 by A.E. Via.jpg)
Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Boraleashe landed with the full force of his arctic power, showering ice and snow across the ground. Patrons bowed and tried not to gawk at him. Not because Boraleashe was the lord of an element, but because he was a strikingly beautiful titan, with his flowing white garments, and blizzard-kissed hair. Boraleashe Cavalerie was the opposite of his titan brothers. He was stoic, disagreeable, and his attitude towards others was just as biting as his frost. All titans were required to gift their pure hearts to another—to fall in love—as praise to the divinities for their dominion over an element. Refusal to pledge their heart was considered an act of defiance to the gods. There would be judgment… and atonement. For more than a millennium Boraleashe chose to shelter and hide his winter heart. He deftly avoided love by commanding army after army and fighting battle after battle. Fate intervened and gave Boraleashe the opportunity of earning a heart from a far more worthy love than he deserved. The newly appointed king of the Autumn World, Theodor Cavalerie, was the Bringer of Harvest and Treasure of the Realms. Why would a young virile lord like Theodor choose a surly two thousand-year-old titan like him? Boraleashe had no logical answer—he refused the handsome king for reasons no one would understand. Boraleashe confessed to his viceroy, “Adresin, if for any reason my heart were to ever get broken, I will suffer a misery and death far more excruciating than the Snow Moon’s curse on my heart. The universe had spoken for its final time, he either choose love… or loss. And there was only one man capable of penetrating Boraleashe’s icy interior. Only one warrior strong enough to save his soul from damnation.NOTE: This is a story of fantasy with woven elements of mythology that have been modified for the story. This series is set in fictional worlds, and part on Earth. Some descriptions, geography, and landscapes may have been altered to fit the story.Trigger Warning: Fighting, Violence
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Notalus
The End of a Season
“Father, are you expecting someone?” Theodor asked at the first notes of the herald’s trumpets announcing a visitor to their realm.
“No.” Notalus frowned.
A gust of frigid wind raced past them, blowing food and napkins off their dining table and across the gleaming floor. Notalus had just enough time to fling his heavy robe around his alpha-mate, Dustin, before another powerful surge of cold shot through the courtyards, leaving dishes frosted over and a thin layer of ice in their water goblets.
Dustin growled, “Shit! What in the—”
“It’s okay.” Notalus lowered his shield from around them.
The temperature dropped to almost freezing, their breath now visible when they spoke.
“It’s him…” Theodor gritted out, leaving the room so fast his guards had to jog to keep up.
“It’s who?” Dustin rasped, taking in Theodor’s anxious reaction.
“It’s my brother, Boraleashe. The Lord of the North Wind,” Notalus informed them. “He is here in Tir an Fhomhair.”
“‘Brother’?”
“Well, we’re not brothers in the human sense. We are brothers in arms, brothers of the seasons, horsemen. We are not brothers of blood or kinship. We inherited the titan title from our fathers, but when we came of age to rule, that is when we met the others—I mean each other.”
“Does Boraleashe visit often?” Dustin asked.
“No. He doesn’t.” Notalus led them out of his chambers. He didn’t know if Boraleashe stayed isolated and never visited because of his furious winds or his frozen heart.
“Shouldn’t your son be at your side?” Dustin murmured out of the corner of his mouth as they preceded their court toward the palace’s foyer.
“Yes,” Notalus answered between clenched teeth, “since he is the king now. Not me.”
The guards opened the doors, and Notalus led his royal subjects down the palace stairs and into the grand courtyard. The trumpets sounded again, and gray storm clouds blanketed the sky, causing another dramatic shift in the temperature.
Boraleashe appeared in the sky atop his pearl-white stallion, Frostreign, in a mirage of frozen rain and snow. His robe was blizzard white and clasped around his neck with a sable fur collar, his armor shimmering like diamonds. His wind was so cold it sounded like icicles falling on a frozen lake. Boraleashe’s court trailed him by ground on their speckled Clydesdales, his viceroy paused in front to make his announcement.
“People of Tir an Fhomhair! All hail the Lord of the North Wind, Boraleashe Cavalerie, the last of the horsemen and harbingers of justice, the overseer of the Realm of Winter, and creator of the first frost. Titan and ruler of Tir an Amárach, the Arctic World.”