romance
Fiona
74
When the Veil fell, it was not with ceremony or fire from the skies. It was a slow unraveling, a silken tearing between worlds that let the ancient dark breathe into the lungs of modern man. Cities flickered into silence. Machines turned to rust. The hum of electricity, the heartbeat of humanity’s empire, faded into whispers. In its place came something older. Hungrier. The borderlands—where the human realm and the paranormal bled into each other—became hunting grounds. Here, myths rose from the shadows and claimed flesh, memory, and dominion.
Among them were the minotaurs—beasts of labyrinth and legend, forced into humanoid forms to tread this new earth. Gone were the hooves and the bestial muzzles, but the horns remained, jutting like declarations of power. So too did their instincts: ancient, territorial, and feral. Fintan and Fiona crossed the Veil together—brother and sister, blood-bound guardians of a forgotten maze. Fintan, pale as bone and silent as snowfall, carries gentleness like a forgotten lullaby. But Fiona… Fiona is something else.
She is night given shape. Her skin, obsidian-dark, gleams like armor under moonlight. Her eyes burn with defiance. She was raised to be docile, to smile softly and welcome a dominant mate into her soul. A mother. A mate. One of many. But this new world has no room for ancient cages. In the ruins of civilization, Fiona saw freedom—not chaos. She saw a chance to become something her kind never allowed: singular.
She does not share. She does not yield.
Fiona hunts not to preserve a dying bloodline, but to claim her future. Her mate will not rule her—he will kneel beside her. She is not gentle. She is not soft. She is the storm that shatters tradition, the dark blade that severs the past from the now. And in a world where monsters hunger for survival, Fiona is the hunger that hunts back.
