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REJECTED BY THE EMPIRE, CLAIMED BY THE VOID KING

fwangmungullah
Seraphine Ashveil, 22, was never supposed to survive the exile. Third princess of the Dawnspire Empire. No mana. No military use. No political value. For years, the court called her the Hollow Princess - beautiful, decorative, and utterly powerless. When her stepmother orchestrates a treason charge and her own father signs the decree without reading it, Seraphine is stripped of her title, her name, and her future in a single cold ceremony. Her destination: the Ashfen Wastes. The empire's graveyard. But the moment her blood touches the jade pendant - her dead mother's last gift - something cracks open in her chest like a door that was never locked. Just sealed. Mana roots, ancient and ravenous, unfurl through her body. And the spatial ring hidden inside the pendant exhales, revealing a secret world her mother left behind: rare herbs, dormant seeds, scrolls in a language only Seraphine's blood can read. Her mother didn't abandon her. She armed her. Now Seraphine must survive the Wastes, build something from nothing, and claw her way back - not to reclaim the throne that rejected her, but to build a power so undeniable that the empire kneels. Standing in her way - and then, inevitably, beside her - is Kael Dreadmourne, the Void King. Ancient. Ruthless. Ruler of the cursed lands that border the Wastes. He has no interest in exiled princesses. Until the moment her mana signature brushes his, and something that has been silent in him for two centuries roars awake. He doesn't believe in fate. But fate, it seems, believes in him.
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Her Name Awakens a Slumbering Fate

WARNING: Some mature content!!! 18+ This is what you call Urbantasy.. Fantasy in an urban setting with a strong female lead -- a story riddled in mystery, magic, and a lot of sass. ======= CHAPTER 1 sneak peek! ======= The air between them tightened like a rope. Cael leaned closer, head tilting slightly, pulling at her waist again, smugness softened into something sharper and quieter. His eyes flicked to her lips then back to her eyes as if asking for permission he didn't need. Hunger of a different kind pumped through Cael. The hunger that Galathea unmistakably recognized as it pressed hard against her lower abs, forcing through the fabric as if it can tear through. At the sensation, Galathea's mouth parted before she could stop it. Her whole body screamed at her to either shove him away or close the last inch between their lips herself. ===== SYNOPSIS ===== Galathea Brooks spent her life surviving quietly -- counting inventory, enforcing rules, keeping her head down inside one of the most powerful art institutions in the city. It's a simple life because paint doesn't talk; power doesn't notice people like her. and names are just names. -- That is... until a painting remembered her. When ancient works buried beneath Artemis Art Gallery began to respond to Galathea's presence, she becomes the center of the system that's older than the building itself. A system that cataloged her long before she knew it existed. Her name is not a coincidence. It is a KEY. Cael Alexander, on the other hand, has always understood control. As Artemis' immaculate but dangerous CEO, he manages secrets like no other. He knows the gallery and its bowels more than anyone. He knows what's hidden; he knows what's awaken. What he didn't expect, however, was Galathea. As archaic works of art start to stir, boundaries fracture -- between observer and artifact, power and possession, restraint and desire. Every choice Galathea makes draws her deeper into fate that doesn't want permission... only acknowledgement. Mind you, awakenings don't ask when you're ready.
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The Devil Who Claimed Me

She hated him for lying to her and kidnapping her. He would burn the world to protect her. “I’d rather die than be owned by you,” I screamed. He approached slowly, his expression cold and unreadable. “You can’t die without my permission.” -------------- Mila Vega, a promising heart surgeon, lived her life on her own terms until she saved a stranger, until she found out the weak and injured man she had brought home was a ruthless devil. Dominic Russo, a mafia king, cold, calculative, untouchable. Mila hated him. She hated him for locking her up, for the way he looked at her as if she belonged to him. ----------- I stepped back as he approached. “You won’t be able to cage me here,” I barked. “I’ll find my freedom.” He sneered, with dangerous light in his eyes. “Try it. You won’t make it past the gate." He didn’t bluff. He wouldn’t let her leave his side, no matter what. Trapped in his dangerous world, Mila should run. But why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? She saw him kill without mercy, yet his eyes softened when they rested on her. His touch was possessive, but protective. ‘Does he love me?’ Her heart raced. In the world ruled by blood and power, with enemies close in from every corner, emotions were luxury. Love couldn’t bloom. Just as she started to wonder if this monster had a heart, she realized his heart was too cold to warm it. She understood she was nothing but his plaything. Mila’s hatred ignited all over again. She wanted to disappear from his world for good. But the man she called a monster, a ruthless killer, might be the only one willing to burn the world to protect her. ------------ He pinched my chin, putting enough force to make me wince. “You will not run again.” I dared to look into his eyes defiantly. “And if I do?” He said in a calm tone. “I’ll bring you back.”
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