The Forbidden One: Book Of Avalanche
Book One
A Fantasy Romance Novel
Written By: Bonafide Hustlà
"Blackstone was not a city. It was a wound."
Its veins ran with crime and smoke, its breath thick with the stench of blood and broken vows. There were no dreams in Blackstone — only debts paid in flesh and power carved by blade. Under its ash-colored skies, hearts froze before they ever learned to beat.
And into this pit of shadows came a storm.
From the snow-wreathed peaks of the Frostspire Mountains, where the wind still whispered in the tongue of the old gods, she descended — a tempest wrapped in mortal skin. Her name was Avalanche Storm, and with her came frost, fury, and fire masquerading as cold.
Wherever she walked, the wind followed. Magic curled around her like smoke around a flame — quiet, hungry, waiting.
Her name alone was enough to turn seasoned mercenaries pale. Her power could break the spine of a mountain. But none of that mattered here. Not in Blackstone.
Because this city belonged to a man with no soul.
They called him Bones.
He was the high lord of the Bone Syndicate — a crime empire that feasted on fear and silence. A man of whispered legend and visible scars, rumored to have bled his own brother to win his seat. His smile could stop a man's heart; his silence could start a war.
No one crossed him. No one loved him. He was not made for love.
Until her.
4 / 62Avalanche Storm, with her silver-fire hair and glacier-born gaze, had never bowed to any man. She bent the skies before she bent her knees. Her magic, like her will, was a thing forged in storm and solitude. But when her younger sister disappeared into Blackstone and never returned, Avalanche didn't cry.
She armed herself.
Steel runes were etched into her blades. Ice swelled beneath her skin. She came not as a seeker of truth but as an executioner with purpose — to burn down the Bone Syndicate, piece by frozen piece.
Then, she met him.
Their meeting should have ended in death. Hers. His. Both.
Instead, something happened that neither could explain, nor stop.
They saw each other.
Not the masks. Not the legends.
Just… the fractured, furious souls behind the names.
And in that frozen instant, the immovable met the unstoppable — and something broke.
A crack in the ice. A tremor in the storm.
But in Blackstone, love is not a fairy tale.
It is a death sentence.
And both of them have already been marked.