant the death of myself.

As I breach the castle doors, the open skies above beckon, whispering of freedom and battles yet to come. With a final, resolute glance back at the fortress that had been both my home and now becoming my cage. I spread my wings wide and take flight.

The kingdom falls away beneath me, a glittering sprawl of gold and stone hugged by the wild landscape beyond its walls. I feel a sharp sting of sorrow course through me as I regard it from above. This is my home, my birthright, in all its grandeur and structured beauty. But what I’ve always seen as my sanctuary now appears to be a gilded cage that threatens to snuff out the flame burning within me.

I soar through the air. The wind whipping at my wings and against my face helps to clear my mind of the suffocating palace air. I need this, this escape. Heading towards the training arena, I feel the need to refuel my spirit and remind myself of who I am.

Hours later, sweat beads on my brow as I rebuff another blow. The clash of our swords echoes across the training grounds.

A sharp command leaves my lips, urging the Vanguard warriors into formation. They respond instantly, a testament to the countless hours we've spent honing our skills together. Our movements are a deadly dance, each step a reflection of the rigorous discipline instilled within us.

"Amira, your left flank!" calls out a familiar voice.

I pivot, blocking an incoming strike without missing a beat. I nod in acknowledgment to Talen, my second-in-command. His silver eyes are alight with the thrill of the exercise as he blocks his own attacker.

"Good eye," I breathe out, launching into another series of attacks.

"Always watching your back," Talen replies, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he deflects a jab from one of the younger recruits with a swipe of his massive black wing.

As the sun climbs higher, casting long shadows across the field, I signal for a break. The warriors disperse, panting and nursing bruised egos more than actual wounds. I stride over to where Talen is offering guidance to a pair of novices, correcting their stance with a patience I often lack.

"Your form is improving. Keep up the good work," he praises them before waving them off and turning to me. "You're pushing them hard today."

"They need it," I say, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. "The real battles won't offer mercy."

"True," he agrees. As we walk to the edge of the practice field, away from prying ears. Despite the camaraderie that binds the Vanguard, there are words meant only for the closest of confidantes.

"Something troubles you," he observes, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "More than usual."

"Is it that obvious?" I ask, the weight of my father's expectations and the chains of an arranged betrothal press down on me, heavier than any armor I’ve worn.

"Only to someone who knows you as well as I do," he says, leaning against the cool stone wall, crossing his arms.

"Freedom seems like a dream meant for others," I confess, flexing my wings at the frustration bubbling up inside me. "This betrothal... I don’t want a cage, Talen, gilded or otherwise."

"Amira, you were never one to be caged," he says firmly. "Even if duty demands certain sacrifices, you’ll find your skies to soar. You always do."

His faith in me stirs a warmth in my chest, but my heart remains heavy. "And if I can't? What if this betrothal demands more than I'm willing to give?"

"Then you fight," he responds without hesitation. "Not with sword and shield, but with wit and will. You're not just any warrior or heir to the throne, Amira. You’re a true leader, one who carves her own path."

"Perhaps." I glance skyward. "But even leaders must sometimes bow to the inevitable."

Talen clasps a firm hand on my shoulder. "Not you, Amira. Not without a hell of a fight."

His conviction at least offers some comfort to my twisting turmoil. With a deep breath, I adjust my vambrace before signaling the guard to rotate. Those sparring in hand-to-hand will now shift to archery, and so on. Though each warrior has their skills, everyone is required to learn every form of combat. You never know what a battle will bring, and you better be prepared to switch weapons as quickly as the wind shifts.

At least with whatever may come, I have an ally in Talen. Together, we turn back toward the field. But I can’t shake the feeling that his words will prove true and one hell of a fight is exactly what’s coming.

After hours of training, I leave the sparring ground behind, seeking solace where the earth cannot bind me.

My wings unfurl, a glorious expanse of pale turquoise feathers, their golden tips almost shimmer as they catch the updraft. With a powerful leap, I launch into the open embrace of the sky.

The air currents greet me with playful gusts that tug at my hair and tease my senses. The exhilaration of flight surges through me, a wild rhythm that beats in perfect harmony with my heart. Each flap of my wings propels me higher, and I revel in the boundless freedom of it. Here, amidst the clouds, there is no betrothal, no duty, only the vast canvas of blue, ready for exploration.

As I cut through the air, I dance between wisps of white, rolling across my feathers as each stroke paints my path across the heavens.

I stretch my wings wide, feeling the rush of air against my skin as I soar higher and higher.

Reaching the highest of heights, I still. Hovering briefly, I lean back, enjoying the feel of weightlessness before gravity takes hold and I begin free-falling.

It's a feeling of pure freedom, of letting go and trusting in the world to catch me.

With a graceful turn, I unfurl my wings, catching the wind and glide through the endless expanse of sky.

The sun caresses my skin, its warmth sinking deep into my bones, filling me with a sense of weightless freedom. Below, the kingdom stretches in fragmented splendor, a vast network of floating lands, each suspended in the sky like scattered pieces of a puzzle. Towering mountains rise from some drifting isles, their peaks crowned in mist, while others host vibrant forests, some clinging to the edges, their roots weaving through the air. Silver rivers wind through other landscapes, only to spill off the edges in cascading ribbons, vanishing into the abyss below.

It is a sight reserved for those with wings. Thankfully, those who call this kingdom home are blessed with them. Even many of the creatures that prowl the forests have the gift of flight, though few stray far from the shelter of the canopy.

Yet, for all its beauty, this kingdom is but one of many.

There are other realms that stretch far beyond what even the sharpest eyes can see, each bound by forces we barely understand. Some are divided by a shimmering veil, an ethereal barrier that only the most powerful, or the most reckless, dare to cross. Others remain hidden entirely, their entrances lost to time or concealed by magic so ancient that even the scholars of my realm can only speculate on their existence.

Some worlds, they say, are bathed in endless light, where magic hums through the air, shaping the land itself. Others are dark, unforgiving places, ruled by creatures who have long since forgotten mercy. And then there are the forbidden realms, the ones spoken of only in whispers, their very existence denied even by those who know the truth.

I’ve no need for adventure in those realms. I was trained to protect my kingdom, not to seek out what lies beyond the Veil. The Vanguard’s duty, my duty, has always been to guard our people, not chase after myths.

This is where I belong, but I can’t help but wonder if the throne, once I claim it, might make me a captive within my own kingdom, a queen trapped in a cage, her wings clipped before she can truly soar.

"Princess," calls a voice, smooth as the wind itself, yet commanding.

I stiffen mid-flight, a flicker of irritation ripples through me before I mask my expression. Gabriel? Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be with the council, preparing for the pre-ceremony? Or is this yet another attempt to remind me of the future being woven around me like an inescapable net?

I bank to my left, leveling out to meet his gaze.

He glides toward me, his own wings, a golden shade fitting his stature as a royal, stretched out in effortless flight. His presence pulls me back to reality, to the weight of expectations and the crown I am destined to wear.

"Gabriel," I respond, my tone mirroring the formality that our positions demand.

"Your prowess in the air is unmatched," he says, his eyes alight with admiration. "It is an honor to see you command the winds as you do the warriors of The Vanguard."

"Thank you," I nod. My reply is curt. Clipped by the knowledge of what his words truly mean. His excitement is recognizable, a future together, ruling side by side. But I feel his expectations don't match my own.

"Every time I witness your skill, I grow more eager for the day we unite our lines," he continues, oblivious to the storm brewing within me. "The betrothal ceremony is soon upon us. Our people are eager to celebrate."

"Are they?" I ask, my voice sharper than I intend. The sky is too beautiful to speak of cages now, golden or not.

"Of course," he says, and there's a note of certainty in his words that grates me. "It will be the union of the century, the joining of our royal blood and two great warriors."

"Warriors," I repeat, my gaze fixates on the horizon. I am a warrior, yes, but does he understand what that means? The wildness in my heart, the hunger that burns for the skies untamed?

His smile fades slightly, and for a moment, it feels as if he's peering into the depths of my turmoil. "Is something the matter, Princess?" Gabriel's sharp gaze bores into my own, his sapphire eyes reflecting the endless sky above, but they only serve to remind me of what's expected.

"No," I respond curtly, looking away from him and toward the sprawling paradise below.

"There is a weight upon your wings," he says. It's not a question but a statement. I will say this, he has perceptiveness. When he wants.

"Gabriel, you speak of unity. Of power," I say, trying to keep the frustration from seeping into my words. "But have you ever considered want? My role in the Vanguard is more than a title, it is who I am. The winds... They call to me far louder than any council chamber ever could."

"Your commanding of The Vanguard is important," he concedes, tilting his head as if weighing my words. "I don’t want you to—"

"Princess Amira!"

The sharp call cuts through the air, slicing whatever Gabriel was about to say in half. I whip my head toward the source, spotting a squadron of warriors in the distance. Their gold-tipped wings, glinting in the sunset, are not natural like mine. They are painted, done as a sign. These are my father’s personal guard, meaning the call of duty beckons.

"I must return," I say.

Gabriel simply nods. "Of course, until we meet again at the pre-ceremony."

With one last glance at him, I launch into a sweeping dive towards the group of warriors, my mind lost in thought of what was left unsaid.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting a crimson glow over the Avalon kingdom as my feet touch down and I make my way into the castle. My father’s guards follow close behind, no doubt with strict orders to bring me directly to him.

A sense of foreboding tightens my chest with each step, as I brace myself for the repercussions of my storm out this morning.

"Is he in his office or the library?" I ask the head guard.

"Neither," he replies. "He’s in the aviary."

I pause, turning towards him with raised brows. "The aviary?"

A strange unease settles in my stomach. My father never steps a foot in that place. He avoids it like a wound that’s never fully healed.

He nods, taking the lead. No doubt determined to bring me to him as quickly as possible. Which would annoy me except for the fact that my father is in the one area of the castle that he never goes... Why?

I follow the guard through the corridor and onto a winding path, my mind a whirl of thoughts and theories, none of them comforting. The aviary is sacred. Haunted by memories. His being there… It just seems odd.

As we approach, I hear the soft chirping of the birds housed inside, their voices rising and falling in a melody that's both calming and eerie in the silence of nightfall.

The scent of figs and fresh feathers hits me as I stand at the threshold of an indoor forest. Branches intertwine above, creating a woven tapestry against the fading skylight.

Stepping further into the enclosure, my father stands at the center, his back to us. His white wings folded neatly behind him. His figure is a silhouette against the fading light coming through the aviary's glass roof that paints abstract streaks of orange and purple upon him.

He doesn’t turn to greet me, nor does he acknowledge my presence in any other way. He just continues staring.

"Father," I say, clearing my throat. This isn't the stern king I'm used to seeing. This is just a man before me.

"Wait outside," he commands to his guards, who nod and close the door upon their departure. Leaving the two of us in the twilight of the aviary, with only the sound of rustling wings and occasional chirping echoing around us.

"Father," I start again, this time my tone softer. "Why are you in here?"

"Sometimes the answers one seeks are often found in the unlikeliest of places." he says, finally turning to face me. His stern gaze softer than I have seen in a long time.

I raise a brow. "Sometimes… I guess they are."

"Amira-"

"Is this about this morning?" I ask, cutting him off. My words are sharp as I ready myself to defend my position.

He holds up his hand before I can continue. His gaze doesn't waver, nor does it harden. Instead, it grows distant, lost in some profound thought. "This is about duty," he finally says.

Duty. The word echoes in my mind, a constant reminder defining our lives as Avians. "I'm already upholding my duty, father," I retort.

"Amira," he sighs, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "When I look at you, I see so much potential. You are strong and free-spirited. But sometimes…" He pauses. "You act a lot like your mother."

His words catch me off guard. My wings twitch anxiously at the unexpected sentiment. He rarely speaks of her.

"Yes," he murmurs, his gaze resting on the setting sun through the glass. "She too had wings that longed for the sky, a heart that craved freedom... and a soul that defied destiny."

A lump forms in my throat as he paints such a vivid picture of a woman I barely remember. My memories of her are few and far between. Most are second-hand stories told by maids or guards. I'd been told by many that I host her features. My long, dark hair and deep brown eyes. But particularly my wings, while lighter, we both had the rarest of colors. Turquoise.

"But she also understood her obligations," he continues, bringing me back to reality. "Just like you need to."

And there it is…

"I know my obligations," I counter, bristling under his gaze. "I am an avian warrior first and foremost—"

"First and foremost, you're an Avian princess," he cuts me off. "Heir to the throne. Your mother was a free spirit, but she knew her responsibilities. She understood that our lives aren’t entirely ours… as royalty or as warriors."

"I understand that, Father," I say, trying to keep my tone level. "I know what my responsibilities are, and I have done nothing but what has been required of me. The Vanguard—"

"Leading the Vanguard and leading a kingdom are two separate things, Amira," he says, cutting me off again.

"But–"

"But nothing, Amira," he shouts, his now stern gaze cutting through me like a blade. "Don’t let your heart lead you astray. You are more than just an avian warrior. You are the future queen. We do not choose our fates, Amira. We are born into them." He pauses, and the air grows thicker. "And sometimes, we must make sacrifices."

A wave of frustration crashes over me, my wings flaring out in agitation. "I don’t—"

"ENOUGH!" His voice booms loud enough to shake the glass. The words land heavy, reverberating in the stillness. "I have been understanding and patient with you, but enough is enough. Your successor for The Vanguard will be chosen, and you will shift your entire focus to the ceremony."

I clench my teeth, my fingers curling into fists at my sides, as I fight the surge of anger that rises with every word he speaks. "Yes, Father," I reply, forcing the words out between clenched teeth. His word is law in this kingdom. No point in arguing further.

He nods, walking around me, his footsteps echoing through the aviary. A clear sign that our conversation is over.

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Chapter 2

The palace's grand hall's vaulted ceilings stretch high above, the walls etched in white marble and gold, a monument to everything that has been decided for me long before I was born.

"Princess Amira," people murmur my name, their voices laced with reverence as I drift through the crowd. I nod in polite respect, but my attention is fixed on the ornate decorations that frame the hall. Gilded mirrors reflect the assembly's finery, while tapestries depicting the great battles of our past line the walls, stories of valor, of blood spilled for power, for tradition, for a crown that was always meant to be mine.

The weight of my diamond-encrusted gown pulls at my wings, a sharp reminder of the cage I’m wearing. The uncomfortable pressure against my feathers has me twitching with restlessness. It's been years since I’ve worn such finery, and the unfamiliar weight among my feathers feels like a burden, far removed from the lightness I crave.

But tradition demands that I wear them for this ceremony, and so I endure. Each step feels heavier than the last. My wings lightly unfurl behind me, brushing the fabric of my gown, the sensation foreign and confining.

I force myself to focus on the present, to carry the look of the future queen, as I move to stand near my father. At least until the ceremony ends.

"Esteemed guests," my father's voice booms, silencing the crowd. He stands tall, his stern features softened only by the pride in his silver eyes when they meet mine. His white wings, symbols of his reign and wisdom, are neatly tucked, and he carries the weight of his crown as if it were made of feathers, not jewels.

"Today marks a pivotal moment for our kingdom." His words are poised, but there's an edge to them. "The uniting of Prince Gabriel Skybreaker and my daughter, Princess Amira Ironwing, in the coming weeks. However…" I sense the shift, tension coils in my gut, tighter than the springs in a hunter's trap.

"Let it be known," he continues, and I brace myself. "That while Princess Amira has been the best of our warriors since her mother. She will henceforth relinquish her command of the Vanguard."

A collective of murmurs drift through the hall, and I feel the ground slip from beneath me even as I stand firm. My heart hammers against my ribcage, urging me to take action.

"Father?" I whisper, steady despite the turmoil within. "What of our agreement?"

King Edric's gaze doesn't waver, it never does. "Our agreement was not sealed on your end. I have made the choice. Your place is here, Amira. Your duties await you as queen."

I search the faces of the crowd, seeing among them my small unit of most trusted soldiers. Their expressions are a reflection of my shock. They knew that there would be another commander appointed, I had said so, but this is not how it was to be done.

Confusion mingles with curiosity among the rest of the crowd. I clench my fists, feeling the tips of my wings twitch with the anger that is coursing through my veins.

"Your legacy is more than your sword," my father murmurs, before turning his attention to the rest of the crowd. "Kael Nightshade will henceforth be the commander of the Vanguard."

The murmurs rise again, like a flock of birds startled into flight. As my father steps away from the focal point to mingle with our guests, my gaze meets Talen’s. His wings ruffle in obvious annoyance. His eyes harden and his jaw tightens as he pivots on his foot, storming out of the hall. The rest of the group glances at me with disapproval before following in his footsteps.

Burning rage sears through me as I pivot on my heel and beeline straight for my father. Crowd or no crowd, this is a conversation we will not wait to have.

"Choosing my successor?" I hiss, a venomous edge sharpening my tone. "You promised me that right!" My eyes narrow, locking onto his with an intensity that could shatter glass. A taut silence stretches between us, as those closest move away quickly.

"Promises shift like the winds, Amira," he counters, his voice unyielding as the stone pillars that support our grand hall. "It is not a matter for debate."

"Shift like the winds?" I echo, disbelieving, my pulse quickens with each breath. "Is that what you call a vow made before the Vanguard? Before the realm? Kael is not the choice for commander! Talen-"

"Is NOT the correct choice," he says, cutting me off. "Your choice would not have fully separated you from being the commander of the Vanguard."

"So you had never meant to allow me an actual choice," I snap.

"Enough!" His command booms across the room, his eyes capture mine in a fierce gaze. "You were allowed, and your choice was wrong. Your duty to your people surpasses your desires. It is final."

"Final!?" I'm beyond seething now. Words erupt from me like an explosion. "You bind me in a marriage, to a crown, and now you strip me of the one thing that grants me purpose!?"

"Watch your tone, Amira," he warns, but I am beyond caring for decorum.

"Will you chain me next? Clip my wings?" My words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, I see something flicker in his gaze, regret, perhaps, or the ghost of longing for the spirit he himself has since snuffed out.

"Your place is not at the hilt of a sword," he states. "It is beside your betrothed, ruling this kingdom."

"Ruling or caged?" I retort, my voice a blade drawn and ready. "What use is a queen who cannot stand for her own convictions!?"

"Amira," he sighs. "This is about more than us. It is about the future of our people."

"My future has never been my choice," I remind him, the edges of my vision tinting red with the anger coursing through me. "You have broken your word and taken the one thing I had a choice of."

The tension in the grand hall crackles like a storm on the horizon that I've become the eye of. But my resolve doesn’t waver. Even under the weight of whispers and the heavy gaze of the court, each pair of eyes a silent judgment upon my wings.

"Amira."

It's not the voice of my father that slices through the murmurs, but of Gabriel. Emerging from behind a grand column, he strides towards me with an air of confidence and strength. His posture is tall and his shoulders broad, with a strong jawline that accentuates his commanding presence.

His piercing eyes lock onto mine with intense determination. The muscles in his arms and chest subtly flex beneath his finely tailored clothes as he moves closer to me, and for a moment, his presence seems to offer a respite from the brewing storm.

"I understand your grievances," he begins, his gaze brushing over mine. "But I must agree with the king. You are no longer a warrior. And as much as it pains me to see you wrestle with this, our duty to our people is greater. Your duty as queen will be the guiding star for our kingdom, a beacon of hope and stability."

My heart pounds against my ribcage, like it’s desperate for escape. I clench my fists at my sides, as my nails dig into my palms, as the surrounding air grows thick.

"Hope? Stability?" The words taste like poison on my tongue. "Is that what we call chains now?"

"Chains?" he echoes, a frown creasing his brow. "I speak of unity, Amira. Of a future forged together, where your spirit and courage inspire from the throne."

Inspire from the throne? A bitter laugh threatens to escape my lips. But I bite it down, the sharp taste of my anger makes my tongue tingle.

"No, Gabriel. You speak of what you believe is duty. But that is not mine." My voice rings clear, echoing off the stone walls. "I will not let the title of queen dictate my life. Not when it costs me my wings."

"Your wings are not being taken from you, Amira," he tries to reason, extending his hand toward me as if to pull me back into line.

The gesture, his attempt to soothe me, feels like the final insult. I jerk, the muscles in my shoulders tensing, and instinctively, I step back, my wings unfurl in a harsh rustle, as if they, too, are rejecting him. A cold shiver runs down my spine at the proximity of his touch, as if every inch closer makes the cage around me feel tighter.

"No," I say, my voice sharp with fury, as I pull away even further. "But my choice is."

"Amira," he warns.

"Princess," I snap.

His jaw clenches, his voice dipping into a whisper as he steps closer to me. "Your place is not on the battleground any longer. It's by my side at the throne."

I can tell this is getting me nowhere except for a spectacle to the now silent hall as they watch the drama unfold. "Then let us hope," I say, my gaze meeting his unflinchingly, "that when we reach that point, I will recognize my reflection in the mirror. For she will not only be queen, but also the ghost of the warrior she once was."

I push past him and stride through the crowd, my wings bristling as people move aside to let me pass.

The grandeur of the ceremony fades to a blur as every step I take away from Gabriel and my father is a declaration of defiance. My heart races with a rhythm that syncs to the throbbing pulse of rebellion within me.

The silk of my gown against my skin is a taunting caress as I make my way through the throngs of onlookers, their eyes wide with unspoken questions.

"Princess Amira, where are you going?" The voice of some concerned guest tries to tether me to the spot, but I cannot be held. Not now.

"Forgive me, I need a moment," I reply, not slowing, my voice sounds like a distant echo even to my own ears as I push past the last of the guests. The cool air beckons me, and soon, the grand balcony looms ahead like a threshold between confinement and freedom.

As I reach the balcony, I draw back the heavy drapes and step onto the terrace. Relieved to find it empty. With a swift motion, I loosen the clasp at my throat, and the heavy jeweled layer of my gown falls away.

I inhale sharply, tasting the crisp air of freedom. I spread my wings wide. Flexing and popping most of the small jewels off in the process.

Without hesitation, I leap. For a heartbeat, there is nothing but the perilous drop below, and then my wings snap open with a sound like thunder. Propelling the last of the jewels into the abyss. I catch the currents of the wind with practiced ease, and I am ascending, higher and higher, into the expanse above.

The wind rushes past me, a fierce symphony in my ears, and I revel in the sheer power of my flight. Each stroke of my wings propels me further from the life I am expected to lead.

Below, the palace dwindles, reduced to mere specks of light, and I soar above it all, unbound and untamed. The clouds welcome me as one of their own, and for a moment, I dare to imagine a life unfettered by crowns and councils.

I rise on an updraft, spiraling towards the moon, its blue rays basking me in its glow. My body moves with the grace and strength that were born of the sky, my true home, where my spirit finds solace amidst the tumult of my heart.

Here in this boundless blue, I am free.

Twisting and turning, I dance with the currents. The cool air brushes against my face, and for a brief moment, it feels like a balm to the fire of anger still burning inside me. Yet the weight of my responsibilities refuses to be left behind. Even as I soar higher, the questions I can’t escape grow louder in my mind.

How dare my father strip me of command and choose my successor? How can Gabriel, who claims to understand, stand there and support such a betrayal, while pretending to be on my side?

The anger burns, hot and raw, but beneath it, something else stirs, a gnawing feeling I can’t ignore. This isn’t just about what my father has done or the way Gabriel’s words twist like a knife in my chest. No, this is deeper.

It’s the suffocating realization that my entire life has been dictated for me. I feel like a puppet tied to the strings of duty and legacy. I’ve spent so long believing my wings were my only true form of freedom, my only escape. But the crown will strip me of that too, won’t it?

And yet, isn’t it mine to wear? Isn’t it my birthright, regardless of the chains that come with it? As much as I want to run, to leave it all behind, a part of me knows with a certainty I can’t deny that there is more at stake than just my anger or my pride.

“Focus, Amira,” I chide myself aloud. My voice drifts into the wind. “You’re to be queen regardless of your feelings.”

The weight of those words presses down, and my wings beat harder, faster, as though trying to outrun the truth. My thoughts twist and tangle. Shouldn’t my voice matter in this kingdom? Shouldn’t my choices have weight beyond the silken veil of expectation? The thought lingers, tight in my chest, like a knot I can’t undo.

I ride the wind’s fierce embrace, spiraling upwards, the gust pulling at my resolve. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the sensation of flight consume me, the air whispering secrets against my skin. This is where I belong, not in ornate halls or beside a man who sees me as a mere woman.

And yet the truth won’t leave me, no matter how high I climb or how far I soar. Even if I resist it, even if I fight it, I cannot escape what is mine to claim. My destiny has never just been my wings or sword, but the crown. I am bound by blood and duty as much as by the freedom I crave.

My eyes snap open. The horizon beckons, where duty and desire might find harmony. But I am tethered to a destiny that allows no such balance between what is wanted and what must be. Still, I have a choice in how it will be led.

“You are more than this rage,” I murmur to myself. “You decide who you are.”

With a deep breath, I level my flight, gliding now, conserving strength for the battles ahead, both those fought with a sword and those without. The wind is a constant companion, whispering of freedom, yet it cannot loosen the knot of loyalty that binds me to my fate.

As the air cools further, so does my fury, replaced by a resolve as unyielding as the mountains on the isles.

I soar higher, seeking the clarity that often comes with altitude. The clouds are wispy up here, like trails from an artist’s brush, ethereal and untamed. Can I not be both queen and warrior? Must the crown I am to wear smother the spirit within?

“No,” I decide, my voice lost to the roar of the wind. There will be more time for contemplation, but now I must return.

I descend, spiraling back toward the palace, where duty looms as large as the gates that mark its entrance. Below, the balcony waits, a threshold between two worlds. My wings fold, feathers brushing together in a silent hymn of resilience. With precision, I land, the stone solid beneath my feet.

The resolve crystallizes within me, sharp and clear. I will face my father, speak with Gabriel, and through it, I will find my way. No decree can strip me of who I am. I will not be caged.

But first, I have a wrong I will right.

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Chapter 3

I dress quickly, pulling a shirt up over my waist. The fabric stretches as it slides beneath my wings, soft against the steel-like strength of my feathers. It settles easily as I slip my arms through the sleeves and lace the back into place at their base.

All of our attire was made to accommodate our wings, though at times I can see why most women opted for dresses. However, it isn't practical for fighting, and today I would be doing just that.

I lace up my cuirass before I pull on a pair of black, form-fitting tactical pants. The durable, stretchy material molds to my legs, allowing for fluid movement and tug on my high, soft leather boots with reinforced soles for grip. Securing my dagger into the inside pocket.

Shoving open the doors to my chambers, the echo of their slamming reverberates through the stone hallways like a war drum.

My boots strike the ground in rapid succession, propelling me forward. Determination pumps through my veins like liquid fire. My resolve to set things right will start where my choice was taken from me.

As I descend upon the Vanguard training grounds. My voice slices through the morning air. "Kael!"

The clanking of swords halts, and all eyes fixate on the storm I have become. Kael turns to face me, his stance rigid, his expression one of surprise, before he masks it.

"Princess Amira," he replies, his tone even, but the steel in his eyes matches my own. "What brings you here this morning?"

"Your command," I say, narrowing my eyes at him. "It's over."

"Over?" He crosses his arms, his wings twitch as his muscles flex beneath his leather armor. "On whose authority?"

"Mine." I step closer, refusing to break eye contact. "The Vanguard needs a leader who doesn't shirk his duties for personal vendettas. Talen is the rightful commander and more than capable."

"Personal vendettas!" Kael's voice echoes across the field.

"Your loyalty wavers when it suits you," I retort. "This is not a discussion. Talen will take your place."

Kael’s jaw tightens, his fists balling at his sides, his knuckles paling under the strain. "My loyalty is and has always been to the throne and never about vendettas. I have earned my place, it was not something handed to me nor can it be taken just because you decided to play Queen today." He takes a step closer, his presence pressing against mine. "The King decides who will command, not you! You cannot just–"

"I am the heir to the Avian throne!" My shout cuts through his rising fury. "I will be taking my father's place! Either way, I decide who leads MY warriors!"

Our breaths are heavy, the silence between us is tense with more things left unsaid. Even the wind holds its breath, waiting for the fallout of our confrontation. I watch as Kael's jaw clenches, his pride battling with the knowledge that I speak the truth.

"Very well," he concedes, through clenched teeth. "But this isn't over, Princess. You may strip me of my title for now, but it will not last."

He bows his head, a silent acknowledgment of my decree, and shoots into the sky.

The dust of the training ground swirls around my boots as I turn to face the Vanguard soldiers, their armor gleams like the edge of a blade in the rising sun. A sea of silent stares meets mine, eyes full of questions that hang so heavy I can almost taste the tension. They are waiting for my next move.

"Vanguard!" My voice cuts through the stillness. "I have made a choice that will reshape the future of our guard." Murmurs ripple through the ranks like whispers of wind across a battlefield. But I stand firm, my gaze unwavering. "Kael has been relieved of command. Talen will lead."

For a beat, there is only silence. The weight of it presses down on me. Then, from the ranks, Talen steps forward, his wings unfurl in a gesture of respect. The wind picks up, rustling the tips of his feathers, and I see in his eyes not only gratitude but something deeper, understanding of the responsibility he now shoulders.

Without hesitation, we clasp our forearms. It’s a deep sign of agreement, respect, and of our warrior's bond. "Your father won’t be pleased about this," he murmurs.

"Leave him to me. He should have known I wouldn’t stand for this. The position was always yours, my friend." I tighten my grip, and a shared strength passes between us. "You’re the right choice."

Talen nods. "I will serve with honor and loyalty, Princess Amira." His voice rings clear, unwavering and filled with promise.

The soldiers hold their breath, eyes flicking between us. I nod, acknowledging them, and they respond, one by one, by placing their fists over their hearts. It's a silent but powerful gesture of fealty. They kneel, their collective respect ringing louder than any words. A wall of strength, bound by loyalty, forms around me.

"Rise, Vanguard," I command, my voice thick with pride. "Together, we will soar higher than ever before."

The ground trembles with the sound of armored fists thumping against chests as they rise to their feet. A chorus of unity that vibrates through the very earth beneath us. It is a salute not only of duty but of kinship. These soldiers are more than protectors, they are my family, my foundation, and together we will face whatever comes.

With the weight of their allegiance fortifying me, I make my way back to the castle. The stone halls echo my footsteps as I head in search of my father.

"Amira!"

I pause, turning to see Gabriel emerging from the great hall.

He strides forward with a dangerous grace and an edge behind his forced smile. His gaze is locked onto mine, holding a promise of conflict. "Amira," he says again, his voice dips low, as he stops in front of me. "Is it true? Did you strip Kael of command?"

I raise my chin.

"You overstep." His voice is a low growl, brimming with challenge. "You don't have the right."

"I have every right." My retort is like a lash, swift and sharp. The tension between us singes the air, threatening to ignite.

He steps closer, his wings twitching in agitation. "Are you determined to fight against every order if it’s not given by yourself?!"

"Yes," I spit, my voice echoing through the hall. "When the order is unjust! Kael was not fit for command. Talen is!"

His eyes narrow, a glint of anger flashing across his face. His wings spread wide, casting long shadows across the marble floor. "Your actions don't just threaten the stability of ranks," he sneers. "They question your loyalty to the kingdom!"

"My loyalty would have been questioned had I allowed Kael to stay in command of The Vanguard," I say, my voice rising to the same level. "If the kingdom's strongest warriors and protectors do not have my loyalty to appoint the correct commander, then tell me, as the soon-to-be Queen, how could I expect their loyalty while I rule?"

His wings snap open to their full span, his muscles coil with tension. "You speak of ruling? Yet you undermine your father, our king, with every impetuous decision!" His voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "Will you do the same to me when we are wed? Discard my authority when it doesn't suit your whims?"

The accusation slams into me like a physical blow. Before I can think, my hand strikes his face with a crack that echoes through the hall. The sting spreads across my palm as Gabriel's head whips to the side.

Slowly, his hand raises to his cheek. "Did you just slap me?"

I gaze at his stunned expression, the vivid red imprint now spreading across his face. Slapping a warrior holds more disrespect than a punch. Yet, I feel no remorse. A deafening silence falls between us, broken only by the harsh rasp of our breathing.

"Yes," I say finally, my feathers ruffle. "And I'll do it again if you ever question my loyalty to this kingdom."

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes, something I've never seen before. His wings arch higher, his feathers bristling with barely contained rage. "You mistake arrogance for strength, Amira," he growls, his voice drops to a dangerous rumble. "One day, that will be your undoing."

"And you mistake obedience for loyalty," I counter, my wings rigid behind me. "That will be yours."

We stand frozen, suspended in this moment of raw fury, neither of us willing to yield. The air between us crackles with tension, thick enough to suffocate. Without another word, I turn and stride away, my wings tremble with barely contained emotion. I need some air before I face my father, but I’m not going to get that peace so easily.

Gabriel steps into my path. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out," I grit, trying to sidestep him, but he moves in sync with me. Only heightening my irritation.

"We're not done,” he rumbles.

"Well, I am!" I seethe, shoving him out of my way, but he grabs my arm. "Let go," I snap, my gaze icy as it meets his. But he holds on, his grip firm and unyielding.

"You can't just run away every time we disagree, Amira!"

"Disagree!" I say through gritted teeth. "It’s about respect, Gabriel. Respect that you and so many others seem hell-bent on denying me."

"Stop acting like a child," he snaps.

"A child?" The words burn in my throat like acid. "You think defending my honor is childish?"

I wrench my arm free. My wings snap open. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows catches on my feathers, casting sharp shadows across his face. "Standing my ground is not childish! I've spent my life proving myself worthy of my birthright!"

"So have I!" he shouts, going toe to toe with me. "I am every bit, if not more, of the warrior you are!"

More!? His words slice through me like a blade. For a heartbeat, I can't breathe, can't think through the red haze of fury clouding my vision. I inhale sharply, my wings flare wider in instinctive challenge.

"You want me to act like the future queen?" I scoff, my lip curling. "Then stop treating me like I'm beneath you!"

His expression darkens, his golden wings unfurl to match mine. Had we not been alone in the main corridor, we’d be creating a spectacle, two royal Avians locked in confrontation, our feathers bristling.

"You're not beneath me. We are equals. That's the point of this alliance!" his voice rises to match mine, his golden wings creating a wall of light that threatens to swallow me whole.

I laugh, but there is no real humor in it. "Equals? Is that what you call what happened last night? Tell me, whose aid did you come to when my father publicly stripped my right to choose the next leader of MY warriors?"

"They are not YOUR warriors, they are the warriors of the kingdom and the realm!" he snaps.

"Our kingdom, Gabriel. The one I will also rule," I spit back, watching his eyes narrow. "If I can't command the respect of our warriors, what kind of queen will I be?"

The silence between us stretches with tension. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, feel the heat radiating from my wings as they tremble with barely contained rage.

"Your father," he begins.

"Is not going to be king much longer," I say, cutting him off. "We will be taking the throne, and I won’t have it be under an un-united front!"

"You’re being dramatic. You could have waited until after to appoint Talen as the commander," he snaps back. "Instead, you undermined-"

"Would you have agreed?" I cut him off.

He blinks. "What?"

"Had I waited until after, would you have agreed to appoint Talen as the commander?" I say, lifting my chin.

"Seeing you already made the choice, I guess now we will never know," he growls.

"Wrong," I say, narrowing my eyes. "Your answer gives you away. You wouldn’t have appointed Talen as commander. You would have said it’s too soon and not want to cause a rift right as we’d ascended the throne!"

His jaw clenches, and I see the truth in his eyes before he can mask it. "You don't know what I would have done."

"I know exactly what you would have done," I counter, stepping closer until we're nearly nose to nose. "You would have tried to placate me with empty promises while maintaining the status quo. Don’t underestimate me, I’m skilled just like you in politics, war, and tactics."

With a forceful flick of my wings, I create a gust that propels us apart. I don't give him a chance to stop me again as I launch myself towards the open window. I burst through, wings spreading wide as I catch the current of air. The wind whips against my face, cooling my heated skin but doing little to calm the storm raging inside me.

Gabriel doesn't follow. He’s more than likely going to seek out my father, but I’ll deal with them both once I return. Right now, I need to tempt down my anger, and the sky's the one place where I can really breathe.

I climb higher, pushing my wings faster. The castle shrinks beneath me, becoming just a small structure. I am not the only one to find my bearings in the clouds. It is our way. Though I admit more often of late I have been in the sky.

Changing direction, I soar toward the western mountain isles, where the clouds gather thick and heavy. Few venture this way. It hosts nothing but open skies and few lands, but the isolation is exactly what I need. My wings cut through the mist, and droplets of moisture cling to my feathers.

The argument with Gabriel replays in my mind. His accusation of disloyalty burns worse than any physical wound could. How dare he question my commitment to the kingdom? Everything I do, every decision, every risk, has always been for the kingdom. Just because I refuse to hang up my sword and let others make all the choices doesn’t make me disloyal. Doing nothing would!

They say to pick your battles, well, this is one I will fight. I will not be the Queen kept silent.

A flicker of movement to my right breaks my train of thought. I bank sharply, my instincts screaming I’m no longer alone. A flash of feathers cuts through the mist.

"Who's there?" I call out.

No answer comes, but I sense the presence circling. I hover in place, my wings beat steadily as I scan the clouds around me. Annoyance builds in my chest. Had Gabriel followed me after all? But something doesn’t sit right. There would be no point in hiding himself.

"Show yourself!" I shout, but my voice is carried away by the wind. Still, there is no response. Just the steady beating of my wings.

My instincts take over as I twirl. The silhouette of another Avian cuts through the mist behind me. Their wings are powerful and deliberate. Not the casual flight of someone enjoying the skies.

I dive, plummeting through a thick bank of clouds, their moisture clings to my skin and feathers, but the sudden drop would provide cover, and some time to assess who follows.

The clouds part beneath me, revealing the jagged teeth of the western mountains island. A cold wind rushes past my face as I level out. I skim just above a ridge of granite and strain my ears through the whistling air, listening for wing beats.

There, the unmistakable sound of feathers cutting air. Not one pair, but two. Perhaps three.

This is no chance encounter. I'm being ambushed.

I bank hard around a mountain spire, using the jagged terrain to my advantage before looping back through the clouds and bursting into the clear air beneath the floating landmass.

Whoever my pursuers are would expect me to level out and seek safety in the distance ahead, so instead I fold my wings and drop like a stone. The wind screams past my ears, as my heart thunders in my chest. Five seconds of freefall is all I allow before snapping my wings open and arching upward in a tight curve that would make even the most seasoned warriors in the guard wince.

There, cutting through the mist above, a figure follows. Not Gabriel's familiar silhouette, nor any of the palace guards, but an unknown Avian.

Only their wings are visible, just as black as the rest of their attire. They are cloaked in dark fabric. Even their face is concealed beneath a masked hood.

I don't waste my breath on words as my pursuer swoops toward me. I flip backwards, tucking my wings and spin into a tight spiral, then unfurl them with explosive force as my attacker's trajectory carries them past me. But they're skilled, adjusting their course with barely a wingbeat.

We collide, every muscle in my body jars from the impact. We tumble through the air, locked in a deadly embrace. My attacker's wings beat powerfully, trying to gain control. I slam my elbow into their ribs, earning a grunt of pain.

Serves the arrogant bastard right! Even I had the foresight to put on armor. Even if it is thin, it’s no less effective.

A blade flashes between us. I barely twist away as it slices across my shoulder, drawing a thin, stinging line across my skin. But the pain only fuels my focus.

"Who sent you?" I shout, driving my knee upward.

No answer comes except a grunt and another slash of the blade. But this time, I'm ready. I snatch their wrist, twisting hard. They lash out with their free hand... I catch that too, locking them in place.

Using the momentary advantage, I bring my boot up, kicking them in the chest. We break apart. The force sends us spiraling away from each other, both of us struggling to regain control. I steady myself first, my wings carving through the air with practiced precision. Blood trickles down my arm, hot and sticky against my skin, but I can't afford to assess the damage.

My attacker rights themselves, launching back at me.

I twist, using the wind currents to angle above them and grasp the base of their wing. I flip onto their back, bracing my foot to the curve of their spine as I yank my dagger from my boot and plunge it into the flesh at the base of their wing.

They scream, the sound raw and vicious in the rushing air. My blade sinks deeper, causing their wing to spasm and falter.

Shoving off their back, I keep a firm grasp on my dagger and yank it free as they plummet through the clouds and out of sight.

My brows furrow as I take a quick note of the black smeared across my hand that had gripped their wing, but I have no time to investigate as my ears prick to another sound approaching me from behind.

I whip around, my wings snapping taut with the sudden movement, just in time to raise my dagger against the slash of their… hand?

Sparks fly at the impact, and I quickly realise both of their hands are gloved with talons attached to the end of each finger, but I have no time to appreciate the uniqueness of their chosen weapon as they launch at me again.

I duck, tucking my wings tight against my body as I drop beneath their attack. The talons whistle above my head, missing me by a breath.

"Coward," I hiss. "Attacking from behind!"

This one moves differently, faster, and more precise. My hunch had been correct. These are trained assassins, at least this one is.

I faint left, then dive right, but they anticipate my move. One talon catches my wing, hitting my feathers with the sharp sound like metal on metal. And I’m thankful again that our wings are not just for flight but a valued defensive weapon as soft as silk and harder than steel.

Spinning, I fake injury as I twirl into a tight downward spiral, and they follow.

My wings cut through the clouds as I build momentum. When I burst them open and shoot upward, I catch my attacker by surprise, slamming my shoulder into their sternum. The impact knocks the breath from them. Does no one think armor is important!? Lucky for me, they don’t.

Twisting my body, I drive my knee into their abdomen and slash my dagger across their chest. Only for them to fall back, avoiding my blade as it slices through their cloak like a hot knife through butter.

The fabric parts, revealing not armor, but silver. A pendant. My stomach tightens. It’s not just any pendant. The Vanguard insignia is etched in plain sight.

But my moment of hesitation costs me. Their taloned hand slashes at my face. I twist away, but only just enough as I catch the tips across my cheek. Hot pain blooms where steel meets flesh, and I feel blood trickle down my skin, but the sting only sharpens my focus.

Pain feeds my rage. I let it flood through me, a cold fury that narrows my vision. "VANGUARD!" I lunge forward, fury lending strength to my wings as I slam into them again. We tumble through the air, locked in combat, the clouds rush past us in a blur of white and gray. My fingers close around their throat, squeezing as I try to tear the hood away. "Show your face, traitor!"

They twist violently beneath me, their wings beating desperately against mine as we plummet. I tuck my own wings close to my body to block their clawed attacks.

The hood shifts, revealing a glimpse of a jawline, but before I can tear it completely away, a brutal impact explodes between my shoulders. My grip rips free from the assailant’s neck as I spiral. My wings flare wide to catch the air, but I’m too late.

I barely right myself before another body slams into me. Damn it. I let my rage blind me. Claws rip across my back, fire lancing between my shoulder blades. The first attacker strikes while I grapple the second. Two against one, this is not how the Vanguard is taught to fight. We fight with honor! This is cowardice!

Bracing my hands against my newest attacker's forearms as we grapple. I flatten my body, using the wind’s air currents to bring me level. I twist and slam my heel into the other's face. The impact reverberates up my leg, but I pay it no mind. My strike has hit its mark as their wings fold and they drop out of sight.

With a powerful flap of my wings, I rise above the last assailant. Our arms stay locked together. I’d lost my knife, but that’s ok, this one I may try to keep alive because I have questions that need answers.

"Who sent you?" I hiss, my fingers dig into their forearms as we spiral through the air.

The hooded figure doesn't speak, only struggles harder against my grip. I twist my body sharply, using the momentum to flip us so I'm above them.

"Answer me!" I demand. Their silence fuels my anger. The wind howls around us as we twist and turn in our aerial dance. I drive my knee into their stomach. They grunt but remain stubbornly mute. The only sound is their wings beating frantically against mine.

We continue to free-fall, shifting headfirst and begin to spin in a dizzying spiral. I catch a glimpse of silver beneath their cloak, another weapon.

I lunge for it. If they won’t speak, then there is no need for them to keep breathing.

My fingers close around the cold metal. "You'll die for nothing," I shout, yanking it from their belt. We drop through the clouds, twisting upright, our wings spread wide. As I thrust the dagger forward, they shift and impale it into their shoulder.

They hiss. I can see their teeth clench even through the mask. I can feel their look of pure fury as searing pain explodes across my side.

Fire burns through me, and I gasp as the air leaves my lungs. I glance down. The assassin had two blades, and one had found its mark. Right between my ribs. The pain is immediate, sharp, and consuming.

A harsh laugh escapes from beneath the hood as they yank me closer, twisting the knife deeper. "The throne demands sacrifice, Princess."

My vision blurs as white-hot agony radiates from the wound. Blood, my blood, trickles warm beneath my armor. My wings falter, struggling to slice the air with their usual precision. The assassin pulls back and braces their foot against my chest.

With a savage kick, I'm sent spiraling downward, my wings convulse against the wind. The knife remains lodged in my ribs, and each breath is a fresh torment as pain like liquid fire licks across my wings. I finally scream.

I plummet through the clouds, my scream tearing through the sky as my feathers burst alight. Fire sears through my wings like molten metal, spreading like a virus through my bones, my muscles, everything inside me screams as if it's being torn apart. I can’t think, only burn.

The world becomes a blur of a fiery Inferno and wind. The flames lash out, painting the sky in angry streaks of red and orange. They don't just consume me, they scorch the clouds around me, leaving behind a trail of black smoke.

I claw desperately at the air, but there’s nothing to grasp. The knife in my side sends shockwaves of agony with every movement. Blood trails float above me like a crimson ribbon, evaporating in the heat of my burning feathers as I plummet into the abyss.

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Thank You

Thank you for stepping into my world through the Bound in Ink.

This book is only one thread of the worlds I create and I am excited to share the full story with you soon on my reading app The Pack Library.

More is yet to come keep tabs on release dates for the app and full book via my social media on TikTok and Facebook.

Keep running with the pack.

——Sam 🌙

About the Author

“Write the book you want to read.”

I build worlds where rogues rise, love burns, and Queens never kneel.

I’m an independent author fueled by coffee, chaos, and a reckless need to throw fierce heroines and dangerously irresistible alphas into impossible, heart-stopping choices.

I write paranormal and dark romance filled with fated mates, forbidden desires, enemies-to-lovers battles, and the kind of passion that doesn’t just burn—it devours.

When I’m not crafting new ways to wreck my characters (and your heart), you’ll find me plotting my next twist, creating a little bookish magic, or whispering "Stay wild, pup," into the night.

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