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Torch

A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate

[Trigger Warning: This dark fantasy romance contains mature themes.] --- SYNOPSIS: •A WORLD BUILT ON LIES• Long ago, humans lived unaware of the supernatural beings hidden among them—werewolves with their primal instincts, witches whispering spells in the dark, and elves with their ancient, watchful eyes. For centuries, they coexisted in fragile silence. Then, everything shattered. Near the shadow-drenced woods of the Shadow pack kingdom, human traveler stumbled upon a gruesome scene: an old woman’s lifeless body, her skin ashen, her wounds gaping like accusations. A few paces away lay a dead werewolf, its throat ripped open, its muzzle still flecked with blood. The truth was undeniable—monsters walked among them. Fear ignited war. Humans, armed with fire and steel, hunted the supernatural races. Witches and elves were dragged into the slaughter, their homes burned, their people butchered. The bloodshed raged until King Alfred V of the Amethyst Kingdom stood before the four Werewolf Kings—Silverhowl, Crimsonheart, Shadow, and Wildfire—and offered a deal drenched in poison. A sacrifice for peace. Every twenty years, each human family would surrender a daughter to the werewolves. And in return, the future Alpha Kings must wed a human—or the war would reignite. The werewolves agreed. The witches and elves retreated, their hatred festering like an open wound. The world remained fractured, its peace a fragile lie. --- •THE PROPHECY OF FIRE• In the hidden Blaze Tribe, where crimson eyes burned like embers, the seer Prophetia foresaw annihilation. "Our people will fall," she rasped, her voice trembling. "But from the ashes, a girl will rise—the one who will bring true peace… and the one they will slaughter for it." The tribe made a desperate pact. They would cast a spell—a curse of forgotten memory—erasing their existence from the world’s mind. Their souls would be the price, but their legacy would live on in Ovelia, the child of prophecy. The night the Blaze Tribe fell, Ovelia’s parents hid her in the whispering forest, their hands shaking as they sealed a goddess—Firera—inside her infant body. Then, they turned to face their doom. --- •FATE’S CRUEL WHISPER• Ace Draven—half-werewolf, half-witch prince of Silverhowl—had never believed in destiny. Until he found a crying infant in the forest. His wolf, Fenrir, howled in recognition. A crimson thread shimmered between them—mates. But Firera, watching from within Ovelia’s soul, snarled. "She’s a child. This is too soon." With a flick of her wrist and spell, she tore the memory from Ace’s mind, leaving only an empty ache in his chest. --- •TWENTY YEARS LATER: A SACRIFICE IGNITES• Ovelia has spent her life as a slave, raised by the cruel mayor of Timberline Village—a man who would gladly sacrifice her to spare his own daughter. The night of the sacrifice, the air reeks of damp earth and iron. Torches flicker as the werewolves emerge from the shadows. And then—Ace Draven steps forward. Their eyes meet. Fenrir *howls*. Ace’s claws unsheathe, his breath ragged. "You…" He doesn’t understand why his wolf is clawing at his ribs, why his pulse hammers at the sight of this stranger. But the bond between them burns hotter than vengeance. Ovelia doesn’t know him. He doesn’t recognize her. And yet, their souls scream in unison.
FantasiaLia09 · 126.4K Views

"Lust system": Rise of the Harem lord

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
Obaze_Emmanuel · 76.4K Views

Re: The System's Harvester

My name is Evren Lestir. Once, I was a girl who saw the world in colors so bright, they could warm even the coldest soul. But life has a cruel way of testing even the brightest flames. After losing everything I held dear, I drifted through a hollow existence—numb to the world, blind to its colors, and deaf to its call. I thought nothing could reignite the light I lost. Then The System found me. With shimmering blue panels and words that hummed like perfect promises, it pulled me into another reality—a maze of endless worlds stitched together by missions, monsters, and the illusion of progress. A labyrinth where forward was the only option. At first, I thought it was salvation. Each step, each battle, each drop of blood painted forgotten colors back into my world. I grew drunk on the hues I had lost, chasing the sky’s beauty with a childlike wonder, believing the fields and hills before me were all there was. But a torch shining in a narrow corridor can make even a prison look like a palace. In truth, I was a frog at the bottom of a well, gazing at a fragment of a sky—naïve to the infinite world beyond the gritty stone walls built by The System. But after a mistake in that omnipotent construct, I found myself peeking through a crack in the wall, presented with a fragment of the truth I never saw. This maze was never meant to be escaped. It was never meant to be climbed—not even to glimpse the sky beyond. Yet through that slender crack, a flicker of sunlight ignited something long-buried within me—a spark of the campfire I once carried. I will chase that light. I will see beyond these walls. And I will remember the world they tried to bury. Even if every strike I make against the walls sends ripples of ruin through the maze.
Commander_843 · 2.7K Views

WarLords : Ice Viking's

The cold stone hall was dimly lit with flickering torches. Shadows stretched long across the floor. At the far end of the room, the King sat high on his throne, surrounded by High Lords, Generals, and Counselors. Silence hung thick in the air as the Ice Viking entered. He stood in the center, arms at his side, eyes forward. “Viking,” the King called from his seat. Varnok didn’t move. “Yes,” he replied flatly. One of the High Lords stood up in anger. “In the presence of your King—you kneel!” The knights draws their Swords. Varnok stayed still. “You’re not my king,” he said calmly. The King raised a hand. The knights lowered their swords. “Let him be,” the King said, leaning forward. “Ice Viking… step forward.” Varnok walked slowly across the cold stone floor. “There is war between the Vikings and this kingdom,” the King said. Varnok kept walking. “It’s your kingdom,” he answered. “That has nothing to do with me.” The lords murmured in outrage. “You think they’ll stop there?” the King asked, raising a hand for silence. “You know what those animals are like. Vikings… they don’t stop until they’ve burned everything to ash.” “And yet I’ve protected the village just fine,” Varnok said. “Without your help. Like it’s always been.” “Without my help, there’d be no village to protect,” the King snapped. “There is a village,” Varnok said, meeting his eyes. “And not once have you offered it your help.” “King... please. What an excuse.” The king nodded toward the general standing beside him. Without hesitation, the general stepped forward and struck Varnok across the face. Then a second punch to the stomach. Finally, a heavy kick to the leg. Varnok dropped to one knee. “Good,” the King said, tipping his goblet and pouring wine over Varnok’s head. “Like the animal you are.” Murmurs filled the hall. > "What an animal." "Fits clearly—a dog." "All Vikings should just die." "Disgusting things." The King laughed with joy as he was Pleased by the words of the people. He leaned forward again, with his voice low. “Maybe we should start with your wife… and child.” The room fell into a deadly stillness. Varnok’s eyes snapped open—glowing bright, ice-blue. A shiver cut through the entire hall. The ground began to vibrate. Goblets trembled. Torches flickered lower. Then came his voice—cold, deep, inhuman. Like the cracking of ancient glaciers. “If a single breath so much as brushes their skin…” “I will bring down such ruin upon this kingdom that even the crows will starve for lack of flesh. I will freeze your rivers. Silence your bells. And watch your palace rot from the inside—As your screams echo in halls no one dares enter. Pray your tongue forgets their names… before I remember yours.” No one moved everywhere was silent. Even the air seemed too afraid to stir.
vickysfantasy · 7.9K Views

Jabir Bin Hayyan

Born in 721 CE to an Arab apothecary executed for aiding the Abbasid rebellion, young Jabir ibn Hayyan inherits his father’s revolutionary spirit and scientific curiosity. After fleeing Umayyad soldiers with his mother, he finds refuge in Yemen under astronomer-alchemist Harbi al-Himyari. There, Jabir masters celestial navigation and Greek philosophy, but his defining moment comes when he distills seawater into purity using a clay alembic – awakening his lifelong obsession with transformation. Witnessing mercury-poisoned miners, however, forces a moral reckoning: "Knowledge must serve life, not death." At nineteen, bearing encrypted formulas from his father, Jabir seeks Imam Ja’far al-Sadiq in Medina. Surviving the Imam’s philosophical trials, he becomes his star pupil. Under Ja’far’s guidance, Jabir synthesizes nitric acid ("water that bites stone") and learns to frame experimentation as spiritual devotion. He meets Fatima, a fierce scholar challenging gender barriers, who becomes his intellectual partner. When political pressure mounts, they establish a secret laboratory in Jabir’s ruined childhood home in Kufa. Here, Jabir pioneers systematic chemistry – distilling rose attar, documenting reactions, and encrypting truths in symbolic texts. "Truth corrodes unprepared minds," he warns as orthodox scholars brand him a heretic. His innovations attract the powerful Barmakid family. Summoned to Baghdad’s glittering court in 775 CE, Vizier Ja’far al-Barmaki demands gold transmutation. Jabir stuns nobles by producing ammonium chloride from hair but refuses military applications. "Knowledge must feed the hungry, not kill them," he declares, instead developing steel plows and canal sealants that save thousands from floods. Patronage proves perilous: spies steal his waterproofing formula, and Fatima must run a hidden women’s lab. When the Barmakids fall in 803 CE, soldiers torch Jabir’s workshop. He escapes with core manuscripts, including his evolving *Kitab al-Sab’een* (*Book of Seventy*), framing chemistry as cosmic balance: "As mercury unites metals, knowledge unites soul and cosmos." Exiled and arthritic in Raqqa, Jabir works in a dye shop cellar, refining hydrochloric acid while evading spies. He mentors young apprentice Abu Musa, stressing ethics over ambition: "Record every failure – they light the path." Testing arsenic antidotes on himself, he nearly dies but proves their efficacy. As Abbasid enforcers close in, he buries manuscripts in Qum desert jars. Now aging and grieving Fatima’s slow poisoning from mercury exposure, he returns to Kufa. In a final laboratory beneath an indigo shop, he completes his life’s work – quantifying elemental interactions via the *mizan* (balance) system. Surrounded by a mob demanding gold, he whispers his last truth to Abu Musa: "The true elixir is knowledge multiplied through time." Jabir dies in 815 CE, but his legacy ignites a chain reaction. His students smuggle 500+ treatises to Baghdad’s House of Wisdom. By the 12th century, Latin scribes in Toledo translate his works as "Geber," inspiring medieval alchemists. Roger Bacon studies his *Summa Perfectionis*; Newton annotates his texts. Modern spectroscopy confirms his elemental theories, sustainable chemists revive his techniques, and AI reconstructs his charred manuscripts. From the mercury-stained laboratories of 8th-century Kufa to the quantum equations of today, Jabir’s encrypted wisdom endures: the noblest transmutation is not lead into gold, but curiosity into enduring light.
Emad_Sadiq · 1.6K Views

Frost-fire: The Curse of Ashen Chains

In the vast and mystical world of Alvalor, where magic flows through the land and forgotten ruins whisper of lost civilizations, two unlikely companions find themselves ensnared in a fate far beyond their reckoning. Vaelin Crowne, a sharp-minded strategist known for his cool demeanor, believes that logic and preparation can solve any problem. Kael Veydris, a reckless yet magnetic force of nature, thrives on instinct and unshakable optimism. Despite their differences, they share one thing in common—an insatiable curiosity. What was meant to be a simple field trip to explore the legendary Labyrinth of Nox quickly turns into a nightmare when they get lost in the labyrinth maze, leaving them trapped in its depths. With no clear way out, Vaelin’s calculated approach and Kael’s gut-driven decisions become their only hope of escape. But when they stumble upon an ancient door, an eerie darkness spills from within, swallowing all light. As they ignite a torch, the shadows retreat just enough to reveal two statues—one depicting a god, radiant and divine, the other a demon, twisted and wrathful. Before they can speak, a chilling gust snuffs out the flame. Then, chains came. A shackle with a long, rusted chain lashed out from the abyss, snapping around Kael’s wrist and yanking him into the consuming darkness. Vaelin barely had time to react before another chain coiled around him, dragging him forward, his vision swallowed by an endless void. When they awaken, gasping for breath, they are no longer in the labyrinth’s depths but standing at its entrance—marked. Heavy iron shackles, now with broken chains, rest upon their wrists, the only proof that what happened was real. The curse has bound them, though to what end remains unknown. They escaped from the labyrinth … but How did it happen? With time slipping through their fingers and the unseen weight of the curse tightening around them, Vaelin and Kael must unravel the mystery of what happened inside the labyrinth before the curse consumes them.
Henry_Stone_7770 · 3K Views

rare connection

Life is given for free but happiness comes with a cost that many can't afford to pay. *********** Even with the dark grey clouds that hovered over the vast sky and the dim light provided by the fire torch that was on the verge of being blown off by the wind, he could still see the glimmer in her eyes. The very same glimmer that appeared in those brown eyes everytime she was happy and for some reason, tonight he was unable to resist hir urges to steal a part of her. She was still standing by the door waiting for him to leave but he had not taken more than three steps before he halted and turned. His features were darker in contrast to the white shirt that he wore and the look on his face was a predatory one. Instead of getting scared, she watched him take the three stairs that led to her room's door and he was a few inches away from her, he finally spoke up. "If there is one thing that I hate, it's having regrets and I know that I will regret if I do not do this." A part of her was confused by his words and another part felt like she knew what he meant by those words. Before she even had a chance to contemplate on what he had just said, he leaned closer, curled his index finger on her pointed chin and tilted her in an angle such that she could feel his cold breath on her face that caused a shiver to run down her spine. Like she had been hypnotized, all she could do was to stare in those obsidian eyes that had held her captive. "This is a mistake that I want to commit again and again." His breath fanned on her face and goosebumps formed on her skin. Not because of the wind, but because of the effect he had on her. If it was some time before, she would have probably pushed him away or maybe escaped but as time had passed by, her feelings towards him had changed...
Rityshah · 102.3K Views

Ash Runner

In the Ashen Reach, a cursed wasteland of black dunes and ember-storms, Torv “Ash” Kren runs alone, hauling glowing ember-shards in a battered sled. Once a raider, he quit when his crew torched innocence—now he trades magic fuel for water, machete chipped, coat patched, one job from death. An ember-storm cracks his sled—shards spill—when Lysa “Ember” Vey stumbles from the haze, half-dead, clutching a red-hot Core Ember worth a fortune or a grave. Lysa’s an ash-witch—bends shards into fire-blades, hunted by warlord Krax for a 10,000-shard bounty. She offers Torv 2,000 to run her to the Free Drift, rebel camp past the Dune Wall—or leave him dry in the sand. Torv’s gut says ditch her—warlord’s hounds close—but her ember buys time, and his Ash Runner Sense wakes: kills earn miles, power grows. They trek—raiders bleed, storms burn—Torv’s machete sings (+500 miles, Dune Dash), Lysa’s fire cuts deep. Krax’s dogs tear closer—ember-teeth glint—when the Core cracks, whispering: “Free me, claim all.” Truth hits: Lysa’s bounty’s fake—Krax wants the Core that cursed the Reach. Torv’s past crew died for it—he’s bound to the ash. Miles climb (Ash Veil, 1,000)—lungs scar, Lysa’s shard burns her grip. At the Dune Wall, Krax looms—Torv carves, Lysa flares—Core shatters, Reach shakes. Warlord falls—shards rain—but Torv’s ash-coated, Lysa’s bleeding. A new ember glows west—next run calls. Grind, fire, survival—will Torv and Lysa outrun the curse, or burn in it?
Javu_Anele · 10.5K Views

Legacy of Unity

In the picturesque town of Lekki, nestled between lush forests and pristine beaches, the lives of Michael and Emma intertwine in a story of love, purpose, and the enduring power of unity. Michael, a talented scout player and a dedicated environmentalist, and Emma, a skilled footballer with a heart as big as her dreams, share a passion for both the beautiful game and the preservation of the natural world. Their love story unfolds amidst the backdrop of a close-knit community where dreams take root and compassion knows no bounds. But their journey is not just one of romance; it's a journey of purpose. Together, they embark on a mission to create positive change in their beloved town. They establish a football academy that not only hones young talents but also nurtures responsible citizens who understand the value of community. As their family grows, so does their commitment to environmental conservation. Michael becomes a global advocate, rallying support to protect the planet from the brink of crisis. Emma, with unwavering dedication, ensures that the town of Lekki remains a haven for nature and its inhabitants. Their legacy extends far beyond the town's borders. Their children, inspired by their parents' values, venture into diverse fields, from healthcare to education, carrying forward the torch of unity and service. "Legacy of Unity" is a heartfelt tale that transcends generations. It's a story of love that deepens with time, of dreams chased with unwavering determination, and of a family whose impact extends far and wide. As Michael and Emma's journey unfolds, it serves as a reminder that unity, compassion, and love can shape a better world for all.
Michadek23 · 5.1K Views

Sweet Waters Throne

The prince of Maldonia, Prince Artemis of House Arteides, the bear killer, the slayer of the elves is crowned King when his father Luca King Arteides dies. Aurora is a seer and a powerful witch who has yet to aknowledge her powers, only Artemis knows of it. Lucian Mithandir is in exile recruiting an army to fight Prince Castellan of house Taelin for the throne of Prophis. Artemis wants no parts of this war, but he is very aware whoever wins the war will later turn to Maldonia. Artemis has no clue that a bigger war is coming which will set out kingdoms on fire, Aurora has seen it in her dreams and it's for the Sweet Waters Throne in Maldonia. The end is uncertain but the ways are clearer, who will sit on the throne after the war to end all wars. The Bastard who's been denied his true claim to the Sweet Waters throne with the mighties fleet in the world and King Artemis of Maldonia who has Aurora and dragons breathing fire. ~ Excerpt Scene ~ "Are you ready? A dragon is not a horse my love" Aurora expressed her concerns. "The dragons are ready to be claimed, Your Grace. I think it’s the perfect time for Artodo to take the skies and be claimed. He and the King have great relationship. He just needs to understand the words that’s all. "Torgo explained while looking at both Aurora and Artemis. "I understand the words." Said Artemis. "Incendio for fire and Valar for him to fly. I know some Low Moor too." It seemed Aurora wasn’t easily convinced, "Knowing the language of our ancestors doesn’t mean you can hang on to the dragon and take to the skies, especially since you are not just practicing. You are taking the dragon to the Mines, in clear daylight." "Exactly, that is the only way we can silence Lord Leoric. I cannot let him take advantage of my sister, I have to try…" Visera interrupted. "He’s ready, I can see it in his eyes." She said with a smirk. Aurora ordered Torgo. "Bring him outside," in Low Moor. Torgo nodded and walked inside the darkened cave with a fire torch. All five dragons were inside the cave perfectly chained. He went after Artodo, the biggest of them all. The black beast, standing at forty feet from head to tail with a wingspan of twenty feet. A terrifying beast to even stare at. Artemis took two deep breaths. "According to my ancestors history, the youngest dragon rider to ever took the skies was ten years old. You’ll be fine." Aurora teased Artemis after she noticed how nervous he was. The dragon keepers placed a saddle on Artodo’s back and two strong handles made of iron and wood for Artemis to hang on to. Then, finally Aurora walked to Artodo — the black beast. She pulled in Artemis and they both touched the dragon’s right eye, soothing him before the take off. "This is your rider now Artodo, you are to obey him from this day forward to the last, as your mother commands." Aurora said this is Low Moor while the dragon hissed slowly. The dragon hissed and Aurora took it a sign that Artodo understood him. She took a step back and let Artemis take over. These two weren’t strangers to one another. Artemis’s touch wasn’t strange to Artodo and he silently lowered his left wingspan for Artemis to climb up. Carefully and slowly, Artemis mounted the black beast. It was no secret that he was scared. When he was on top of the dragon, Artemis smiled looking down and he suddenly exclaimed. "You all look like tiny bees from up here!" Aurora, Visera, Torgo and the dragon keepers laughed. Aurora walked to him and they looked at each other. Their dream finally came true; "Promise me, you’ll come back alive." Said Aurora. "I promise." "And that you will not burn the Mines to the ground. If she disagrees with you, perhaps it’s time to let her go." This was what Artemis truly needed to hear so he may stop his obsession with saving his sister. When he was ready, he shouted to Artodo. "Valar Artodo," and right there the dragon’s feet pounded the ground heavy as it prepared for takeoff.
Ami_Young · 116.3K Views
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