Hum Saath Saath Hain Prem Preeti

Stellar Fragments: When Steam Meets the Void, Who Will Light the Last Star? The morning mist over Port Belen reeks of rust. Zhou Mingrui never expected a crumpled oilcloth bundle, scavenged from a dockside jump, to tear open a rift to the Astral Plane. But when he unwraps it—a leather-bound book with a seven-pointed star embossed on its cover, its pages swirling with constellations—he feels a primal pull, like the stars themselves are whispering his name. This is 1873, and Port Belen is a city teetering between progress and chaos. Steam engines roar, but the clocks tick backward. Corpses in morgues scribble "Eclipse Prayers." Dockworkers go mad, screaming of a "whale with a thousand eyes." All roads lead to Stellar Fragments, a forbidden text rumored to hold the key to stopping the Astral Leviathan—a colossal entity slumbering in the void, its awakening marked by the "Void Solstice": when seven stars align over Port Belen, and reality itself begins to unravel. "You have the Starwatcher’s mark," says Claire, the scarred astrologer of the Night Owl Society, sliding the book across a creaky oak table. Her brass bracelets clink with constellations. "The last Starwatcher vanished a decade ago, leaving only this warning: When the seven stars kiss the Void, the Leviathan wakes. Only the Starwatcher can anchor reality—by becoming part of the stars themselves." But Zhou is no hero. Just a grad student of 19th-century occultism, now trapped in a game of cosmic stakes: A steam-powered astrolabe explodes in his hands, its needle pointing to "Void." A noble heiress’s "spirit pigeons" grow feverish, pecking at the sky where the Leviathan’s "void eyes" glow. The city’s Eclipse Value—measuring the breach between worlds—creeps up: 0.01%, 0.03%, 0.05%... In the flickering light of an old church basement, the Night Owl Society gathers. Seven "Astral Artifacts" lie scattered: a moonstone gear humming with pale light, a cracked whistle that silences mad machinery, a pocket watch frozen mid-tick… Five more remain. Without them, the Leviathan’s shadow will consume Port Belen. But Stellar Fragments holds a final, blood-chilling clue: "To bind the stars, the Starwatcher must bleed." That night, the Leviathan rises. Its gargantuan form breaches the mist, scales glinting with countless eyes, each one staring at Zhou Mingrui—and the book clutched in his hands. He grips Stellar Fragments, recalling his professor’s words: "Occultism isn’t about controlling the cosmos. It’s about finding light in the dark." Now, with nothing but flesh and starlight as his weapons, Zhou must decide: Will he become a star to stop the void… or be swallowed by it?

In a universe where magic pulses like notes in a song and the impossible dances to the sound of past classics, lives Jonathan, a wanderer enchanted by the power of music. Born on Earth during the vibrant decades of the '60s, '70s, and '80s, Jonathan was torn from his time and thrown into a fantastical world—where spells are triggered by melodies, swords shine with guitar solos, and mystical creatures weep at the sound of a good blues. But in this new world, Jonathan carries a rare gift: his songs don’t just stir hearts—they awaken ancient powers, hidden even from the gods. On his journey, he’ll cross realms powered by magic, rebellion, and memory, forging unlikely alliances. In this cosmic rock/pop adventure filled with humor, wonder, and an unforgettable soundtrack, every song is a weapon, every chorus a key, and every beat… a call to battle. And if by the end of this journey you find yourself humming a forgotten hit that helped save the world, then Jonathan’s mission—and the author’s—will be complete.

Kaito was just an ordinary office worker—overworked, under-caffeinated, and nursing back pain from a chair he swore he’d replace six months ago. His only escape? Fantasy novels, strong tea, and the quiet hum of a café on a rare peaceful morning. Then came the blinding light. Now? He’s been accidentally summoned to a divine realm by a flustered priestess who mixed up the magical paperwork and pulled in the wrong guy. Oops. Stranded in a world not meant for him, Kaito finds himself face-to-face with a radiant Dragon Goddess named Aurelya—who can’t return him home, but offers him a blessing and a chance to start over in the magical land of Aurethria. Granted the unique skill Scholar’s Insight, which lets him read and understand all magical languages and ancient texts, Kaito begins his new life as a sixteen-year-old bookworm with no combat skills—but an overpowered brain. Can a sarcastic, tea-loving introvert survive in a world of scrolls, spells, and dragons? Can he keep his head down long enough to avoid divine attention? And will the Dragon Goddess ever stop feeling guilty for yeeting the wrong guy across dimensions? A slow-burn, slice-of-life isekai full of magic, mishaps, and unexpected bonds. Because sometimes, saving the world starts with being a cosmic mistake.

In a world where belief is forbidden and history has been rewritten, sixteen-year-old Ousse carries a dangerous memory—a tale whispered to him as a child, long erased from human knowledge. Isolated by grief and disillusionment, he’s thrust into a place beyond reality, where silence hums with power and nothing is as it seems. Guided by strange beings and cryptic riddles, Ousse begins to uncover a truth far older than his people’s laws. As visions of the past clash with the weight of his future, he must decide what it means to have faith in a world that punishes it—and whether forgotten stories still hold the power to reshape destiny. --- This version keeps things mysterious, focuses on Ousse’s emotional arc, and plants the seeds of the novel’s spiritual and philosophical core without spoiling who he meets or what he learns.

A forgotten impact. An ordinary life. And a presence not quite... human. Something lingers. Some truths don’t roar… They wait. A quiet transfer to a foreign branch—just a career step. Until the hum beneath reality begins to stir. An echo out of place. He didn’t come here for her… But she echoed something he lost. Not every anomaly is a glitch. Some are invitations. She thought she was just passing through. He shouldn’t exist— Not in this time. Not in this world. An unexpected moment. A spark in a written fate. Something ancient is waking in her orbit, Threading itself into her life. And the choice it brings isn’t loud— It’s quiet. Heavy. Unavoidable. A forgotten system... Once powered by something no longer understood. Emotion as technology. And she was never meant to run on logic alone.

——— I woke up to fingers running gently through my hair. At first, I thought I was dreaming, until the lullaby began. Low. Melodic. But wrong. It was that same language I'd heard through the walls, the one that makes your stomach twist and your teeth clench. She sat on the edge of my bed, I can’t see her face; it’s swallowed by the dark. But her hand keeps moving, slow and rhythmic, stroking my hair like she’s lulling something else to sleep. Her eyes are half-closed, swaying as she hums that twisted tune. And then I realize— I forgot to turn on my bedroom light before falling asleep. I kept my breathing slow and shallow, pretending to sleep. limbs screaming to move, to run, but something in me knows: Don’t let her know you’re awake. Don’t move. The singing stops. She sniffles. A choked, trembling sob leaks through her lips. She starts crying quietly, like she’s trying not to be heard. Like she’s afraid. “No...” she whispers, her voice cracking like a child’s. “He still dreams like a child… still soft…” I almost convince myself she’s sleep-talking— Until her hand suddenly tangles in my hair and pulls. I flinched and let out a sharp gasp. "Mama—!" She goes still. Her grip loosened… then shifts. Her fingers wrapped tightly around my trembling arms. Her face inches closer. I can smell her breath,..warm, wrong, too close. Her eyes are wide with terror. Her voice shakes as she hisses: “Don’t say anything." "Don’t say a word anymore.” I was too scared to speak. I couldn't even nod. She held me like that for a long, shuddering moment. Her breath was hot and ragged against my cheek. Her hands were too tight, like if she lets go, I’ll vanish. Her eyes darting around the room. Then, like a switch flipping, she goes completely still. "Mom?" I whispered, so softly it barely made a sound. She was at eye level with me. But she wasn't looking at me. She looked past me. Behind me.... No... no. It’s happening AGAIN. . This is not a safe novel. It's a collection of short, self-contained stories, each chapter unraveling a new descent, a different nightmare. Some stories are brief. Others not so. No heroes. No clean endings. Just answers that should have stayed buried. Read alone if you must. But don't say we didn't warn you. Reader Warning: This series contains psychological horror, disturbing imagery, death, and paranormal themes. Reader discretion is advised. Each chapter is a self-contained story, perfect for short, spine-tingling reads.

On the day of her wedding, Ivy Quinn vanishes, leaving behind only a note: "I’m sorry, I can't marry a blind man." To protect her son from heartbreak, Elizabeth Winters strikes a desperate deal—Ruby, Ivy’s identical twin, must take her sister’s place at the altar. Trapped by duty and family pressure, Ruby agrees, believing it will only last until Stefan’s eyesight is restored. But from the moment they marry, Stefan senses something is different about his "wife." The woman beside him is nothing like the shallow fiancée he once knew. She’s sharp, resilient, and understands his business in a way Ivy never did. Against all odds, he falls harder than ever for this new version of her. And Ruby? She never expected to fall in love with a man who was never meant to be hers. But just when she finds the courage to tell him the truth, Ivy returns, ready to reclaim the life she abandoned. When Stefan finally opens his eyes, will he see the woman who truly stood by him—or will he be too blind to recognize real love? ****Excerpt**** “By the way, did Ruby come to the wedding?” he asked, catching her off guard since she hadn't expected him to ask her that all of a sudden. Was he already suspecting that it was her and not Ivy? Ruby’s fingers froze on the door handle for just a fraction of a second. It was enough to set off alarms in Stefan's head. “I—uh…” She hesitated, but only briefly. “No. She had work. She couldn’t make it.” Was he suspecting a switch already? What must have set off the alarm in his head? Stefan hummed, tilting his head slightly. “Oh, I see. How is she, then? I hope she's coming to visit one of these days?” Her fingers tightened on the handle, though her voice remained steady. “Yeah. She would, the moment she is chanced and can come.” A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Stefan’s lips, though he kept his expression neutral. Interesting. Very interesting. His wife had just lied to him and he didn't know why. Even though he was blind, he'd find out why soon enough.

Caspian est l'héritier de la Meute Moonstone, mais lorsque ses parents meurent, il est privé de son droit d'aînnesse et traité comme un prisonnier. Il décide de partir, s'enfuyant à Haines City pour commencer une nouvelle vie. Ses projets sont instantanément interrompus lorsqu'il est kidnappé et vendu aux enchères, et il est acheté par nul autre que l'un des Rois de la Mafia qui dirigent la ville, Asher Knight. Asher laisse tomber son manteau, la lourde tenue tombant au sol avec un bruit sourd. Caspian observe cela avec appréhension, le Roi de la Mafia Asher paraissait immense avec le manteau, et sans celui-ci, il n'y avait pas grande différence. « Viens ici », ordonne-t-il calmement, les boucles d'oreilles dans ses oreilles visibles avec ses cheveux rouges foncés plaqués en arrière. Caspian secoue à nouveau la tête, il n'a aucune intention de parler, jamais. Parce que cela ne ferait que trahir son genre. « Je n'aime pas me répéter, Oméga. » Sa voix s'assombrit. Le cœur de Caspian bat douloureusement dans sa poitrine de peur, il ne veut vraiment pas s'approcher de l'Alpha. Il regarde la fenêtre avec envie avant de se forcer à faire un pas en avant, puis un autre, et un autre… CECI EST UNE HISTOIRE DE MAFIA 18+ DONC ELLE COMPORTERA DES THÈMES VIOLENTS ET MATURES, LIRE AVEC PRÉCAUTION.

Après avoir lutté dans l'apocalypse pendant dix ans, Yao Ran est morte et est revenue trois mois avant que tout ne commence. Elle revient avec de la haine et une soif de vengeance, déterminée à faire payer de leur vie ceux qui lui doivent. Avec l'héritage de son grand-père, Yao Ran a tout vendu et a frénétiquement accumulé des armes, des médicaments, de la nourriture, et des provisions. Elle a aiguisé son épée, stocké des provisions, réglé ses comptes avec les canailles et les méchants, et elle les a remerciés avec à la fois inimitié et gentillesse. Lorsque le désastre frappe, elle commence sa vengeance, affrontant un monde dangereux, et est déterminée à surpasser sa vie précédente.

EINE 18+ ALPHA-MAFIA-SERIE BUCH 1# GEFANGENE GEFÄHRTIN BUCH 2# RUNAWAY MATE -+- Caspian ist der Erbe des Moonstone Packs, aber als seine Eltern sterben, wird er um sein Geburtsrecht betrogen und wie ein Gefangener behandelt. Er beschließt zu gehen und nach Haines City zu fliehen, um ein neues Leben zu beginnen. Seine Pläne werden jedoch jäh unterbrochen, als er entführt und versteigert wird. Gekauft wird er von keinem Geringeren als einem der Mafia-Könige, die die Stadt regieren, Asher Knight. -+- Asher zuckte mit den Schultern seines Mantels, und das schwere Kleidungsstück fiel mit einem hörbaren Aufprall zu Boden. Kaspian beobachtete dies mit Besorgnis, Mafiakönig Asher hatte mit dem Mantel riesig ausgesehen, und ohne den Mantel gab es keinen großen Unterschied. "Komm her", befahl er ruhig, die Ohrringe in seinen Ohren waren sichtbar, während sein dunkelrotes Haar zurückgekämmt war. Kaspian schüttelte erneut den Kopf, er hatte nicht die Absicht zu sprechen, niemals. Denn das würde nur sein Geschlecht verraten. "Ich wiederhole mich nicht gern, Omega." Seine Stimme verfinsterte sich. Caspians Herz pochte vor Angst schmerzhaft in seiner Brust, er wollte dem Alpha wirklich nicht zu nahe kommen. Sehnsüchtig beäugte er das Fenster, bevor er sich zwang, einen Schritt vorwärts zu machen, dann noch einen, und noch einen... +- DIES IST EINE MAFIA-GESCHICHTE AB 18 JAHREN, ALSO WIRD SIE GEWALTTÄTIGE UND REIFE THEMEN ENTHALTEN, LEST SIE MIT VORSICHT.

[Avertissement : R18+] Quand la Haine se transforme en Amour... et la Vengeance en Passion... Va-t-il choisir de recommencer avec elle ? ======= L'âme de Floconphantôme s'est séparée de son corps après s'être suicidée devant son ennemi, Nathan Sparks, le Chef Suprême de la Mafia de Syphiruz. Elle se réveilla seulement pour découvrir que son corps (qui était dans un état de coma) était retenu captif par Nathan ‘le Diable !’, qui tentait de prolonger sa vie. Et quel était son motif ? La tuer de sa propre main et la torturer à mort ! Nathan éprouve un profond ressentiment envers Floconphantôme car elle a assassiné la personne la plus précieuse de sa vie. Il voulait sa revanche ! Et les choses sont devenues encore plus excitantes lorsqu'une créature magique apparut devant l'âme de Fantôme, lui donnant une mission ridicule en échange de la récupération de son corps. « Fais-le tomber amoureux de toi en 100 jours ! » dit la créature volante, pointant ses petites pattes vers Nathan qui se tenait sans expression à côté de son lit de malade. Avec des yeux ronds, Floconphantôme fit une tête ‘tu-plaisantes-j’espère’ à la créature volante. Pas question ! C'était une mission impossible ! Ce type la haïssait tant. Comment allait-elle faire ??! ****** Extrait : Nathan la saisit par le cou. « Ne joue pas de tours avec moi, Floconphantôme. » La voix froide de Nathan résonnait dans la pièce, ses yeux brûlant de rage. Mais Floconphantôme se contenta de lui sourire narquoisement, appuyant ses mains contre son torse, ses doigts le narguant. « Tu ne peux pas me tuer, Nate. Admets-le simplement. Tu es déjà tombé pour moi. » D'un mouvement rapide, Floconphantôme tira sur sa chemise, réduisant l'espace entre eux alors qu'elle écrasait ses lèvres contre les siennes. Étonnamment, Nathan se retrouva à répondre à son baiser. Il avait perdu ! Il ne pouvait pas lui résister. ===== Je possède la couverture du livre (=";"=) Artiste : Bea Cortez Rejoignez le serveur de l'Auteur pour obtenir des mises à jour et des annonces sur le livre. Lien Discord : https://discord.gg/WymeFaeQe

After dying a virgin, Elias Gray is given a second chance—reincarnated in a magical world with the "Lust System", a divine artifact that allows him to gain power by pleasuring women, fulfilling their desires, and growing a harem of elite lovers. From cold queens and fierce warrior women to shy beastgirls and seductive demons, Elias must dominate the world with charm, cunning—and unholy pleasure. But pleasure comes with a price, and not all lovers are loyal. Can he rise to the top without being devoured by lust or betrayal? Elias wandered through the bustling Travelers’ Hub, a sprawling nexus of portals and pathways where high-ranking voyagers crossed dimensions. The air hummed with the faint pulse of arcane energy, and the scent of ozone clung to the stone corridors. His boots echoed against the polished marble as he passed glowing sigils etched into the walls, each marking a gateway to another realm. He was no stranger to these halls, but tonight, a faint murmur from the inner chambers of the elite travelers piqued his curiosity. The voices were low, urgent, and laced with something primal that made his pulse quicken. Drawn toward a shadowed alcove, Elias noticed a heavy iron door, slightly ajar, its surface engraved with runes that pulsed faintly in the dim light. A cold draft slipped through the crack, carrying a whisper of sound—a soft, rhythmic moan that stirred the air. His breath caught, curiosity warring with caution, but the pull was too strong. He nudged the door open and stepped into a chamber cloaked in near-darkness, lit only by a single flickering torch that cast long, wavering shadows across the stone walls. In the center of the room, Lilith knelt on a plush velvet cushion, her silhouette unmistakable even in the gloom. Her dark hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, her skin glowing faintly as if kissed by moonlight. She was bent forward, her hands braced against the floor, her body arched in a way that spoke of surrender and desire. Beside her stood a man, his face marred with jagged scars that caught the torchlight, giving him a rugged, dangerous edge. His eyes burned with intensity as he gazed down at her, his presence commanding the room. The air grew thick as the man’s hand moved, deliberate and unhurried. He spat into his palm, the sound sharp in the quiet, and slid his fingers along Lilith’s exposed skin, tracing the curve of her thigh before slipping between her legs. A low, shuddering moan escaped her lips, her body trembling as she parted her thighs wider, inviting more. The man’s fingers worked with a slow, teasing rhythm, coaxing gasps from her that echoed softly off the stone walls. Her breaths grew ragged, her hips rocking against his hand, and then—a sharp cry as her body convulsed, a glistening rush of release spilling onto the floor beneath her. The man let out a deep, guttural groan, his own arousal evident in the tightening of his jaw. He shifted, freeing himself from his trousers, his erection thick and heavy in the flickering light. He pressed himself against her, sliding into her with a slow, deliberate thrust that drew a long, throaty moan from Lilith. Her fingers curled against the floor, nails scraping the stone as he moved, each thrust deep and measured, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the chamber. In and out, a steady rhythm that built with intensity, her gasps rising in pitch. Lilith’s eyes fluttered, her body quivering with pleasure as she pushed back against him, meeting each thrust with a hunger of her own. When he paused, drawing back slightly, she reached for him, her hand guiding him back inside with a desperate urgency. Her moans grew louder, unrestrained, as she surrendered fully to the sensation, her body trembling under the weight of her desire. The room seemed to pulse with their shared rhythm, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and heat, the torchlight casting their entwined shadows across the walls like a forbidden dance. R18 content

Samantha never expected to find magic in her hometown, let alone in a dimly lit bar on a rainy Tuesday night. Yet here she was, perched on a barstool at the Black Swan, her world about to tilt on its axis. The air thrummed with an otherworldly energy she couldn't quite place. Ethereal dancers moved like smoke across the floor, their bodies fluid and mesmerizing. As Samantha nursed her drink, she felt the weight of curious stares prickling her skin. That's when she saw him. Marcus. A name she didn't know yet, but one that would soon be etched into her very soul. Their eyes locked across the crowded room, and Samantha's breath caught in her throat. He moved with predatory grace, all lean muscle and barely restrained power. Their first interaction was as intoxicating as it was bewildering. One moment, he was her gallant protector, rescuing her from an overly aggressive drunk. The next, his eyes hardened to chips of ice as he snarled, "Stupid girl," before melting into the shadows. Samantha's mind reeled, but her body hummed with an excitement she couldn't explain. Little did she know, this encounter was merely the first step into a world beyond her wildest fantasies – a realm where vampires ruled the night and pain blurred exquisitely with pleasure. As she delved deeper into this hidden society, Samantha found herself drawn to the intoxicating blend of power, submission, and supernatural allure. The crack of a whip, the whisper of leather, the exquisite sting of fangs – each sensation pushed her boundaries and ignited desires she never knew existed. But with every ecstatic high came the sobering reality of danger. Vampire politics were as deadly as they were intricate, and Samantha soon realized she was a pawn in a game where the stakes were life, death, and eternal servitude. As she left the Black Swan that night, Samantha couldn't shake the feeling that she stood on the precipice of something life-changing. She had no idea how right she was, or how deeply she would fall into a passionate, dangerous dance with forces beyond her imagination. The real question was: in this world where pleasure and peril intertwined so intimately, would she emerge empowered... or lose herself completely?

Noen Vale was a boy whose song was never heard. On Earth, his dream of becoming a musician was crushed — by society, by family, and finally… by himself. One silent night, he gave up. And in that silence… his song ended too. But he didn’t stay silent. Not forever. He woke up in another world — a world where music isn’t just art… it’s magic. In this world, emotions are spells. Pain sings. Memories hum. And music doesn’t just heal wounds — it touches the soul itself. Now, Noen travels from city to city, not to become a star… but to make sure no broken heart stays unheard. But the deeper he plays, the darker the silence becomes. Because in this world… silence isn’t empty. Silence fights back. And sometimes, the loudest voice… is the one that was never heard.

Japan – National News Broadcast The polished news anchor sat upright, her gaze sharp as she adjusted the stack of papers before her. The newsroom behind her hummed with quiet urgency, the weight of the moment settling over the broadcast. "Authorities are baffled by a sudden and unexplained surge in sleep-related deaths across Japan," she began, her voice steady yet tense. "More and more citizens are passing away in their sleep without any prior health concerns. Experts are working tirelessly to determine the cause, but no clear explanation has emerged. Authorities urge the public to remain vigilant and report any unusual symptoms before bedtime." A graphic appeared, displaying the spike in fatalities over the past month. Behind her, unsettling photographs flickered across the screen—blurred images of individuals found in their beds, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. The anchor’s tone shifted. "Health officials recommend citizens avoid excessive fatigue and maintain healthy sleep habits. More updates will follow as investigations continue." --- United States – Paranormal Podcast In a dimly lit podcast studio, the host leaned forward, his eyes wide with curiosity. Across from him, a rugged man in a worn flannel shirt, gripping a faded photograph in one hand and a beer can in the other, leaned back in his chair. "So, you're telling me you saw this creature firsthand?" the host asked, clearly intrigued. The man scoffed, shaking his head. "Damn right, I did. Ugly thing had wings bigger than my body—slow but sneaky. Thought it could steal my pigs again, but I was ready this time—camera in one hand, shotgun in the other." He slammed the table for emphasis, then shoved the blurry image toward the host. The photograph depicted a small, red-skinned humanoid figure with large, bat-like wings, its eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. "Spit, the thing didn’t know what hit it when I fired!" the man chuckled, his voice full of excitement. The host held up the picture to the live chat. "Alright, what do you think? Mothman? Demon? Or is our friend here just seeing things?" The chat exploded with theories—some skeptical, others eager for the investigation to continue. --- China – Liangyuan Street Market Surveillance footage from a bustling night market in China captured a chilling scene. A woman in a red qipao walked gracefully through the crowd, her figure striking in the soft glow of lanterns. Suddenly, she paused. Her body flickered—like a glitch in a video—before vanishing completely, as though she had never existed. The footage zoomed in, replaying in slow motion. In the final frame before she disappeared, her face distorted unnaturally, her eyes hollow and empty. The screen cut abruptly to black.

Before breath. Before name. Before flesh. In the primordial sea where consciousness stirs before birth, two unborn souls drift through a dreamscape of forgotten gods, ancient truths, and shapeless teachings. Hector and Victoria are not yet children. Not yet anything. But in this realm outside of time, they awaken — and learn. Guided by beings long erased from memory, they explore a world woven from thought itself — the Web of Consciousness, where every being’s magic is born and defined. From gods of grief and forgotten desire to elemental truths etched into silence, each encounter grants Hector and Victoria power, wisdom, and mystery. They are not told who they will become — only that the thread they weave is different. But they are not alone. Far across the mortal world, an empress makes a pact with an angel, bearing a child shaped by divine law. In the decaying lands of demons, a king’s hatred invites an angel of rebellion to bear another child, one destined for destruction. And in secret, two archangels violate sacred edict and conceive a third soul — a child born of balance, to stand between salvation and ruin. This child is Hector. As Hector and Victoria grow closer in the formless void, sharing dreams, pain, and a haunting hum they vow never to forget, their bond deepens. But their birth into the physical world looms, and with it, the unraveling of everything they’ve come to understand. Three children. Three origins. One world that cannot hold them all.

"Tu me détestes," articula silencieusement Lily avec des lèvres tremblantes. Zayn se pencha plus près, sa voix basse et amère. "Non. La haine est trop bon marché. Je veux que tu ressentes ce que j'ai ressenti. Chaque cri. Chaque perte." Elle n'a pas tressailli. Elle était fatiguée de supplier. Elle le regardait simplement avec des yeux pleins de douleur silencieuse. Alors pourquoi avait-il l'impression que son cœur se brisait? Lily Brightpaw est née fille d'un Alpha, mais elle n'a jamais vécu comme telle. Muette depuis l'enfance et incapable de se transformer, elle était traitée comme une malédiction par sa famille. Blâmée pour la mort de sa mère et battue jusqu'au silence, Lily a grandi sans amour et indésirable. Elle croyait que la Déesse de la Lune lui enverrait un compagnon qui la sauverait, mais elle avait tort. La nuit où sa meute est tombée, Lily a été traînée hors d'une cabane et jetée aux pieds de son nouvel Alpha, Zayn Knightmoon. Il était l'homme que sa famille avait asservi. Maintenant, il est l'alpha qui règne sur elle et il veut se venger. Zayn a tout perdu. Son père. Sa compagne. Sa meute. Tout aux mains de la famille de Lily. Quand il a réalisé que Lily était sa seconde chance de compagne, il l'a rejetée sans hésitation et a juré de la faire souffrir. Mais plus il la punissait, plus il voyait la vérité: Lily n'était en rien comme les monstres qui l'avaient élevée. Elle est aussi une victime et brisée... comme lui. Zayn s'est retrouvé déchiré entre la vengeance et un lien qu'il n'a jamais demandé. La souffrance de Lily sera-t-elle suffisante pour apaiser les fantômes de son passé ou la vengeance les détruira-t-elle tous les deux?

Time, as it always does, moved on. Months turned to seasons, and eventually, a year passed. There was no word from Tae or Sechan. But Kwon and Jungwon stayed close, focused on their studies, building a quiet, stable world of their own. They learned how to live with the ghosts of yesterday — or at least, how to keep them in the background. Jungwon decided it was time to move. His apartment — too full of memories and silence — had started to suffocate him. His father had sent some money from abroad, and he thought it was the perfect time for a change. Kwon didn't know Jungwon lived alone. He had always assumed he stayed with relatives. That illusion shattered the day he visited and saw how empty and quiet the place truly was. "You live alone?" Kwon had asked, shocked. "Yeah," Jungwon admitted simply. Kwon didn't like it. It didn't sit well with him at all. When Jungwon mentioned wanting to move, Kwon's shoulders eased in relief. "What if we shared the new place?" he asked carefully. "That's fine with me… but what about your grandma?" Jungwon asked. "What if we move in with her? Into a bigger apartment?" Jungwon suggested. Kwon smiled. "If that's okay with you…" "It is," Jungwon replied with a gentle smile. It took weeks of searching, planning, and saving — but they eventually found the perfect apartment. A quiet corner of the city, peaceful and just far enough from the noise of their past. They moved in together. Life felt lighter. Jungwon smiled as he arranged his things. They were finally free. No one knew where they lived now — not even his father, and certainly not Tae or Sechan. They had left those haunted homes behind — and the people they once waited for. Two Years Later Graduation came, and with it, a peaceful end to that phase of life. Jungwon and Kwon had grown stronger, steadier, grounded in the world they built together. But the past, as always, had its own plans. Back in Korea, Sechan stood on the balcony of his new house. He was no longer a student — he was now the CEO of Light Corps. Tae, too, had returned from the U.S., inheriting his father's company, Yosan Industries. They had both tried — countless times — to reach out. But the numbers no longer worked. In desperation, they visited Jungwon and Kwon's old apartment buildings, only to hear the same thing from neighbors: "They moved out… almost two years ago." The guards reported the news to them. Tae sat in his office late into the night, staring at an old photo of Kwon. A candid shot from school — Kwon laughing with his hair caught in the wind. "Did you do this on purpose?" he whispered. "Running away from me…" He touched the image, eyes misty. "I told you I'd come back. And here I am. But since you ran away… I'll find you again. No matter what it takes." Miles away, Sechan stood alone in his quiet home, the same report ringing in his ears. He gave a soft, broken smile. "I knew I was late. But you didn't have to hide like this… Guess he's happy he'll never have to see me again." He looked out the window, the city lights blurring in his vision. "But I'm not giving up." And somewhere, in a quiet apartment full of warmth and books and shared laughter, Kwon and Jungwon continued living — unaware of the footsteps drawing closer. The room was dim, cloaked in soft shadows. The only sound was the quiet hum of the night breeze brushing against the slightly open window. Kwon lay on his side, curled beneath the blanket, eyes wide open even though his body begged for sleep. But sleep wouldn't come — not tonight. As he stared at the ceiling, Tae's face drifted into his mind like a ghost refusing to fade. His eyes. That quiet confidence. The warmth that once made Kwon's chest flutter. He shut his eyes tightly. "I just hope you're okay… and that you've moved on," Kwon whispered silently in his heart, too afraid to say the words aloud. "It was just a crush, right? Just high school foolishness…" he told himself. "It's be

Two distant souls. One casual wave. A thousand almosts. In a world where glances linger longer than words, and silence speaks louder than promises, two people begin to drift closer—never quite colliding, never quite letting go. What starts as a gesture becomes a rhythm, and what was never supposed to mean anything slowly begins to mean everything. This is a story of slow-burning closeness, unspoken feelings, fractured friendships, and the dangerous beauty of being seen too deeply. Some love stories are loud. This one hums in the spaces between.

One must struggle to find meaning, in this universe they were born in, Humans suffer, humans endure, ergo, they are. Only when on a path of self-destruction is when a human grows to new bounds. Such is the nature of mankind, and those who think. Yet humans have a mind to each their own, and their own ways of thought, to cope, to think, to reason, to bargain with their own psyche and this is the way a human draws strength from their thought, put into actions. In the tapestry of the cosmos, they who fall, they who rise, all have their thoughts and actions that lead up to the zenith of their state. A mechanical voice rings out -- "If the truth of the universe and your existence is cruel and stale , would you still yearn for the answer to the ultimate question?" The young man, shrouded in white ponders upon the question with an inexplicable expression across his face as he floats in a vat of liquid .... to give an answer to the machine that has kept him alive. "Yes." The machine and its voice fluctuates as it rings out once more-- "With no end to hate and no boundaries to war, do you still wish, to venture outwards?" "...." "....." "I... do not know" "But..." "I wish to know...Who I am." The machines tone hums in the air for a brief few minutes as it seems to be thinking, calculating,analyzing the answer of the man...before the sounds of cogs rigidly spinning and wind depressurizing in tight columns fills the atmosphere...The door opens, as the liquid pours out onto the ground, the man taking a deep breath, falling unto the metallic ground. The machines voice, rings out once more, "Aureus... t-h-at i-i-i-is y-y-yo-yo-you-your na-----" The lights go dim, and then dark. The machine dims out its final light, never to speak again.

In the seemingly ordinary halls of Northwood High, Sam Gray Stone, a keen observer who finds solace in logic and quiet contemplation, notices Elliona Elfray, a brilliant but shy girl who perceives the world in intricate layers. Their initial connection is a subtle hum in the echoing quiet of the library, a shared glance that hints at unseen depths within their reserved exteriors. Drawn together by an unexpected partnership for an advanced English project, Sam and Elliona begin to navigate not just the complexities of literature, but also the uncharted territories of their own minds. Through hushed conversations in the library, a chance encounter at a stubbornly locked locker, and an unexpected shared appreciation for fantastical realms found in books, a quiet resonance begins to form between them. Their connection deepens beyond academics during a visit to a quirky independent bookstore and a shared afternoon tending a community garden. In each subtle interaction, they discover a kindred spirit in the other – someone who sees beyond the surface, who understands the unspoken language of their quiet souls. As their bond strengthens, they find solace and understanding in each other's presence, a refuge from the often-cacophonous world around them. But as their feelings blossom, they must navigate the delicate balance of their introverted natures and the often-awkward realities of high school life, including the well-meaning but disruptive presence of Sam's boisterous friend, Dickson. Through shared literary passions, quiet moments of vulnerability, and gentle acts of kindness, Sam and Elliona slowly, carefully, begin to acknowledge the profound connection growing between them. "Subtle Resonance" is a story about the quiet power of observation, the beauty of understated connection, and the transformative journey of two introspective souls finding their voice and their heart in the gentle echo of another's understanding. It's a reminder that the deepest connections are often found not in grand gestures, but in the subtle, resonant moments that speak volumes.

The sky shimmered with twin suns, casting warm hues over rolling hills and ancient forests. The air itself buzzed with an unseen energy, and the very ground beneath his feet hummed faintly, as if alive with secrets waiting to be unraveled. He blinked against the unfamiliar light, confusion etched across his face. But confusion quickly gave way to awe. A bird soared overhead, trailing glimmers of blue light in its wake. Nearby, a child pointed a finger at a fallen branch, whispering a single word—and the wood floated into the air, spinning gently before settling neatly into a bundle. Magic. It was real. Tangible. Everywhere. In that moment, a hunger was born in him. Not a hunger for food, nor for wealth or fame, but something far deeper—a yearning. A need. An obsession. The magic of this world, this radiant, endless force that danced in the air and bled through every leaf and stone, had sparked something inside him. And each passing day only fanned that flame higher. His only goal became understanding Magic and growing in Magic. It consumed his thoughts. He chased rumors of ancient scrolls, watched from shadows as mages cast their spells, and spent sleepless nights sketching symbols he didn’t yet understand. He would kneel before old statues and listen to forgotten songs, desperate to catch even a whisper of arcane truth. Because he knew—knowledge was the key. The key to understanding this world. The key to understanding Magic. And knowledge… was the key to understanding the Universe.

"Je t'ai dit de ne pas me toucher," Audrey dit. "Devant les gens," Il lui rappela. Audrey pouvait sentir le sourire narquois dans sa voix. ~~~ Les dix-sept années d'Audrey dans la meute du Sang Gris étaient comme un animal en cage. Elle vivait chaque jour en redoutant la prochaine chose inattendue pour laquelle l'Alpha pouvait la punir. Audrey a essayé fort de comprendre le rêve mystérieux qu'elle faisait, mais rien n'avait de sens pour elle, elle était perdue. Elle souhaitait être libérée de la meute du Sang Gris, mais elle perdit tout espoir de survie quand elle se retrouva enfermée et enchaînée dans le sombre donjon froid. Elle le détestait, elle le maudit alors que son sang s'écoulait d'elle. Elle était heureuse de mourir et de s'éloigner de ce monstre d'alpha. Audrey se réveilla dans un monde magique où elle a tout appris sur elle-même, elle s'est cultivée pour devenir la plus forte des loups et des sorcières vivants. Un objet, cependant, l'a ramenée au dernier endroit où elle voulait être. L'Alpha Aloha Lake régnait sur la meute du Sang Gris, la plus grande et la plus forte meute des États-Unis. Il était connu pour être brutal, même la mafia le craignait. Rien ni personne ne le dérangeait, sauf une; la fichue garce Audrey. Il la détestait, et il la ferait payer pour les péchés de sa mère. Mais il ne pouvait pas encore la tuer... L'Alpha Lake regardait sans émotion le corps ensanglanté d'Audrey qui gisait sur le sol froid du donjon, il ordonna à son bêta de se débarrasser d'elle sans y réfléchir à deux fois. Un an plus tard, les ennemis se rencontrèrent à nouveau. La haine sera-t-elle la seule émotion qu'ils partagent ? Pourraient-ils résister à l'attraction fatale qu'ils ressentaient l'un pour l'autre ?

AN 18+ ALPHA MAFIA SERIES BOOK 1# CAPTIVE MATE BOOK 2# RUNAWAY MATE BOOK 3# DANGEROUS MATE -+- Caspian is the heir to Moonstone Pack but when his parents die, he’s cheated out of his birthright and treated like a prisoner. He decides to leave, running off to Haines City to start a new life. His plans are instantly cut short when he's kidnapped and auctioned off, and he is bought by none other than one of the Mafia Kings running the city, Asher Knight. -+- Asher shrugged his coat off, the heavy outfit falling to the ground with an audible thud. Caspian watched this happen in apprehension, Mafia King Asher had looked huge with the coat on, and with the coat off, there wasn’t much of a difference. “Come here,” He ordered calmly, the earrings in his ears visible with his dark red hair slicked back. Caspian shook his head again, he had no intention of speaking, ever. Because that would only give away his gender. “I don’t like to repeat myself, Omega.” His voice darkened. Caspian’s heart thudded painfully in his chest in fear, he really didn’t want to get anywhere near the Alpha. He eyed the window longingly before forcing himself to take a step forward, then another, and another… +- THIS IS AN 18+ MAFIA STORY SO IT WILL INCLUDE VIOLENT AND MATURE THEMES, READ WITH CAUTION.

Four weeks into the apocalypse, the world fell silent—but not dead. Cassius Parish, a 27-year-old genderless recluse, was left behind by the very team he helped survive. Betrayed, bleeding, and starving, he wandered alone until fate—or something far older—led him to an abandoned underground bunker buried miles beneath the rot of civilization. Above ground, the Crimson Halo spreads. A viral mutation marked by a red ring blooming in the eyes of the infected—seconds before their bodies twist into grotesque horrors. Below ground, the quiet hum of machines offers a strange comfort… and something more. Cassius awakens a rare phenomenon: the Shelter Ascension System, whispered of in survivor channels—if those even still exist. His bunker becomes Shelter 13, an anomaly among ruins. With it comes more than just power, roles, and upgrades—it brings memories best left buried and responsibilities he never asked for. Now, Cassius must build—not just walls or defenses, but a sanctuary for those who still breathe. Yet survival has a price. And the deeper the shelter grows, the more it remembers the past… even the parts Cassius tried to forget. After all, shelters don’t rise for free. And sometimes, the dead knock first.

A mysterious girl. A kingdom that whispers. And six crown princes who never saw her coming. In a world where names echo and silence is often overlooked, she arrives—unexplained, unshaken, and unforgettable. Kourtney Bethaway appeared in Hillgovia six months ago—out of nowhere. With eyes that saw more than they ever revealed, and an elegance that didn’t try to impress, she carried an air that drew attention without asking for it. Working under the famed designer Jean Perrie, she lived like a shadow stitched into silk—quiet, composed, impossible to place. Everything begins to shift the night she crosses paths with six crown princes from the allied kingdoms. Tension hums. Glances sharpen. Something about her draws attention—quietly, stubbornly. Not loud, not deliberate, but there. Present in every pause, in every breath held just a little too long. They don’t know who she is. She doesn’t explain. She doesn’t ask for their attention. But something about her demands it all the same. Because sometimes, the most unforgettable storms don’t arrive loudly. They enter the room and say nothing—wrapped in silence, cloaked in grace. And just as the world begins to notice her— She disappears. No trace. No warning. No answers. Only the memory of a girl who felt like a question no one knew how to ask… And the unsettling sense that her story isn’t done. Not yet.

In a city humming with secrets and saxophones, two women drift toward the same smoky stage- one chasing escape, the other chasing survival. Beneath dim lights and over spilled gin, the night bends for no one. But when a voice unlike any other slices through the haze, everything stills. Glances linger. Time forgets itself. Whispers follow in the dark, but not all of them come from the mouths of men. Some stories are sung. Others are stolen. And some-some only begin when the music starts. Chapter updates every other 2-3 weeks.

25 années se sont écoulées depuis le dernier conflit entre Dérios et Spyr. Pourtant les relations entre les deux cités sont toujours au plus bas et l'ombre de la guerre n'est pas loin. Deux déesses s'affrontent pour faire triompher leur foi sémant dans leur sillage les graines de la discorde entre leurs peuples. L'arrivée d'un héraut que l'on croyait disparu pour l'éternité risque bien d'etre l'étincelle qui ranimera la flamme de la haine. Le sort des Hommes sera-t-il réduit aux caprices des Dieux ou bien ces derniers seront-ils l'artisan de leur propre perte ?

The entire nation was eagerly watching the grand wedding between two of the biggest real estate empires—"Royal Estates" and "Prem Real Estate." This wasn’t just a union of two hearts, but a merger of two kingdoms. However, the groom, Romi, the son of Royal Estates' owner, seemed unusually gloomy about the wedding. Meanwhile, the bride, Preeti, daughter of Prem Real Estate's owner, Prem Chaudhary, ran away just before the ceremony! Now, Prem Chaudhary was in deep trouble—his business deals, family honor, and reputation were all on the line. In desperation, he remembered something—his daughter had a twin brother, Monty, who looked exactly like her! In a moment of panic, he came up with a wild plan—Monty would take Preeti’s place as the bride! Monty: "Dad, have you lost your mind? I'm a guy!" Prem Chaudhary: "Until Preeti is found, you ARE Preeti!" Monty: "But…!" Prem Chaudhary: "Son, sometimes, saving honor requires a little lipstick!" To save his family’s pride, Monty had no choice but to go through with this bizarre wedding. Hidden beneath the bridal veil, he was sweating bullets, but no one suspected a thing. After the ceremony, Romi gently told his “bride”

He died. Then woke up somewhere worse. --- A truck hit him. That much he remembers. But when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in heaven, hell, or a hospital. He was somewhere else. A world that looked like Earth — but twisted. Stretched. Echoing. Where the moon never sets, and the night sky hums with a sound that isn’t sound. Where people lock their doors and say nothing about what happens after dark. Where every step feels like a mistake, and every corner hides something that knows your name. He doesn’t have powers. He doesn’t even remember his name. Only a broken sword, an uneasy companion, and the sick feeling that this world doesn’t want him alive. And yet… when he fights — Something responds. The stars twitch. The sky listens. And the ground seems to remember who he used to be. This isn’t a story about leveling up. This is a story about not dying before you understand what’s going on. --- Welcome to the night. Don’t look up.