ZoryaVukmira is apen name,chosenfor themyths whisperedattwilight. Shewritesparanormalromance about womencastintothe shadowsbytheir societies. Herstories explorethe fiercelovethatbloomsindefiance of judgment,and thecourage it takesfor outcasts to forge theirown peace— andtheir ownhome— in each other. Shebelievesthatevenina worldofmonsters, thegreatestheresyisa heartdeniedits truest nature.
A‘StrangeSisterhoods’ Novella
©Zorya Vukmira2025
Allrightsreserved
No part of thisbookmay be reproduced, stored in aretrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical,photocopying, recording,orotherwise—without theprior written permission of the copyright owner.
Publisher: BoD· BooksonDemand, Östermalmstorg 1, 114 42 Stockholm, Sweden,bod@bod.se
Printed by: LibriPlureos GmbH,Friedensallee 273, 22763 Hamburg, Germany
ISBN: 978-91-8097-882-8
First edition,2025
Cover design by Touhid Wahid(www.fiverr.com/touhid_wahid) Interior layout by Z. Vukmira.
Printed in Germany.
Conditionedtobelieve herheart wasa weakness,and herlovewas aperversion, each sawher ownsoulas monstrous.
This is aprofoundstory of twowomen battling their internalized shame, whobecomeunapologetically strong only when they dare to love thevery‘flaws’ they seereflectedineachother.
Celestestirred,the weight of centuriessettlingbackonto hershoulders as sheemerged from hermeditation. Thestone slab beneathher wascoldand unyielding, achillycontrastto thewarmththatoncecoursed throughher humanveins.Her eyes flutteredopen, meetingthe dull grey of thechamber’s ceiling. Anotherday—orwas it night?—inthe endlessprocession of time.
Shehad sought solace in thedeeprecessesofher mind,a practice meanttorefreshher spirit,rejuvenateher soul,and regain inspiration. Yet, thevisions that hadgreeted herwere farfromcomforting. Avast, desolate oceanspreadout before her, andatits heart, amonolithiciceberg.She wastrapped within it,frozen, immobile,asthe currents carriedher further into theabyss.The icewas hercoven,coldand unyielding,and theocean,the passageoftime, indifferent to herplight.
Herbodywas rested,her senses sharp, buther spirit…her spirit wasweary.The stillnessofher chamberpressed in on her, asilence that echoed theemptiness within.Fromthe halls outsidecamethe distantwhispersofher kin, therustleof parchment, thescratch of quillonpaper.But here,inher chamber, therewas only quiet, andloneliness.
Celestesat up,the thin silk of hergowncascading around herlikea shroud.She couldfeel theedges of herhunger, a gnawingemptiness that wasemotional rather than just physical. It wasa longingfor connection,for comfort, forsomething more than thecold, intellectual pursuits of herkind. Butsuch yearningswerefutilehere, in thehalls of Atraelia.
Sherose, herbarefeetmeeting thecoldstone floor. Each step wasevidenceofher eternalexistence,eachbreatha mockeryofthe life sheonceknew. Shewas CelesteNegruvale,once SeldaSternhein,now acreatureofthe night, boundbyblood andsilence.And shewas utterly, painfully alone.
Celestedrifted throughthe vast,echoing corridorsofthe coven, herfootstepswhisperingagainst thecoldstone.The air wasthick with thescent of ancientparchment andthe faint, underlying musk of herkin.She approached themainhall, a sprawlingchamber bathed in theglowofa thousand candles. Thedance of lightand shadow wasvivid compared to thedull, lifeless grey of herchamber.
As sheentered,she hadtomeether peers, herkin,and they were herjudges. They were scatteredacrossthe hall,engrossedintheir intellectual pursuits.Two vampires,heads bent together,weremurmuring over asprawling mathematicalconundrum,their fingerstracing patternsinthe dustyair. Anothergroup wasensconced in aheateddebate, theirvoices lowbut intense, arguingthe merits of some arcane philosophical point.
Celestehesitated at thethreshold,her heart—or thememory of it—clenching within herchest.She steeled herselfand steppedintothe hall,looking from onegroup to thenext. As shepassed, shecould feel theirawareness of her, arippleof tensionthatdisrupted theintellectualambiance. Onebyone, they turned away,their eyes slidingpasther as if shewereno more than afleetingshadow.
Avampire with sharp, angularfeaturesand cold,assessing eyes looked up from hisscroll. Hiseyesmet hers,and fora moment,Celeste thoughtshe sawa flickerofrecognition.But then hislipscurledintoa sneer,and he turned away,his shoulders stiffwithdisgust. So,hetoo… Thelastyeartheyhad
Forher warmth,the vampireCeleste is cast from hercoven. Forher passion, thewerewolfViszléna is exiled from herpack. When thesetwo outcasts -and ancestralenemies- are forced into atenuous alliance to survivethe huntersstalkingtheir steps, they findunexpectedsolaceintheir shared solitude.But as whisperedconfessionsand shared danger ignite aforbiddendesire, they must decide if thehometheyare building in eachother is a sanctuary, or atrap that willleadtotheir ultimate destruction
With: APOEMOFPASTAND PRESENT Aglimpse into theirlife 15 yearslater.
