From Shattered Prodigy to Abyssal Vengeance
Elara Vex had everything-a flawless ice core, the title of prodigy, and a place at the pinnacle of the High Tower. But in one brutal night, it was all ripped away. Her mentor tore the core from her chest. Her fiancé drove a sword through her back. Her own sister smiled as she bled out on the cold marble floor.
When Elara wakes, she's years in the past, mere hours before her core is scheduled to be stolen. This time, she won't be anyone's sacrificial lamb. She shatters her own core with forbidden blood magic and forges something far more terrifying in its place-a bottomless, ravenous Chaos Core that devours magic itself.
Now, branded a worthless cripple and cast into the deadly Abyss, Elara is pulled from the darkness by the outcasts of Elysium Academy-a school for heretics, psychopaths, and everything the Tower despises. Under the tutelage of a reclusive principal who knew her murdered mother, Elara will master her forbidden power and uncover the Tower's darkest secrets.
When the Five Academies Ranking Tournament arrives, Seraphina Vex stands in the arena, draped in white saintess robes, ready to claim ultimate glory. She doesn't know that a ghost from her past has clawed her way back from hell. She doesn't know that Elara is coming-and this time, the prodigal sister isn't asking for mercy. She's bringing chaos.
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Chapter 2
The two guards shoved Elara through the massive oak doors of the Judgment Hall.
She stumbled forward, her knees slamming hard against the freezing marble floor. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain up her thighs, but she didn't make a sound.
She lifted her chin. The hall was cavernous, the vaulted ceiling making her feel incredibly small. At the far end, sitting on the raised, imposing judge's podium, was Silas. His face was carved from stone.
Standing right beside him was Seraphina.
Seraphina wore a pristine white dress that made her look like a descending angel. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves.
The spectator stands surrounding the floor were packed. Elara recognized the faces of her classmates. The awe and jealousy they used to look at her with were gone. Now, their eyes held nothing but raw disgust.
Preston Sterling-Hale IV leaned over the railing.
"Look at the prodigy now!" Preston shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "What a pathetic waste of Academy resources!"
A harsh wave of laughter erupted from the crowd. The sound physically pressed down on Elara, making her ears ring.
She kept her face blank. Underneath her skin, she quietly commanded the dark purple chaos mana to wrap around her bruised ribs and bleeding palms, knitting the tissue back together.
Seraphina picked up the hem of her white dress and gracefully walked down the marble steps. She stopped right in front of Elara. Her eyes were red, brimming with unshed tears.
Seraphina crouched down. She leaned in close, her sickeningly sweet floral perfume invading Elara's nose.
"You deserve to lose everything, you stupid bitch," Seraphina whispered. Her voice was so low, only Elara could hear the venom dripping from the words.
Then, Seraphina threw her head back. She tilted her neck, exposing her delicate throat to the crowd, and let out a loud, theatrical sob.
"Please, Master Silas!" Seraphina cried out, her voice trembling. "Please don't expel my sister! She made a mistake!"
The male students in the stands immediately softened.
"Seraphina is too good for this world," a boy muttered loudly.
"Elara doesn't deserve a sister like her," another spat.
Elara's stomach churned. The urge to vomit was overwhelming.
When Seraphina reached out a perfectly manicured hand to touch her shoulder, Elara's survival instincts calculated the exact angle. The moment Seraphina's perfectly manicured fingertips grazed her uniform, Elara went entirely limp. She let her knees buckle, throwing her own weight backward to collapse onto the freezing marble floor as if the mere touch had struck her with a physical blow.
"Don't touch me," Elara whispered, her voice trembling but pitched just loud enough for the front row to hear. "The stench of your perfume makes me want to vomit."
Seraphina gasped, her eyes widening in genuine shock at the sudden maneuver. She stumbled backward, clutching her chest as if Elara's words were daggers.
The crowd erupted in outrage. Three male mages in the front row drew their wands, pointing the glowing tips directly at Elara's face.
Silas slammed his open palm against his wooden desk.
A massive wave of pressure rolled through the room. The hall went dead silent.
"You destroy your core, and now you assault your own blood?" Silas's voice boomed. "You have lost every ounce of virtue required to be a mage of this Tower."
Elara took a deep breath. She pushed herself up from the floor, standing tall despite her ruined clothes. She locked eyes with Silas.
"Then I formally request to withdraw from the Academy," Elara said. Her voice was hoarse, but it cut through the silence like a blade.
The entire hall gasped. No one ever asked to leave the High Tower. It was professional suicide.
Silas's jaw tightened. A single vein pulsed on his forehead. His authority was being challenged by a cripple.
Seraphina's eyes flashed with wild, unrestrained joy for a fraction of a second before she forced her hands over her mouth in fake shock.
"We can't let this disgrace just walk away!" Preston yelled from the stands. "She needs to be punished!"
Elara let out a dry, mocking laugh. "What? Is the great High Tower going to force a magicless cripple to stay and eat your food?"
Silas's eyes narrowed. The absolute contempt in Elara's stare burned him. She was supposed to be begging on her knees.
"Your withdrawal is accepted," Silas said coldly.
He paused, smoothing the cuffs of his gold robes.
"However, anyone who leaves the Tower must undergo the Purification Protocol. We cannot risk our secrets leaking."
Elara's heart slammed against her ribs. The Purification Protocol. It was a legalized form of torture designed to cripple a mage for life.
Seraphina kept her hands over her mouth, but Elara saw the dark, excited gleam in her sister's eyes. Seraphina wanted blood.
"You will surrender all Academy equipment," Silas declared, his voice echoing with finality. "And you will submit to the Severing of the Pathways."
The air in the room vanished. Even the angry students in the stands sucked in a collective breath. The Severing was barbaric.
Elara curled her fingers into tight fists. Her nails dug so deeply into her palms that fresh blood welled up.
She stared unblinking at Silas.
"I accept the verdict."
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7.9
After her twin brother's unexplained death at Alpha Academy, Alexandria Hyde takes his place and his name to uncover the truth. Now living as "Alex," she's thrown into a world of hot, testosterone-fueled Alphas who fight to the brink of death... and she has to survive it while hiding who she really is.
But staying hidden isn't easy–
Not when the Alphas start noticing her.
Not when the truth she's chasing might destroy her first.
And definitely not when they start fighting for her instead.
9.6
She was sold as a broodmare. He was a warrior with no memory. Together, they'll burn down the world.
Lyra has been called many things: half-blood, mongrel, dirty blood. Rejected by every pack she's approached, she's given one final chance-as a bride to Ronan, the cruel Alpha of Red River Pack. But when her wedding night becomes a nightmare, she stabs her new husband and flees into the frozen wilderness.
Stellan remembers nothing. Not his name, not his past, not the ancient tattoos covering his body. He only knows that when he sees a terrified woman falling from a cliff into an icy river, he must save her-even if it kills him.
On the run from a vengeful Alpha and his army of hunters, Lyra and Stellan discover an impossible bond growing between them. The moon has chosen them as mates. But Stellan's memories are returning, and with them, a devastating truth: he's not just any wolf. He's the Alpha of the North Star Pack. And a half-blood can never be his Luna.
Now Ronan's brother has sworn revenge, an ancient prophecy awakens, and three packs prepare for war. Lyra must prove that bloodlines mean nothing-and that the most powerful bond of all is forged in ice and fire.
He lost his memory. She lost her freedom. Together, they'll find everything.
7.3
Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift-a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept."
8.0
For six years, I played the perfect, submissive wife to Wall Street titan Francis Castro. I suffocated my own ambitions to fit into his conservative world.
But while I waited alone at a Michelin restaurant, a news alert popped up. My husband had just dropped millions on an aquamarine diamond necklace for his "muse," Chanelle.
The real nightmare began when I rushed home to find our five-year-old son in severe anaphylactic shock. I frantically called Francis from the ambulance, but he manually rejected my calls. He couldn't leave the bidding war for Chanelle's PR launch.
When he finally arrived at the ER, Chanelle was right beside him, wearing that blinding multi-million-dollar necklace. He didn't ask about our dying son.
"Why weren't you watching him?" he demanded, his voice hard and accusing.
And when my son woke up, hazy from the drugs, he rejected my touch and reached for Chanelle instead. Francis just stood there, praising Chanelle for knowing exactly how to calm him down.
I stared at the three of them looking like a perfect, happy family. Six years of swallowing my pride, only to realize my husband would let our son choke to death just to buy another woman's smile.
The last thread of my heart snapped. I handed him the divorce papers, demanding zero alimony. Then, I drove to a hidden Brooklyn loft, cut off my hair, and unlocked my safe.
It was time to resurrect my true identity—the legendary fashion designer, Ember.J. I am going to burn her empire to the ground.
9.4
I was a New York photographer, but I woke up under the brutal sun of the African savanna.
Worse, I wasn't human. I was trapped in the body of a male cheetah, with two starving cubs clinging to my fur, telepathically calling me "Mom."
But I am a real man!
To keep my adopted sons alive, I had to fight hyenas and dodge rogue lions. But the real nightmare was my bizarre survival mechanism. Under extreme threat, I would uncontrollably shift back into my human form—stark, undeniably naked. I was forced to sprint across the plains with my bare skin exposed, carrying two cubs while escaping furious lionesses. I became a freak, the most confusing and humiliating legend of the animal kingdom.
Covered in bloody scratches and mud, I was pushed to the brink of despair. Why was I thrown into this beast's body? Why did my only defense mechanism involve profound social death?
Just when I barely survived a cliff dive to escape the lions, my path was blocked by two massive, highly intelligent prime male cheetahs.
But the alpha, Bradley, didn't want to kill me for my territory.
His intense gaze raked over my naked, bleeding human body with a dark, possessive hunger.
"You are full of surprises."
He purred smoothly, teaching me to magically summon a fur skirt before demanding I join his coalition.
"Oh, you'll come to me. I guarantee it."
Looking into his predatory eyes, I realized I was no longer just surviving the wild; I was the prey of a completely different kind of beast.
9.1
The best way to get back at a cheating bastard? Make him sick to his stomach for the rest of his life!
Days before her wedding, Corinne caught her fiancé cheating with his coworker in what she thought was their future home.
Furious, she tore everything apart, ended the engagement, and decided on a bold revenge plan.
To make him regret it for life, she set her sights on marrying his powerful uncle. Confident in her scheme, she tried to win over the cold, untouchable man, only to realize too late that she had mistaken his identity.
The man she married was far more dangerous than she imagined!
Corinne decided to make a quick escape. "Let's get a divorce. We're clearly not right for each other... "
He cornered her with a knowing smile, "Not right for each other? Funny, that's not what you said last night in bed. Want me to remind you how wrong you are?"