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 5
The darkness was absolute.
Elara's body slammed against the jagged edges of the stone steps. Every impact sent a sickening crack through her frame. Her left collarbone snapped. Her ribs groaned under the pressure.
As her blood smeared across the ancient stone, the runes carved into the stairs activated.
Eerie, sickly green flames erupted from the rock. The fire didn't burn her skin; it bypassed her flesh completely and seared directly into her soul. It felt like hot acid being poured over her brain.
Elara bit down on her lip so hard she tasted a fresh wave of copper. Her hands shook violently, but she forced her fingers to grip the glass vial in her boot. She yanked it out.
She didn't have the strength to pull the cork. She brought the vial to her mouth and bit down on the stopper, tearing it out with her teeth.
She tipped her head back and swallowed the bitter, sludgy liquid.
Vance's high-tier health potion hit her stomach like a warm fire. The magic rushed through her veins, aggressively knitting her broken bones back together and sealing her internal bleeding.
But the green flames of the stairs kept tearing her apart from the outside. She was trapped in a horrific cycle of healing and breaking.
Suddenly, the silver bracelet on her wrist flared. A brilliant, blinding silver light exploded from the metal, forming a thin, tight membrane around her head and chest, shielding her brain and heart from the soul-fire.
At the same time, the chaos core in her abdomen spun wildly. It acted like a black hole, greedily sucking in the residual energy of the green flames, converting the torture into raw power.
Time lost all meaning.
Finally, the steep incline leveled out. Elara dragged her battered body across the rough stone, leaving a thick trail of blood behind her.
She collapsed onto a flat, rocky outcropping.
Below her was The Abyss. A massive, bottomless canyon filled with churning, toxic black miasma. Freezing rain lashed against her face, stinging her open wounds. She gasped, her lungs burning as she sucked in the foul, heavy air. She was alive.
A shadow detached itself from the rock wall behind her.
Cletus McCoy, a low-ranking Tower guard known for his gambling debts, stepped into the dim light. He hadn't been stationed here. He was a scavenger, sneaking down to the edges of the abyss to strip the corpses of condemned mages for leftover magical artifacts.
When Cletus saw Elara's chest rising and falling, his jaw dropped.
Elara's eyes snapped to him. She tried to push herself up, trying to summon the chaos mana, but her muscles were completely locked. Her body had hit its absolute physical limit. She couldn't move a single finger.
Cletus's shock slowly melted into a cruel, greedy grin.
He walked over to her. Without a word, he lifted his heavy, steel-toed boot and brought it down hard on her freshly healed left leg.
A sharp crack echoed in the rain.
Elara let out a choked, guttural scream. Her vision swam with black spots. She glared up at him, her eyes filled with murderous rage.
"Look at the great prodigy now," Cletus sneered, spitting a wad of phlegm onto the rock next to her face. "Nothing but a dead dog."
He crouched down, his eyes locking onto the silver bracelet on her wrist.
"I'll be taking this," he grunted, grabbing her arm and yanking at the metal.
The second his dirty fingers touched the silver, the bracelet violently discharged. A loud crack of static electricity blasted Cletus's hand.
He shrieked, falling backward. The skin on his fingers was charred black and smoking.
Cletus scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in humiliated rage. He drew a short, jagged dagger from his belt.
"Stupid bitch!" he roared.
Instead of stabbing her, he pulled his leg back and kicked her squarely in the stomach.
The force of the blow sent Elara sliding across the wet stone. Half of her body slipped over the edge of the cliff. The violent wind from the abyss whipped her hair into her eyes.
"Let the beasts at the bottom eat you," Cletus laughed, and he stomped his boot directly onto her chest, shoving her off the ledge.
Elara fell.
The sickening sensation of weightlessness consumed her. Cletus's laughter faded as she plummeted into the thick, swirling black miasma.
The toxic gas rushed into her nose and mouth, but instead of choking her, the chaos core flared to life. It devoured the dark energy like a starving animal, pumping heat back into her freezing limbs.
Just as her consciousness began to slip away, two bright, mechanical beams of light cut through the fog below her.
A massive, patchwork mechanical glider made of scrap metal and glowing runes swooped upward.
Two young people in heavy leather coats were strapped to the frame.
"Got a big piece of trash today!" the pilot, a boy with goggles named Jasper, screamed over the wind.
The co-pilot, a girl named Kira, leaned over the edge and grabbed Elara by the collar of her uniform, hauling her onto the metal deck. Kira's hands immediately glowed with a soothing green light as she pressed them to Elara's bleeding chest.
The glider banked sharply, diving deeper into the unknown darkness of the abyss.
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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?"