loreleis-short-stories

[loreleis-short-stories]

Burning for him

The city of Vetra was a place of light, its skyline glittering with hope, and its people known for their unwavering morality. At least, that’s what Elise Ashworth had always believed. A celebrated hero and protector of Vetra, she had dedicated her life to upholding justice, shielding the innocent, and defeating evil at every turn. That was, of course, before he arrived.

Kieran Vale—better known as the Black Flame—was a force of nature. A rogue with the power to summon fire at his fingertips, he left chaos in his wake: banks robbed, monuments toppled, and entire districts set ablaze. The city hated him, feared him, and demanded that Elise stop him.

The first time she faced him, she knew he was trouble. Standing atop a burning rooftop, with smoke curling around his broad shoulders and the glint of flames reflecting in his piercing gray eyes, Kieran was undeniably dangerous—and stupidly attractive.

Elise landed in front of him, cape whipping dramatically in the wind. “Surrender now, Kieran. This city won’t fall to you.”

Kieran smirked, his lips curling into something infuriatingly cocky. “It’s cute that you think you can stop me, starshine.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname, but she didn’t dare let it show. Their fight was intense—heat and light clashing as her energy blasts collided with his infernos. Yet, as their battles continued, something changed.

At first, it was subtle: his taunts became playful, her counters less biting. Then, during one confrontation, he saved her. A collapsing building had caught her off guard, and instead of leaving her to be crushed, Kieran had swept her out of danger.

“You’re welcome,” he teased, setting her down as flames danced harmlessly around them.

“You’re supposed to be the bad guy,” she muttered, shaken by the warmth of his arms.

“Maybe I am,” he replied, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. “But even villains can have weak spots.” His gaze lingered, and for the first time, Elise felt the walls of her moral fortress crack.

Weeks passed, and their encounters turned into secret meetings. Kieran wasn’t just the villain the city painted him as—he was intelligent, witty, and heartbreakingly vulnerable beneath his fiery exterior.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone,” he confessed one night, his head resting on her lap as they hid in an abandoned warehouse. “This city never gave me a chance. So I decided to take what I needed.”

Elise should have been disgusted. She should have arrested him. Instead, she found herself tracing the scar along his jaw, wondering how someone so broken could look at her with such devotion.

It didn’t take long for Vetra to notice her slipping focus. Criminals went unpunished, and the Black Flame’s schemes became more daring. She stopped fighting him altogether, letting his chaos reign unchecked.

Her closest allies confronted her one night. “You’re letting him win,” her partner, Adrian, accused. “People are dying because of you.”

“I’m not the one setting the fires,” she snapped, her voice laced with guilt. But deep down, she knew Adrian was right.

The final straw came when Kieran demanded she choose. “Come with me,” he said, standing at the edge of the city’s tallest tower, the skyline ablaze behind him. “Forget this place, these people—they don’t deserve you. They don’t deserve us.”

Elise hesitated, her mind racing. She thought of the oaths she’d taken, the lives she’d sworn to protect. But then she looked at Kieran—his hand outstretched, his eyes burning with something that felt like love—and she realized she didn’t care.

“I’m tired of being their hero,” she whispered, stepping forward and taking his hand.

As they vanished into the night, Vetra erupted in flames. The city would rebuild, as it always did, but it would never see Elise Ashworth again. She had abandoned her morals, her purpose, her self—all for a villain who made her heart burn brighter than the fires he set.

And truthfully? She didn’t regret a thing.

[loreleis-short-stories]

The Bridge Between Us

In the kingdom of Eldwyn, there were two names that struck fear and hope into the hearts of all who heard them: Sir Kaden, the gallant knight sworn to protect the realm, and Morgath, the shadow sorcerer whose darkness threatened to engulf it. For years, their battles had left scars on the land, a tapestry of destruction painted by their clash of ideals.

One day, a proclamation rang across the realm: a deadly curse had gripped the Heartstone, the magical core of Eldwyn that kept the kingdom alive. Only a duo of opposites—one of light and one of shadow—could undo it. Reluctantly, Kaden and Morgath found themselves face-to-face, agreeing to a fragile truce.

The quest took them deep into the Mistwood, a forest of shifting shadows and whispering winds. It was there they found her: a little girl with raven-black hair and eyes like twin moons. She sat alone in a hollow tree, clutching a threadbare doll.

“Who are you?” Kaden asked gently, kneeling to her level. His shining armor, usually a symbol of comfort, seemed to make her flinch.

“I’m… Lyra,” she whispered. Her voice trembled, but her gaze was steady. “I was hiding from the men who… burned my village.”

Morgath stepped closer, his dark cloak billowing around him. Lyra’s eyes darted to him, wide with fear, but instead of speaking, he knelt and extended a hand. A soft wisp of shadow twirled from his fingers, forming a butterfly that landed on her doll. Lyra blinked, her lips curling into a shy smile.

“She comes with us,” Morgath said without preamble.

“What?” Kaden exclaimed. “We can’t bring a child into danger!”

“Would you leave her here?” Morgath countered, his voice a quiet snarl. “She’s safer with us.”

The knight and sorcerer locked eyes in a silent battle of wills. Finally, Kaden sighed. “Fine. But she stays behind when we reach the Heartstone.”

Lyra smiled up at them, her trust unshaken. “Thank you.”

As the days passed, Lyra proved to be more than a quiet observer. She sang soft songs to lift their spirits, bandaged their wounds after battles with forest creatures, and asked questions that neither hero nor villain could answer.

“Why do you fight so much?” she asked one evening, poking at the fire with a stick.

“Because he wants to destroy everything good in the world,” Kaden replied, glaring at Morgath.

“And because he thinks all darkness is evil,” Morgath retorted. “Even when it could save people.”

Lyra frowned. “Maybe you’re both right… and both wrong?”

The two men exchanged a glance, her simple observation disarming them in a way swords never could.

The journey grew more perilous as they neared the Heartstone. Lyra, despite their protests, refused to stay behind. She saved them twice—once by spotting a trap and once by using her quick wit to distract a monstrous guardian long enough for Morgath to cast a spell.

In the quiet moments, something began to shift. Kaden noticed how Morgath’s harsh demeanor softened when Lyra clung to his hand during storms. Morgath caught himself smiling as Kaden taught her to wield a stick like a sword. And Lyra? She beamed whenever they worked together, even if it was just setting up camp.

“You’re like my parents,” she said one night, her voice muffled by sleep. “Or… what I think parents would be like.”

Kaden and Morgath sat in stunned silence, her words hanging in the air like a spell. When their eyes met, there was no hatred—only understanding.

At last, they reached the Heartstone, encased in a web of dark, pulsing energy. Morgath’s magic and Kaden’s strength were needed in perfect harmony to break the curse. As they worked together, Lyra’s voice rose in a song she’d made up on the journey, steadying their resolve.

When the final barrier shattered, the Heartstone flared with brilliant light, bathing them all in warmth. But the price of the curse-breaking was steep—Morgath’s connection to his shadow magic began to unravel, threatening to pull him into the void.

“No!” Kaden shouted, catching Morgath’s arm as he stumbled.

“Leave me,” Morgath rasped. “The kingdom is safe. That’s all that matters.”

Lyra ran to them, tears streaming down her face. “No! You promised to stay!”

The knight and sorcerer exchanged a look. In that moment, they weren’t enemies. They were partners. Family.

“Hold on,” Kaden growled, tightening his grip.

Morgath closed his eyes, summoning the last of his strength to anchor himself. Lyra threw her arms around both of them, her presence like a lifeline. Slowly, the void receded, leaving Morgath weakened but alive.

The journey home was different. Kaden and Morgath no longer walked as enemies but as companions, with Lyra skipping between them. They returned the Heartstone to its place, but neither had any desire to return to their old lives.

Instead, they chose a quiet life in the countryside, raising Lyra together. Their bickering turned playful, their differences a strength rather than a weakness. And as the seasons passed, they found that the bridge they’d built between light and shadow was strong enough to hold them all.

Together, they forged a new kind of magic—one born of love, trust, and the unbreakable bond of family.

[loreleis-short-stories]

The War of Blood and Bonds

In the sprawling kingdom of Eldora, King Roderic ruled with a mind clouded by greed. Though his kingdom was rich in beauty, its coffers were nearly empty due to years of mismanagement. Desperate to restore his wealth, Roderic made a decision that would change the course of his family’s history: he arranged for his youngest daughter, Princess Lyria, to be married to Lord Maldrik, a notoriously cruel and tyrannical noble known for his boundless riches.

Princess Lyria, a gentle soul with a sharp mind and a deep love for her people, begged her father to reconsider. She knew Maldrik’s reputation: the lord was known to treat his wives like possessions, discarding them when they no longer pleased him. But Roderic dismissed her pleas, seeing only the gold that Maldrik promised in exchange for the union.

News of the arrangement traveled quickly, and it wasn’t long before it reached the ears of Queen Seraphina, Roderic’s eldest daughter, who ruled the neighboring kingdom of Virelia alongside her husband, King Eryndor. Seraphina had left Eldora years ago when her father’s obsession with wealth began to overshadow his love for his children. She had found a new home and a partner in Eryndor, a just and kind ruler who shared her ideals of fairness and compassion.

When Seraphina read the letter from a spy in Eldora detailing the deal her father had struck, her blood boiled. She slammed the letter onto the council table, her emerald eyes blazing.

“He’s selling her like livestock,” she spat, her voice trembling with fury. “To him, of all people.”

Eryndor placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “We won’t let this happen,” he said firmly. “Lyria is your sister. She deserves more than to be bartered for coin.”

Seraphina turned to him, her face resolute. “Then we march to Eldora. If my father won’t listen to reason, he will listen to the roar of our armies.”

The council chamber buzzed with the murmurs of advisors, but Seraphina silenced them with a single look. “Send word to King Roderic. Tell him we will not tolerate this travesty. If he does not surrender Lyria to us, we will bring war to his gates.”

In Eldora, Roderic laughed when he read the declaration. “She dares threaten me?” he scoffed, crumpling the parchment. “She’s forgotten her place.”

But as the days passed, reports of Virelia’s mobilizing army poured in. Seraphina and Eryndor were renowned strategists, and their forces were among the most disciplined in the land. The reality of their threat began to dawn on Roderic, but his pride would not allow him to back down. He sent word to Maldrik, urging him to prepare for war, but Maldrik, ever the coward, had no interest in defending a bride he had not yet claimed.

Meanwhile, Lyria, confined to her chambers, found a glimmer of hope in the news of her sister’s defiance. For the first time in weeks, she felt the weight on her chest begin to lift. She prayed Seraphina would reach her in time.

The armies of Virelia arrived at Eldora’s borders within weeks. Seraphina and Eryndor led the charge, their banners flying high. Seraphina herself rode at the head of the army, her golden hair catching the sunlight like a crown. She had no intention of storming her childhood home, but she would if it meant saving her sister.

Roderic’s soldiers, outnumbered and outmatched, barely put up a fight. Within hours, the castle gates were breached, and Seraphina stood before her father in the throne room.

“You’ve brought disgrace to our family,” she said, her voice like steel. “You were willing to sell Lyria to a monster for a handful of coins.”

Roderic, pale and trembling, tried to defend himself. “I did what I had to for the kingdom! You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Seraphina interrupted. “This ends now. Lyria will come with me, and Virelia will take responsibility for Eldora’s debts. But mark my words, Father: if you ever attempt to barter with our lives again, I will return, and there will be no mercy.”

Roderic sank back into his throne, defeated. He had lost more than his wealth; he had lost the respect of his daughters.

Seraphina found Lyria in her chambers, her face lighting up as she saw her sister. The two embraced tightly, tears of relief streaming down their faces.

“You came for me,” Lyria whispered.

“Always,” Seraphina replied, stroking her sister’s hair. “You’re safe now. You’ll never have to see that wretched man again.”

As they rode back to Virelia, Lyria looked back at the crumbling towers of her father’s castle, vowing never to return. Seraphina and Eryndor welcomed her into their kingdom with open arms, promising her a life of freedom and respect.

And so, the war for blood and bonds ended not with the clash of swords but with the triumph of love and loyalty over greed. Eldora would recover under Seraphina’s guidance, and Lyria would grow into a leader who embodied the kindness and strength of her elder sister. Together, they forged a new legacy—one that would be remembered for generations.

[loreleis-short-stories]

It was a quiet night at the only coffee bookshop in town. The small bell above the door jingled as it swung open, and a man stumbled in, his long coat trailing behind him. He looked disheveled—his black gloves were singed, and there was a faint streak of soot across his sharp cheekbones. The villain, known locally as “Obsidian,” had just escaped an intense clash with the town’s beloved hero, Solstice. His dark eyes scanned the shop, landing on the only other person there—a girl seated at a corner table, engrossed in a book.

She didn’t look up. Her world seemed confined to the pages in her hands, her coffee untouched and curling steam into the air.

Undeterred, the villain strode over, pulled out the chair opposite her with a dramatic flourish, and sat down. “I’ve done it!” he announced, his voice a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion. “The perfect crime! Oh, it was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

The girl raised an eyebrow but still didn’t look away from her book.

“Let me set the scene for you,” Obsidian continued, leaning forward like a child sharing a secret. “Solstice was there, all glowing and noble, trying to stop me. But I distracted him—no, entranced him—with a false trail. He fell for it completely. Meanwhile, I…” He paused, waiting for her reaction. When she finally glanced up, her gaze was as calm as her demeanor.

“You look like an excited puppy,” she said flatly, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile.

Obsidian froze. His dark, dramatic aura shattered instantly. “A puppy?” he echoed, placing a hand over his chest as though she’d struck him. “I’ll have you know, madam, that I am a man of unparalleled sophistication and intellect. A puppy? Really?”

The girl laughed—a soft, genuine sound that lit up the dim room. It was so unexpected that Obsidian blinked, his faux indignation melting away. “You know,” he said slowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “you’ve got a pretty smile.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Not what I expected from the town villain.”

[loreleis-short-stories]

The Silent Protector

Aiden’s obsession began on a rainy Wednesday in October. He had been sitting in the coffee shop near his apartment, nursing a cold brew he didn’t really want. He was supposed to be working on a design pitch for a client, but his mind was elsewhere. That’s when he first saw her.

Mila.

She had walked in with a book clutched against her chest, her hair slightly damp from the rain. There was a magnetism about her, an intensity in the way she focused on the world around her, or rather, how she didn’t—as though the world didn’t quite exist unless she decided to let it in. She found a quiet corner, opened her book, and vanished into it, completely unaware of her surroundings.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Aiden found himself drawn to her. He wanted to know what she was reading, what made her face light up, what kind of world she escaped to when reality wasn’t enough.

For days, he came back to the coffee shop, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. She became a puzzle he needed to solve, a story he needed to uncover. He watched her quietly, memorizing the way she sipped her tea, the expressions she made as she read, and how her lips moved when she mouthed the words silently to herself.

One day, she left her book behind when she stepped out for a phone call. Aiden’s pulse quickened. The book was Twisted Shadows, and when he flipped it open, he noticed her notes scribbled in the margins. Her thoughts were as fascinating as she was—sharp, passionate, and deeply vulnerable.

That night, Aiden couldn’t sleep. For the first time in years, something, or rather someone, had breached the carefully constructed walls of his solitude. He wanted to know everything about her.

The first time Aiden followed Mila home, it wasn’t planned. She had left the coffee shop late, and the thought of her walking alone in the dark filled him with unease. He trailed her from a safe distance, noting how unaware she was of her surroundings. Her headphones were in, her head tilted slightly down as she strolled, lost in thought.

It horrified him how easy it was to follow her, how close he could get without her ever noticing. When she finally reached her apartment building, she fumbled with her keys, leaving the front door propped open as she carried in her bag.

He lingered outside, torn between leaving and stepping closer. The urge to know more won out.

Breaking into Mila’s accounts was almost disturbingly easy. Her email was secured with a password that included her favorite author’s name—something he had gleaned from her scribbled notes in Twisted Shadows. Once inside, he found her Amazon account, her reading lists, and even her schedule, thanks to a calendar app.

He told himself he wasn’t doing this to hurt her. It was curiosity, nothing more. But with every detail he uncovered, he felt more entwined with her life.

The first time Aiden entered her apartment, it wasn’t to invade her privacy—it was to protect her. At least, that’s what he told himself. He had been watching her from across the street when he noticed a delivery person leaving her door unlocked after dropping off a package. His heart raced as he realized how vulnerable she was.

He slipped in quickly, intending only to lock the door. But once inside, he couldn’t resist taking a look around. Her apartment was an extension of her—warm, cozy, and filled with books. Shelves lined every wall, each one meticulously organized.

It felt wrong to be there, but it also felt inevitable, as if he belonged in this space. He told himself he was just ensuring her safety. Her windows were slightly ajar, so he closed and latched them. Her locks were flimsy, so he made a mental note to install better ones.

What started as a single intrusion became a routine. Each time Aiden entered Mila’s apartment, he found new ways to secure it. He replaced her cheap locks with more secure ones and added a hidden camera at the entrance to monitor anyone who came near.

But he didn’t stop there. He started leaving little gifts behind—books he knew she’d love. He carefully placed them on her shelves, blending them seamlessly into her collection. At first, he doubted she’d notice. But when he saw her pull one of his books off the shelf one night through the hidden camera feed, his chest tightened. She lingered on the cover, her brow furrowed in confusion, before shrugging and setting it aside.

She didn’t know it yet, but he was becoming a part of her world.

Aiden’s obsession deepened with every passing day. He started tracking her movements, making sure she was safe at all times. When she walked home from the coffee shop late at night, he followed at a distance, his heart racing whenever anyone got too close to her.

But it wasn’t just about protecting her from the outside world. He also wanted to protect her from the loneliness he sensed in her. He saw it in the way she spent her evenings alone, curled up with a book instead of going out with friends.

He was the only one who truly understood her, he told himself. He was the only one who cared enough to protect her.

The day they met at the coffee shop, Aiden felt like a character stepping into the pages of a book he’d been reading for months. He had orchestrated the moment carefully, ensuring that he’d be in the right place at the right time.

When he saw her sitting alone, engrossed in her book, his heart pounded in his chest. He approached her with a confidence he didn’t quite feel, his voice steady as he commented on her book.

Her eyes lit up when she looked at him, and for a moment, he forgot all the secrets he was keeping. She was even more beautiful up close, her presence intoxicating.

As they talked, Aiden couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt, as if they had known each other for years. He didn’t tell her who he was or how much he already knew about her. That part would come later, he decided.

For now, he was content to play the role of the charming stranger. After all, every great love story had to start somewhere.

Pt. 2 of 2

[loreleis-short-stories]

Her shadow

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that books were Mila’s entire world. Her apartment was a shrine to her obsession. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined every wall, meticulously organized by genre, then author, then publication date. Her shelves were an intimate map of her mind, each book cataloged in her memory. She knew every title, every spine, every dog-eared page.

Mila loved nothing more than curling up in her oversized armchair with a book that promised a dangerous romance. The ones where the male protagonist was unrelenting in his obsession with the heroine—following her, knowing her secrets, protecting her in ways that teetered on the edge of right and wrong. It was her guilty pleasure, one she’d never admit to anyone else.

She was halfway through her latest read, Shadow of You, when she decided to take a break. As she sipped her tea, her phone buzzed with a notification from Amazon. A message about her recent order history.

Her brow furrowed. She hadn’t logged into Amazon in over a year. Mila opened the app, scrolling through the list of items she’d supposedly ordered. A few of the titles seemed familiar, but others she didn’t recognize at all. “Huh,” she muttered, dismissing the anomaly as a glitch. She had a knack for brushing off the strange or inconvenient.

Weeks passed, and Mila continued her quiet life, but something began to gnaw at the edges of her reality. It started subtly. She would glance at her shelves and feel… off. Like something was out of place. Then she noticed a book she didn’t remember buying. The Silent Watcher by an author she’d never heard of.

She pulled it off the shelf, flipping through its pages. It was precisely the type of story she loved—a dark, obsessive romance. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. “Maybe I bought it and forgot,” she told herself. After all, she had dozens of books waiting to be read. It was possible, wasn’t it?

But the pattern continued. More books appeared. A first edition of Bound by Devotion here, a signed copy of Veil of Obsession there. Each one was perfectly tailored to her tastes.

Mila’s logical mind rebelled against her unease. “You’re imagining things,” she whispered to herself. “You probably ordered them and forgot. Or maybe a friend left them here…” She stopped short, realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

Then came the night when she was rearranging her romance section and found a book on the shelf—a book she knew hadn’t been there before. The spine was pristine, the cover crisp and new. In His Shadow by Adrian Cross. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up. The premise was eerily familiar. A man who infiltrated a woman’s life, leaving her clues until she realized she was living a story he’d crafted just for her.

She couldn’t deny it any longer. Something was happening.

Still, Mila clung to her denial, convincing herself that she must have purchased these books in some long-forgotten spree. She needed to get out of her apartment, clear her head.

That’s how she found herself in a small, tucked-away coffee shop she rarely visited. She ordered her usual—a chai latte—and settled into a corner with a book she’d brought along, The Shadows Between Us.

“Good choice,” a voice said, smooth and low.

Mila looked up to see a man standing near her table. He was tall, with dark hair and sharp eyes that seemed to see through her.

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a polite smile.

“Alessandra is one of my favorite protagonists,” he continued. “Confident, unapologetic, a little dangerous.”

Mila’s interest piqued. “Not many people would say that about her. Most just think she’s selfish.”

“Selfishness isn’t always a flaw,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her without waiting for permission.

Mila hesitated but found herself nodding. “True. Sometimes it’s survival.”

The conversation flowed naturally, and Mila was struck by how easily she felt at ease with him. He introduced himself as Adrian—a name that nagged at her, though she couldn’t place why.

As they talked, Adrian’s gaze never left hers. There was something captivating about him, something familiar. Mila couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere, but every time she tried to place it, the thought slipped away.

As their conversation wound down, Adrian leaned back, a satisfied smile on his lips. “I’d like to talk more sometime. You seem… fascinating.”

Mila smiled back, a flush of warmth spreading through her. “I’d like that too.”

Pt. 1 of 2

[loreleis-short-stories]

The house of shadows

Then came Lila Crawford, the youngest member yet, at just 14 years old. She joined the house after one of her TikTok dances went viral, amassing over 50 million views overnight. Excited yet overwhelmed by the sudden fame, Lila saw Ecliptica as a dream opportunity—a chance to collaborate with her idols and escape the monotony of high school.

At first, everything seemed perfect. The other teens welcomed Lila warmly, and she marveled at the house’s luxurious design. Every room was a studio, complete with neon lights and high-end cameras. The adults—Sam, Jordan, and Vivienne—managed everything, from collaborations to sponsorships. Yet, there were unspoken rules: no phones at certain hours, no leaving the property without permission, and, above all, no questions about former members.

Lila noticed something odd within her first few weeks: the house was quieter than she’d expected. She remembered seeing more creators in earlier videos—faces that weren’t around anymore. She asked a bubbly 15-year-old, Tara, about it one night.

“People come and go,” Tara said quickly, avoiding Lila’s gaze. “Some decide this life isn’t for them.”

But Lila wasn’t convinced. Late at night, she scrolled through older Ecliptica content. Faces she’d grown up watching—like Ryder and Mia—had vanished. Even more unsettling, their social media accounts were either inactive or deleted entirely. She tried searching for news, but there was nothing—not even goodbye posts from the house. It was like they’d been erased.

One evening, Lila overheard a hushed argument between Jordan and Vivienne.

“She’s too young,” Vivienne hissed.

“She’s pulling in views we’ve never seen,” Jordan replied. “We can’t afford to lose momentum.”

Lila’s blood ran cold. Who were they talking about? Was it her?

Determined to uncover the truth, she began snooping. While pretending to film in the adults’ office, she stumbled upon a file labeled “Transition List.” The document contained names of former members, alongside dates and cryptic notes like “Stage 1 complete” or “Ready for offering.” Her hands shook as she snapped pictures.

That night, she showed the photos to Tara, who burst into tears. “I can’t talk about it,” Tara whispered. “They’ll hurt us.”

“Who?!” Lila pressed. But Tara only shook her head, refusing to say more.

Over the next few weeks, Lila’s fear grew. She watched as another teen, Eric, went from being a regular in videos to silently packing his bags one night. When she tried asking him why, he simply muttered, “I’m sorry,” and left. The next day, his name was wiped from all Ecliptica posts.

The tension took a toll on Lila. She developed insomnia, her anxiety skyrocketed, and she found it hard to concentrate on anything except gathering proof. On one occasion, she snuck into the adults’ locked basement. There, she found symbols painted on the floor, strange artifacts, and a handwritten note that chilled her to the core:

“The lessers sustain us. The stars must not fade.”

Desperate to escape, Lila confided in a 17-year-old named Caleb, one of the few remaining teens who hadn’t shut her out. Together, they devised a plan to collect evidence. They set up hidden cameras in the adults’ quarters and began cataloging everything suspicious, from whispered meetings to the eerie rituals held in the basement.

But their first attempt to leave failed. While trying to sneak out, they were caught by Sam, who confiscated their phones and grounded them to the property. Lila’s hope crumbled as she realized how tightly controlled they were. Caleb grew distant afterward, too terrified to risk another escape.

Finally, in a last act of defiance, Lila used a hidden burner phone to send all her evidence—photos, videos, and Caleb’s testimony—to the FBI. Weeks passed in agonizing silence. Then, one morning, federal agents swarmed Ecliptica House. The adults were arrested, and the surviving teens were taken into protective custody.

The story that emerged rocked the world: the adults had been sacrificing the less popular teens in occult rituals, believing it would enhance their fame and ensure their viral success. The disappearances were disguised as voluntary departures, with families gaslit and silenced through intimidation.

In the end, only four teens remained out of the original twenty. Lila, though hailed as a hero, struggled to cope with the trauma. She withdrew from social media, unable to face the constant flood of comments mourning the lost creators. Public outcry led to memorials for the victims, with fans worldwide creating tributes to honor their memory.

Ecliptica House became a cautionary tale—a dark reminder of the cost of unchecked ambition and the exploitation of vulnerable youth in the pursuit of fame. And though Lila tried to move on, she never forgot the faces of the friends she couldn’t save.

[loreleis-short-stories]

The Princess of Kalinaway

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Long ago, the kingdom of Kalinaway was ruled by a family said to be chosen by the stars themselves, their bloodline imbued with a magic as ancient and powerful as the heavens. This magic, however, was reserved for the strongest—those who embraced ambition, cunning, and ruthlessness. King Altair, with his unyielding iron will, had molded his five sons—Rigel, Vega, Sirius, Castor, and Pollux—into perfect heirs to this legacy. Yet his youngest child, Princess Lyra, was unlike them all.

Lyra was the golden thread in a tapestry of darkness. Where her brothers plotted strategies for war and whispered plans of conquest, she danced through the castle gardens, humming to the flowers. Her laughter echoed in the cold, silent halls, an uninvited melody in a place that knew no joy. Servants adored her; commoners cherished her. She shared her meals with beggars, sneaked into the kitchens to bake sweets for the children in the village, and rescued injured animals from the forests.

Her brothers scorned her. To them, Lyra’s softness was a weakness, her light a danger. She was a misfit, an embarrassment to the family’s legacy. And yet, she was untouchable. No matter how far she strayed from the path laid before her, King Altair never punished her. It was as though she carried some invisible shield, one that even her brothers could not break.

The Resentment of the Brothers

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Rigel, the eldest and heir apparent, often said, “Father coddles her because she is nothing more than a memory of Mother. She’ll be the death of this family if she isn’t cast out.”

Sirius, the coldest, rarely acknowledged her at all, and when he did, his words were sharp and cutting.

“Why do you smile all the time?” Vega asked her once, his voice dripping with disdain. “Do you think this world will reward your kindness? It will crush you, sister.”

Yet Lyra only smiled brighter. “Then I’ll shine so the pieces can find each other again.”

Her optimism infuriated them, but even they could not deny the strange warmth she carried. At first, they resented how their father protected her, but slowly, as time went on, their resentment turned into something far more complicated.

The First Threads of Change

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One day, Castor found himself in the village, overseeing taxes. A boy fell to his knees, begging for mercy, and before Castor could respond, Lyra appeared. She knelt beside the boy, shielding him with her arms.

“Take what you need from me,” she said, her voice steady. “But leave him. He has nothing left to give.”

Castor didn’t understand why, but he let the boy go. When he told Rigel later, the eldest brother called him soft, but Castor couldn’t stop thinking about how the boy’s mother had hugged Lyra, tears streaming down her face.

Moments like these piled up. When Vega was wounded in battle, Lyra stayed by his side, singing lullabies from their childhood. When Pollux had a nightmare, it was Lyra who crept into his room with a lantern and a soft smile.

“She’s foolish,” Rigel muttered. “But perhaps there is something… enduring about her foolishness.”

One by one, the brothers found themselves drawn to her light. Though they would never admit it, they began to protect her in secret—deflecting political threats, silencing gossip in the court, and ensuring no harm came to her, even if she never knew it was them.

The Return of the Queen

————————

It was during a council meeting that Queen Alhena returned. Her arrival was as sudden as it was shocking. She strode into the hall, her hair shining like silver, her voice a symphony of authority. The court erupted in applause, but Lyra’s brothers were silent.

“How could you have survived all these years?” Rigel asked, his tone cold.

Alhena smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “There are things even death cannot touch, my son.”

Though the kingdom celebrated her return, the brothers were wary. Their mother was not the same. She watched Lyra with a predatory gaze, her smile too sharp, her kindness too calculated. Soon, whispers of treason reached King Altair’s ears.

“She’s a threat,” Alhena told him, speaking of Lyra. “She’s weak. Soft. The people love her, but love cannot rule a kingdom.”

Altair began to doubt the daughter he had once protected so fiercely.

The Mother’s Plot

———————

The attempts on Lyra’s life began subtly: a cup of poisoned tea, a sabotaged staircase. Each time, her brothers intervened in secret, their anger toward their mother growing with each attempt.

“She’s trying to break us apart,” Sirius said one night as they met in the shadows. “We cannot let her succeed.”

Rigel nodded. “We protect her. Always.”

But Lyra, oblivious to their efforts, continued to believe in the good in everyone—even her mother.

The Festival of Starlight

———————

The Festival of Starlight was the grandest celebration in Kalinaway, a night when the entire kingdom gathered to honor the stars. This year, it was different. As Lyra stood on the palace balcony, her mother stepped forward, holding a blade.

“She is unfit to rule!” Alhena cried, her voice echoing across the crowd. “She is the rot within our family!”

Lyra’s heart broke as her mother lunged. But before the blade could strike, something within her stirred.

Time seemed to slow. A warmth spread through her chest, growing hotter, brighter, until it was blinding. Lyra screamed, and the air around her erupted in golden flames. The blade melted in Alhena’s hand, and she stumbled back, her eyes wide with terror.

“You…” Alhena whispered. “You have the magic.”

Lyra didn’t understand what was happening, but the fire consumed her mother, leaving nothing but silence.

The Aftermath

——————

The crowd fell to their knees in awe and fear. Lyra stood trembling, staring at her hands, which still glowed faintly. Her brothers rushed to her side, shielding her from the horrified stares of the court.

“You didn’t mean to,” Pollux whispered, his voice soft.

But Lyra couldn’t hear him. She turned and fled, retreating to the solitude of her chambers.

For weeks, she wouldn’t speak to anyone. Her laughter was gone, replaced by silence. The brothers tried everything—Rigel bringing her flowers, Castor reading her stories, Vega playing the lute outside her door. Slowly, piece by piece, she began to heal.

A New Dawn

——————

Though Lyra would never be the same, she found a new strength within herself. With her brothers by her side, she rose to lead Kalinaway, not as the naïve princess she once was, but as a queen who had faced the darkness and emerged stronger.

Her light was no longer unblemished, but it was still beautiful. And for the first time in centuries, the kingdom of Kalinaway began to change.

[loreleis-short-stories]

Lily: have you ever met someone that's really pretty?

Sirius: Remus

James: Regulus

Sirius:

James:

Peter, narrating: and in that moment, James knew, he fucked up

[loreleis-short-stories]

Dumbledore: I need your help

Harry: Hang on I have to ask my parents

Dumbledore: wha-

Harry: *pulls out a Ouija board* Hey mom and dad, can I go with Dumbledore in a mission?

Lily and James from the afterline: A-B-S-O-L-Y-T-E-L-Y N-O-T

Harry: They said no :/

Dumbledore:

[loreleis-short-stories]

Remus, sliding a photo across the table: I need you to kill this man.

Hitman:

Hitman: Sir, this is a picture of youself

Regulus, from the other corner of the room: Mood.