The First Lady's Fury

The First Lady's Fury

Gavin

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For three years, I was Elara Vance, First Lady, the quiet power behind Governor Ethan Vance, a man who owed his very political life and success to me and to the ancient, mystical traditions of my people, the Keepers of Echoing Hollow. But everything shattered with the arrival of Veronica Hayes, his deceased fiancée' s sister, who, visibly pregnant with his child, orchestrated the brutal, unthinkable sacrifice of my newborn son to the Crimson Ash trees, a horror Ethan chillingly endorsed as my "atonement." He then unleashed a relentless, state-sanctioned purge on my innocent people, slaughtering my kin, desecrating our sacred communal grounds, and reducing me, his wife and the mother of his dead child, to a prisoner in my own mansion, utterly isolated and stripped of dignity. The final, unbearable slap came when he demanded I offer my own blood to soothe Veronica's manufactured anxieties, twisting my revered spiritual heritage into a degrading commodity. How could the man who begged for my help, who swore eternal love, betray me so utterly, turning our son's death into a weapon and my spiritual essence into a grotesque offering for his new lover? But then, gifted with the potent, ephemeral strength of the ancient Ghost Root, I refused to break. With a defiant slash across my arm, staining Veronica's pristine carpet with my blood, I signaled the end of my quiet compliance, embarking instead on All Souls' Eve upon a haunting, spectral journey to reclaim the seventy-two fallen spirits of my people and lead them, at last, back to sacred ground.

Introduction

For three years, I was Elara Vance, First Lady, the quiet power behind Governor Ethan Vance, a man who owed his very political life and success to me and to the ancient, mystical traditions of my people, the Keepers of Echoing Hollow.

But everything shattered with the arrival of Veronica Hayes, his deceased fiancée' s sister, who, visibly pregnant with his child, orchestrated the brutal, unthinkable sacrifice of my newborn son to the Crimson Ash trees, a horror Ethan chillingly endorsed as my "atonement."

He then unleashed a relentless, state-sanctioned purge on my innocent people, slaughtering my kin, desecrating our sacred communal grounds, and reducing me, his wife and the mother of his dead child, to a prisoner in my own mansion, utterly isolated and stripped of dignity.

The final, unbearable slap came when he demanded I offer my own blood to soothe Veronica's manufactured anxieties, twisting my revered spiritual heritage into a degrading commodity.

How could the man who begged for my help, who swore eternal love, betray me so utterly, turning our son's death into a weapon and my spiritual essence into a grotesque offering for his new lover?

But then, gifted with the potent, ephemeral strength of the ancient Ghost Root, I refused to break.

With a defiant slash across my arm, staining Veronica's pristine carpet with my blood, I signaled the end of my quiet compliance, embarking instead on All Souls' Eve upon a haunting, spectral journey to reclaim the seventy-two fallen spirits of my people and lead them, at last, back to sacred ground.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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