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With Kaelen and Selene now bound by their elemental connection, yet facing a rising danger that threatens not just their...
01/05/2025

With Kaelen and Selene now bound by their elemental connection, yet facing a rising danger that threatens not just their union, but the realm itself.

PART 3: THE EMBER AWAKENS

Selene stirred beneath the furs, her skin still tingling from Kaelen’s touch. He lay beside her, half-covered in shadows, his golden eyes watching the ceiling as if searching for answers in the obsidian veins above.

"You felt it too," she whispered.
He turned to her, expression dark. "The bond... it didn’t just merge us. It woke something."

Deep beneath the fortress, ancient fire rumbled—a forgotten power that recognized Selene’s moonlight as the missing half of a divine equation.

Suddenly, the floor beneath them vibrated subtly. Not an earthquake—something deeper. Kaelen rose, muscles tense, fire curling at his fingertips.

“Something’s coming.”

PART 4: THE TRIAL OF FLESH AND FLAME (GRAPHIC CONTENT)

That night, despite the distant tremors and ominous omens, desire once again overtook them—only now, it was charged with more than lust. Magic pulsed through their veins, turning every touch into prophecy.

Selene pushed him down onto the stone pedestal where Kaelen once meditated. She straddled him, her silver hair cascading over her bare shoulders. His hands gripped her thighs, flames licking up his arms but never burning her.

Their mouths met again—slower this time, deeper. Her hips rolled against his length, slick heat guiding him into her with agonizing slowness. They both gasped as their bodies connected again, but this time, the magic around them stirred.

Silver fire curled around Selene’s body, dancing with Kaelen’s flames. Each thrust of his hips caused the fire to flare brighter. She rode him with a rhythm older than time, moaning into his neck, her nails clawing down his back.

“You are mine,” she whispered against his lips.

“And you—are my end,” he growled, flipping her beneath him in a smooth, dominating motion.

He pinned her hands above her head, driving deeper, harder. Selene cried out, head tossing back as her climax built like a wave of starlight. The heat inside them became unbearable—until it burst in a shared cry, lighting the chamber in blinding fire and moonlight.

Their magic exploded outward, shaking the walls of the fortress. The ancient flame beneath them roared.

Part 5: The Oracle's Warning

The next morning, they journeyed to the temple ruins hidden within the Ashen Vale. The Oracle awaited them—an ageless being with no eyes, yet she saw everything.

“You’ve awakened the Primordial Flame,” she rasped, bones clicking as she moved. “Its hunger cannot be sated by love. Only sacrifice.”

Selene frowned. “What kind of sacrifice?”

The Oracle pointed at Kaelen. “One of you must burn. Forever. Or the world will.”

Kaelen’s jaw clenched. Selene reached for his hand, her expression defiant. “We choose our fate.”

The Oracle’s laughter echoed. “Then prepare. The Infernal Queen has returned—and she comes for the Flame... and the Moon.”

TITLE: THE FLAME AND THE MOON ( Part 1-2)PART1: THE BOND OF FIRE The kingdom of Velarion was a land where magic whispere...
30/04/2025

TITLE: THE FLAME AND THE MOON ( Part 1-2)

PART1: THE BOND OF FIRE

The kingdom of Velarion was a land where magic whispered through the trees, and ancient powers slept beneath the mountains. Among its people, the Fireborn were the most revered—and feared. Born with flames in their veins, they could summon infernos with a whisper.

Kaelen, the last of the Fireborn Lords, was both a legend and a curse. He lived alone in a fortress of obsidian, far from the capital, where his power could not endanger others. Some said he burned a woman alive once—others whispered that he swore never to love again.

But then she came.

Selene, a healer from the Lunar Order, was sent to Kaelen not by royal decree, but by the pull of fate. Her power was cold, luminous, and ancient—moonlight that calmed storms and soothed beasts. She was the opposite of him in every way, and perhaps that was why the pull between them was unbearable.

She arrived under the crimson eclipse. Kaelen met her at the gates, his eyes like molten gold, his voice deep enough to shiver the air.

"You shouldn't be here," he growled.
"And yet you opened the gates," Selene replied, stepping inside with silver robes clinging to her curves.
Their connection was instant. Dangerous. Elemental.

PART 2: THE FIRST FLAME (graphic content)

The fire crackled as Selene stood by the hearth, her back to Kaelen. His footsteps were silent, but she felt him behind her—heat radiating like a second sun.

"You play with fire," he whispered at her ear, his breath fanning the fine hairs along her neck.

She turned slowly, her eyes locked with his. "Then burn me."

Kaelen's hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him. His mouth crashed onto hers—urgent, hungry. She responded with equal fire, fingers tangled in his dark hair, lips parting as their tongues met in a slow, sensual war.

Clothes melted from their bodies, cast off in reckless waves. Her soft moan escaped as his fingers traced the line of her spine, then dipped lower, exploring with reverence and heat. His hands were rough, his mouth searing—a contrast to the gentle way she arched into him, demanding more.

He laid her on the fur before the hearth, his mouth worshipping every inch of her. She gasped as his lips wrapped around her ni**le, tongue circling with deliberate strokes while his hand explored the slick heat between her thighs.

"You’re glowing," he whispered against her skin.
"Because I’m yours," she breathed, wrapping her legs around him.

Their bodies met in a rhythm that was primal and sacred. Kaelen's thrusts were deep, claiming, as Selene rose to meet him—each moan, each cry, an invocation of the gods. Her power mingled with his, moonlight and flame swirling through the room in ribbons of silver and gold.

They moved faster, harder—until the world fractured around them. Her scream echoed like a spell. His growl was thunder.

And when it was over, they lay tangled in each other, breathless, glowing—one moon, one flame.

Moremi's CourageIn the ancient land of Ile-Ife, where the Yoruba people thrived, a legendary queen named Moremi lived. H...
25/04/2025

Moremi's Courage

In the ancient land of Ile-Ife, where the Yoruba people thrived, a legendary queen named Moremi lived. Her story is one of bravery, wit, and sacrifice.

During a time of great turmoil, the kingdom faced a mysterious threat: strange, ghostly figures would abduct their people, leaving no trace. Desperate for answers, Moremi made a vow to the river goddess, Oya: if she could uncover the truth behind these disappearances, she would offer a great sacrifice.

With determination in her heart, Moremi devised a plan. She allowed herself to be captured by the ghostly figures, who took her to their lair. There, she discovered that the abductors were not ghosts but a rival group, hiding in the nearby forest.

Moremi observed their tactics and waited for the right moment to escape. When she finally broke free, she returned to Ile-Ife and shared her findings with the kingdom. Armed with this new knowledge, the Yoruba warriors launched a surprise attack on their enemies, defeating them and ending the abductions.

True to her vow, Moremi prepared to make the sacrifice. However, the river goddess Oya appeared, praising Moremi's courage and selflessness. Instead of demanding a sacrifice, Oya blessed Moremi and the kingdom, ensuring their prosperity and protection.

Moremi's bravery and strategic thinking saved her people, cementing her legacy as a heroine in Yoruba history. Her story continues to inspire generations, reminding them of the power of courage, determination, and faith.

25/04/2025

Moremi's Courage

In the ancient land of Ile-Ife, where the Yoruba people thrived, a legendary queen named Moremi lived. Her story is one of bravery, wit, and sacrifice.

During a time of great turmoil, the kingdom faced a mysterious threat: strange, ghostly figures would abduct their people, leaving no trace. Desperate for answers, Moremi made a vow to the river goddess, Oya: if she could uncover the truth behind these disappearances, she would offer a great sacrifice.

With determination in her heart, Moremi devised a plan. She allowed herself to be captured by the ghostly figures, who took her to their lair. There, she discovered that the abductors were not ghosts but a rival group, hiding in the nearby forest.

Moremi observed their tactics and waited for the right moment to escape. When she finally broke free, she returned to Ile-Ife and shared her findings with the kingdom. Armed with this new knowledge, the Yoruba warriors launched a surprise attack on their enemies, defeating them and ending the abductions.

True to her vow, Moremi prepared to make the sacrifice. However, the river goddess Oya appeared, praising Moremi's courage and selflessness. Instead of demanding a sacrifice, Oya blessed Moremi and the kingdom, ensuring their prosperity and protection.

Moremi's bravery and strategic thinking saved her people, cementing her legacy as a heroine in Yoruba history. Her story continues to inspire generations, reminding them of the power of courage, determination, and faith.

22/04/2025

ADA AND THE TALKING DRUM

In the heart of Umuzi village, where red earth kissed the feet of tall palm trees and the wind danced through cassava leaves, lived a curious little girl named Ada. She was known for her bright eyes, endless questions, and a heart that beat to the rhythm of stories and songs.

Ada’s favorite place in the whole village was her grandfather’s hut. Papa Nnanna, as everyone called him, was a famous drummer in his youth—his hands once spoke louder than words, telling tales and sending messages with his sacred Talking Drum, known as Ikoro. But now, Papa Nnanna sat mostly under the mango tree, his drum resting quietly in the corner.

“Ada,” he often said, “a talking drum doesn’t speak to everyone—only to those who truly listen.”

One Harmattan morning, when the sky was pale and dry winds whispered secrets, Ada tiptoed into the hut. The drum seemed to hum softly, like it had been waiting. Drawn to it, she placed her hands gently on its smooth skin.

Suddenly, the hut grew silent. The air grew thick with magic. And then—it spoke.

Not in words, but in beats.

BOOM... tap-tap... BOOM... tap.

She froze. Her heart raced. Then, slowly, she tapped back.

Tap-tap... BOOM... tap-tap.

The drum replied. This time, clearer.

"Ada… child of questions… will you hear the stories of the land?"

“Yes,” Ada whispered.

And so began a journey unlike any other. Every morning, before the sun rose high, Ada returned to the drum. It told her tales of ancient queens, trickster animals, brave hunters, and rivers that wept. It sang of the stars, the spirits, and the strength of her people. It spoke of peace, courage, and the power of a listening heart.

But the village grew suspicious.

“She is too young to touch the Ikoro,” one elder muttered.

“That drum is sacred!” another warned.

But Papa Nnanna only smiled. “Let her listen. The drum chooses who it speaks to.”

One day, a storm threatened the village. Thunder roared, winds howled, and the villagers gathered in fear. Ada stepped forward, the talking drum slung over her shoulder. She began to play.

BOOM... tap... tap-tap... BOOM!

The rhythm rose like thunder, then softened like rainfall. The storm paused—then passed.

Silence.

Then a cheer.

From that day, Ada was no longer just a curious girl. She was Ada the Listener, Ada the Drum Keeper. The talking drum had found its voice again—and through her, the village listened once more.

Moral of the Story:
True wisdom does not always come with age—it comes with an open heart and ears willing to listen.

On His DeathbedThe room was dimly lit by a single oil lamp, casting flickering shadows on the mud walls. The scent of bu...
15/04/2025

On His Deathbed

The room was dimly lit by a single oil lamp, casting flickering shadows on the mud walls. The scent of burning incense and fresh herbs lingered in the air, mixing with the heavy presence of grief. Outside, the wind whispered through the palm trees, carrying the distant sound of wailing women.

On the grand woven mat lay Oba Adetunji, the once-mighty ruler of Ile-Oro, now reduced to a frail, trembling shadow of his former self. His once-deep voice, which had commanded armies and settled disputes, was now barely a whisper. His skin, dark and weathered, bore the marks of countless battles and years of wisdom. His eyes, though sunken, still held the fire of a warrior—one who refused to bow even to death itself.

Around him, his family and chiefs knelt in reverence. Adewale, his first son and heir, gripped his father’s hand, his face a mask of sorrow and determination. The Oba’s most trusted advisor, Chief Balogun, stood silently, his heart heavy with the weight of the kingdom’s uncertain future. The royal priestess, Iya Orun, had already begun chanting prayers, her voice weaving between the physical and spiritual realms.

The Oba took a deep breath, feeling the heaviness in his chest. He knew this was his final night. The ancestors had already begun calling his name. Yet, he had one last duty—to pass down his wisdom before his soul journeyed beyond.

With effort, he lifted his weak hand and gestured for his son to lean closer.

> “Adewale, my son,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “A king is not made by the weight of his crown, but by the strength of his heart. Rule with wisdom, not just power. Protect our people, for their trust is sacred.”

Tears welled up in Adewale’s eyes, but he nodded. He had always known this day would come, but he never imagined how unprepared he would feel.

The Oba turned his gaze to Chief Balogun.

> “Ensure my son is guided well. Let the council stand by him, as they stood by me.”

The chief bowed deeply. “It shall be so, my king.”

A sudden gust of wind swept through the room, making the oil lamp flicker violently. Iya Orun gasped.

> “The spirits are here,” she murmured.

The Oba’s breathing grew slower. He could feel his soul drifting, the veil between worlds lifting. And then, in the distance, he saw them—his ancestors, dressed in flowing white, waiting with open arms.

With one final breath, a faint smile touched his lips.

The great Oba Adetunji had joined the ancestors.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the quiet sobs of his family. A new era had begun.

09/04/2025

LOVING YOU IN SILENCE is a heart-tugging tale of unspoken love, where emotions run deep and words remain trapped behind trembling lips. Amid quiet glances and unsent letters, a woman bears the weight of love unconfessed — watching the man her heart beats for drift further away, unaware of the storm raging inside her. Set against a backdrop of soft rain, golden memories, and aching silence, this story captures the beauty and heartbreak of loving someone from afar.

06/04/2025

Beneath the sacred baobab, young Morounkeji listens to the whispers of her ancestors—unraveling secrets, embracing destiny, and carrying the hopes of a kingdom on her shoulders.

04/04/2025

"Wisdom over strength—The Smart Tortoise outwits the mighty to bring justice to the jungle!"

02/04/2025

"Beneath the moonlit sky, destiny unfolded—Abeni’s visions, a kingdom’s fate, and the echoes of prophecy etched in time."

Shout out to my newest followers! Excited to have you onboard! Nofisat Adeyanju Owoade, Alfa Olohun Ni, Jeremaih Atonda ...
02/04/2025

Shout out to my newest followers! Excited to have you onboard! Nofisat Adeyanju Owoade, Alfa Olohun Ni, Jeremaih Atonda Folamomi, Abu Rbm Sa'eed Jumuah, Fatai Bhadmus

01/04/2025

Three unlikely heroes. One enchanted journey. Discover the power of friendship in “Feathers, Fur, and Forever.”

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