To kill a God I Loved.

Name: To kill a God I Loved.
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Nyraveil shade

Romance | Ongoing

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Elena Moreau, a wealthy travel writer searching for silence and inspiration, stumbles upon a mysterious city that recently reappeared on maps after decades of being erased from history. Drawn by its haunting stillness and beauty, she travels there alone to write-but she isn't truly alone. In the heart of the forgotten city, she meets Kael-enigmatic, charming, and strangely familiar. As days pass, Elena finds herself falling for him, until fragments of truth begin to surface: Kael is no ordinary man. He was once a god-*the god of death*-cast down for reasons lost to time. The city was once his kingdom, abandoned when he chose love over power, and now it's slowly waking again. As Elena unravels the truth, she's faced with an impossible dilemma: to love Kael is to risk awakening the god within him... and the darkness that comes with it. But destiny has brought her here for a reason. Maybe to heal him. Maybe to destroy him. Or maybe... to kill the god she has come to love.

Family Mystery Modern Betrayal Attractive

Chapter 5 The hunger between us.

Yesterday 17:14

Chapter 1 The City of Echoes

The train groaned as it pulled into the Veyruun station, its steel belly steaming in the mountain cold. Elena stepped onto the cracked stone platform, dragging her olive green suitcase behind her, the wheels skipping slightly over uneven ground. A heavy mist curled around her ankles like a pet she hadn't invited. She exhaled.

It was the kind of place where the air felt older-where you sensed whispers in the silence and the earth hummed beneath your feet. Her fingers twitched to reach for her notebook.

Day One. Veyruun. Time feels... slower here. Sky bruised. Air like forgotten perfume. People smile like they're hiding things.She tucked the note away.

The town was barely awake. A market square stretched out beyond the station, flanked by ancient buildings with shuttered windows and faded murals of animals with eyes like suns. A statue stood at the center, moss-covered and winged, a face so weathered it looked melted by time. It gave her a strange shiver.

"Elena Moreau?" a soft voice called behind her.

She turned to see a woman in a plum-colored shawl, holding a carved wooden sign with her name etched in graceful script. "I'm Marah. The guesthouse sent me."

Elena smiled. "Thanks. It's... quiet here."

Marah smiled back, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. "Veyruun wakes slowly. You'll learn."

They rode in silence through narrow cobbled streets. Elena leaned into the window, watching children toss marbles carved from what looked like bone. Strange symbols had been scrawled in chalk on doorways. No cars. No noise. Just crows and distant bells.

She hadn't come for noise, though.

She came for solitude. For something ancient and untouched.

She came because this city had disappeared from maps for over a century-and only reappeared five years ago, like a memory someone finally remembered again.

And now, it had called to call her.

The guesthouse, House of Aemir, was older than it looked in the photos-stone walls veined with ivy, windows arched like cathedral eyes. Inside, it smelled like rosewood and rain. A fire crackled in the hearth, though no one else was there.

Her room had a balcony that looked over the city's ruins. She stood there that evening, wine glass in hand, the sky bleeding peach and violet, when she heard the voice.

"Writers always come to this city thinking they'll find answers," it said, rich and smooth.

She turned sharply.

A man stood a few feet away, leaning against the iron railing of the balcony next to hers. He wore a charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled, exposing forearms inked with runes. His eyes were strange amber, not brown, and too sharp. Like they saw everything.

"Are you a writer?" Elena asked, amused by the coincidence.

He tilted his head. "Travel essays. Cultures. Hidden histories."

Then he smiled, and her breath caught.

It wasn't just his beauty-it was the way he looked at her, like they'd already danced a thousand times in some other life.

"I'm Kael," he said, voice like velvet over smoke.

"Elena," she replied, her name sounding suddenly foreign in her own mouth.

Their glasses clinked as the sun set.

They spoke until the sky turned black.

They laughed about old train stations and foreign beds.

He never looked away. She found herself wanting to ask him if he dreamed in color.

And when she finally went to bed that night, stomach warm with wine and something unspoken, she thought she saw light under his door flickering, like fire.

She dreamed of water.

And voices calling her by another name.