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Dreamwalker's Bride

“You are the least objectionable groom of all the ones I’ve seen,” Anaisa replied seriously. “Thank you for the glowing compliment,” Trace grinned, “but that didn’t quite answer my question.” ___ Anaisa is an orphan and a pariah. In an ultimate act of betrayal, her father, a Count of the Realm, is accused of deserting and betraying the army in a time of war. Not only is he immediately executed for the offense, but the king declares he must have been a fake all along! His two daughters are stripped of their titles and inheritance, replaced by a distant cousin and cast out of their home with nothing. Anaisa swears someday she will get her title and lands back, but in the mean time, she and her sister Katia have to figure out how to survive. Trace is an anomaly among his people; instead of revealing their son as a magic user and thrusting him into the public eye, his parents kept it a secret to allow him to choose the kind of life he wanted. Trace found himself content to rest and play in his own dream world instead of invading the nighttime visions of others. As an adult, his choice to remain unknown is thrown into jeopardy when a mysterious blackmailer forces Trace to enlist in the territorial war between nations, threatening to reveal his secret if the demand is not met. With the war now over, Trace believes he can finally go home to his farm and live the simple, unremarkable life he’s always desired. When Anaisa and Trace are thrown together by a royal edict, the sisters find themselves unwittingly tangled in the web of mystery and intrigue that surrounds the blackmailer’s escalating assignments for Trace. Anaisa begins to suspect it may be connected to the plot to replace her family in the noble court. As the scheme continues to unfold, lives, loves, marriages, and magic will be put to the test to see what forces in the world are strongest.

TheOtherNoble · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
440 Chs

Trapped below

Mia was caught in the deep mire of vicious nightmares. Thick green liquid oozed from every surface, sticking to her, pulling her down. Trapping her feet and slowing her progress towards her goal.

Even realizing that this must be a dream, there seemed to be nothing to do to escape it, no way to modify it. She was screaming with no sound, running with no speed, crying with no tears. 

Sucked ever more firmly into the slime that crept up her shins and dripped from the sky to splatter across her hair, her arms, her face.

Shivering violently, she could feel it begin to burn her skin like acid.

She'd never felt so cold. So hopeless.

The screaming effort of every muscle and the utter lack of progress in any endeavor were at such odds that she began to break under it. 

Pressure on her mind was all that held it together. She could see nothing there, but nonetheless she felt it like an anchor on her soul. Like a pull she never had to look for.