Raine_Whitlock
Stories
6
Chapters
149
Words
220.6 K
Comments
0
Reading
18 h, 23 m
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The garden should’ve stayed in the dark. Instead, I walked into class still thinking about Isaac Fletcher— and the way he’d looked at me like he remembered everything. So, naturally, I chose denial. Pretend last night in the garden hadn’t happened. Pretend the courtyard that morning hadn’t happened either. Pretend Isaac Fletcher had not looked at me like he already knew something I didn’t. Simple. Stable. Delusional, maybe, but workable. I slid into my seat by the window and pulled out…-
4.8 K •
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The Fletcher estate looked like the kind of place where you just knew your voice was supposed to be quieter. I stood beside my dad at the end of the long driveway, staring up at pale stone walls, huge windows, and hedges trimmed so perfectly they felt rude. Somewhere behind all that, was Fletcher Academy. My new school. My future. Totally not terrifying. “This is fine,” I said. Dad adjusted his grip on my suitcase. “You always say that when it’s not fine.” “I say it when I’m trying not…
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4.8 K •
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No one made me go. That was what made it worse. I had six good reasons to turn around before I reached the study room at the end of the second-floor hallway. Unfortunately, none of them were stronger than my bad judgment. My bag was clutched against my side. My pulse was acting like it had personal problems. This is tutoring, I told myself. Academics. Temporary. Totally normal. Which would have been more convincing if I didn’t feel like I was on my way to make a terrible decision in perfect school…
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4.8 K •
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By morning, I had already decided the boy in the garden was officially not my problem. This was school. First impressions. Survival. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my uniform for the third time, trying to look like someone who belonged at Fletcher Academy and not someone one awkward interaction away from public collapse. First impressions matter. Mine would probably land somewhere between polite and painfully average. Which was ideal, honestly. Average was safe. Average did not threaten…
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4.8 K •
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N Y X A R A They don’t rush me. That’s the first thing I notice. No hands grab or voices rise. The wolves close in the way water does when you step too far into it. Slow. Certain. Someone takes my wrist and turns it just enough to bind it. The restraint is firm, different from before. It’s not rope or iron. Something that tightens when I test it and then eases when I stop. Kaelor stands close enough that I’m aware of him without looking. I don’t feel his hands on me. I feel the absence of them.…-
15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A Nothing happens. The wolves stay where they are, half-shifted bodies angled outward, blocking every direction that matters. No one advances or relaxes. The clearing feels locked in place, like someone pressed a hand down on it. I don’t move either. I track breath and distance out of habit. Left, two wolves. Right, three. Behind me, the tree at my back. In front of me, the stranger. The stillness doesn’t feel like confusion. It feels ordered. Waiting. That’s what sets my teeth on edge. If…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A They don’t put me in chains. That’s the part that stays with me. I’m left in a narrow room off the corridor, stone walls, a bench set into one side like it’s meant for waiting. No door is locked. No one tells me to sit. No one tells me anything. The wolves pass by the opening without looking in, but I feel them register me all the same. Like a number that’s already been counted. I test the space without meaning to. One step forward. No reaction. I stop there. This feels deliberate. A…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A I don’t sleep. I lie on the narrow cot and stare at the stone ceiling until the shapes blur. My body feels too awake, like it’s still waiting for something to happen. I keep replaying the moment in the hall. The part that doesn’t sit right is how careful he was. He could have hurt me but he didn’t. That thought keeps circling back, no matter how many times I shove it away. I don’t like restraint that isn’t forced. I don’t like when someone chooses control. I press my palms into…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A I wake up cold. The chill presses through my back and into my shoulders. The ground feels hard, but I don’t open my eyes yet. The first thing I do is check my body because that habit never really goes away. I try to move my hands. Nothing. There’s pressure on my wrists and it’s tight and even on both sides, like whoever tied me down knew exactly how to hold me in place. I test my ankles but it’s the same thing. My arms and legs feel heavy and slow, like they’re awake, but not fully…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A The door opens without warning. No knock. No raised voices outside to announce it. I feel the shift before I see him, like pressure changing in a sealed room. My shoulders tense on instinct. I don’t move. He steps inside and closes the door behind him. The sound is soft but final. I registered the scent first. It’s the same as before, sharp and clean, with something metallic underneath. Something colder. His eyes go to my arm. I pull the sleeve down a second too late. He notices anyway. He…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A They move me through the doorway without touching me this time. That alone tells me something’s different. The room is round with stone walls all the way up. The ceiling’s low enough that if anyone raised their voice, it would bounce around the whole place. I slow just enough to take it in. Who stands near the wall, who stands closer to the center, who looks at me, and who doesn’t. There are no chains, no chairs waiting and no one speaking. The silence feels planned, like everyone already…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A It’s the same cell as before: stone walls, iron bars, a narrow bench fixed in place. I take in the details automatically, the way I always do. I don’t notice anything new or missing. I turn my attention inward, cataloging the soreness in my wrists where the restraints were, the absence of injuries, the steady rise and fall of my breath. I sit on the bench with my back to the stone, letting the cold hold me awake as I tell myself to stay still and wait, trusting that it usually…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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NYXARA The eastern gate smells like rust and horse sweat. The guard doesn’t look up until I clear my throat. “Papers,” he says. I hand them over. He studies the seal longer than he studies me. That’s fine. Seals are easier to trust than faces. “Elira Marr,” he reads. “Weaver. Traveling alone?” “Yes.” He glances past me toward the treeline beyond the road. The trees look darker than they should for this hour. “You picked a bad time to be heading out,” he says. “I don’t mind the…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A The forest doesn’t follow me. That’s the first thing I notice as I move along Ashmoore’s edge. No branches snap behind me. No shift in the air. The silence sits where it should, untouched. But the pressure is still there. It hangs above the trees like a storm that hasn’t decided to break. Watching. Not stalking. Not hunting. Watching. I keep moving anyway. Step. Breath. Step. Breath. The rhythm settles into place the way it always does when the Guild’s training takes over. I…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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NYXARA The village starts where the road gives up. There’s no sign, no gate—nothing that says you’ve arrived. The dirt just smooths out, and the trees lean closer to the path. I slow down without thinking about it. I’m not tired. It just doesn’t feel right to walk in fast. I pull my hood up and let my shoulders slump slightly. I’ve done this enough times to know how it looks—smaller, quieter, harmless. Just another traveler passing through the village. People move aside when I walk by. Not…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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N Y X A R A The first time I died, it was under a blood moon. The sky burned red above Ashmoore, thick with smoke and fire. The ground trembled beneath my feet as wolves and rogues tore into each other across the field. I tasted blood in the air and felt the bond burning beneath my skin—sharp, hot, and relentless, as if something inside me already knew how this would end. Kaelor was on one knee near the broken gate. Blood ran from his shoulder, soaking into the dirt beneath him. Enemies closed in from…
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15.8 K • Ongoing
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