Story cover for The Deepborn war by Mari_Tee
The Deepborn war
  • WpView
    Reads 17
  • WpVote
    Votes 4
  • WpPart
    Parts 7
  • WpHistory
    Time 4h 0m
  • WpView
    Reads 17
  • WpVote
    Votes 4
  • WpPart
    Parts 7
  • WpHistory
    Time 4h 0m
Ongoing, First published Jan 30
4 new parts
Elvina's life has always been defined by survival, but her nights belong to something else.

For three years she has dreamed of a battlefield she has never walked, a sword she has never held, and a voice that calls to her with a grief that feels older than her bones. Each dream leaves her waking with the same certainty: somewhere in this world lies a place where everything ended, and somehow it is tied to her.

When a violent night forces her into an unexpected escape with a stranger she does not trust, Elvina is torn from the only life she knows and thrown onto a road with no map and no promise of safety. The man claims he knows what her dreams mean. He claims there are answers waiting at the ruins of a forgotten city, buried beneath history and guarded by powers that should not exist anymore.

Hunted by forces she doesn't understand and haunted by visions that grow stronger with every mile, Elvina must follow the path her dreams carve in front of her. The journey unravels her past piece by piece, revealing fragments of a truth that threatens to rewrite who she is and what she was meant to become.

To reach the place where it all began, she will have to abandon everything familiar, confront a legacy soaked in love and betrayal, and decide whether the truth is worth the person she may lose in the process.

Because some memories are buried for a reason, and once awakened, they do not let the world remain unchanged.
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"...Is she feverish?" Harlow asked flatly. "I'm not feverish." I snapped. "You're babbling about falling out of the sky and magical doors," Harlow countered. "And your pupils are unfocused." "They are not unfocused!" Beladora stepped closer and cupped my cheeks, turning my face toward the light. "Oh, sweetheart... your eyes are a little glassy." I pulled my face back, groaning. "I'm not sick!" Harlow folder her arms. "Bel, get the thermometer." My jaw dropped. "Absolutely not." Beladora smiled warmly. Too warmly. "Absolutely yes." Harlow lifted me from the chair with one arm, like I weighed the same as a scarf and deposited me on her hip. (Picture from pinterst: @esterscanon)