Novel & Cerita 707 Mystic Messenger

Regards, Sophia Reese. I rolled up the paper and tied it with the bracelet Alpha Xavier had given me on the coronation night. With my ability I tried to be able to summon a pigeon through the bedroom window. This pigeon is called Hugo, only he can help me at this time about right now. Hugo had long been the messenger pigeon between me and Alpha Xavier. Hugo knew what he had to do. I tied the bracelet and scroll of the letter around Hugo's neck. “Alpha Xavier Hayes…” I muttered to Hugo, and quickly after that, Hugo flapped his wings and flew swiftly into the forest area.

Elena asked softly. The messenger laughed once, ragged and ugly. “You think that place is dead? You think the old records are the whole story?” His eyes flicked between Elena and Adrian with something close to vicious satisfaction. “Factory Seven never ended. It changed names. Changed owners. Changed sites. But it never ended.” The knife in Elena’s hand trembled once. Then became steady again. “Where?” Adrian asked. The messenger looked at him and smiled through blood. “You’re too late.”

had broken slightly, but the cost of his life was written in the silver lines now pulsing beneath my own skin. I stood on the highest landing pad of the Spire, the wind whipping my hair across my face. I was alone, but I wasn't lonely. The Heir’s voice was a constant, icy vibration in the back of my mind, guiding my movements with a precision that made my own soul feel like a passenger.

Their wide eyes fixed on the approaching car, and they scrambled back toward Leela, clutching at her legs and burying their small faces in the denim of her jeans. The messenger stepped out, his uniform crisp, dark, and entirely devoid of warmth. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, locking his hands behind his back in a rigid stance of bureaucratic superiority. "I am here to deliver these papers to Alpha Fennigan," he announced, his voice echoing with a practiced, hollow formality that didn't belong in the peaceful Blackwood air.

"My wolf is with you until the ground drinks our blood." Even though Jessa wasn't looking directly at my face, his sharp instincts guided his hand into his leather pouch, pulling out a clean strip of cloth and pressing it into my palm to dry my cheeks. Suddenly, a heavy rustle in the thickets behind us made our ears snap backward, and a scent of old parchment and betrayal flooded the clearing as a shadowed messenger stepped into the light, holding a signed piece of parchment stamped with the secret seal of the Cic Forest Marker.

“Isn’t that exactly what my wife hopes for? Sixteen hours of dating?” The messenger nodded. “Exactly. My boss loves that kind of drama.” Dean was caught between laughter and exasperation, yet a strange warmth stirred within him. After a brief moment of reflection, he spoke softly, “Alright, I’ll accept it.” The messenger stood up and clapped his hands. “Great, it’s settled then. I look forward to seeing you as a happy Dean Harrison next time.” Before the words were even fully out, a blinding white light engulfed Dean. He felt a gentle force pushing him back toward the real world, while the messenger’s final blessing seemed to linger in his ears.

“We are surviving. And when we strike, we will not miss.” Before anyone could respond, the heavy wooden doors of the chamber creaked open. The guards stepped aside quickly, heads lowering as a messenger hurried in. His clothes were dusty, his breath uneven, as if he had run without rest. Morwen straightened at once. “What is it?” she asked. The messenger dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “My lady. A message has arrived. Sealed and marked.” He held out a folded parchment. The wax seal bore no name, only an old symbol Morwen knew too well. Her fingers closed around it slowly.

“Astrid, Nova, Drystan—you’re with me. The rest of you stay here and guard the Amulet. If anything happens, you know what to do.” The air was sharp with tension as we approached the border. The forest was quiet, the usual hum of life muted as if even the trees knew what was coming. The messenger stood alone in the clearing, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. He was tall and wiry, his features sharp and his eyes gleaming with the predatory cunning of a rogue. “You’re braver than I expected,” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. “Or maybe just desperate.” “Get to the point,” I snapped.