Season Warriors & Wolves

Copyright Copyright © 2023 by Wendy Heiss All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Heiss Publishing Book over Illustrator: Fantastical Ink Development edit & Line editing: Bree T. (BluePressEditor) Proofreading: BluepressEditor Map illustrator: Lizzy Heiss Interior art: Jessica Merco (0jem0) Interior art: Katerina Zaitseva www.wendyheissauthor.com Dedication This is for you reading this book. If you have made it this far into this series, this book is my love letter to you. Thank you for loving this story despite its many flaws. PS: Mother, I beg, put the book down. I know you still wish this was a self help book, and it is a self help book, just…not the kind of self help you're thinking of. PPS: This book is pretty spicy. Keep a glass of milk nearby. Note from author Content Warnings Please read through content warnings before going into this book. Gore, death, mutilation, murder, war, torture, mention of child torture, decapitation, blood, vulgar language, self harm, suicide, violence, child abuse, emotional and physical abuse, loss of loved one. Depiction of panic attacks, anxiety, depression and PTSD. Scars, alcohol abuse, hallucinations, derealisation and dissociation, mention of infertility, mention of genocide, mention of grooming and domestic abuse. Mention of stillbirth and stillborns. (Check my website under this book title for specific chapters and paragraphs. Please, feel free to email me or message me for a more detailed layout). And lastly, explicit content. This series is intended to be read by mature readers (18 +) as there are many, many explicit scenes. Contents The Aura I The Aura II Fullpage Image Prologue Part I 1. White Pawn to E4 2. Black Pawn to E5 3. White Knight to F3 4. Black Knight to C6 5. White Bishop to B5 6. Black Pawn to A6 7. White Bishop to A5 8. Black Knight to F6 9. White Kingside Castling 10. Black Bishop to E7 11. White queen E2 12. Black Pawn to B5 13. White Bishop to B3 14. Black Kingside Castling Part II 15. White Pawn to C3 16. Black Pawn to D5 17. White Pawn to D3 18. Black Pawn takes E4 19. White Pawn takes E4 20. Black Bishop to G4 21. White Pawn to H3 22. Black Bishop to H5 23. White Bishop to G5 24. Black Knight to E5 25. White Bishop takes E7 26. Black Bishop takes F3 Part III 27. White Queen takes F3 28. Black bishop takes E7 29. White rook to D1 30. Black Knight to D6 31. White Knight to D2 32. Black Pawn to D6 33. White Knight to F1 34. Black Queen to C7 35. White Pawn to A4 36. Black Rook to D8 37. White Knight to G3 Part IV 38. Black Knight to C8 39. White Pawn takes B5 40. Black Pawn takes B5 41. White Knight to F5 42. Black Knight to B6 43. White Queen to E3 Part V 44. Black Knight takes F5 45. White Pawn takes F5 46. Black Pawn to C5 47. White Pawn to F6 48. Black Pawn takes F6 49. White Queen to H6 50. Black Pawn to F5 51. White Bishop takes F7 52. Black Queen takes F7 53. White Rook takes D8 54. Black Knight to A4 Part VI 55. White Pawn to B3 56. Black Knight takes C3 57. Checkmate Endgame-Five years after The Castemonts To be continued Acknowledgments About Author Series Reading Order . Chapter Prologue Toss. Black or white? I’d been holding my breath past the point I could see straight. But if I breathed, I’d feel the cold bodies slither over my skin and wrap around my limbs. Feel their scales scratch my unhealed wounds. Or their weight straining my tied wrists even harder against the chains holding me upright. The hisses had turned to a distant echo and my consciousness slowly began faltering, my body surrendering to the hold of the chains. Though each time I did slip away, the sting of fangs etched into my flesh and muscle jolted me awake, to keep me aware of what they were inflicting on me and of their cold presence. The shiver crawling up my skin reminded me of a memory I had locked away with more than will and magic. Father used to lock me in these pits to train fear out of me when I was younger. I had taught myself not to blink and barely breathe loud enough to make sure I wouldn’t pass out while cold and scaly long bodies had brushed mine, encircled mine and bit mine to the point I had not woken for days. The memory was a silent dog whistle father used to remind me of fear though he had used it to strip me of it—he only had wanted me to fear one. To only fear him. But there was no fear I felt. Hatred. Burning hatred. Red and raw. It boiled quietly inside of me, inside the hearth they had failed to extinguish, a slow hearth of embers that suddenly caught flame again. It was overpowering. And it felt so…good. So disgustingly good. Even deep within the walls hiding me, I could feel the vibrations of the rumbling thunder outside little before the chains binding me heated up and tightened, branding my skin with unbearable pain. The serpents climbing my body dropped to the floor and skittered away from me, coiling and wrapping around themselves, tucking their heads in. That…that was fear. It was silent. Until the trickle of blood seeping from my wounds slowly dripped from the red metal and onto the damp floor that barely grazed my feet. The sound bothered me more than the ache of my