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The Luna's Sinful Lover

“If there’s a second life, I vow to make your life as miserable as you made mine.” ―Aesther vows with her dying breath. They were once each other’s sole companion, but while she sought his warmth, he was a man with a wretched soul. Ezrahl stained the pages of her life in blood, he burned her world while she helplessly watched. When Aesther thought all hope had gone, she finds herself back in the past, before their destinies have taken a cruel turn. Ezrahl is still as charming as ever, with his secretive smile that makes the hearts of people waver and that intense sincere gaze that is deceivingly refreshing. This time, however, Aesther knows what must be done. She had sworn to kill him or be killed while doing so. But when she lives through her second life, and she sees her past events from a different perspective, Aesther finds herself near a truth that is far more unsettling than anything Ezrahl makes her feel. Will she be able to make things right after being given a second chance? Or will the frightening truth devour everything she treasures? [Warning R18: Mature themes, and smut.] + + + Thanks for stopping by! Just a heads up, this is my first time exploring the world of werewolves, but they won't be the only mythical beings in this story. The focus here will primarily be on the character growth of Aesther, and her quest for re-claiming and re-discovering herself. Romance is a secondary plot device, and once it does start to unravel, there will be some mature scenes as well. Release Rate: 10 Chapters/Week (minimum). + + + Instagram: @a.lan.caster Discord: Lancaster#9963 [The credits of the cover belong to its respective owner. ]

Alancaster · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
154 Chs

Falling Heavens

"He saw the human everywhere," Ezrahl whispered back, "The shadow never left, never said anything, never did anything. But it followed him everywhere."

The false raven tried to reach out to his parents again.

But he was their shame, a stain that reminded them how many years of effort have gone down the drain. They never came to him, he could not leave the groves.

Each day, he felt uneasy and uncomfortable under his skin. There were no answers to his misery, but every stitch of his feathers burned like hell.

At the end of a lone night, he took a needle and cut the stitches one by one. His mana held the needle firm as the black feathers fell down with drops of crimson.

Aesther had lost her sleep and now stared at Ezrahl's peacefully closed eyes in disbelief. 

"Next morning, his parents returned," he said, "feeling remorse for being away from their son for so long."

She let out a heavy sigh of relief.