Round1✔ - Ambassadors' Pick
Round2✔
Longlist✔
Shortlist✔
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Genre: fantasy, romance, and a teeny tiny bit of action.
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Of a Moon, majestic silver and soothing blue, that hung in the sky, breathing life into barrenness and lifting...
As days melted into weeks, and weeks stretched into months, Alarick found himself enthralled by the worlds nestled within the pages of Accalia's books. The subjects ranged from the alluring grasp of the past, the vibrant tapestry of the present, and the mysteries of other realms beyond their own.
In the vast pantheon of deities, each possessed unique powers and responsibilities. Devoted worshippers revered some. Others dwelled in isolophilia. While a few described followership as a pain, a sentiment shared by those who bore the weight of adoration unwillingly.
From the tales of celestial entities to the chronicles of bygone civilizations, each volume offered a fascinating odyssey through the annals of time and the conundrums of the divine.
"No more dragons?" Alarick queried one sleepless night, his form draped lazily across his seat.
Accalia stifled a yawn, shaking her head. "It has been," she paused, mentally tallying the years, "a few centuries since they vanished."
"Tragic," he murmured, his fingers tracing the intricate picture in the book. "They were truly magnificent creatures."
"The first to ever roam Ducriedan."
Following that exchange, he fell into a pensive silence, absentmindedly flipping through the remaining pages.
As time slipped by in a haze of ink-stained fingertips and the comforting scent of old parchment, Alarick found himself increasingly drawn to Accalia. Whether it was the fleeting brush of their hands as they passed each other in the hallways or the lingering glances exchanged across the room, an undeniable chemistry simmered between them.
It was the only chemistry Alarick was willing to learn.
Their interactions were punctuated by moments of tension and attraction. On occasions, he'd press her against the bookshelves, his hands mapping the curves of her form as he buried his face in her hair. At other times, she'd run her fingers through his locks as he rested his head on her lap, content to listen as she read aloud.
Philosophy often lulled him to sleep. Yet, neither complained, welcoming the chance for respite in each other's arms. Most subjects failed to capture his interest as well, leaving him bored to tears. He would complain about hunger or goof around to escape the lessons.
History, however, seized his attention more than anything, as well as battle strategies and combat techniques.
Alarick frequently found himself immersed in old tales of warfare and the diverse species that populated the lands he had traversed. Wolves often steered clear of humans, so they were clueless about the tapestry of civilizations that had risen and fallen.
Bloodshed seemed to be a recurring theme.
"It is the nature of every living being," Accalia interjected, rising to her feet.
Alerted, he sat up, watching her back as she faced away from him. "Are you going somewhere?"
"I shall return promptly," she replied, not glancing back as she left.
A frown creased his brows, and he glanced outside where she was looking. Vermillion hues spilled across the sky, reminding him of the blood he shed in his quest to unite all wolves.
Mesmerized, Alarick watched as blue trickled into the vastness beneath the quivering stars until violet gradually took over. It was a numinous tableau of natural beauty, yet he couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling it evoked within him.
He hunched over, his hackles raised.
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