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    Hearts Entwined
    Hearts Entwined
    Hearts Entwined
    Ebook89 pages1 hour

    Hearts Entwined

    By Olivia Langley

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    About this ebook

    What if love was more than fate—what if it was a choice?

     

    I never believed in fairy tales or magical worlds, but when I met Alden, my life was flipped upside down. He's a prince from a hidden realm, bound by an ancient mission and an even older curse. Our connection feels destined, but the legend of the Heartstrings warns that love between our worlds is always doomed. 

     

    As we uncover secrets that span lifetimes and face trials that test our bond, I start to realize that love isn't just about destiny—it's about the choices we make, even when everything seems against us. 

     

    Hearts Entwined is a whimsical, heartwarming tale of love, destiny, and the power of choice. If you believe in magic, second chances, and that love can conquer all—even when it's messy—then this story is for you.

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOlivia Langley
    Release dateAug 21, 2024
    ISBN9798227747846
    Hearts Entwined

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      Book preview

      Hearts Entwined - Olivia Langley

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1: An Unlikely Meeting

      Chapter 2: Coming Clean

      Chapter 3: The Legend of the Heartstrings

      Chapter 4: Intertwined Lives

      Chapter 5: A Tale of Two Worlds

      Chapter 6: A Growing Connection

      Chapter 7: The Curse of the Heartstrings

      Chapter 8: A Glimpse of Arboris

      Chapter 9: The Other Side of Love

      Chapter 10: Secrets Unveiled

      Chapter 11: A Choice of Loyalty

      Chapter 12: The Festival of Lights

      Chapter 13: The Rift Widens

      Chapter 14: The Return of an Old Foe

      Chapter 15: The Heartstring's Echo

      Chapter 16: The Final Trial

      Chapter 17: The Sacrifice

      Chapter 18: The Aftermath

      Chapter 19: A New Beginning

      Chapter 20: The Power of Choice

      Chapter 21: A Love Worth Fighting For

      Chapter 1: An Unlikely Meeting

      The scent of linseed oil and varnish filled the small, dimly lit gallery. Ivy Williams took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart as she walked through the rows of paintings. Riverbrook’s only art gallery, The Hollow, had always been a place of solace for her—a quiet refuge from the monotony of her life. But tonight, as she wandered between the frames, she felt a different kind of tension in the air. There was a hum, almost like an electric current running beneath the surface of things, making her skin prickle.

      She stopped in front of a large canvas, its abstract swirls of deep blue and violet pulling her in. The painting was chaotic yet deliberate, the brushstrokes violent but controlled. It resonated with the restlessness she felt inside, the gnawing sense that she was stuck in a loop—trapped in a routine that dulled her senses. Ivy had been an aspiring artist for as long as she could remember, but lately, every attempt to create felt forced, like she was mimicking someone else’s work. Inspiration had become a distant memory.

      You feel it too, don’t you?

      The voice, smooth and low, came from directly behind her. Ivy turned, startled, to find a man standing a few feet away. He was tall, dressed in a dark coat that seemed a size too large, as if he were used to hiding himself in shadows. But it was his eyes that caught her off guard—piercing and a shade of green so vivid it was almost unnatural. They locked onto hers with an intensity that made her want to look away, but she couldn’t.

      I’m sorry? she managed to say, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

      He stepped closer, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The painting, he said, nodding toward the canvas. It’s beautiful in its chaos. There’s a desperation in it, don’t you think? Like someone trying to grasp at meaning but never quite reaching it.

      Ivy blinked, surprised by how precisely his words captured what she had been feeling. Yes, she said, a little breathless. That’s exactly it.

      He tilted his head slightly, studying her with a curiosity that made her feel exposed, like he could see right through her. You’re an artist, aren’t you?

      She hesitated. I’m... trying to be. It’s been difficult lately.

      He raised an eyebrow. Creative block?

      Something like that, she replied, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Who was this man, and why did he seem so interested in her struggles? She didn’t even know his name, yet here she was, opening up to him like he was an old friend.

      As if sensing her discomfort, he extended a hand. Alden, he said simply.

      Ivy, she replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but cold, and a strange shiver ran up her spine as their hands touched. There was something unsettlingly magnetic about him—something that both drew her in and put her on edge.

      Ivy, he repeated, as if testing the sound of her name on his tongue. An artist’s name if I’ve ever heard one.

      She couldn’t help but smile at that. You sound like you know a lot about art.

      I’ve had time to learn, he said, a cryptic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It’s fascinating, isn’t it? How art can capture the soul of a person, even when words fail them. But there’s more to it than that—sometimes, it’s not just about expression. Sometimes, it’s a door.

      A door? Ivy echoed, confused.

      To something deeper, he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. Something beyond the surface of what we see.

      Ivy frowned, trying to make sense of his words, but before she could respond, he turned and began walking away, weaving through the crowd with an ease that suggested he was used to disappearing. For a moment, she stood frozen, torn between letting him go and following him to ask what he meant. But curiosity won out, and she found herself hurrying after him, her heart pounding in her chest.

      She caught up to him near the gallery’s entrance. Wait, she called out, her voice more demanding than she intended. He stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

      What did you mean by a door? she asked, breathless. What deeper thing are you talking about?

      Alden’s smile was slow and knowing, as if he had been expecting her to ask. He leaned in slightly, his eyes glittering in the low light. Art isn’t just about creating, Ivy. It’s about unlocking. Sometimes, when you’re searching for inspiration, it’s not that it’s gone—it’s just hidden, waiting for you to find the key.

      His words sent a chill down her spine, and Ivy felt an inexplicable sense of dread mixed with excitement. It was as if he were speaking in riddles, yet his voice resonated with a truth she couldn’t quite grasp.

      Are you saying that... there’s something I’m missing? she asked, almost afraid of his answer.

      Perhaps, he said softly. Or maybe it’s something that’s been waiting for you all along, something just beneath the surface, waiting for you to reach out and touch it.

      Ivy swallowed, her mind racing with possibilities. Was he talking about some kind of artistic breakthrough? Or was it something more? There was something otherworldly about his presence, a sense of ancient knowledge hidden beneath his casual demeanor. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter was no accident, that meeting Alden was somehow significant.

      Why are you telling me this? she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

      Alden’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. "Because I can see it in you. The doubt, the fear, the

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