Rising From Exile: The Dragonless Queen

Chapter 7

Word Count: 601 | Released on: Today at 15:38

thick with the scent of damp earth, rotting leaves, and the metallic tang of impending rain. I pushed d

lone, I closed my eyes, steadied m

ed over the dark forest. My hands moved with frantic, practiced precision. I grabbed a blister pack of broad-spec

nto my pockets, the hair on the bac

ysical weight, a raw manifestation of Dragonblood aura that made the very air feel like m

s man radiated a dark, intense, and overwhelming charismatic power. His sharp jawline caught a sliver of moonlight, and his

terrifying presence, the heavy c

alf-undone. "Thought you could hide in the dark, little bitch?" he slurred, drawing a jagged hunting kn

gh. My muscles coiled like a spring. I was ready to step inside his guard

a disgusting gr

cross the distance,

fying burst of Dragonblood pressure-slammed down from the r

ith a sickening, bone-rattling crunch. His knife clattered uselessly into the darkness. He slumped into the

his hands and knees, pissing his pants in sheer, p

o the woods, screaming into th

ridge. The intense, mysterious figure had vanished, leav

tia

plintered branch like a club, his chest heaving, his own wound b

ket under a pile of useless, random leaves. "Wyatt got spooked by the dark.

Chapter End

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Rising From Exile: The Dragonless Queen

Diversion Fantasy

“I was reincarnated into a brutal world ruled by dragons as a "Dragonless" outcast, only to finally reunite with my biological noble family. But the very day I was brought home, my family was framed for treason and sentenced to a lethal exile in the frozen north. The fake daughter who stole my life for seventeen years mocked us, abandoning our name to join the enemies who orchestrated our downfall. During the brutal death march, I relied on my secret spatial storage and modern medical knowledge to keep my family alive. I cured my father's rotting whip wounds, protected my brother from sadistic guards, and finally secured a warm meal and a moment of peace for our exhausted camp. We thought we had survived the worst of the royal purge. But just as we let our guard down, my father, brother, and all the men in our bloodline suddenly collapsed, violently choking on black blood and foaming at the mouth. I was completely stunned. The lethal nerve toxin wasn't in the main cooking pot that the women and children ate from. It was slipped directly into the men's individual bowls. The poison didn't come from the cruel guards or the royal inquisitors. It came from someone sitting right beside our own campfire. There is a traitor hiding among my closest family members, and I swear I will drag them out of the shadows.”