SWNOVELXO Chapter 14: Shadows of the Forgotten
The moon hung low and heavy, its silver light strangled by thick, rolling clouds that churned like restless ghosts. In the silent heart of the Valemont estate, every breath Dahlia took tasted of smoke and secrets. The mansion's obsidian walls seemed to pulse with dark magic, shadows twisting and curling at the edges of her vision. Nothing was safe here—not the air she breathed, not the alliances forged, not even the fragile thread of her own sanity.
Her fingers traced the fresh scar at her wrist, the mark of the Hollow Order, still warm and throbbing beneath her skin. It whispered to her—soft, sibilant promises of power and doom tangled together in a dangerous dance she could neither control nor resist. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered Damon's words: "The ashes of the false gods still burn. And they want you." But what did that mean for her? For them?
The silence shattered with the sharp crack of a door swinging open. Damon appeared in the doorway—tall, imposing, his obsidian fur bristling like a living shadow. His eyes burned brighter than ever, molten pools of ice and fire. "They're coming," he said without preamble. "The Order doesn't forget its debts. And they don't forgive." Dahlia met his gaze, heart pounding but resolve hardening like forged steel. "Then we fight," she whispered, voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. "No more running. No more hiding in the dark." He stepped forward, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, the predator's power barely restrained beneath that human facade. "You're not just a weapon, Dahlia. You're the spark that can ignite the end of their reign. But they'll tear you apart trying."
Outside, the wind howled like a banshee, rattling the windows as if warning of the apocalypse to come. Somewhere in the depths of the estate, ancient runes flared, casting eerie violet light against the cold stone. A forgotten power was waking, drawn to the pulse of her blood and the fate bound to her soul. The door creaked again, slower this time—an invitation or a threat? Dahlia's gaze snapped toward the shadowed hallway. The air grew heavier, the darkness deeper. From the blackness emerged a figure draped in ragged cloaks, eyes gleaming with cruel intent and unreadable pain.
"Welcome home, Moonblood," the stranger intoned, voice low and deadly. "Your true trial begins now." Damon's hand went to the hilt of his blade, muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. Dahlia's silver fire flared, illuminating the room in cold blue light. No turning back. The war was inside the walls now—and the price of victory was beyond anything she had imagined. The stranger's smile was a blade—sharp, cold, and full of hidden pain. "You think you've escaped the shadows, Dahlia Moon? The Hollow Order's grip is eternal. We are the bloodline you cannot sever, the past that haunts your every breath." His eyes flickered with something almost human—regret? Hatred? Dahlia couldn't tell. But she knew better than to trust any flicker of mercy from those who thrived in darkness. Damon's stance tightened, claws extending just beneath the surface of his skin, muscles ready to explode. "Speak your purpose, or leave," he growled, voice low and dangerous. "This is Valemont territory. No Hollow filth dares tread here uninvited." The stranger chuckled—a sound like dry bones scraping against stone. "Oh, Alpha, you misunderstand. I come bearing a warning... and a choice." He stepped forward, the ragged cloak falling away to reveal a tattooed arm pulsing with ancient runes, black as night and glowing faintly with a sinister light.
"The false gods will rise again," the stranger whispered, voice trembling with dark conviction. "And you—both of you—stand at the center of the storm. The ashes will not rest, the last dragon will awaken, and the world as you know it will burn." Dahlia's heart slammed against her ribs. This was bigger than she had imagined—bigger than the auction, bigger than the collar, bigger than the endless nightmares clawing at her mind. This was war. A war that would drag her into depths of pain and power she had never dared to fathom. Damon's gaze locked with hers—fire meeting ice, promise and threat intertwining. "Then we'll fight fire with fire. We'll burn their lies to ash before they consume us." His hand closed around hers, strong and steady, anchoring her in the storm. The stranger turned, shadow melting back into the darkness, his final words lingering like poison. "Choose wisely. The fate of all hangs on the edge of your decision. Betrayal runs deeper than blood."
As the heavy door slammed shut behind him, silence swallowed the room again—thick, suffocating, filled with unspoken dread and impossible choices. Dahlia exhaled slowly, her silver fire dimming to a steady pulse beneath her skin. The path ahead was shrouded in darkness, but one thing was certain: there was no turning back from the war that had already begun. Dahlia's breath hitched as the weight of the stranger's words settled like a stone in her chest. The mansion's ancient walls seemed to pulse with hidden energy, shadows flickering in the corners as if alive, whispering secrets she couldn't yet understand. The air was thick with magic and menace, a tangible tension that wrapped around her like a noose tightening with every heartbeat. Her silver-marked skin prickled beneath her fingertips—the mark the Hollow Order had branded her with, a curse and a key entwined. She looked to Damon, his storm-gray eyes blazing with a fierce determination that both comforted and terrified her. There was no doubt he was a force to be reckoned with—a warrior born and bred, tempered in battles that echoed through the hidden realms. But even the strongest Alpha could only fight so long against shadows that bent reality itself. We're not just fighting for ourselves, Damon said, voice low, steel cutting through the thick silence. Whatever this war is... it's bigger than the Valemonts, the Hollow Order, or any of our petty rivalries. It's the kind of war that could tear the world apart.
Dahlia nodded, the gravity of their situation crushing down on her. Torn between two ancient powers, a pawn in a game played by gods and monsters. Her mind raced through every fragment of memory—the dreams, the whispers, the power flickering just beneath her skin. If she wasn't careful, she wouldn't just lose her freedom—she'd lose herself.
She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms until the pain grounded her. Then we need to find the others. The last Red Dragon's bloodline isn't just a myth. It's our only hope to survive this. Damon's lips twitched into a grim smile. I thought you'd say that. He moved toward the heavy oak table strewn with ancient scrolls and faded maps. The flickering candlelight cast ghostly shadows over the archaic symbols. But the Hollow Order won't let us find them easily. They're watching. Waiting for us to make a mistake. A sudden sharp knock echoed through the chamber. Both of them froze. The mansion's door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside—tall, cloaked in midnight blue, eyes shining with a strange, unsettling light. "We don't have much time, the newcomer said, voice urgent. "The Order is closing in. You need to come with me. Now. Dahlia's heart hammered—this was no mere messenger; this was a harbinger of chaos, the storm gathering just beyond their fragile sanctuary. Every second stretched thin, every breath a countdown. The battle for their souls—and the fate of the world—was about to begin.